What is it with this fascination for JCo Donut! Why are people crazy about it? Why are there long queues each time I pass by that place?
It's just baked flour with flavour, and for inexplicable reason, has a hole in it. What is it trying to tell us? Or is there some intellectual underpinning, alluding the hole to the very existence of human fabric...
Bullshit.
It's some pastry stuff that, women especially, love and regret for having too much indulgence in.
But why are people going emotional about it? I'll give you an example:
Once, during a press function, we journalists were give Jco donut as door-gift (howzat, donut as door gift, what's next? Coffee as door gift? We are not American cops, for Eastwood's sake).
I brought it back to office, and offered them to my colleagues, since I am about as interested in donuts as would a cat in broccoli.
Then, while chatting online with a friend, I mentioned my generous gesture (I am tremendously generous with things I don't want).
That's it! She exploded, throwing written-fits, and I could almost feel virtual hands coming out to strangle me. The only thing she didn't do is send a B2 bomber to my house.
(Aside. She is in my Friendster and Facebook and her name rhymes with Fellini. End of aside)
I thought I should bitch about it to my fiancée, Linda. I mean, what kind of behaviour is that? Completely childish, and preposterously over the top.
Guess what? Linda did the same, albeit with more rights to cause foot related injury to my rear. If we were married, I'd be spending longer hours on the sofa for giving away those damned donuts.
In no less than a week, as fate would have it (I have to deal with the Maker with this, soon), Linda and I was in Pavillion, where JCo donut outlet is.
And as fate would have it again (I hate this dude Fate, why would he have it all the time? What is It, by the way that he is having?) both of us passed by, and the force of evil made Linda gravitate towards the outlet. Outside there was type of queue that once broke many windows in McDonalds outlet in Singapore (Singaporeans know what I am talking about - it involves verbally challenged cat).
And so, we happened to have some appointment that time, and the queue was too long. But I felt, in the name of relationship, why not make some sacrifice and join the queue. For her.
We actually joined the queue, but laziness and the need to attend the next appointment, mostly for the former, we had to leave. I literally had to drag her out.
Linda was lost. She was not there. Going up the escalator, I had to pacify her. She was making this weird whining noise, almost to tears.
It was freaky, almost surrealistic. Remember the climax of the movie Apocalypse Now, where Brando whispers, "The horror...the horror...the horror."
Well here, while I was hugging her, pacifying her, I heard, "The Almond...the custard...the chocolate." You people! What have you done to my girl?!
I told her that donuts are evil, satanic, anti-Christ. Of course, alarmed that she was, being a devout Catholic, she said, "Shut up!"
Also, I noticed that the donut fever seemed to have affected women a lot. Queueing outside Jco was many excited women, and men, with vacant stares, almost zombified next to their wives/girlfriends. Yes, you could see these guys, who usually looked like life has been sucked out of them in Ladies shoe shops.
Speaking of shoes, why are gals so crazy about shoes? I mean, if it is not like when a hot gal passes by, we guys go "Whoa, dude. Check out her pair of shoes!" No! Usually we go, "Whoa mama, dude, check out those pairs of gazoombas!*"
And I have witnessed some pretty heaty bargaining going on in discount shoe stores. I mean, if you want to punish someone for some serious crime, put him or her in a discount shoe store as a sales clerk.
Sorry for the digression.
The point is, this craze for donuts must stop. I mean no offence to JCo who are merely there to serve mankind by making shitload of money, but making ladies, especially, go nuts (no pun intended) over donuts is too much.
And guys, be brave, put your foot down and get out of those damned queue. I mean...wait a minute. What's that I hear? Hark! The unmistakable sound of stampede made by thousands of ladies shoes, with their owners in it. I gotta get outta here!
*Pair of gazoombas could mean pair of eyes, ears, or nostrils. Depend on usage. Just verify with a local ENT specialist. What were you thinking?
It's just baked flour with flavour, and for inexplicable reason, has a hole in it. What is it trying to tell us? Or is there some intellectual underpinning, alluding the hole to the very existence of human fabric...
Bullshit.
It's some pastry stuff that, women especially, love and regret for having too much indulgence in.
But why are people going emotional about it? I'll give you an example:
Once, during a press function, we journalists were give Jco donut as door-gift (howzat, donut as door gift, what's next? Coffee as door gift? We are not American cops, for Eastwood's sake).
I brought it back to office, and offered them to my colleagues, since I am about as interested in donuts as would a cat in broccoli.
Then, while chatting online with a friend, I mentioned my generous gesture (I am tremendously generous with things I don't want).
That's it! She exploded, throwing written-fits, and I could almost feel virtual hands coming out to strangle me. The only thing she didn't do is send a B2 bomber to my house.
(Aside. She is in my Friendster and Facebook and her name rhymes with Fellini. End of aside)
I thought I should bitch about it to my fiancée, Linda. I mean, what kind of behaviour is that? Completely childish, and preposterously over the top.
Guess what? Linda did the same, albeit with more rights to cause foot related injury to my rear. If we were married, I'd be spending longer hours on the sofa for giving away those damned donuts.
In no less than a week, as fate would have it (I have to deal with the Maker with this, soon), Linda and I was in Pavillion, where JCo donut outlet is.
And as fate would have it again (I hate this dude Fate, why would he have it all the time? What is It, by the way that he is having?) both of us passed by, and the force of evil made Linda gravitate towards the outlet. Outside there was type of queue that once broke many windows in McDonalds outlet in Singapore (Singaporeans know what I am talking about - it involves verbally challenged cat).
And so, we happened to have some appointment that time, and the queue was too long. But I felt, in the name of relationship, why not make some sacrifice and join the queue. For her.
We actually joined the queue, but laziness and the need to attend the next appointment, mostly for the former, we had to leave. I literally had to drag her out.
Linda was lost. She was not there. Going up the escalator, I had to pacify her. She was making this weird whining noise, almost to tears.
It was freaky, almost surrealistic. Remember the climax of the movie Apocalypse Now, where Brando whispers, "The horror...the horror...the horror."
Well here, while I was hugging her, pacifying her, I heard, "The Almond...the custard...the chocolate." You people! What have you done to my girl?!
I told her that donuts are evil, satanic, anti-Christ. Of course, alarmed that she was, being a devout Catholic, she said, "Shut up!"
Also, I noticed that the donut fever seemed to have affected women a lot. Queueing outside Jco was many excited women, and men, with vacant stares, almost zombified next to their wives/girlfriends. Yes, you could see these guys, who usually looked like life has been sucked out of them in Ladies shoe shops.
Speaking of shoes, why are gals so crazy about shoes? I mean, if it is not like when a hot gal passes by, we guys go "Whoa, dude. Check out her pair of shoes!" No! Usually we go, "Whoa mama, dude, check out those pairs of gazoombas!*"
And I have witnessed some pretty heaty bargaining going on in discount shoe stores. I mean, if you want to punish someone for some serious crime, put him or her in a discount shoe store as a sales clerk.
Sorry for the digression.
The point is, this craze for donuts must stop. I mean no offence to JCo who are merely there to serve mankind by making shitload of money, but making ladies, especially, go nuts (no pun intended) over donuts is too much.
And guys, be brave, put your foot down and get out of those damned queue. I mean...wait a minute. What's that I hear? Hark! The unmistakable sound of stampede made by thousands of ladies shoes, with their owners in it. I gotta get outta here!
*Pair of gazoombas could mean pair of eyes, ears, or nostrils. Depend on usage. Just verify with a local ENT specialist. What were you thinking?
