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How To Be An Advertising Pro in your own pee-break

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I just loitered across the most ludicrous piece of advertising copywriting since leaving the land of Truth Entertainingly Told. In fact, I even made a video of me badly acting this $100-an-hour piece of unintentional Saturday Nite Live satire. Have a perve (3 Mb Quicktime movie) , as we say downunder. For those ill-equipped with the technology to see my C-grade performance, I reproduce the copy below. Put on your best Platoon garb, grab a whistle, strap on your Smith & Wesson and read with the trepidation of someone about to pull a big fat trigger on some Donalds and Daisy's out minding their own business ... As long as you're looking up, a little prayer couldn't hurt. You called. Begged. Pleaded. You did whatever it took to get them back, and now there's a whistling of wings coming your way fast. Though it might be your last chance, it's the only one you'll need now you're loaded three-deep with new UltraShok TM. It's from Federal Premium,

I think I'm cooking Japanese I really think so: Nabe Hotpot @ Japan Society

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Pictured above: With author and Japanophile Harris Salat and his book "Japanese Hotpots: Comforting One-Pot Meals" - music to a busy bachelorette's ears A month after returning from Japan , my obsession with it continues. Not only did I spend a good 60 New York minutes (= 10 outer-borough minutes?) browsing a book about Geishas in  Takashimaya , pleaded a Japanese friend to bring over some  cute cat-shaped dust-collectors , trekked across town in driving rain to eat  okonomiyaki  at Otafuku, and indulged in a few other things I'd rather not mention ...  I invested $22 to attend the Japan Society Hotpot lecture . I say "invested" because any casual Googling of the words 'japanese hotpot' or 'nabe' will reveal a ton of easy recipes and how-to you really don't have to pay for. Basically, cut up whatever you want, heat stock in a large casserole pot - preferably iron or clay - put the two together, and close the lid. $22

Meeting the Hopenhagen Ambassador on a Friday

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I'm just back from rolling out the recycled green carpet for David Kroodsma, the winning Huffington Post Hopenhagen Ambassador. What's that all about? ' avaread ...

I think I'm turning Japanese I really think so ...

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Am I nuts? A friend is coming over to the USA and I am getting him to bring me this: a Maneki Neko cat . If you follow that link, you will learn that this beckoning/waving/money/good luck cat is a popular fixture in businesses in Asia. A raised left paw is meant to bring customers; a raised right paw brings money and wealth. This little guy has both paws raised, albeit with eyes firmly closed as if to say "Bring it on!" I didn't have this background when I spotted it in a store near Gotokuji station where I stayed in Tokyo. I thought it was cute, but not worth spending $10 on to clutter up my no-room-for-clutter life. But then, I land in the USA, and I'm pining for this little cat. Ever done that? Wish you'd bought something and then gone to the trouble and expense of getting it later? It has a double significance for me, as Wikipedia speaks of its legendary origins where I stayed in Setagaya-Ku, one of Tokyo's west wards: The Temple Cat: This stor

What I bought with my very first paycheck

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After 30 years of keeping me fashionably late, my Golana watch has finally resigned. As if pining for a time when there were more hours in the day, it tells me it's brunchtime when people are heading back to their desks; it's ready to wine and dine when I should be hitting the hay. This tiny little watch - about the diameter of an Australian 5 cent piece - was the object of my desire for months, until I finally broke down and bought it with my very first paycheck: $A247. $247 was a lot to blow in one go, let alone on a watch. It felt like $1500 feels like now. I remember gazing at it through a plate glass window in Canberra, Australia, when I was 17 years old. The store, called Gold and Silver (I think),  jutted out from a very desirable little enclave of shops called Centerpoint, overlooking a pedestrian plaza. It was an exclusive little mall, selling fancy clothes by Aussie fashion icons like Nadjee menswear, Cue, and probably the best frozen yoghurt fruit salad I

A gal who saved my life: Patricia Soto

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I was delighted to receive a visit from a gal I met in a cave in 2004. Does that sounds mysterious? I was crossing the Yucatan on my bicycle - a hot, dusty and dehydrating affair. I met Patricia Soto in a cave somewhere in the middle. We walked and talked and ate. She also rides bikes, making her an anomaly among chicas en Mexico. Sometime later did suffer from dehydration. I suspect is was not eating enough, rather than not enough water - food provides salts and eletrolytes the body needs in extreme heat.  I barely made it across to Tulum, and called her. She let me to recuperate in her house Cancun, drinking Pedialyte. Visiting Patricia and her mother in her native Cancun If you have ever gotten dehydrated, you'll know it's not fun. You ache from the middle of your brain to your big toe. Nor is it easy to fix just by drowning yourself in large vats of water or electrolyte solution. It takes time. Meanwhile you feel like utter crap. You can read about

Somewhere to Go on Thanksgiving: The Charmin' Toilet Man

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Yesterday was Thanksgiving. I managed to rustle up a table of four to do turkey at the Standard Grill . It was OK for the price, considering it was Thanksgiving, New York City, last minute etc, although it was a bit mean on the sides, and the best dark meat was clearly spirited away for a more worthy class of diner. I jested with all my friends who had free invitations to eat  with families that only the friendless gotta pay! Walking around afterwards at Times Square - for want of nothing better to do - I came across the Charmin toilet man. This is a man dressed up as a toilet, inviting you to ablute in sanitary style at their pop-up toilet facility. He is accompanied by a pom pom girl, dressed far less imaginatively than she could be for such an important job - come on Charmin, don't tell me your political correctness prevented her from wearing a skimpy maid's uniform and wielding a toilet brush? This Charmin effort was all new to me, but Google tells me it's been a