- Today – A Wedding in the Family
- 5-Star Review for whYZee Cakes? No Way!
- Today – Mid-Autumn Festival
- Have You Walked Your Food Yet?
- No Ma’am, I Don’t Want to Suck Anything
- No, Please No!
- Today – Published!
- Padang in Sleaze Central? No, Hell No!
- Today – Last Trip with Heinz
- Butter in your Java? Why Not?
Went online to a site calling itself “Best Cake Delivery in Singapore” and ordered a triple chocolate fudge drip cake that cost about 130 bucks. It was meant for a friend’s birthday, to be delivered a week later. Upon confirmation of order, the automated reply stated delivery time as 3-6pm. I didn’t have a choice of timing. However, I added a note saying “please try to deliver at 4pm.” 3-6pm was too large a window and was totally unacceptable.
Well, as expected nothing happened at 4pm on the day of the delivery. Went to their site and the only number was a WhatsApp number with an automated reply saying response will be in a couple of hours.
What the fuck!
Thankfully, it didn’t take long but the retard responding said “But you opted for delivery from 3-6pm what” or words to that effect. Argumentative eh? Hostile eh?
Long story short, the cake came finally (at about 5pm) – hard and dry – and honestly, my eight-year-old granddaughter could have baked a better cake. A Sara Lee cake costing five bucks would have tasted better.
And one day later, the company had the gall to send me this email:
Like us? Get a $7 voucher off your next order with these steps below!
- Leave us a 5-Star Google Review!
- Send us a Screenshot!
Take a screenshot of your review and Whatsapp us at 9773 2434.
- Get a $7 Code off your next Order!
Receive a one-time $7 Discount Code off your next order, as simple as that!
So the next time you respond to fancy ads by people calling themselves the best this and that, kick yourself in the butt as I just did, and the next time you see 5-star reviews, don’t believe any of that.
5-star reviews are submitted by idiots who are greedy for free $7 vouchers, so they can buy some more crappy cakes.
Owner of House of Seafood, Francis Ng, believes that taking his crabs out for a walk is good for his customers.
In June, he mentioned how he loves his crabs “the same way that everyone loves their pets” and “to make sure our crabs are really meaty that can satisfy every of our food patrons, we would bring them out strolling along the breezy Punggol Beach, just to get enough exercises.”
I showed the news to my buddy in Tasmania and his response?
“What can one say? Walking your crab one day, exercising your fleas the next by letting them jump around in the park…And as always social media dishes up the usual tripe!”
First of all, the staff usually stand around near your table to see you eat. I guess the idea is that they are standing by to render assistance if needed, but obviously they haven’t heard of the concept of the “invisible waiter” – good service staff whose presence is not intrusive and your personal space is not invaded. Worse, as they stand around, they chat among themselves, discussing their gynecological problems. Eating, like gynecological problems, are bodily functions, and I’m not comfortable having people standing around me staring at me eat.
Secondly, I’ve learned never to ask for recommendations – “everything is good” they will say. And they don’t even know how to name the dishes – I’ve been asked if I wanted to “suck fin” or if I would like the “bonus duck” (shark fin and boneless duck) and wait for this – I was once asked if I wanted to order the “pig intention” (intestine). Nope, zero intention to suck anything, ma’am. And I once said yes to the bonus duck, thinking that it was a duck dish given free as a bonus. Fuck, it cost me a bomb!
Thirdly, they don’t seem to know how to serve – food comes in the wrong order, soup comes before the hors d’oeuvres, the dishes arrive too fast, in rapid succession, staff doesn’t know how to serve from the left using their left arm and retrieve used plates and bowls from the right. They are all over the place, in close proximity to you physically, forcing you to smell their armpits.
Finally, even before you have finished eating, they are rushing you to order dessert. And they always recommend the most expensive item.
Without exception, this happens in almost every Chinese restaurant I’ve been to all over the world, even the really high-end award-winning ones.
