Sunday, July 02, 2006
Maggi Mama
A new entry in the continuing A----- saga. Today, my mum cooked dinner (I didn't eat, too full, sorry mum, next time, I promise. Yup, I'll clean my room, yes, I'll do my work.. um hmm, yes the toilet too, umhmm. What? Sorry, got distracted for a while there. You know, from the incessant NAGGING.)
Anyway. My mum cooked an extra portion of food today.
Me: What's all that extra for?
Mum: *humming* It's for A-----.
Me: ?!
Then she went downstairs, delivered the meal (maggi noodles without the seasoning, vegetables, chicken meatball, fried onion and garlic) and came back up. We went down again an hour later (going for church, 8pm service on Sunday. Last minute much?) and A----- was so happy, thanking my mum profusely and generally acting as if my mother was the er, mother he never had. From the way he was praising her maggi dish, you would think he has having his first taste of cavier or foie gras or some other magical expensive snobbish dish. Geez, A-----. Instant noodles. In a pot of boiling water for 5 minutes. No need to throw a thank you party.
And now I'm being bitchy. I'm sorry, but I wish my mum would stop being so maternal to tall, hot, young, lonely, bored-on-the-job, talented-at-fixing-light-bulbs twenty-something-year-old men. A----- really bothers me. In the way tall, hot, young, lonely, bored-on-th - nevermind.
In my experience, concierges - the equivalent, I suppose, of condominuim security guards in Singapore - are supposed to be old, obese and obiang, reeking of smoke and leering at maids. So what's with this tall, hot - OK you know what? I should go recite the rosary or something. Or engage in self-flagellation. So I will stop thinking about this tall, hot, young - *slams head on keyboard*
Anyway. My mum cooked an extra portion of food today.
Me: What's all that extra for?
Mum: *humming* It's for A-----.
Me: ?!
Then she went downstairs, delivered the meal (maggi noodles without the seasoning, vegetables, chicken meatball, fried onion and garlic) and came back up. We went down again an hour later (going for church, 8pm service on Sunday. Last minute much?) and A----- was so happy, thanking my mum profusely and generally acting as if my mother was the er, mother he never had. From the way he was praising her maggi dish, you would think he has having his first taste of cavier or foie gras or some other magical expensive snobbish dish. Geez, A-----. Instant noodles. In a pot of boiling water for 5 minutes. No need to throw a thank you party.
And now I'm being bitchy. I'm sorry, but I wish my mum would stop being so maternal to tall, hot, young, lonely, bored-on-the-job, talented-at-fixing-light-bulbs twenty-something-year-old men. A----- really bothers me. In the way tall, hot, young, lonely, bored-on-th - nevermind.
In my experience, concierges - the equivalent, I suppose, of condominuim security guards in Singapore - are supposed to be old, obese and obiang, reeking of smoke and leering at maids. So what's with this tall, hot - OK you know what? I should go recite the rosary or something. Or engage in self-flagellation. So I will stop thinking about this tall, hot, young - *slams head on keyboard*
Labels: Boys
# posted by me lah @ 10:48 pm 
