come as you are as you were as i want you to be
I have a small confession to make: Hungary made me watch Friends with her today and… and I really liked it! It wasn’t obviously on crack (a la Scrubs) or gripping psychological thriller (like Wire In The Blood!) or deadpan British humour or Hugo-Weaving-as-gay-real-estate-agent (Bedrooms and Hallways) but it was awfully amusing!
There was this blonde chick, I have no idea what her name is, but she had that slightly off-kilter quirky artist lacking sense of proportion air that was, hmm, oddly familiar. (I wonder why.) And she was singing about Smelly Cats! How can you ask me not to love a character who sings about vile-smelling cats!
I know this is effectively declaring that I am way behind times but I have Star World now and I feel empowered. Oh, to be connected with the rest of the cable-access world!
Well, all right, I did watch Grey’s Anatomy for a bit but I got preoccupied with all these unsettling questions that I am still not sure I want answered.
PING: Drunk surgeons getting it on… workaholic surgeons getting it on… surgeons getting it on with surgeons they’re not dating, surgeons getting it on with their mentor surgeons… surgeons getting it on in the on-call room, surgeons getting it on on stretchers…
PING: At least the plot is formulaic!
PING: … Wait, lesbians?!
PING: What I want to know is, are they surgeons who get laid a lot or do they get laid a lot because they’re surgeons?
PING: Hang on. How close is this to reality? Does it extend to the whole medical profession? Is my dentist getting more action than me? … Hospitals can’t be hygienic if people are having unprotected sex all over the place!
Yes. You Greys Anatomy fans, just think about that.
~
It occurred to me while I was studying with the Lady Bel that people generally seem to give me a slight berth or treat me with the air of indulging an adorable but definitely rabid cat.
PING: Why aren’t you saying anything?
LLOYD: … er.
PING: I know what you’re thinking. You’re trying to recall what to do with maniacs and your brain is saying, Indulge them and don’t make any sudden movements.
LLOYD: … er.
PING: (waving hand menacingly) If you jerk away while I try to hit you,
It would totally count as a sudden movement!
I am not very good at making people feel comfortable, unfortunately. Usually because I am actually very gauche and shy, and the fumbling awkwardness either makes me hide in a corner or propels me to launch bravely into conversation. (Jia Long says, ‘You? Shy?’ But it’s true!) The latter usually has dire consequences that involve people inching away and trying not to make sudden movements. But some times, there are brave souls who decide to befriend me in spite of the regular brain damage (HI JONNY) or who have no self-preservation instincts or who are kindred spirits (waves at Triumvirate).
What I am trying to say is, I have very understanding friends.
PING: There are pretentious indie rockers who live in my block. This sassy lady in the lift totally introduced herself to the guitar dude with piercing as ‘hi, I’m the skanky looking one’.
YAM: Maybe your community might have had influence on your music taste. But that does mean you will grow up to be Skanky Lady.
PING: Couldn’t even if I wanted to. She was tall with HUGE… er… Well, Amil calls them “boobies”.
PING: (thoughtful) Well, I suppose I could always take lots of Vitasoy to up my oestrogen content. Then I might have… you know!
YAM: This intense consumption of soya bean drink! I hope you and Lloyd are not thinking of competing, YES?
PING: I’d only do it for the boobies, I hate soy products. Boobies!
YAM: I can tell that we are talking about a complex here.
You might wonder why I start to post so heavily the moment the exams are around the corner. I’m wondering too, actually! There is something about imminent academic ruination that makes my inner-monologue go into overdrive.
As a matter of financial expediency, I started thinking about possible career options if I fail out of IB.
The answer came in flash: Self-help books.
And not just any self-help books. They would be self-help books on relationships!
You might say, But Ping, you do not have the qualifications to write that book. Your dentist is probably getting more action than you - you said so yourself.
That may very well be true. But the brilliant part is that I intend to introduce a revolutionary marketing ploy: the self-help book doesn’t actually have to be useful!
THE FATHER: And why would people buy your self-help books?
PING: For the entertainment value, obviously.
THE FATHER: (stony silence)
PING: … What? You mean you want me to write something that’s actually useful?
I can see it already. I’d have one book for parents to give their children if they don’t want to deliver the Birds-And-Bees Talk.
PING: “Hormones, Hope and Hos: To Kiss Or Not To Kiss, That Is The Question!”
SERA: (distinctly unimpressed)
PING: Can you imagine if I actually wrote it? ‘Chapter 1: Unrequited Affection. There is no cure, but unfortunately there is always hope. Try distraction, entertainment and, for the more adventurous readers, masturbation!’
Then I had a better idea. Books are troublesome to publish and print, right? And it’s always convenient to have something lighter to carry around. Ergo…
PING: I’LL PRODUCE SELF-HELP PAMPHLETS! Pingu Productions proudly presents ‘Volume 1: The Morning After. What do you do when you don’t recognise the stranger next to you in bed? Don’t panic! Remember the three steps: Stop. Drop. Roll!’
