Lunch that got us talking

P.G has the most insane way of asking questions. And I as always have the privilege of having lunch with her. So today while our boss was happily eating his buth, she spoke.

“So are your parents dead?” I choked.

I tell her that there are better ways of phrasing the question, she looks at me and says, “oh you mean, like are your parents alive?”

I’m not the queen of tact, but surely she can’t be this blonde. He decided to interrupt and casually tell her in nicer words that she’s a moron. I wholly agreed. Then P.G not the one to let things go, struck back “so how old is your son”?

“Daughter”. We almost shout back. Unperturbed she questions him about his daughter. Now I’m mortified as he rattles on about his little girl who is actually 9. I keep looking in P.G’s direction to communicate with my eyes that she needs to watch what she says next. But alas, I’m too late.

“Why does she behave like 3 year old if she’s 9?”

We sigh, and he says that she’s got Down’s Syndrome. I felt a gush of relief but at the same time I refused to make eye contact. I wasn’t sure whether my eyes would betray any emotion or maybe his would.

P.G feels embarrassed and stupid and as usual is now struggling for words or maybe her own emotions, but he continues throughout lunch regaling stories of his daughter. I feel elated. Here’s somebody whom I’ve known for ages and I knew about his daughter’s condition, yet I’ve never inquired about her for fear of how he’d respond. But here we’re merrily discussing her antics and laughing. It’s like he has always waited for someone to ask him about her, and all it took was P.G’s inquisitive questioning in the most uncivilized manner to get him talking.

For once I didn’t berate her for her lack of etiquette.

Sun, fun and the not so fun

So I went and met the parents. I traded stories with the mother, had a Gin and Tonic with the father, gossiped about the lack of decent men with the sister and played softball barney with the nephew.

None of the above is true, obviously. In this day and age my expectations were just expectations.

I left home armed with my specialty pudding to show the family what a culinary goddess I was, but the vehicle my friend chose to drive was a steaming oven, so the once nice work of art turned into sludge, which after a very abrupt brake decided to land all over my jeans. Yes jeans and a tee was what I decided to wear. S laughed so hard because the substance that stained the crotch of my jeans reminded him of something, which he refused to tell me. Anyway after wiping it off along with the angry look that had made its way to the upper part of my anatomy, I went to face the awkward introductions. It didn’t go off bad and I found it funny when Cookie’s sister managed to serve me the drink first when clearly there were 10 others who should have got it before me. After casual awkward mingling, we decided to go on a boat ride on the canal. That was fun, in parts and places. We came back and stuffed ourselves with food; for once I enjoyed the food, in fact I loved it. The boys were very gracious with their comments about my leftover pudding and I wholly appreciate it. Makes me want to cook more. After that we played games, which we fought over and I evicted Cookie because he’s a sour loser. Went to the beach, came back and went home. So it was nice, and the family wasn’t anything like the Adam’s Family. Dang!

Onto other news, the Great White One left. I managed to blink away the tears and hold a wide smile throughout the goodbye speech. He was a great boss even though I had many an argument with him. The department organized a day out sailing as a final goodbye and it was the best Saturday in a long time. I absolutely loved it even though I’ve been taken sailing before. This time the guy who took us didn’t let us loiter in the water, he got me to tack and it was fun and tedious because we had to keep moving when the boom kept swinging. Also he got me to arch my back out of the sailboat, so basically I could feel my hair touching the water. Loved it. I also managed to kayak a few times, ran around playing fetch with Lucy and Nugi ( Springer Spaniel and a Dachshund), played pictionary and went on a speed boat ride. Did I mention that it was the best Saturday in a long long time?

Just a few days ago I also met up with my O/L computer batch. They’ve all grown up, become disconnected, some a little more blond than they were before. I was just glad that I met them, at least I know where they are and what they look like but I don’t think I’d be good friends with most of them like we were back then.

Yeah that’s it.

If you leave me, I’ll never fall in love again

Familiar words? Those men never fail to amuse me.

The last one who cried not too long ago, perhaps a little more than a year now surprised me completely out of my wits. When we were together, not to-gether and every other time he was virtually living as a voice inside my phone whined about how he’s the loyal type, bound to a girl like glue. That’s why he took 3 odd years to get over his ex and his misery at that time was directed at me because he’d take forever to get over our incomprehensible relationship. I laughed. Scoffed. Then held the phone far away from my ear.

One year and two months later he’s married!

Maybe I’m easy -to -forget material. I shouldn’t have laughed so hard.

