(sigh): My Family Part 2

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What can I say?
We have the gene that causes the rare disease called: both feet in mouth
Not literally of course and yeah, stop your over active imagination though I can confirm that’s how ‘happy baby’ pose in yoga looks like; a combination of obscenity and perversion ala contortionist.

“how’s A?” quizzed my mom succumbing to her sub-consciousness that nags: talk! say something. stop being rude. they are the host.

And of course mom was relating it to A’s work. Happy? Depressed? Stressed? Relaxed? @#$%-hole boss? … ya know, work in general. a save, staid topic (or so she thought) as we walked on egg shells remembering the earlier cat-dogs-cow-boar fights she had heard over the phone some 8 hours earlier {read HERE*}.

The question was met with a huge, unnecessarily long sigh followed by hands thrown up into the air with eye balls simultaneously rolling to the back of the head. Aunty S did appear to be high on LSD. Only fortunately or unfortunately she isn’t.

Uncle E offers an explanation that ended up in a never ending launch of Apollo 13.

Oh, a combustible topic indeed as well.

I shall save you the family antics. Sometimes I think God made an error. I swear I have Jew blood judging by the exaggerated drama I am surrounded with.

Long story short…
B(oy). A.
Malay. Chinese.
Diploma. Degree.
MARA. Vanderbilt. {not the talcum powder by UNZA back in the 1980s}
Playboy. Virgin. {or so claimed – I can’t verify but find it amazingly difficult to believe when half the time half her breast is popping out of her top plus the amount of kissing and petting details I have to hear}
Street-smart. Naive.

So, for the rest of the night the volley on the above between A and Uncle E and Aunty S took place, while I tried best to consume the overcooked and one-too-many chicken dishes being dished out and made 2 observations:

Parents will always unite for their kids.
For once in 3 decades Uncle E and Aunty S were a team. In agreement on something.
And wow! this deserves a 4D, Sports Toto procurement … they supported each others arguments!!!

I deserved to be talked about by mom.
I am a handful. I have been, is and will always be a pain.
So the above observation didn’t work for me. My parents probably did the reverse with me. They were on extreme ends when it came to me.

See, whilst mom appeared to be pro-A in all this madness that was happening on Chinese New Year’s reunion dinner, her super-liberal stand in life and on this matter in particular has been long conditioned by me. Her countless narrations of “someone” she knows that is blahreferred to none other than me.

Whenever the “someone” is blah3 illustration came up, “hmmm” I thought. Lips sealed. Staying as low as possible from the radar.

“right Penny?” comes every so often from mom as well, whom I responded categorically at every instance with an outright stern “leave me out of this.”

I mean, what the heck am I suppose to say?
Agree with mom and admit to the “someone” is blah3 and in the process enrage the bewildered, maniac depressive Aunty S further?
(It would have been fun under normal circumstances but … )

Disagree with mom and be met with her mischievous looking eyes that carries a deeper meaning?

Lie? Sound like a hypocrite (of course only mom will know I was being a hypocrite)

After a Malay. Afghani. Pakistani and now the occasional flirting thought of a Muslim Kashmiri, mom has had her fair share of ‘shockers’ – hence, the super-cool demure.

But of course I was never rebellious. Never heads over heels in love infatuate with the guy. I had more to go on about the cause than ever the guy. The guy was always just the enabler to the cause I was moved by and in love with. And I can’t show affection, appreciation or be physical with a cause. So … as far as mom was concern it was just another face on a poster, on TV, in the papers … you get it.

Well, to Uncle E and Aunty S, I have 2 humble questions:

  1. What’s the difference between A dating and possibly marrying a Malay to you folks marrying the older daughter to a Jehovah Witness, and son R dating a Kazakhstan girl???
  2. How the heck did we end up being Peranakan’s in the first place?

And that’s why my baju kurung attire for Chinese New Year was not a contention at all. :)
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– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
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For (chuckles) : My Family Part 1, read HERE*.
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