A Curried Life

Vic and I chillin’ over caffeine, sharing a donut he turned into segments like a Mandarin orange. Picking it up with forks and having the powdered sugar fall over us as we fessed up. He with some bud that turned out to be a louse who took off with Vic’s hard earned bucks. I was wondering how this actually works. Friendship + Family as in those called Cuz. Me: Er… Fam as in Cuz Vic: Those! Me: You know how it goes when folks just stop. Talking. Speaking. Invites. And everything just sort of dies as in D-E-A-D? No dial tone? The boy nods. Been there. Done that. Yeah I feel your pain sista! What did I do? Basically nothing. So Vic pens a list and he crosses that out as he reads it. Man, he starts every single thing imaginable with a To Be a Better… WTH To be a better wife. Oi not married la. Cross… To be a better mother is crossed automatically… To be a better lover (Hahaha who am I kidding? I’m the best! But then again maybe NOT) To be more tolerant (I sm...

“It is by vivacity and wit that man shines in company; but trite jokes and loud laughter reduce him to a buffoon. “ ~ Lord Chesterfield I return again with great narrative strength cull from an afternoon’s encounter with a Buffoon. There’s nothing amusing at all about a fella who is a class clown, and has been for decades. This is a grown man who is totally inept and ludicrous with childish mannerism. He is nothing more than an underachiever with delusion of grandeur. Absolutely boorish. I am sure we have all had these unfortunate encounters before. This is a collective narration of stories I’ve heard or have experienced in the course of my curried life. 1 Where does one find a Buffoon?  Easy. Did I say buffet and a free meal in the same breath? Why Cheapskate Buffoon’s there with his family in tow. He is the artful one who tells his children “Boys, quickly, take two of the big prawns each! Don’t be shy; use your elbows to get right in! Make Papa proud, your p...

Human Flea via Internet  Trap under the weight of pretences, I decide to be the girl that I have set myself out to be. A quick tug form the upper corner and it rips, diagonally. One bare boob, a crooked arm and a bare thigh stare back. She has one good eye and that mass of golden curls tumble ridiculously. I peel off the posters one by one. It gets easier. Really. After that I just sweep the desktop calendars onto the floor. What the heck? I decide to reformat her hard disk instead of just getting furious reading her wedding planner. It feels liberating. I’m thrill to be getting married. Right about now it feels like deranged bride meets outrageous mother-in-law with details of a) how to turn the celebration into an over-the-top extravaganza that stars herself or b) how to threaten the son not to marry me and maybe it’s c) all the above and plus how to bake a saw into a wedding cake escape plan Arrgh…. The rampage is nothing short of a detox for the son, my inten...

“I did not feel finished with childhood,” Gemma confesses. “Forty years to this day and the flashbacks have come back to haunt me.” Gemma is living with the toxic legacy of a bad mother, my old childhood neighbour. After she was born, her paternal grandmother took to caring for her as her mother was suffering from post natal depression. Soon the grandmother decided that she was a better mother for the little baby girl than her daughter-in-law who was constantly listless, moody and suffering from insomnia. Grandmother was afraid that the daughter-in-law would be careless and harm baby Gemma. Gemma’s mother was desperate and felt guilty and blamed herself for “losing” her child. She became a weepy woman who would sleep during the day and stay up at nights. She had very poor appetite and became very ill physically. Everyone worried about her. It was years later that Gemma was finally reunited with her mother when Grandmother passed on. Her return to her family hom...

My cousin Judy loves massages. Spas in particular. She’s always on the lookout for some new and exotic place to try. Once in a while, she would call with exciting news of a new spa. 1 Malay Traditional Spa The first spa we tried together is located in a hypermarket’s Mall. The setup and interior is modest with a distinct Malay flavour: plastic flowers everywhere, hanging from rattan and wicker baskets from the ceiling. Place high on cabinets or even low in terra cotta pots. We thought we had entered a bridal boutique by mistake. After we changing into batik sarongs, tied modestly, we sit on cool 1960's rattan circle chair with batik cushion. At the foot of the chair, lay a timber basin filled with warm water, flower petals and halved Kaffir Lime also known as limau purut.  Sweet! The masseurs start us off with a foot bath: a symbolic gesture to the start of our pampering. We wriggle our toes playfully in the warm water, pushing the flower petals with ou...

Wills grins sheepishly. This girl is more than a little surprise to learn of his secret passion at night. Earlier on, she confesses her secret sin of chocolate truffles at midnight. Over copious cups of Pu Erh tea, Wills narrates the plots and sub plots of the Hokkien tele-drama that he has been following into the wee hours of the mornings. “You’ve really turned into a housewife!” she retorts. The going on and shenanigans of the Taiwanese drama is a melting pot of who-dun-its, business takeovers and sibling rivalry over the same girl. Wills is a SAHD or stay-at-home dad. Sometimes referred to as a househusband or house-spouse, he is the father of two lovely boys age 9 and 12. He is the main caregiver and the homemaker of the household. After years of putting gruelling hours at the office which took a toll on his health and quality of life; Wills made a life changing decision. He quit his high paying senior position in a foreign bank. He relocates his family back to...

“Dee, can you get the Yim Kai from the fridge?” Kay’s mother hollers from the kitchen. I look at Kay, who is equally blurred. Salted Chicken? We look into both fridges, opening and closing doors. There was a large turkey sitting in the chiller staring back. Maybe it’s a Cantonese tradition, Kay volunteers. Kay’s mother ambles towards us, she has the look of one annoyed with the foolishness of youth – that being Kay and I. She shoves pass us and takes the turkey out. “As plain as day itself and these two think they can cook it by staring at it!” or some Cantonese idioms to that effect. Both Kay and I are clueless. He doesn’t speak his mother tongue and I, being part Hakka am equally hopeless. Kay’s mother glares at us. “I thought you meant salted chicken, Mom,” Kay says. Kay’s mother takes out the bird and places him on a large enamel plate. “I had to book this Yim Kai from Ipoh. This one’s a big boy, about 6.5kg and cost RM50 per kilo, “she boasts. Yim Kai is a cast...