The Family Stone

I feel a lot like Meredith, but I’m not like Meredith and my boyfriend is nothing like her boyfriend and there is no family stone that I’m after or rather he’s going to make me wear.
Gulp, I hope!
See, I’m going to meet his family on the 3rd and one day on the 3rd the 3rd of October would dawn and I will have to show myself. I tried in vain to pull all sorts of little stunts. I told him that I might get violently ill (somehow my caring nerves preferred telling him NOW about my impending illness) or I might have something else that warrants my attention. But unfortunately he has seen through the obvious lies and hasn’t been merciful, so I guess I must show up this Saturday.
Like Meredith I don’t know what the appropriate outfit should be. The confidence that I seemed to have when I whined about the perfect outfit to meet the parents in a post I wrote aeons ago seems to be of little use. So, I’m sitting here, wide eyed mentally going through my wardrobe.
The pristine white shirt? Too formal and too Meredith.
The rock tee? Too disturbing and too me. It’s good I guess to let them take me in small doses, after all I wouldn’t like it much if they all decided to freak out and have a heart attack.
The cute spaghetti top? Too revealing.
His family is somewhat conservative and we Burghers have a reputation for being everything else other than conservative. I can’t be bothered with the clothes, I’ll just probably grab whatever I see on Saturday and stomp there. But one thing’s for certain though it won’t be a dress!!!

Now that the clothes are sorted I have bigger things to worry about. Meredith had a hard time trying to make conversation at the dinner table, in my case it would be a lunch table (doesn’t sound as good as a dinner table eh?). The thing is I’m one to talk but the language worries me considerably, they converse in Sinhala and I on a normal day can mutter some strange thing. The problem is when I get nervous I tend to freeze and when I eventually thaw, I’d most probably say something stupid. So yes I worry about things like that, wouldn’t you?
I guess I’d also have to behave. I can almost hear mum giving me a rulebook of 10 things to do and a 100 things not to…
# No screaming and running in the house.
# No laughing loud.
# No slurping and guzzling drinks.
# Always smile.
# Be polite and nod in acknowledgment.
I’ll probably follow her advice closely, because I also tend to daydream constantly and it won’t be much of a surprise if a conversation did go like this…
B.F mum: Would you like some chicken?
Me: Yes please
B.F mum: Would you like some rice?
Me: Yes please
B.F mum: would you like a sharp poke in the eye?
Me: Yes please
Oh dear! I guess I’d leave them with a great first impression, one that spells ‘unintelligent neurotic dyslexic all smiling freak’! Well I dunno, maybe it would be fun, maybe it would go horribly wrong. On the bright side if it does, I’ll have another story to write home about.

Strange love

A few months ago after much laughter and lunch with Cookie, we decided to walk back to my office. The quickest route is this very narrow road, which has vehicles whizzing past with vengeance. So the only logical thing to do is walk one in front of the other. So here I was happily trotting in front of Cookie and suddenly out of nowhere my friend appears, stops his car smack bang in the middle of road, blocking the entire lane and shouts at me to get in.

What did I do?

I darted across the road, got into the car and we took off. Once in I started rambling to him in my excited, arms flapping manner, only to be interrupted by a beep. The text was from a mildly amused Cookie asking me what he was supposed to do now that I’ve left him stranded on the side of the road.

Well this is not the only incident where I’ve done something strange and every single time I do something an otherwise normal girlfriend wouldn’t dare commit, I wonder why he’s still with me.

I guess it’s a strange kind of love, one only the two of us can understand.

I want to wake up

in a villa…

in Tuscany…

to the sound of wind chimes. ..

to a kiss from my Sayang…

to the chores of family life…

to the laughter of friends…

to a day when it will all come true…

You’ll always be my shadow

Seven years of commitment. Seven years of dealing with his shit. Seven years of waking up to the sound of his voice. Seven years of picking up after him. Seven years of cuddling and sloppy kisses.

Seven years is a long time to be in a relationship. But just the other day, we went out for a walk and since we were feeling experimental, we decided that a different trail was a good idea. Half an hour later, and three streets away from our home we stop and stare at the traffic situation in the sky. I’m amused, him not so, as myriads of birds fly in different directions, some to their homes, others in search of lost flocks.

The weather is changing, the blue sky turns gray, the wind picks up momentum as I pick up pace. Suddenly I decide to enjoy it all, the rustling, the soft pelts of raindrops, the refreshing air. So I sit on the pavement and gesture for him to come join me. Apprehensively he sits down, we watch.

In the distance the thunder starts to roar. He edges closer, he never understood the concept of thunder or crackers so I put my arms around him reassuringly while I tell him that they are wonderful things and that sometimes being scared is okay. I quickly bury my face in his neck as I feel tears prick my eyes. It’s a strange sensation as I realize how much I love him and how much I would miss him when he leaves. With grubby hands I wipe away the tears, hoping that the few people who witnessed our amorous behavior would think I was simply wiping the rain off my face.

