Will Quah Dot Com

I’m off to Sydney for a week. Next week. Should be fun.

Someone who was there recently (and who knows my penchant for all things Broadway) mentioned that I should catch a show. In fact, they mentioned that the cinema icon of Australia and now premier stage show, Priscilla Queen of the Desert, is absolutely amazing. Unfortunately, it’s not on in Sydney (who’d have thought?), but in Melbourne. Oh well, next time.

I’m also most depressed that there are no Dracula’s in Sydney. So, luckily the following video gave me my fix of both.

Shake your groove what?
WillQ.

The coolest thing about Christmas is breaking out the CD’s and getting some mood setting carols on. Few other holidays have accompanying music that so quickly and easily sets the mood as Christmas Carols. But here’s a fun one – What do you get when you mix a Christmas carol, a drag queen, and some stark modern themes, with a big dash of profanity to spice it up?

Nope, it’s not a trick question.

The answer is this. WARNING: Not For The Easily Offended!

Noel (but she sure has something other ladies don’t).
WillQ.

You have no idea how much I’d love to be able to open my window and do this. Although I don’t even want to consider what would turn up to help in Changkat Bukit Bintang…

So friends, even though you’re vermin…
WillQ.

And honestly, it doesn’t get much gayer than this.

Fa la la la la, la la, la, la.
WillQ.

Exhausted from the Malaysian PR Awards, which, ironically, had very little alcohol present, and no one had an agenda. But I guess they were there to let loose (as only the PR minded can).

At least everyone got introduced to everyone else. Multiple times, in fact. So many business cards changed hands, you needed a shoebox to carry them.

As a special pre-Christmas gift, I’ve added a Sounds page to the menu bar up top. There, you can listen to the rubbish Shazmin and I get up to every morning on the new, new, new Red Breakfast, 6am to 10am on RedFM, 104.9. Oh, and if you feel like signing up to become a fan, you can do it on Facebook. Just go here.

Ear today…
WillQ.

It’s odd that a Gourmet Festival dinner can be so utterly NOT about the food. Instead, it appeared to be more about seating, auctions, networking like the Devil’s pimp, and drinks.

Lots and lots of drinks.

In fact, there were probably already a few too many glasses of champagne drunk before the doors opened, and there were certainly too many before the speeches (which was probably done on purpose).

But as always, it seems like a good idea at the time, and the glasses never quite empty, so technically, you’re still on your first. But all of this is purely semantics. Because what is really important is…

THE HANGOVER. Oh god. It’s awful. And you try doing radio at 5am when your brain feels like it’s dribbling out of your ears. It’s a phenomenal experience. Trust me.

But seriously.
Don’t Try It.

I didn’t mean to whine. Or wine.
WillQ.

This IS my mother. At Christmas. Minus the 5′o’clock shadow. And the lack of a bust. But other than that…

I love to cook.

The fact that I don’t actually get to do it as often as I’d like should not lessen that fact one bit. However, I’m one of those economically unsound chefs who refuses to stock up on things, and will instead splurge on non-essential, supposedly fresh items whenever he hits the supermarket. Which, in general, is fine. But I have a secret obsession.

I love to buy fruit.

Usually apples. Or bananas. They look so healthy, sitting there, glistening in the fruit stands. They scream things like “FRESHNESS” and “VITAMINS” and other promises. And I can’t help but pick up a few choice ones (doing the whole squeezy thing, even though I have no idea why I’m squeezing or how squishy said fruit should be) and take them home. And there, I proudly unpack them, and place them in my fridge fruit rack, or on shiny white porcelain plates on the kitchen counter.

And then I watch them rot.

See, I’m good at buying fruit, but I’m terribly bad at eating it. This is because of a few things, but namely the fact that rushing around all day, and sleeping until 5 minutes before having to leave home for work in the morning does not lead to very conducive eating patterns. That, and I’m far to lazy most of the time to bother peeling apples. And so it ends up sitting there, going slowly brown and mushy, until I’m left with a stinking mass that doesn’t even manage to whisper “fre…”. And then I chuck it all in the bin.

And that’s what I do with fruit.

Come Mr.Tally Man, Tally me Banana.
WillQ.