Of family and friends
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
An old poly mate of mine, Hatta, commented on my blog last night. He simply said, 'FUCKING HILARIOUS' in my comments page. I shall take it as a compliment.
Having got that out of the way, it is time for me to talk about another major irritating repetitive festival - Chinese New Year.
Legend has it that the Chinese started celebrating the New Year because they believed that the first day of the Lunar Year was the day a monster would appear and take people away from villages.
Maybe that's how all the visiting came about. Us Chinese people just wanted to make things simpler for the monster, so we started to gather our entire family at one place and sit around.
Nevertheless, we are supposed to enjoy it right? I mean, with all the New Year goodies and ang pao money getting thrown around, we unmarried and skinny people should be damn happy right?
Wrong.
It is also the day when kids get the perfect excuse to show their hidden devils. Basically, they run around the house all the time, touching things they're not supposed to and eating much more than their fair share of bak kwa. And they do all those without even taking off their socks. This, coupled with the fact that they are running all the time, fills the entire house with the smell of talcum-powdered-salted-fish.
Old people also get their fair share of fun too. Every single year, I get at least 7 comments that go 'Wow you are so tall!' followed by 'Do you like basketball?' and a mimicked bouncing action. Please, Uncles and Aunts, I have been tall for the past 8 years or so, and I absolutely hate basketball. Perhaps more importantly, please do not mimic any basketball heroes of yours. You're old already. I'm not saying that you people are useless, but maybe you should just sit on a couch and drink tea.
One other freaky thing about Chinese New Year is that you get all these weird numbers messaging you well-wishes on your mobile. You have no idea who they are, but they know you. Then you reply them really nicely by saying, 'Hey happy new year to you too! By the way, you are?' They reply with their names and exclamations of 'How can you forget me!'
The freaky part? You still don't know who they are.
Why am I so bitter about Chinese New Year? Maybe it's because my room's light fused on Chinese New Year Eve, leaving me in darkness for the next 5 or so days.
Just maybe.
Author: Ye » Comments:
My harrowing experience at the hair salon
Friday, February 16, 2007
I spent my Valentine's Day with three other guys at a coffeeshop acting like Teletubbies.
I was Dipsy.
I am serious.
Now that I got the 'What did you do on Valentine's?' question out of the way, it is time for me to proceed on to describing my harrowing experience at the hair salon.
My usual hairstylist, Alvin, was extremely busy on that day, with his hands bogged down by the leaden weight of the latest fashion magazine. I did not make an appointment with him, so I had to make do with a junior stylist.
I guess that's what happens when you become a Senior, you read magazines in the name of self-improvement, while others flutter around like bees.
Anyhow, the junior stylist was quite cool, in a way. He was wearing a short-sleeved yellow floral shirt. He had bronze hair that spread out in different directions all over his head. The hair was big, seriously. Heck, he even left the first button of his shirt unbuttoned. For concision purposes, I shall call him 'Sunshine~'.
Even though Sunshine~ looked a bit too cool for the hairstyling business, he was downright serious about it. He paced around me, looking at my head at different angles. Finally, he informed me that he 'will have to cut it shorter.' I agreed with him, considering that I didn't really want any extensions on my hair.
He proceeded with the haircut. It turned out that my hair indeed became shorter, as he promised earlier. I was pleasantly surprised.
Then it took a turn for the worse.
It was time for the washing and we went to the washing area. He made me lie down and proceeded to wash my hair. He then started to massage my head with some shampoo. It was nice at first, then the strangling started.
Yep, strangling.
He started to grab my neck from behind, repeatedly. I was struggling to breath. I thought about the sign at the door and remembered clearly that it said 'Haircut (washing incl.) - $21' instead of 'Haircut (washing and strangling incl.) - $21'. I decided that I could be wrong and started to blame myself for not reading properly. Who could have missed 'strangling'?
I thought about my parents and how I've let them down. I blinked back a tear, partly due to my realisation that they have let me down on more occasions, and that I am going to die with my head in a sink.
Just as I was about to scream for help, the strangling stopped. Sunshine~ asked me to stand up and go back to the chair. I duly obliged.
He dried my hair and asked if it was nice. I thought that I now looked like Bert from Sesame Street. My neck started to hurt and I remembered the previous ordeal. I said my new hairstyle is awesome, and that the kids will love it. Sunshine~ smiled.
I am safe!
I paid up, $21 in total, and left, but not before taking a last look at the sign. I swore it said 'Haircut (wash incl.) - $21'.
I guess I got a freebie.
Oh, and by the way, Weilong was Tinky-Winky, Yang Bing was Laa-laa and Wilson was Po. Just thought that you might wanna know.
Author: Ye » Comments:
The battle of wits with Lao Kuniang
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Part of my struggle for survival during NS hinges on the whims of Lao Kuniang.
To give you some background, Lao Kuniang takes the same bus as me every morning. Not only that, she boards the bus at the same stop as I do. I was fairly annoyed at this fact.
However, that wasn't a valid reason to start a war with an auntie with a creaking spine. One fateful morning not so long ago, Wilson, my friend with the really big head, and I was chatting on the bus. We were just talking about trivial issues like my previous dinner when Lao Kuniang interrupted us by saying: "Can you keep quiet? I want to rest."
We were stunned. Everyone knows that Singaporeans always have a I-don't-give-a-damn attitude about others, but Lao Kuniang takes the cake. Not only did she take the cake, she even ate it. We could see it from her body size.
Anyhow, she was the epitome of the I-don't-give-a-damn attitude. She halted a highly-intellectual debate about the contents of my dinner just because she needed to rest her ailing brain. Nevertheless, big-headed Wilson and magnanimous me decided to give in and allow her some nap time. Besides, her eyebags suggested she really needed a nap.
But, like I always say, I pretend to forgive, and I never forget. This is war.
The idea of revenge first struck me on a rainy day. It was raining heavily, and it was as cold as my Mother's eyes whenever I ask her for money. Anyhow, Lao Kuniang sat in front of me on the bus. Realising the state of the weather, I managed to infer that Lao Kuniang would be feeling really cold. I remembered our little engagement earlier and decided to do something about it.
I discreetly turned all the air-con vents towards her, and turned them up to 'maximum'. Within seconds, she was sneezing. She looked around and discovered that all the air-con vents were pointing at her. She turned to me and said, "Can you turn the vents away? I am cold."
Does she own a template for her speech or what? "Can you......? I....." Duh. The war continued, though.
Just yesterday, she was late for the bus again. I boarded the bus before her and took the seat behind the driver. The driver, Mr James, looked around and asked me if Lao Kuniang was taking the bus that morning. I had no idea. However, I am an opportunist, and saw a great chance for another shot at her. I said, "Nah, she isn't taking the bus this morning."
Mr James moved off.
I closed my eyes and imagined her chasing the bus. It was in slow-mo, like all great imaginations. She laboured through her steps and it showed. Her fat body vibrated like a bowl of jelly on a sub-woofer.
It was not a pretty sight, but it was a heart-warming thought.
Author: Ye » Comments:
