By mid next month, I will have to find a place to stay for three months. The reason behind this is because my mum intends to renovate the entire house, and that too without informing me until yesterday over dinner. She is going to stay at Aunt Sally's place for the time being since Rick has gotten married and there is an extra room. Harold is going to stay at his best friend's place, which is honestly, like his second home. His best friend, Sean, and his mother treats Harold like family. Which leaves me to being the person without a place to stay for three months while the house is in shambles, undergoing a makeover.
"I called Steve and told him I would want only him to be the interior designer for our house renovation," my mum told me over dinner yesterday after dropping the last minute news about the three month homeless renovation story.
"And what did he say?" I asked.
"Oh he was more than happy to help. He even sounded more excited than I am! He said he would do anything, for Harry's sake. You sure you have nothing going on with him? I mean, whatever boys, I don't mind, he is rich, go for it I say," my mum replied.
"That is just morally wrong, on so many levels mum," I shook my head.
"He is coming over tomorrow morning to discuss about the renovation details at around ten. You both better be present and decide about the design of your own rooms. If it was up to me, I don't think you boys would like it," my mum said, clearing the dishes on the table away.
So this morning, Steve came over and the four of us had a discussion about the concept of the house and its design sensibilities, costs, budget, the whole thing.
"Well you know Steve, ever since aunty got divorced five years ago, aunty have been wanting to renovate this house and change things so that you know, aunty won't be reminded of the painful memories because this house was decorated and designed by both me and my ex husband. Aunty wants to move on and this renovation would help me a lot," my mum said, with a sad face.
"Oh god you are such a lying emotional blackmailer! The only reason why you want a renovation is because you have always wanted a walk in wardrobe for the longest time!" Harold outed her.
I laughed manically.
"Fine! I want a walk in wardrobe too using the space from the storeroom beside my master bedroom! You can do that right Steve?" my mum cooed. Harold rolled his eyes.
"Of course I can! How much is your budget aunty?" Steven asked, scribbling away in his notebook.
"Forty thousand? Is that enough?"
"What the hell? Since when did you have that much money to spend? Oh and you scoff at Rick's wedding a week ago? Who is the one NOT acting like a middle class person should here?" I asked condescendingly.
"I've been saving for years. And Steven is going to handle everything from start to finish. We just move out, and come back three months later to a new home. No hassle, no fuss. Thank you Steven!" my mum cooed again.
"Speaking of which, I have yet to find a place to rent for three months because SOMEONE told me only at the very last minute," I said.
"Oh you can stay at my place. I've got three empty fully furnished bedrooms and my parents are rarely in town anyways and I don't think they would mind. In fact I think they would love it if I have some company and guests in the house," Stave offered, with a twinkle in his eyes.
I told him I would think about the generous offer and my mum tested me later on in the afternoon that I am stupid for even thinking of considering the offer. "U cn ask him 2 gv us e red satin couch in his living rm! Pls! Or I won't do e laundry 4 u animre!"
Harold is right. My mum is a lying emotional blackmailer.
Showing posts with label Aunt Sally. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aunt Sally. Show all posts
Sunday, November 4, 2012
The Art Of Gifting
Christmas is only a month and a half away so let me take this opportunity to address the issue that is "The Art Of Gifting". I think it is an absolutely important skill that needs to be practiced and harnessed because let's face it: 99% of Singaporeans give shitty gifts. They do. And we need to stop spending (Wasting, really) our money by buying shitty gifts that is of little or no use for people that matter to us. It reflects bad on your taste (if you have any left in their eyes) and your common sense, in most occasions where gifting is considered part of the practice.
About a week ago, my Aunt Sally and her husband, who we call Uncle Brad celebrated their 28th wedding anniversary. Aunt Sally is a fantastic gifted; she bought for her husband a Dunhill money clip and a limited edition John Varvatos cologne because a, Uncle Brad refuses to carry his wallet around when he goes out and he already has a cardholder and b, he has been using his Aramis cologne for the past twenty years and Aunt Sally says that it is starting to make her lose her sense of smell. The gifts bought is perfect for Uncle Brad, something classy AND something that he definitely would use.
