Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Switching It Up

One of the biggest stories to hit our ridiculously humid, foreigner infested land is a rather controversial (hilarious, really) news of a baby mix up from Kandang Kerbau Hospital. You know, the hospital that hold the Guinness World Book of Records for highest number of deliveries recorded in a year, or something like that. I don't know what it was really, I hate kids.

So as usual, the trending news on Facebook for the past 48 hours have been about the baby mix up and people are pointing fingers at the hospital administration and it's negligence. The babies have been returned to the correct mothers and it's rightful vagina but people are still talking about it as though it was their vagina that went through 18 hours of contractions.

This incident somewhat made me think about the possibility of it happening in my family. What if I belonged to another set of parents and have been mixed up as a baby, being raised by my current set of parents unknowingly? And then I think of how I inherited my mum's OCD and how I went through my growing up years with literally thousands of, "You look exactly like your father!"; I am far from being a mixed up baby. Damn it, I would kill to be mixed up at birth and end up with say, Steve's parents.

"I won't be able to handle your mother though. I can't imagine growing up with a woman like your mother," Steve said yesterday afternoon over dinner at Marché.

"Why? You'd grow up to be just like me," I said.

"Exactly," Melanie replied, sipping her mushroom soup.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I raised my voice, defensively.

"Nothing! Did I say anything? I didn't!" Melanie defensively replied back.

"I say this from the bottom of my heart. Your mum is the best Harry, she really is. But I don't think I can handle that much character and sassiness all under the same roy. I can't imagine how I would grow up to be like," Steven said, smiling.

"Like Harry," Melanie answered.

"Mel stop it! At least I grew up from a baby boy to a young male and to a man. I can't say the same thing about you," I replied.

"See? Just like his mother, full of character and sassiness, with a capital A-S-S," Melanie sweetly said. I threw my napkin at her.

"What I cannot understand is how come the babies can be mixed up in the first place?" Star suddenly said, totally off topic.

Star has a tendency of doing this. Unlike most women, she is unable to mentally multi task. When she is thinking about something, a topic for example, her brains cannot process any other foreign or new thoughts, ideas or topics until she is down self-processing the one currently in her head. So what you get is a spaced out girl who more than often babble away about something that is totally deviated from the topic at hand or have been concluded minutes ago. That is Star for you.

"I'm sorry?" Steven asked.

"What I can't understand is how come the babies can be mixed up in the first place. Unless of course it is Chinese babies. Chinese babies all look the same, you can't tell them apart. It's impossible," Star said, biting her tuna sandwich.

All the three of us looked at her.

"What?" Star innocently asked. "You know it's true!" she continued.

"That is very, very racist," Melanie said, a pained expression on her face.

"And very, very true," Star said, tilting her head and raising her shoulders.

Ah, what would I do without them?

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