Now, I also was quite blur as to how the Saturday began. Any-o-how, I believe I woke in the afternoon. Yes, I believe that was the case. See, when you don't work on a Friday, suddenly the week seems lost in time. You wake up and you don't know what day it is. Ever had that feeling, you're pretty damn sure it was still Friday and then someone asks you what is the tamil picture on TV tonight is? Then it hits you. That it's already Day 6. And you only have Day 7 left. Of which you're gonna be sleeping most of it cos of your effervescent drinking. I say effervescence because of all the bubbles involved in beer, ginger ale and air pockets in condoms.
I, Rita and Scanty [abbreviated from Scantily-Clad, every Skanky needs a Scanty ma] first ate at Banana Leaf Apollo. The food was alright. The service was FUCKTYPE! The fuckin waiter just bo-hew [fuck care] Scanty's desperate cries for more appalam. And the place wasn't even packed! So, you can imagine la, if appalam already must practically bend over and kiss the toes, when the rice and rasam and yoghurt gonna come. IT was super duper filling, but you really don't wanna be eating at a place where the waiter just couldn't give a fuck.
The 2 ladies, went through a myriad of plannign after that. I'm quite sure I heard "go back and sleep" and "Robinson's" and "Spotlight" in there somewhere. But we ended up at Mr. Bean's cafe, off Selegie. It was my first time there and the Milo [read: Hot Chocolate] was quite ok. Jas came to sit sit a bit. That sick girl. In the time between me going to the station to get her AND to get back, 2 incidents happened.
Another useless waiter struck again. This time, there was eye contact and polite words going "Can I have the menu card". He was prompt though. In ignoring Scanty. There goes another letter of complaint. These fellas are all asking for it. However, I was not there and thus cannot let go another tirade, in all fairness. What we don't see, we don't talk about, unless it's about who's sleeping with who, cos technically you never EVER get to see those stuff live.
And that's why I have a 4 year old son running going "Born Free...free of my pops", in his little power rangers uniform, wondering why life bit him in the arse so hard. I is gonna take inspiration from a story told to me, and raise this son of mine. Albeit, he is invisible, but so what. I will raise him. And he will be much much smarter, handsomer, cooler, machoer, hip and happening than all of your offspring.
The second incident was this middle aged couple who got lost enroute to Tank Road. They had a wedding. Chose MRT over taxi and got lost. I saw them loitering at Paradize there. They called out. I answered their calling, eventually walking them all the way to Park Mall so they wouldn't get lost. It was quite hilarious. The first third of the journey, the hubby was fuckin up his wife for getting them lost. She was takin it like a good "public" Indian wife. I dread it when he gets home. The second third was spent blaming the MRT employee who pointed them to the exit. The last portion was me convincing them to just keep cool, and no one was in the wrong.
And then the uncle gets a phone call, at the P.S. traffic light. I whispered to his wife and she opened her handbag. Immediately, this man turns away from the phon eyes big big and goes "Why? why? Why?". Macam I asking her for money to pay me for showing the way like that. He was visibly embarassed when she reached in and gave me some tissue paper. Hot night it was. Off to BQ. That girl in white riding up the escalator in Farrer Park, she's still on my mind. Like a pale moon on a breezy September night her face was.
So, at BQ, sitting and chilling in front of the XBOX, while munching on sunflower seeds and drinking off some BOLS Triple Sec. These stuff is wild. I is gonna buy all the BOLS flavours that exist ever. Oh yes, I still need to show someone the beauty of a nicely made apricot brandy mix. Then, the blokes all arrive. Met some AMK veteran. And he was regaling me with his old Bowen Sec stories. He was a chef too, and he was licensed to carry this big stack of chef's knives and choppers and skewers and all. In a nice leather bag. Imagine that, people like us. Licensing us to carry knives. God has a sense of humour.
We spent quite a bit of time, attempting to repair a broken clutch cable in between hearing tales of biker gangs. But it was broke. Not like it couldn't be ridden. And even Ah Boy's shop aint open on late Saturday nights. I felt damn tired la, but the show must go on, does it not?
So, off to CM. We walked and bitched. Me, Jas and Han. Bitched bout it all. Money, women [Jas gfren walked out on him and hopped into a cab, tired of waiting for ALL the mofos to get their ass moving]. Han is broke as he will ever be but he still pitches in money to kongxi and buy drinks. The main bitching topic of course was Yus, the man who can afford to walk into a 40 dollar a night hotel room, afford petrol and buy a new Super 4, but can't afford ten or twenty bucks to buy the jugs or the bottles. What impudence right. And on top of all that, he has brought about another political fiasco within us.