It was a small family gathering and Aunt Sally cooked her legendary Beef Shepherd's Pie and Garlic Butter Prawns Linguine. Uncle Brad was ecstatic with his gifts and to say that Aunt Sally has raised the standard of gifting is to put it mildly. It was Uncle brad's turn to present his gift to his lovely wife and I could almost feel the tension in the room multiplying by ten; Aunt Sally is known to be absolutely critical and fussy, she is the difficult one, my mum is the bitch. Bless my grandparent's souls.
We were all sitting down around the living room and Aunt Sally opened her present; a big box covered in grey gift wrap with black ribbons. My Aunt Sally opened it and immediately screamed, "What the hell is this?!" My mum immediately muttered under her breath, "Uh oh."
It was a karaoke set: A disc player that already has 2000 songs stored inside, and two microphones.
"You don't like it?" Uncle Brad asked. Harold leaned over to snap a picture of the karaoke set to upload in Instagram. Pure comedy gold.
"Do I sing? Am I a singer? Do I look like Donna Summers?" Aunt Sally asked, raising both her eyebrows and her voice.
"That's my Instagram caption right there: Do I sing? Am I a singer? Do I look like Donna Summers?" Harold whispered as he sat back down beside me.
"Well you are always singing, in the showers, while cooking, hanging the laundry. I thought it would be a good idea to get you a karaoke box set and you can sing to your heart's content! Who knows, you may even win the singing competition at the community centre one of these days!" Uncle Brad joked.
"Brad, I will shove this microphone inside of you and I am not talking about your mouth!" Aunt Sally fumed.
Harold and I rolled on the floor laughing. Rick, their newly married son who was seated quietly all throughout suddenly burst out laughing, "Mum! Where did that come from?"
The point I am getting at is, the "Art Of Gifting" is a necessary life (and respect) changing skill. The rule of the thumb for me when buying a gift is, before buying it, always, always, always choose practicality/usage value above everything else. The best gifts are usually not the most pretty, the most expensive, the most romantic or the most value for money.
For me personally, the best gifts are those that the recipients would need and use rather frequently in their lives. And every time they use it, they would be reminded of you. And isn't that the whole point of gifting; for remembrance?
So the next time you want to buy a gift for someone, always remember to ask yourself whether the gift is going to be of any use or is it just going to collect dust inside someone's closet beside one of the One Direction boys (pun intended). And if the recipient you are intending to buy the gift for has everything already, treat him or her to a nice expensive dinner and ask them to shut the hell up. It beats having to receive a karaoke set box.
About a week ago, my Aunt Sally and her husband, who we call Uncle Brad celebrated their 28th wedding anniversary. Aunt Sally is a fantastic gifted; she bought for her husband a Dunhill money clip and a limited edition John Varvatos cologne because a, Uncle Brad refuses to carry his wallet around when he goes out and he already has a cardholder and b, he has been using his Aramis cologne for the past twenty years and Aunt Sally says that it is starting to make her lose her sense of smell. The gifts bought is perfect for Uncle Brad, something classy AND something that he definitely would use.
It was a small family gathering and Aunt Sally cooked her legendary Beef Shepherd's Pie and Garlic Butter Prawns Linguine. Uncle Brad was ecstatic with his gifts and to say that Aunt Sally has raised the standard of gifting is to put it mildly. It was Uncle brad's turn to present his gift to his lovely wife and I could almost feel the tension in the room multiplying by ten; Aunt Sally is known to be absolutely critical and fussy, she is the difficult one, my mum is the bitch. Bless my grandparent's souls.
We were all sitting down around the living room and Aunt Sally opened her present; a big box covered in grey gift wrap with black ribbons. My Aunt Sally opened it and immediately screamed, "What the hell is this?!" My mum immediately muttered under her breath, "Uh oh."