THE MOTHER: Why roll?
PING: Off the bed, obviously!
There was this blonde chick, I have no idea what her name is, but she had that slightly off-kilter quirky artist lacking sense of proportion air that was, hmm, oddly familiar. (I wonder why.) And she was singing about Smelly Cats! How can you ask me not to love a character who sings about vile-smelling cats!
I know this is effectively declaring that I am way behind times but I have Star World now and I feel empowered. Oh, to be connected with the rest of the cable-access world!
Well, all right, I did watch Grey’s Anatomy for a bit but I got preoccupied with all these unsettling questions that I am still not sure I want answered.
PING: Drunk surgeons getting it on… workaholic surgeons getting it on… surgeons getting it on with surgeons they’re not dating, surgeons getting it on with their mentor surgeons… surgeons getting it on in the on-call room, surgeons getting it on on stretchers…
PING: At least the plot is formulaic!
PING: … Wait, lesbians?!
PING: What I want to know is, are they surgeons who get laid a lot or do they get laid a lot because they’re surgeons?
PING: Hang on. How close is this to reality? Does it extend to the whole medical profession? Is my dentist getting more action than me? … Hospitals can’t be hygienic if people are having unprotected sex all over the place!
Yes. You Greys Anatomy fans, just think about that.
~
It occurred to me while I was studying with the Lady Bel that people generally seem to give me a slight berth or treat me with the air of indulging an adorable but definitely rabid cat.
PING: Why aren’t you saying anything?
LLOYD: … er.
PING: I know what you’re thinking. You’re trying to recall what to do with maniacs and your brain is saying, Indulge them and don’t make any sudden movements.
LLOYD: … er.
PING: (waving hand menacingly) If you jerk away while I try to hit you,
It would totally count as a sudden movement!
I am not very good at making people feel comfortable, unfortunately. Usually because I am actually very gauche and shy, and the fumbling awkwardness either makes me hide in a corner or propels me to launch bravely into conversation. (Jia Long says, ‘You? Shy?’ But it’s true!) The latter usually has dire consequences that involve people inching away and trying not to make sudden movements. But some times, there are brave souls who decide to befriend me in spite of the regular brain damage (HI JONNY) or who have no self-preservation instincts or who are kindred spirits (waves at Triumvirate).
What I am trying to say is, I have very understanding friends.
PING: There are pretentious indie rockers who live in my block. This sassy lady in the lift totally introduced herself to the guitar dude with piercing as ‘hi, I’m the skanky looking one’.
YAM: Maybe your community might have had influence on your music taste. But that does mean you will grow up to be Skanky Lady.
PING: Couldn’t even if I wanted to. She was tall with HUGE… er… Well, Amil calls them “boobies”.
PING: (thoughtful) Well, I suppose I could always take lots of Vitasoy to up my oestrogen content. Then I might have… you know!
YAM: This intense consumption of soya bean drink! I hope you and Lloyd are not thinking of competing, YES?
PING: I’d only do it for the boobies, I hate soy products. Boobies!
YAM: I can tell that we are talking about a complex here.
You might wonder why I start to post so heavily the moment the exams are around the corner. I’m wondering too, actually! There is something about imminent academic ruination that makes my inner-monologue go into overdrive.
As a matter of financial expediency, I started thinking about possible career options if I fail out of IB.
The answer came in flash: Self-help books.
And not just any self-help books. They would be self-help books on relationships!
You might say, But Ping, you do not have the qualifications to write that book. Your dentist is probably getting more action than you - you said so yourself.
That may very well be true. But the brilliant part is that I intend to introduce a revolutionary marketing ploy: the self-help book doesn’t actually have to be useful!
THE FATHER: And why would people buy your self-help books?
PING: For the entertainment value, obviously.
THE FATHER: (stony silence)
PING: … What? You mean you want me to write something that’s actually useful?
I can see it already. I’d have one book for parents to give their children if they don’t want to deliver the Birds-And-Bees Talk.
PING: “Hormones, Hope and Hos: To Kiss Or Not To Kiss, That Is The Question!”
SERA: (distinctly unimpressed)
PING: Can you imagine if I actually wrote it? ‘Chapter 1: Unrequited Affection. There is no cure, but unfortunately there is always hope. Try distraction, entertainment and, for the more adventurous readers, masturbation!’
Then I had a better idea. Books are troublesome to publish and print, right? And it’s always convenient to have something lighter to carry around. Ergo…
PING: I’LL PRODUCE SELF-HELP PAMPHLETS! Pingu Productions proudly presents ‘Volume 1: The Morning After. What do you do when you don’t recognise the stranger next to you in bed? Don’t panic! Remember the three steps: Stop. Drop. Roll!’
THE MOTHER: Why roll?
PING: Off the bed, obviously!