Kao Chai Mai?

The OC comes to me today and asks if I have any shower foam. I thought of taking a crack at foamy loamy seas and da "Keep It Real" Orange County, mischa bartonbatty girl but that single gold bar was quite a convincing mouth shutter-upper.
The man after painstakingly purchasing a piano for his twin cuddley-doos needed to go to church like every good Christian dad should. But he needed a shower. Perhaps he wasn't aware of my once-in-a-week shower routine, all inspired by the recent Earth Hour and my Bono underwear. I passed him a blue bottle. He was "appalled", to quote another superior who managed to send me an e-mail on my disgusting attitude, to the account which has been under the control of "how to switch off an ipod" computer rocket scientists for the past week.

If you aren't following, that was the fuckin intention. If you think you have an idea on what's going on, you're wrong. Otherwise, you're right where you oughta be. Here. With me. hug hug kiss kiss. kthxbye.

So, anyhow, upon firm recommendations that the miscible liquid swirling in a Claremont Hotel frisked container was similar to most all-in-one, face/body/shithole dispensers that are abused daily by the heels of grimy palms, he went for a much needed shower. That wily old boy.

I can only hope his wife doesn't take a whiff and decide he has been indulging in "foreign talent". It would be a real problem for the piano tuner.

For every Khap Khun Kap, there's a Mai Pen Rai Kap in the brewerkz.

neung song saam see ha hok jet paet gow sip. There's a little Cantonese in everybody.


In other news, me and Nattapon have a Songkran date. Feel free to join in. Sunday the 13th.

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