Archive for the ‘3-of-us’ Category

June 7, 2006

meet regine

Denizens of Earth, meet Regine…

She is now officially the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.

michaelooi  | 3-of-us  | 103 Comments
June 4, 2006

the longest weekend

Emily’s SLE flared again. Due to the impending fear of complications, we decided to bring forward the delivery date tentatively to 7th June, which means, only a few days away.

And god knows how that little amendment of date had impacted our lives this weekend. Everything seemed to move at sloth speed. Anxiety attacked, amalgamated with that anti-gravitational feel – it was like anticipating a blind date at the following hour. Nothing seemed right. Tried to read, but couldn’t register a single word. Tried to watch some TV, but they’re always not interesting enough. Tried to blog, but the mind’s too agitated to write.

No words could describe the current state of mind I’m in now. I have to make this entry to remember this final moment before I ditch my soon-to-be-gone chrysalis of youth… for I, do not know how I’m gonna be like after Regine comes into my life. It’s just 3 days away, and yet, it feels like eternity…

(Probably most guys are having the same strange feeling as what I’ve described above, which is likely attributed to the upcoming World Cup tournament. But I assure you, my fellow friends, that my delirium has nothing to do with the World Cup tournament at all…)

michaelooi  | 3-of-us  | 41 Comments
May 16, 2006

can’t wait

Since the baby has already developed her senses, I wonder if she can hear us from inside Emily’s womb. I’ve heard Emily rip very loud farts inside the toilet – if the baby can hear us, then can you imagine how is it like to be inside the womb during the blast.

Just imagine.

Being so close to mommy’s farting ass. The poor baby’s gonna hear some muffled low frequency noise (having dampened by the volume of amnion fluid). Probably experience some violent vibrations resonated from mommy’s fluttering ass cheek. Something like

BRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPP. [violent shakings]

Man, if I were to be her? I’m gonna be so fucking curious to learn about the world out there…

Luckily, she won’t be able to whiff the noxious fart gases from inside that womb. Else, she’s gonna probably go apeshit and bite Emily’s pancreas out of frustration. Oh wait, the baby hasn’t got any teeth yet, never mind…

Can’t wait for her to come out to greet the world … and tell Daddy all about the experience.

michaelooi  | 3-of-us  | 5 Comments
May 15, 2006

your dad’s underwear for world peace

I’ve been getting a lot of sympathetic well wishes lately, that once my baby’s born into this world, I’m gonna be like a fireman. There will be alarms … very loud alarms… wailing spontaneously / indiscriminately round the clock, and I’ll be required to stop whatever the hell that I am doing (including sleeping) and scoot towards ground zero without a slight delay. Weight loss will be expected and possibly, even stripped of my youth. I’m gonna probably look many years older in that first few weeks’ stint of pure mayhem.

Fearing the impending ordeal, I consulted mom if she could part any knowledge that may be of salvation to her miserable son (that’s me).

“Mom, I remember hearing from you that Beancurd’s a bitch when she’s a baby. How bad was she?” [Beancurd = my evil sister]

“Yeah, the first few months. She would cry over anything. A drop of a coin, walking footsteps, cackling of a lizard, you name it”

“So how did you handle the problem?”

The moment of truth…

[guilty look] “I mixed a couple drops of brandy into her milk…” – Beancurd must have broken the mother of all unofficial records for the youngest bitch to ever imbibe and fucking wasted with the consent of her own mother

That was 36 years ago. I didn’t blame my mom for the callous act, for she was just a teenager when she had my sister. I can understand that it’s not easy for a compulsive teenager to deal with a constant wailing machine day and night. Callow and desperate for rest, my mom did the unthinkable, which she felt kinda bad about later on in her life.

“It’s alright mom, she fucking deserved it” (familiar phrase eh? my bad … but, fuck her)

But that’s not the kind of remedy I was looking for. I needed something safer. More practical. Maybe like a special diet for the baby (noooo… not alcohol…). Or some aromatic herbs that could keep the little rebel content (or something like that). Something exclusively from experience, not from Google… I don’t know

And then, Emily heard this astounding advice from her colleague – Stuff the daddy’s worn-out underwear under the baby’s pillow and all will be well.

I went like – WHAT THE FUCK!? That has got to be the most bizarre crap I’ve ever heard in my life! Like, what’s the rationale behind the act? The aroma from dad’s crotch are going to make the baby think twice before cracking a noise? If that works, could that literally means… we can stuff our wife’s grandad’s underwear up our mother-in-law’s pillow to make the planet a better place? Oh goddamn!

If an underwear could really make a person stop wailing and behave, I reckon the only way possible is to stuff it up on that person’s mouth – and even that, the underwear has got to be extremely polluted with aging grime and filth from dad’s greasy balls to be able to achieve that effect. (kids, don’t try this at home)

That’s the thing I really don’t understand about some people out there. Isn’t it already the 21st century here? Why do these dopeheads still believe in such animistic taboo shits? What the hell is wrong with them? These must be the same type of people who believe that having sex with a bomoh could cure their ailing arthritis or pass their driving license. Fucking hell.

If these mystic shits really work, I would have opted to just pray for the baby to be good instead. That’s at least more plausible than that underwear trick. Like hey, how would you feel if you happen to learn that your dad has been keeping his underwear under your pillow to keep you disciplined all your adult life?

It won’t be very pleasant at all, I assure you.

For now, I think I’ll just have to bite my lips and be a fireman instead. Wish me luck, people (or if you’re a superstitious type, you can sleep with bomohs for my well being. You’ll still get my gratitude…)

michaelooi  | 3-of-us  | 15 Comments
May 7, 2006

physical contact

When I was resting my hand on Emily’s tummy the other day, I felt a hump bobbing up from it. Thinking that it might be some kind of a message, I made a series of gentle taps on Emily’s tummy… which was a string of complex Morse codes to ask for the well being of the inhabitant inside.

But I wasn’t expecting any reply to that, I was just doing it out of boredom’s sake. Then it happened. I felt a couple more bobs from Emily’s tummy after the taps, then it stopped. I tapped a few more times, and it responded with more bobs. This exchange of ‘almost’ physical contact (separated by a layer of epidermis, a layer of placenta membrane, through a molecular volume of amnion fluid and possibly, even a layer of indeterminable thickness of lardy substance – which all only amounted to not more of an inch) went on for quite sometime, before either one of us became too tired and ceased the act.

I think I’ve managed to establish some kind of primitive communication with my unborn daughter. The feeling’s ecstatic. (she’s complaining about the lack of air conditioning inside)

michaelooi  | 3-of-us  | 14 Comments