It was a karaoke set: A disc player that already has 2000 songs stored inside, and two microphones.
"You don't like it?" Uncle Brad asked. Harold leaned over to snap a picture of the karaoke set to upload in Instagram. Pure comedy gold.
"Do I sing? Am I a singer? Do I look like Donna Summers?" Aunt Sally asked, raising both her eyebrows and her voice.
"That's my Instagram caption right there: Do I sing? Am I a singer? Do I look like Donna Summers?" Harold whispered as he sat back down beside me.
"Well you are always singing, in the showers, while cooking, hanging the laundry. I thought it would be a good idea to get you a karaoke box set and you can sing to your heart's content! Who knows, you may even win the singing competition at the community centre one of these days!" Uncle Brad joked.
"Brad, I will shove this microphone inside of you and I am not talking about your mouth!" Aunt Sally fumed.
Harold and I rolled on the floor laughing. Rick, their newly married son who was seated quietly all throughout suddenly burst out laughing, "Mum! Where did that come from?"
The point I am getting at is, the "Art Of Gifting" is a necessary life (and respect) changing skill. The rule of the thumb for me when buying a gift is, before buying it, always, always, always choose practicality/usage value above everything else. The best gifts are usually not the most pretty, the most expensive, the most romantic or the most value for money.
For me personally, the best gifts are those that the recipients would need and use rather frequently in their lives. And every time they use it, they would be reminded of you. And isn't that the whole point of gifting; for remembrance?
So the next time you want to buy a gift for someone, always remember to ask yourself whether the gift is going to be of any use or is it just going to collect dust inside someone's closet beside one of the One Direction boys (pun intended). And if the recipient you are intending to buy the gift for has everything already, treat him or her to a nice expensive dinner and ask them to shut the hell up. It beats having to receive a karaoke set box.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Middle Class Wedding
The past weekend was my cousin Rick's wedding. He got married to Liz, his girlfriend of four years and if the scented wedding invitation card with their own personal emblem is an indication of the grandeur that is going to happen during the wedding itself, then they sure didn't disappoint.
It was a garden wedding and the venue was at the Botanic Gardens. They had two huge canopies and in the shelter were round tables with white tablecloths and lace skirtings, complete with rattan chairs and giant white bows. There were fresh flowers everywhere: Roses, lilies, tulips, orchids, carnations; everything was fresh and in white. And in abundance too. Beside the canopies were three rows of tables filled with at least five different types of cakes, eclairs, cupcakes, cheese fondue, chocolate fondue (complete with artisan breads and fresh flowers), fruit punch and a mind boggling array of hor d'oeuvres.
"Where is the real food?" my mum quipped, staring at the buffet table from afar.
"Mum, it's chic, get yourself together," I said.
"What kind of a middle class family can afford this kind of wedding? Since when did they become rich?!" my mum exclaimed as we were walking towards the venue.
"Stop it lah," my brother Harold said, getting annoyed.
There was also a carousel by the side of the buffet table for the kids to play at, generator included. The dress code was smart casual and my mum had put on a knee length white dress, grey pumps and hair up in a bun.
"How come you are wearing white? You are getting married too?" Harold joked when he saw my mum earlier that day.
"Garden wedding, I'm wearing grey pumps and I have to walk on grass, in the blithering heat!" my mum complained, tiptoeing to one of the canopies.
It was rather hot when we got there. I could feel beads of sweat forming at my back underneath my shirt and linen jacket by the time we got a table. Across us was Aunt Sally, the lady of the hour, entertaining guests. She wore a maroon sleeveless dress and a chunky bracelet and a statement necklace. She was also wearing a turban. Parisian chic if you ask me.
"Look at your aunt. She looks like Carmen Miranda, god this is embarassing," my mum whispered beside me as we sat down.
"Where are the fruits on her head?" I goaded.
"There, on the buffet table," my mum nonchalantly said.
I laughed out so hard everybody around us looked.
"Oi, stop it lah both of you," my brother hushed, clearly annoyed now.