Don’t they train these retards?
Within three days it was gone. Someone has cut the flower and stole it.
I was baffled; I wanted – no, NEEDED – to know why would people do something like that?
Indeed, what the fuck is wrong with these retards?
The following week, Singaporeans flocked to Hougang when news that a male Mandarin duck – such as the one above, and not native to Singapore – was spotted swimming in a canal.
In Chinese culture Mandarin ducks are symbols of blissful marriages.
When the beautiful duck was sighted, I prayed that the duck won’t turn into Confit de canard on someone’s dinner plate.
With Singaporeans, you can never tell.
The prick who cut this rare lovely flower away should be hunted down and have his prick cut off:
In the meantime, Singapore marine life enthusiasts are horrified over beach goers digging up sea creatures…
Word has it that you can even get a blowjob at the carpark.
In the basement of that building is a Nasi Padang stall.
Don’t believe any of the positive reviews you read on TripAdvisor.
If you believe that TripAdvisor is trustworthy, then you must be at the height of your naiveté.
The stall has a wide selection of dishes but are overpriced. Plus I suspect most dishes are loaded with monosodium glutamate. You will be thirsty for hours after eating there. And worse, the lady boss is very rude. She is assisted by a morbidly-obese son who is even ruder, has zero EQ and should NEVER be in a customer-facing business. In fact, this retarded fat lump of lard with shitty attitude should be put away, out of sight. Both mother and son have no qualms yelling at customers! Given the fact that there are few halal places in that building, there are chances of survival for this eatery, but mark my words, fat boy will be the downfall of this stall.
I wonder why people put up with this kind of horrid service from owners of eateries who seem to forget that it is their customers who provide them with a means to make a living. I mean, fat boy won’t be able to even find a job as a sideshow freak in a traveling circus.
Most of my friends have boycotted this eatery; they have banned it. Why pay good money to eat monosodium-loaded food and get abused? Paying customers are not beggars!
If you are a masochist, or are into grotesquerie, or get orgasmic by seeing walking dollops of grossly-fat fucks in motion, by all means go check it out.
Just don’t puke into your plates!
Final farewell to my dear and much-missed friend Heinz.
Below are excerpts of a letter I received in April from his wife:
Back in 1974, Shi Pong Hsu, now 85, bought over a kopitiam (“kopi” is Malay for coffee and “tiam” is Hokkien for shop) by the name of Heap Seng Leong at 10 North Bridge Rd #01-5109, Singapore 190010 and it looks as if the shop has not changed a bit ever since.
It’s a throwback to the days of my childhood and the offerings are simple; Shi serves the usual drinks, toast and half-boiled eggs being sold in kopitiams everywhere but Heap Seng Leong is probably the only place in Singapore still serving butter coffee.
If “Bulletproof Coffee” (butter, coffee and MCT – Medium-Chain Triglyceride – oil from coconut or palm kernel) is the power drink of Silicon Valley or the preferred drink of keto diet aficionados, then Singapore already has it from eons ago.
Old uncles tell me that butter in coffee oils their lungs and is especially good for smokers. I don’t know about that but I do relish the taste of such coffees. So, hit with nostalgia, I made a trip to Heap Seng Leong recently and had two cups of the cholesterol-loaded brew.
As you may know, what is termed local coffee Singapore-style is basically coffee with sugar and condensed milk and in this case, with a small slice of butter stirred in. Artery-clogging stuff, but at 64, I don’t care. Not planning to live till a hundred or anything like that, no sir. What’s the point of living till a hundred when all your friends have died and you have to defecate into diapers and drink your food through a tube in your nose, right?
Shi, a Hockchew who came from China when he was 12 is still at it – bent, skinny and dressed in the standard “uniform” of old time kopitiam proprietors – a white singlet and striped pajama pants.
His coffee is gooder than good and he is more famous than famous – he was even written up in The Wall Street Journal once.