Sop and I were at CM on Friday and he got into a disagreement with the tequila girl cum dancer. He was at the bar. She wanted to get up, asked him to move. He refused. Sayin, why should I, you get up from a different portion of the bar. She was high, quarrel with him. I did what I could to diffuse. Manager apologizes to Sop. The fuckin girl later dares to comment to Sop "Drink faster la puki!" when someone buys him a shot. I know Sop. She should have died. But, nah, he has his wits about him sometimes too. How does Yus come into the story? She is his "girlfriend". I put it in inverted commas cos, yeah, the word in there really doesnt mean much to the man. So, there, the stage is set. Sop took Saturday off to spend the time with his kids and ex wife whom he doesn't see much off, but who'd love to see him. It's sad. That story. Why they split. I have this feeling I'm heading for a divorce too. It's okie, I'll keep my son with me.
Ok, now the night gets haywire. From shooting some pool, I have no idea how come I left. With the Sembawang boys no doubt. And I was in a minibus. And we dropped at BQ. This place is a magnet I tell you. Notti 9 it is. For the first time, since the new joint opened, I saw NO Malays. Interesting enough. I also happened to meet my cousin. The on-off relationship we have is so intricate, I just can't describe it. But he is the man I've always wanted to be, when I was young that is. Saw John. I miss John. Not many like John. But he treats me very fine, and seriously thats good enough for me.
At 4 when the place shut, I just knew the night wasn't ending. And true enough, we walked into Bedroom. It seems Desire seems to be the public enemy of many a regular clubber. I hope the place closes for good. It smells funny. Bedroom saw another 2 bottles popping out. We walked out into the fuckin hot sun. at close to 9 I think. I should have just returned home. But no, the blasting aircon of a brand new Lancer just lulled me into agreeing with the fool that I should spend the morning sleepin at his house. Bad move. There came the nagging from my aunt. She nags only in a few ways. First, is, why you drink so much? Second, is why you never care about your granny? Third, is, why you not as good as my oldest son, he the angel, he the king, he the this, he the that, why you and your other cousin suck? The trick is to escape to bed before the third one, cos I WILL react. I know that bloke. Not intimately, but I've seen him drink, seen him pine for a girl, seen his friends, know the friends who split with him. I have enough on him. But family is still family. I don't really care who is better than me. It's really quite dumb comparing someone 4 years my senior, with me. He's already in a different age generation.
Slept. Woke. Went home. Quarrelled with mum.
She: Where you went? Why don't know how to call?
ME:[for the millionth time] If got no call, means I safe. If something happened, either the cops or the hospital or the morgue will call.
She: Got money in pocket only run around town la
Me: It's time to end this conversation. Is it you want some Chivas?
She: Like father, like son.
Me: I think I will give it to Kulu then.
And so it is. The end of a Saturday-Sunday overflow saga. It's Monday now, as I pen this. Lo and behold, I is on MC. Cos, my boss say, if too tired to come work, go get your MC, don't walk in late, wait people say during World Cup, all the officers not effective wan. I agree. My Godfather is seldom wrong. Except about mee hoon.
Adieu!
I, Rita and Scanty [abbreviated from Scantily-Clad, every Skanky needs a Scanty ma] first ate at Banana Leaf Apollo. The food was alright. The service was FUCKTYPE! The fuckin waiter just bo-hew [fuck care] Scanty's desperate cries for more appalam. And the place wasn't even packed! So, you can imagine la, if appalam already must practically bend over and kiss the toes, when the rice and rasam and yoghurt gonna come. IT was super duper filling, but you really don't wanna be eating at a place where the waiter just couldn't give a fuck.
The 2 ladies, went through a myriad of plannign after that. I'm quite sure I heard "go back and sleep" and "Robinson's" and "Spotlight" in there somewhere. But we ended up at Mr. Bean's cafe, off Selegie. It was my first time there and the Milo [read: Hot Chocolate] was quite ok. Jas came to sit sit a bit. That sick girl. In the time between me going to the station to get her AND to get back, 2 incidents happened.
Another useless waiter struck again. This time, there was eye contact and polite words going "Can I have the menu card". He was prompt though. In ignoring Scanty. There goes another letter of complaint. These fellas are all asking for it. However, I was not there and thus cannot let go another tirade, in all fairness. What we don't see, we don't talk about, unless it's about who's sleeping with who, cos technically you never EVER get to see those stuff live.
And that's why I have a 4 year old son running going "Born Free...free of my pops", in his little power rangers uniform, wondering why life bit him in the arse so hard. I is gonna take inspiration from a story told to me, and raise this son of mine. Albeit, he is invisible, but so what. I will raise him. And he will be much much smarter, handsomer, cooler, machoer, hip and happening than all of your offspring.
The second incident was this middle aged couple who got lost enroute to Tank Road. They had a wedding. Chose MRT over taxi and got lost. I saw them loitering at Paradize there. They called out. I answered their calling, eventually walking them all the way to Park Mall so they wouldn't get lost. It was quite hilarious. The first third of the journey, the hubby was fuckin up his wife for getting them lost. She was takin it like a good "public" Indian wife. I dread it when he gets home. The second third was spent blaming the MRT employee who pointed them to the exit. The last portion was me convincing them to just keep cool, and no one was in the wrong.