I look at him and dare him to beat me home, he is eager. So I lengthen his leash and together we run through the storm, homeward bound.

Love, actually?

Nice to ponder on with a Caipirinha in hand, the nicest mocktail I’ve had so far. I look around the pub to make sure no one heard Mellow’s outburst. Sometimes I wonder what people think when they eavesdrop on our conversations, sometimes I wish he wouldn’t speak as loud as he does and sometimes I hope he’s not insensitive when discussing sensitive topics. Focusing back to my little bunch I’m greeted with bewilderment written across their faces. Mellow continues his tirade dramatically moving his hand, barely missing my drink. He seems awfully in the mood to get his point across, and at times like these I sit back, listen intently and let him talk.

As the clock quickly ticks away the minutes, I can’t help but wonder about everything he said about love. I already knew that love is not changing the other person to fit your idea of the perfect person but that thought triggered so many other thought processes. If love means not changing a single thing about the other person, that means 99.9% of people haven’t being in love. Stewie looks perplexed and I look utterly baffled as realization slowly takes a hit, for me maybe it’s the Caipirinha. I shake my glass and look at it in dismay, its over and I really need another one but there’s no chance of that. While I awaken from my reverie, the gang seems to be discussing the best restaurants in town, I suggest that we try Japanese. Mellow thinks it’s a brilliant idea and yes I’m always full of brilliant stupid freaking ideas (I hate Japanese food!!).

Now at Sakura’s I’m still pondering while trying to eat with chopsticks. I’m the most ungraceful creature you’ve ever had Jap food with, seriously. As I struggle to grasp a piece of tempura, Mellow pokes something raw into my mouth and  since I’m pretty much zoned out, I bite into awful raw food and gasp “Shit Mellow this freaking thing’s raw”. He looks at me and says “Sushi”. I swallow it in disgust and point my sticks at Stewie, he makes a silent but audible remark about how I’d walk away with them when we leave.

Love again…that thought stuck in my head. Love for me is the following list of things,

Love is putting up with the toilet seat, I’ve grown up with a older brother sharing my bathroom so I’m pretty much used to it sometimes being down and sometimes being up (the toilet seat, for goodness sake!!). So it really doesn’t bother me.

Love is having an argument, slamming the bedroom door and then opening it to let the dog in

Love is when you’re told not to touch the brand new car and you touch it, drive it, crash it and then he looks at you and says “It’s amazing how much damage you could do in 5 minutes”.

Love is when you repeatedly listen to someone with a bad case of hysterical giggling while telling a joke.

Ok I’m going to stop now, this post started off a tad bit seriously but now I’m starting to find it all too comical. Well before I go, love for me is everything other than what people describe when they think of the 4 letter word and Mellow you may be right and you may be wrong, I don’t know, what I do know is that I walked away with the chopsticks.

I’m an aunt

To a beautiful baby boy!!! He’s such a treat, I can’t wait to cuddle him and kiss his cute little button nose and look into those dreamy brown eyes…

URGH!

Sometimes I think that life is ’someone up there’ silly little idea of a joke. What’s funny is that he’s not laughing with us but at us!  Bugger, if mom ever reads this, I won’t have a home to return to after tonight’s episode with my friends.

I’m terribly upset so this is just a rant, please bear with me until all hell’s broken loose, well when that happens you’re supposed to call for tranquilizer darts, seriously ask Gypsy Boy in New York he knows all about my violent tantrums and I hate to say this Davy Jones PMS is not a freaking myth!

The reason for such abusive ranting? Well as you may all know, if you’ve read ‘what if’ I’m dating a guy (just in case you get the wrong vibes) whom I shall fondly refer to as Cookie, much like the Cookie Monster from Sesame Street. He’s not blue though, maybe he’ll turn blue if I choke him, but I won’t do that because I’ve got the muscle power of a mouse and well I love him too much. We’re completely opposite, we are so opposite that as soon as I think I love something I know he’ll hate it. I guess its funny in the beginning but I doubt it will funny a lot later on. I’m periodically insecure about the whole thing, about the fact that we’re so different and especially because of his strong opinions on politics. I hate politics! (Load the darts)

Things are happening all around us, he wants to talk about it, I make mocking comments about stuff and he shuts off completely. When it happens to me I do the same thing. Yippy I found something in common! Moving on…I hate the fact this post is extremely personal and I hate the fact that he’s going to see it on whatever alert that pops up on his screen but I need to vent.

And I need to vent before I leave work today because I don’t want to ruin my uncontrollable bubbly excitement of hanging out with my friends after such a long time and besides if I’m upset they’ll know and they’ll want to know why and shit like that…sometimes friends won’t let things be…

Ok done

Over and out!