"You guys help yourself to the food, I am going to check on your aunt and check the wedding dais," my mum said, putting down her LV Speedy on the table.
My brother rose and made his way to the buffet table and I asked him to get for me some food as well. Barely two minutes later, my mum came to our table, shaking and breathing hard.
"You have no idea how much they spent on this wedding. A quarter of a million dollars! Harry, when did they rose from the middle class? And so quick?! He bought for her a thirty thousand diamond ring from Tiffany's and the wedding gown is a Vera Wang!" my mum rattled on.
"Mum, he is an investment banker and she is an architect. They are hardly middle class. Middle class is fifty dollar void deck weddings ma. And also, you're so jealous right now right?" I asked.
"I am not! Your Aunt Sally is one of my favourite female siblings," my mum said.
"Aunt Sally is your ONLY female sibling what are you talking about?" I responded, amused.
"Harry, she looks ridiculous," my mum poured.
"She looks great, why can't you just be happy for her?" I advised.
"We are siblings. We are supposed to be judgmental, conniving and egoistical," my mum explained. "And I would hate to see her daughter in law look bad in a Vera Wang!" she continued.
"Where is the real food?" my mum quipped, staring at the buffet table from afar.
"Mum, it's chic, get yourself together," I said.
"What kind of a middle class family can afford this kind of wedding? Since when did they become rich?!" my mum exclaimed as we were walking towards the venue.
"Stop it lah," my brother Harold said, getting annoyed.
There was also a carousel by the side of the buffet table for the kids to play at, generator included. The dress code was smart casual and my mum had put on a knee length white dress, grey pumps and hair up in a bun.
"How come you are wearing white? You are getting married too?" Harold joked when he saw my mum earlier that day.
"Garden wedding, I'm wearing grey pumps and I have to walk on grass, in the blithering heat!" my mum complained, tiptoeing to one of the canopies.
It was rather hot when we got there. I could feel beads of sweat forming at my back underneath my shirt and linen jacket by the time we got a table. Across us was Aunt Sally, the lady of the hour, entertaining guests. She wore a maroon sleeveless dress and a chunky bracelet and a statement necklace. She was also wearing a turban. Parisian chic if you ask me.
"Look at your aunt. She looks like Carmen Miranda, god this is embarassing," my mum whispered beside me as we sat down.
"Where are the fruits on her head?" I goaded.
"There, on the buffet table," my mum nonchalantly said.
I laughed out so hard everybody around us looked.
"Oi, stop it lah both of you," my brother hushed, clearly annoyed now.
"You guys help yourself to the food, I am going to check on your aunt and check the wedding dais," my mum said, putting down her LV Speedy on the table.
My brother rose and made his way to the buffet table and I asked him to get for me some food as well. Barely two minutes later, my mum came to our table, shaking and breathing hard.
"You have no idea how much they spent on this wedding. A quarter of a million dollars! Harry, when did they rose from the middle class? And so quick?! He bought for her a thirty thousand diamond ring from Tiffany's and the wedding gown is a Vera Wang!" my mum rattled on.
"Mum, he is an investment banker and she is an architect. They are hardly middle class. Middle class is fifty dollar void deck weddings ma. And also, you're so jealous right now right?" I asked.
"I am not! Your Aunt Sally is one of my favourite female siblings," my mum said.
"Aunt Sally is your ONLY female sibling what are you talking about?" I responded, amused.
"Harry, she looks ridiculous," my mum poured.
"She looks great, why can't you just be happy for her?" I advised.
"We are siblings. We are supposed to be judgmental, conniving and egoistical," my mum explained. "And I would hate to see her daughter in law look bad in a Vera Wang!" she continued.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Marry This
The entire morning, my mum was sniffing the wedding invitation card she got from Aunt Sally's eldest son Rick, who is marrying his girlfriend of four years Liz. This is my mum's first wedding invitation of the year and she was very excited, and critical about it. She is sniffing the card harder than a K9 raiding Lindsay Lohan's home.
