It’s Friday again. Another week gone with nary a thing for me to do. I’ve written probably one paragraph of copy for some online shit in the past 5 days and summarised some health product write-up. Otherwise, it’s been reading, surfing and taking way too many walks around Shenton Way. If only there was a library nearby…

Still fretting over the damn insurance ad ideas. Being forced to work with those visuals is like being told to swim with your hands and feet bound to your neck. And so, after exactly a week of half-hearted and thus half-brained “brainstorming”, I have produced exactly nothing. I wish I could just tell the short one that he’s been thinking with his ass, which isn’t too far from the truth since his head isn’t all that far from his behind. Corny… who cares?

Spotted 4 bottles/cans of a certain beer in the pantry. Alas, they’re all expired. On the bright side, that could only mean one thing. Pitch. At least I hope it means that. Sure beats writing newsletters and proofing datasheets. Haven’t had a proper brainstorming session since my first 2 weeks here, which is ridiculous. Still, my hopes aren’t all that high. What I’m dreading is the brief or, more accurately, having to decipher the many weird and wonderful interpretations which can be gathered from the inevitable cut and paste job that will be proudly mailed to us complete with broken English and, shall we say, eccentric spelling among many other irregularities. Accompanying this written brief will, of course, be a verbal one. Trying to hold one’s laughter during this session is a feat of almost impossible proportions often requiring a combination of self-torture, self-distraction and self-mutilation to accomplish. And we try. Oh how we try. Or at least I do. Clenching my toes. Glaring at innocent plastic plants. Biting my lips (carefully of course). Thankfully, all these have worked so far or I might already be out of a job. I must write down all the boo-boos I hear next time which will probably be soon. Sheesh.