Fresh baked “Fong Bao” from the oven – 方包出爐

Random musings & meditations straight from the oven. Hopefully some food for thought as well…

Archive for Whatcha talkin bout Fong Bao? – 方包開玩笑嗎?

140 characters or less

(*= Oven Lingo)

Can 1 truly express oneself in 140 characters or less? Opinions may vary but Twitter has certainly forced me to be concise with my diction

Work & studies have left me with little time to reflect, gather & share my thoughts on the blog. Tweeting became the compromise.

Much like @Kyotea (Cdn Gooner), I’ve come to appreciate the ability to share what random thoughts I have, images I see, instantaneously.

Not that my tweets are important or profound but as @meestasparkle once said, these bite size nuggets become bookmarks of one’s life.

That being said, lots of situations and experiences in life deserve more than what 140 characters can encapsulate.

Hence the upcoming #Christmas season will be welcomed for many reasons, one of which is to re-engage myself to the blog & baking loaves”.

Recent happenings indicate there is much to share. It’s a just a matter of putting the thoughts into, not just words but, paragraphs.

Until then, here’s to one more month of studies on taxation & reading through that 3000 page phone book called the #IncomeTaxAct. Yeesh!

RT I do apologize for the peculiar format/nature of this loaf*, buy hey, @fongbao can only say so much, 140 characters at a time.


The Decision – Steve Carrell version



「喂! 今晚阿Sir請食飯呀! 」

「随便坐! 」

A Town Called Panic

Last Thursday I was flipping through the newspaper when I came across this interesting little review about a quirky Belgian stop motion animation feature named “A Town Called Panic”. Being someone who enjoys the odd, obscured animation film, I decided to check it out.

“A Town Called Panic” contains a lot of elements that I liked: Monty Python-type humor along with Charlie Chaplin/Buster Keaton-style of slap stick adventure. And there is just something about talking plastic figurines – French speaking no less – that fascinates me. I can’t explain it but if I were to guess, it’s probably the kid in me.

The world of “A Town Called Panic” may look a bit simple on the surface but it’s full of neat subtleties and nuggets of humor that jump out at you when you least expected. That is probably what I enjoyed most about the film.

As someone who has a profound disdain for plot spoilers, I will only say the three “heros” of the film embarked on a wild and whacky journey as a result of a silly mistake made by two of them. I’ll leave the rest for you to discover.

“A Town Called Panic” is definitely a niche film so if you don’t care for silly, foreign-language-speaking plastic figurines roaming around in a surreal, bizarro world, it’s probably a good idea to stay away. Otherwise, I would highly recommend it to anyone looking for some good old fashion humor and silly slap stick “performed” by a hoard of cheap looking plastic figurines that will charm you in ways never imagined.

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Warning! Plot Spoilers!

No apple tarts for YOU!

(* = Lingo alert)

Those of you who have tasted one of these apple tarts from New Town Bakery will know how addictive they can be, especially when it’s fresh out of the oven. Back in the day when we had “Fat Fridays” at the “bakery”*, I usually swing by Chinatown on my way to work and pick them up. Without fail, the tarts were usually the first to go.

Since the end of “Fat Fridays” some 2 years (?) ago, the apple tarts were out of mind, out of sight. But today we had a potluck at the “bakery” so I decided to bring them back for a long awaited appearance. I picked up 2 dozens but wasn’t sure if there were enough to go around.

When I told my colleagues about the tarts, most of them grabbed one as we started a brief meeting. One of them, C, was really fond of the tarts and quickly ate two. Then, during a discussion, I noticed C reached over wanting to grab his third tart. In a moment of madness, which I still cannot explain, I called out his name while someone was talking and gestured to him to put that apple tart back into the box!

My intention, really, was to make sure there were enough tarts to go around. But in the process, I embarrassed C in front of everyone. As much as I tried to apologize to him right after the meeting ended, I could tell he wasn’t too impressed.

So, say hello to The Apple Tart Nazi!

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RIP Excercise Ball

The following is a public service announcement for those like me who neglected to clear the area around the electric heater. The consequence is here for all to see.

The current state of the excercise ballThe burned scarThe wound

I have no idea what prompted me to check this morning but I’m sure glad I did. Come to think of it, everything could have gone horribly wrong had the exercise ball caught fire. While the heater in question is one that’s isolated and out of sight, it’s certainly not an excuse.

Chalk this one up as another lesson learned.

To Exercise Ball:

You’ve served us well in years past and it’s unfortunate it had to end this way. Not sure what will become of you but hopefully you’ll be recycled into something useful.

Little Miss Chatterbox & Mr. Mischief

I’ve always been an admirer of the Mr. Men and Little Miss series written by Roger Hargreaves. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to meet one, let alone two, of the characters in one day. This has truly been an eye-opening experience.


Little Miss ChatterboxIt was another typical Sunday lunch hour at the Cattle café. It was packed with people who went to taste a bowl of their “famous” rice noodles in fish broth. Pie Pie Lo and I waited for about 10 minutes before being seated. Now, if you ever been to the Cattle café you’ll understand their seating arrangement is, shall we say, rather intimate. In our case, we were less than 5 inches away from two young Ching-lish speaking CBCs in their 20’s and we couldn’t help but noticed their animated conversation, especially Little Miss Chatterbox. She must have had a bad case of verbal diarrhea because words were just flying out of her mouth non-stop. At one point, after a lengthy phone conversation, Little Miss Chatterbox was able to regurgitate the entire dialogue AND offered up an opinion to her male companion in less than 5 minutes. Pie Pie Lo tried to figure out how many words were spoken per minute by Little Miss Chatterbox. It proved to be a fruitless exercise, but amusing nonetheless. Maybe I should have asked for her phone number in case I develop some sort of speech impediment down the road…….


Mr. MischiefSave-on Foods was the last stop of today’s grocery shopping tour. As we waited in line to pay for our purchases, we noticed Mr. Mischief was just in front of us with his family. (Totally didn’t realize he was East Indian and judging from his height, appearance and demeanor, Mr. Mischief can infiltrate a kindergarten with ease.) Not sure if he was bored or simply being impatient, Mr. Mischief started playing with the magazine rack and grabbed a mag with a scantily clad bikini lady on the cover. Without missing a beat, Mr. Mischief, with rolling eyes and a grin that’s wider than the Grand Canyon, proudly presented the magazine to his dad and said something in Punjabi.

(My Punjabi is a bit rusty but I think this is what was said…)

“Hey Pops! Look what I found! It’s the missing issue you’re looking for….”

Looking sheepish and totally embarrassed by now, father mischief quickly stuffed the magazine back in the rack, shook his head and wagged his finger in front of Mr. Mischief, who started to giggle.

Then I started to giggle, as well as Pie Pie Lo.

The end.

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