"This smells so familiar. It smells of Enchanted body talcum, but it also smells of my vaginal wash," my mum said after smelling the wedding invitation card for what seemed like hours.
"Mummy, can you stop being so disgusting?" my brother shook his head.
"What is so disgusting about vaginal hygiene and vaginal wash? You want to lick a lady and taste rotten oysters is it?"
"MUM!!" my brother and I screamed in unison.
"And look, they even have an emblem on the card, like they are royalty of some sort. It's a garden wedding apparently boys, and the dress code is smart casual," my mum continued, scanning the wedding card intently.
I strongly advise everyone who is getting married to be explicit about the dress code on your wedding day, complete with a footnote saying: "Failure to turn up at this wedding in adherence to the dress code will result in, well, you can't attend my wedding." I have seen assholes wearing slippers to attend a wedding. That is firstly, not respecting the bride and groom on their joyous day, and secondly, in what parallel universe do you live in where it is acceptable to look like a homeless person at someone's wedding? Does it hurt to wear a shoe for a couple of hours? And I have seen girls wearing jeans to weddings. Jeans. JEANS.
I don't think a lack of fashion sense is a good enough reason to dress like an asshole at someone's wedding. It is not about being fashionable. It is about being proper and respectful. You wouldn't want someone to wear a two piece bikini to your father's funeral do you? What is so wrong about wearing a shirt and pants combo, even if it is ill fitting? Or a dress/skirt and blouse? Even if the print is like someone's tablecloth in 1978?
"I wonder who their caterer is?" my mum asked.
"Why are you so critical? I thought you and Aunt Sally are very close? Why the sudden bitchiness?" my brother Harold asked back.
"I'm not being bitchy. Hello, I am too old to be bitchy. I am just concerned that's all!"
My brother laughed. My mum stared at him. "What?" my brother asked.
"When are you going to get married?" my mum asked me, eyes still staring at my brother who is not even paying attention to her, reading his comic book.
"Are you asking me?" I answered.
"Duh, you're the eldest."
"So?"
"Don't you have a girlfriend?" my mum enquired further.
"Nope."
"Why?"
"Can you stop it? I am not going to get married just because your nephew is getting married," I answered, annoyed.
"You haven't been looking for a girlfriend?"
"And where do you suggest I find one?" I asked.
"I don't know. A bar? Or are you interested in that Steve? Melanie told me that he likes you. I don't mind, marry that rich dude, I want all the Pradas that I can get," my mum said.
"What?!"
"Don't you want a garden wedding?" My brother laughed, harder this time. My mum pinched him so hard he fell off the chair.
There are so many things I want to tell her. But I just kept quiet. From the sanctity of marriage becoming a joke to many people, and the amount of money used, I don't know where to start. Marriage, is not for me. I can't seem to find the idea of marriage appealing too. Ask me again in five years, maybe my outlook on it will change, but as of right now? I am more interested to find the getup for my cousin's garden wedding beyond anything else. Yes, I enjoy going to weddings of other people but don't even spare a minute to ponder and think about my own.
And for what? If all else fails, I only need fifty bucks and I can have a wedding with that budget. Right Amy?
"This smells so familiar. It smells of Enchanted body talcum, but it also smells of my vaginal wash," my mum said after smelling the wedding invitation card for what seemed like hours.
"Mummy, can you stop being so disgusting?" my brother shook his head.
"What is so disgusting about vaginal hygiene and vaginal wash? You want to lick a lady and taste rotten oysters is it?"
"MUM!!" my brother and I screamed in unison.
"And look, they even have an emblem on the card, like they are royalty of some sort. It's a garden wedding apparently boys, and the dress code is smart casual," my mum continued, scanning the wedding card intently.