And then the uncle gets a phone call, at the P.S. traffic light. I whispered to his wife and she opened her handbag. Immediately, this man turns away from the phon eyes big big and goes "Why? why? Why?". Macam I asking her for money to pay me for showing the way like that. He was visibly embarassed when she reached in and gave me some tissue paper. Hot night it was. Off to BQ. That girl in white riding up the escalator in Farrer Park, she's still on my mind. Like a pale moon on a breezy September night her face was.
So, at BQ, sitting and chilling in front of the XBOX, while munching on sunflower seeds and drinking off some BOLS Triple Sec. These stuff is wild. I is gonna buy all the BOLS flavours that exist ever. Oh yes, I still need to show someone the beauty of a nicely made apricot brandy mix. Then, the blokes all arrive. Met some AMK veteran. And he was regaling me with his old Bowen Sec stories. He was a chef too, and he was licensed to carry this big stack of chef's knives and choppers and skewers and all. In a nice leather bag. Imagine that, people like us. Licensing us to carry knives. God has a sense of humour.
We spent quite a bit of time, attempting to repair a broken clutch cable in between hearing tales of biker gangs. But it was broke. Not like it couldn't be ridden. And even Ah Boy's shop aint open on late Saturday nights. I felt damn tired la, but the show must go on, does it not?
So, off to CM. We walked and bitched. Me, Jas and Han. Bitched bout it all. Money, women [Jas gfren walked out on him and hopped into a cab, tired of waiting for ALL the mofos to get their ass moving]. Han is broke as he will ever be but he still pitches in money to kongxi and buy drinks. The main bitching topic of course was Yus, the man who can afford to walk into a 40 dollar a night hotel room, afford petrol and buy a new Super 4, but can't afford ten or twenty bucks to buy the jugs or the bottles. What impudence right. And on top of all that, he has brought about another political fiasco within us.
Sop and I were at CM on Friday and he got into a disagreement with the tequila girl cum dancer. He was at the bar. She wanted to get up, asked him to move. He refused. Sayin, why should I, you get up from a different portion of the bar. She was high, quarrel with him. I did what I could to diffuse. Manager apologizes to Sop. The fuckin girl later dares to comment to Sop "Drink faster la puki!" when someone buys him a shot. I know Sop. She should have died. But, nah, he has his wits about him sometimes too. How does Yus come into the story? She is his "girlfriend". I put it in inverted commas cos, yeah, the word in there really doesnt mean much to the man. So, there, the stage is set. Sop took Saturday off to spend the time with his kids and ex wife whom he doesn't see much off, but who'd love to see him. It's sad. That story. Why they split. I have this feeling I'm heading for a divorce too. It's okie, I'll keep my son with me.
Ok, now the night gets haywire. From shooting some pool, I have no idea how come I left. With the Sembawang boys no doubt. And I was in a minibus. And we dropped at BQ. This place is a magnet I tell you. Notti 9 it is. For the first time, since the new joint opened, I saw NO Malays. Interesting enough. I also happened to meet my cousin. The on-off relationship we have is so intricate, I just can't describe it. But he is the man I've always wanted to be, when I was young that is. Saw John. I miss John. Not many like John. But he treats me very fine, and seriously thats good enough for me.
At 4 when the place shut, I just knew the night wasn't ending. And true enough, we walked into Bedroom. It seems Desire seems to be the public enemy of many a regular clubber. I hope the place closes for good. It smells funny. Bedroom saw another 2 bottles popping out. We walked out into the fuckin hot sun. at close to 9 I think. I should have just returned home. But no, the blasting aircon of a brand new Lancer just lulled me into agreeing with the fool that I should spend the morning sleepin at his house. Bad move. There came the nagging from my aunt. She nags only in a few ways. First, is, why you drink so much? Second, is why you never care about your granny? Third, is, why you not as good as my oldest son, he the angel, he the king, he the this, he the that, why you and your other cousin suck? The trick is to escape to bed before the third one, cos I WILL react. I know that bloke. Not intimately, but I've seen him drink, seen him pine for a girl, seen his friends, know the friends who split with him. I have enough on him. But family is still family. I don't really care who is better than me. It's really quite dumb comparing someone 4 years my senior, with me. He's already in a different age generation.
Slept. Woke. Went home. Quarrelled with mum.
She: Where you went? Why don't know how to call?
ME:[for the millionth time] If got no call, means I safe. If something happened, either the cops or the hospital or the morgue will call.
She: Got money in pocket only run around town la
Me: It's time to end this conversation. Is it you want some Chivas?
She: Like father, like son.
Me: I think I will give it to Kulu then.
And so it is. The end of a Saturday-Sunday overflow saga. It's Monday now, as I pen this. Lo and behold, I is on MC. Cos, my boss say, if too tired to come work, go get your MC, don't walk in late, wait people say during World Cup, all the officers not effective wan. I agree. My Godfather is seldom wrong. Except about mee hoon.
Adieu!
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