KY speaks

This is the first post, and already I screwed up, having written the entire post and accidentally hit the wrong button and erased it all. Double work now, and hopefully I get the gist back.

Instead of pounding you with the thoughts I have in my mind for the better part of the last century, lets share something light, something easier to digest.

Last Saturday, faggot and I went to Chow Yang restaurant at ss2 for dinner. Now faggot is a Baba, though legally Chinese, his command of any Chinese dialects falls short of ST’s Malay.

I ordered wanton mee, and faggot went off to order his own dish from another stall.

Upon coming back, faggot was beaming with confidence and said “Dude, it’s so easy to order here, I only needed to say 3 words ‘uncle, hokkien mee yat woon, thank you’.” He looked so happy.

Never mind that was actually 7 words. So we then ordered our drinks and started waiting, and let me give you this exciting time-line.

5 min: my food came, faggot waiting for his food

20 min: I finished my food, faggot waiting for his food

30 min: more hot chicks walked by, faggot waiting for his food

35 min: I started the inevitable conversation

“Dude, they forgot your order?” I asked.

“Yeah I think so” Faggot replied.

“Go remind them then.”

“Nay, it’s ok.”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yeah, but it’s ok.”

Then it struck me, faggot ran out of vocabulary in Cantonese to reorder.

Moral of the story –

1. Learning a language just to know how to order is not good enough, you have to learn to complain when your food takes too long to arrive.
2. Just fucking ask me to re-order it for you instead
3. Ego + shyness = starvation

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