I strongly advise everyone who is getting married to be explicit about the dress code on your wedding day, complete with a footnote saying: "Failure to turn up at this wedding in adherence to the dress code will result in, well, you can't attend my wedding." I have seen assholes wearing slippers to attend a wedding. That is firstly, not respecting the bride and groom on their joyous day, and secondly, in what parallel universe do you live in where it is acceptable to look like a homeless person at someone's wedding? Does it hurt to wear a shoe for a couple of hours? And I have seen girls wearing jeans to weddings. Jeans. JEANS.
I don't think a lack of fashion sense is a good enough reason to dress like an asshole at someone's wedding. It is not about being fashionable. It is about being proper and respectful. You wouldn't want someone to wear a two piece bikini to your father's funeral do you? What is so wrong about wearing a shirt and pants combo, even if it is ill fitting? Or a dress/skirt and blouse? Even if the print is like someone's tablecloth in 1978?
"I wonder who their caterer is?" my mum asked.
"Why are you so critical? I thought you and Aunt Sally are very close? Why the sudden bitchiness?" my brother Harold asked back.
"I'm not being bitchy. Hello, I am too old to be bitchy. I am just concerned that's all!"
My brother laughed. My mum stared at him. "What?" my brother asked.
"When are you going to get married?" my mum asked me, eyes still staring at my brother who is not even paying attention to her, reading his comic book.
"Are you asking me?" I answered.
"Duh, you're the eldest."
"So?"
"Don't you have a girlfriend?" my mum enquired further.
"Nope."
"Why?"
"Can you stop it? I am not going to get married just because your nephew is getting married," I answered, annoyed.
"You haven't been looking for a girlfriend?"
"And where do you suggest I find one?" I asked.
"I don't know. A bar? Or are you interested in that Steve? Melanie told me that he likes you. I don't mind, marry that rich dude, I want all the Pradas that I can get," my mum said.
"What?!"
"Don't you want a garden wedding?" My brother laughed, harder this time. My mum pinched him so hard he fell off the chair.
There are so many things I want to tell her. But I just kept quiet. From the sanctity of marriage becoming a joke to many people, and the amount of money used, I don't know where to start. Marriage, is not for me. I can't seem to find the idea of marriage appealing too. Ask me again in five years, maybe my outlook on it will change, but as of right now? I am more interested to find the getup for my cousin's garden wedding beyond anything else. Yes, I enjoy going to weddings of other people but don't even spare a minute to ponder and think about my own.
And for what? If all else fails, I only need fifty bucks and I can have a wedding with that budget. Right Amy?
Thursday, September 20, 2012
I Spy With My Queer Eye
The Malaysian Education Ministry has endorsed the following guidelines to help parents identify the symptoms of homosexual tendencies in their kids so it can help them to take corrective measures to combat the problem. They are:
Gays:
- Have a muscular body and likes to show their body by wearing V-Necks and sleeveless clothes.
- Prefer tight and light colored clothes.
- Attracted to men.
- Like to bring big handbags, similar to those used by women.
Lesbians:
- Attracted to women
- Have no affection for men
- Likes to hang out, have meals, and sleep in the company of women
- Besides their female companions, they will distance themselves from other women.
But more than just a guideline meant for children, I think it can also be used to identify gay and lesbian adults considering it is very effective, distinct and confirmative. Therefore, I have used the following guidelines to identify gays and lesbians to the people that I know in my life and the list is shocking. I didn't know that there are many gays and lesbians in my life. They are:
1) My father: He always wears these tight V-Neck Byford singlets at home. He claims that it's comfortable but I think it must be to attract our next door neighbour's husband.
2) Star's Aunt: She is a nun and is always seen hanging around and eating with other nuns, who are women. Wishy washy I tell you.
3) Sean, my brother's best friend: He may be engaged but that Sean goes to the gym often and his body is muscular so...
4) My brother: Whenever he goes to the gym with Sean, he always carries this big Zara tote bag with him so that he can "dump everything in". I told him it's gay to be wearing large tote bags similar to women and he replied, "And you're gay too because you've used it thrice. You're three times gay faggot." My question is, "Why so defensive?"
