海龟浮上海面

HONGKONG FOOL SHANGHAI MAN

Subscribe to RSS feed

Posts tagged with "Work"

Calculating for How Long Can I Still Fool Around

, ,

I'm thinking what if I sleep 1 hour less each day, am I gaining or losing time, in my fooling-around life.

Doctors recommend an adult to sleep between 7 and 9 hours per day for him/her to "function" (or fool around) properly. If we build sleep deficits, it seems only reasonable to find a way to catch up. And, it's possible to overdo it.

I suspect I probably will pass away when I'm 60, less longevous than an average person because I did and am doing too many evil things. My godfather knows them all, because I share that with him. He loves listening to all those wrongdoings of mine. I know it, because he sometimes takes notes. And I know also that Heaven is not going to take me. I deserve live a shorter life.

Anyway, that means that I will be "inactive" for 20 years just lying in bed doing nothing, if I choose to sleep 8 hours a day, i.e. 1/4 of a day or my lifetime. And, if I choose to sell myself 8 hours to a boss, then I will have to deduct another 1/4 of my life with the assumption that I need no retirement and work till I die, and my boss or any other boss will retain me to a job. Afterall, 60 isn't really that old as one may believe otherwise. It happens that Stanley Ho, the Macau Tycoon still bears child at his 80. And Nicolas Tse Tingfung's father at his 70 is still fooling around with meimei.

Arithmetically, I will have 30 years to fool around. Yet, no. I need to deduct another 4 hours as a buffer for travelling between locations and filling my stomach, presumably per day. I've just killed another 10 years. Hm.... I have now only 20 years left. Hell, no! I'm already over 20. Am I dead or alive?

I better get some sleep...

You snooze, you lose.

Encounter of the Third Kind

,

第三类接触

This afternoon, I was invited to attend a product launch of an European Fashion brand in a Shanghai superstar hotel.

Glamourous ladies and handsome gentlemen were mixed with suspicious looking baldheaded fat-bellies and fatfooted high-heels. Colorful cocktails were flying around on nicely uniformed captains' silvery plates.

A dozen of pretty models with gorgeous figures presenting the brand's collection found their ways difficultly on frictional genuine wool carpet, circling around and mingling with guests on the floor area of the conference hall.

Models over 1.85m in height passed me by all with their eyes looking DOWN on me. I kept my eyes straight and watched a row of energetic bouncing bubbies saluting me.

After a while, all models slowly moved out of the hall. I saw dozens of hungry looking eyes still staring at their swinging back profiles.

A lady approximately the same of my height snaked her way out of a bundle of IT-looked guys and approched me with her pair of overweighted bubbies.

"Nice tits!"

"Nice ass."

"Don't know. Can't see. Could only feel it."

"Can I touch it?"

"Sure! Can I feel them?"

"Why not!"

I put my glass of champagn down on the serving table. She turned and leaned against me with her back and filled her hands up with my buns. I stretched out my arms and embraced her breasts from behind.

They felt like two crystal balls.

Walking through the door of the hall, I turned my shoulders. I saw the IT bundle encircled around her liked an eclipse. The crystal lady saw me off with a smile on her face.