March 28, 2005
Revelations of a Hot Potato: The final OLA
Someone flicks on the light switch. Loud groans are heard throughout the office. To keep office interior as dim and romantic as possible, we shut the blinds and keep lights to a minimum. We are accused of being vampires but we don't bat an eyelash. Dark and silent, office begins to vaguely resemble the inside of a hearse.
Willow (in whiny voice): Play something.
Jess Je (hereafter known as JJ): Can I play The Bongo-Bong Song?
Known for her strange penchant for songs like Last Christmas, The Bongo-Bong Song and other hypnotic tunes, we have learned and know better than to give JJ free reign when it comes to music selection.
Willow: Absolutely not. Let's play some jazz.
Self-proclaimed goddess (hereafter known as SPG): I know. We can play Maroon 5!
Willow (thrilled): Yes yes.
SPG: Okay, okay, we'll play it over and over and over again then. [Loud cheers all around]
Songs About Jane is playing repeatedly in the background. We become immersed in our work. We spend the better portion of the morning arguing over topics such as the ugliest celebrity of the week, most annoying talk show host, how in the world Mario could quit American Idol and which reality show contestant we'd like to see crushed under the wheels of a cement mixer.
Bear Bear (hereafter known as BB) makes her usual departure for a movie review. We plunge into our habitual rounds of "What movie you going to see?" and "Will you be back soon?" and "Do they have McDonald's where you're going?", after which BB warns us not to mess with her Legolas/Orlando Bloom poster. We nod, wide-eyed.
BB: Lay even a cuticle on it and you will not live to see your grandchildren. Got it?
We hatch a diabolical scheme to dethrone Legolas anyway by replacing him with a humongous poster of Smeagol. We snicker conspiratorially.
SPG: Why are we doing this again?
Willow: We're doing this to get BB all worked up.
SPG: Oh ya. That's right.
Willow: You should really stop the smoking.
Willow: Because your memory's beginning to resemble a pile of sludge.
SPG: Oh ya.
SPG: [silence] By the way, what's the date today again?
The Bongo-Bong Song is playing despite our protests. JJ smiles and nods her head to the beat. She is happy.
Lunch time - always a time of great, yet fruitless, debate. Discussion revolves around where to eat and what to eat ... which is silly because we always end up in Batai where we spend half the time hovering over other people's tables and giving them the evil eye until they surrender their kway teow soup and scramble back to their cars. The rest of the time is spent grumbling over how bloody hot it is and how we should really look for other places for lunch.
Back in the office, we engage in a lively debate over the big Question Of The Week, which usually includes harbouring fantasies of becoming Brad Pitt's masseuse, fighting the urge to make prank calls to people in other countries and becoming the sex kitten of a filthy rich man.
We source for content and images from the Net, which lapses occasionally into bouts of playing computer games and checking out websites where people post pictures of themselves in their underwear and masquerade as their pets [note: Doc must never know this].
BB returns and sees that Legolas has, since her absence, morphed into Smeagol. She is understandably upset. We get real scared and promise never to do it again. She responds by taking out her Tamagotchi and talking tenderly to it. We are puzzled but know better than to push our luck.
Reading aloud and laughing at contest entries sent in by readers. We make a game of trying to figure out who are deranged and who are not. We decide they're all losers and suggest that we keep the prizes for ourselves and our grandmothers.
Parting is such sweet sorrow...
Willow: What time you guys planning to leave today?
JJ: I don't know. What time you leaving?
SPG: It depends. What time you leaving?
Willow: I'll leave when you leave.
BB: I'll leave when she leaves.
SPG: [pregnant pause] What are we talking about again?
Pringle with an M is spotted walking towards the door. We indulge in our customary nudge-nudge-wink-wink, "Where are you going? You're wearing orange ... who's the lucky guy, woo-hoo!". We do this every evening in hopes of boosting our collective chances of a real date.
We eventually go home. But some of us sneak back into the office in the middle of the night with our sleeping bag and Ribena bottle. Since we're always connected, we wanna see who else is impersonating their hamster.
Posted by willow at 11:40 AM