5) Mandy, Melanie's elder sister: She never had a boyfriend because she claims her job as an accountant doesn't give her any time to date but I think she just keep accounts of the pussy she has fallen in love with.
6) Star: Often, we would sit at a cafe and she would blatantly show her attraction towards women. She would say things like, "God, look at that ass. If I had an ass like that I would wear my underwear inside out every single damn day." I told her that she is a lesbian for saying that and she went, "Huh? Fuck you." And then she threw a sugar cube at my face, showing signs of aggression and masculinity, much like a lesbian...the male one.
7) Chris, my tennis buddy: He always buys these men's health magazines because according to him, those magazines teaches him how to satisfy the girls he meets sexually in bed but I think that's just a lame excuse to ogle at the ripped torsos of bare bodied man, clearly showing his attraction to men.
8) My aunt Sally: She only hangs around my mother and distance herself from other housewives because "They are vicious. They will ask for my recipes and tell me that the food tastes just okay a week after that." I just think my Aunt Sally is a total lezbo.
I do have a loger list of people as you can only imagine. I am totally sickened by this new revelation. I must go and pray now and pray that all the V-Necks in my wardrobe to magically disappear and I be rid of this gay disease, if I everchane it coursing in my blood. Melanie is laughing her tits off, sitting beside me going, "Oh Harry, you're too funny." But I have yet to see the humour in this.
Gays:
- Have a muscular body and likes to show their body by wearing V-Necks and sleeveless clothes.
- Prefer tight and light colored clothes.
- Attracted to men.
- Like to bring big handbags, similar to those used by women.
Lesbians:
- Attracted to women
- Have no affection for men
- Likes to hang out, have meals, and sleep in the company of women
- Besides their female companions, they will distance themselves from other women.
But more than just a guideline meant for children, I think it can also be used to identify gay and lesbian adults considering it is very effective, distinct and confirmative. Therefore, I have used the following guidelines to identify gays and lesbians to the people that I know in my life and the list is shocking. I didn't know that there are many gays and lesbians in my life. They are:
1) My father: He always wears these tight V-Neck Byford singlets at home. He claims that it's comfortable but I think it must be to attract our next door neighbour's husband.
2) Star's Aunt: She is a nun and is always seen hanging around and eating with other nuns, who are women. Wishy washy I tell you.
3) Sean, my brother's best friend: He may be engaged but that Sean goes to the gym often and his body is muscular so...
4) My brother: Whenever he goes to the gym with Sean, he always carries this big Zara tote bag with him so that he can "dump everything in". I told him it's gay to be wearing large tote bags similar to women and he replied, "And you're gay too because you've used it thrice. You're three times gay faggot." My question is, "Why so defensive?"
5) Mandy, Melanie's elder sister: She never had a boyfriend because she claims her job as an accountant doesn't give her any time to date but I think she just keep accounts of the pussy she has fallen in love with.
6) Star: Often, we would sit at a cafe and she would blatantly show her attraction towards women. She would say things like, "God, look at that ass. If I had an ass like that I would wear my underwear inside out every single damn day." I told her that she is a lesbian for saying that and she went, "Huh? Fuck you." And then she threw a sugar cube at my face, showing signs of aggression and masculinity, much like a lesbian...the male one.
7) Chris, my tennis buddy: He always buys these men's health magazines because according to him, those magazines teaches him how to satisfy the girls he meets sexually in bed but I think that's just a lame excuse to ogle at the ripped torsos of bare bodied man, clearly showing his attraction to men.
8) My aunt Sally: She only hangs around my mother and distance herself from other housewives because "They are vicious. They will ask for my recipes and tell me that the food tastes just okay a week after that." I just think my Aunt Sally is a total lezbo.
I do have a loger list of people as you can only imagine. I am totally sickened by this new revelation. I must go and pray now and pray that all the V-Necks in my wardrobe to magically disappear and I be rid of this gay disease, if I everchane it coursing in my blood. Melanie is laughing her tits off, sitting beside me going, "Oh Harry, you're too funny." But I have yet to see the humour in this.
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