I was asked by my mom to bring grandpa for dinner last Friday. Not a problem for me as I was quite free that night so, I happily obliged.

We (Emily and I) decided to buy him to something nice. But before that, I had to get past the first obstacle when dealing with my senile grandfather - to convince the old man that I am not some crook trying to abduct him. You see, he’s already 90. He has some serious hearing problems and he couldn’t remember how many kids he has, let alone grandkids. So, you can imagine how it was for me.

Grandpa : *smile*

Me : “HI GRANDPA. IT’S ME… MICHAEL” [I had to speak very very loud because of his hearing problem]

Grandpa : “WHAT?” [He is loud because he could hardly hear himself talking]

Me : “IT’S ME… MICHAEL. I WILL BE IN CHARGE OF YOUR DINNER TONIGHT. I BOUGHT YOU SOMETHING NICE.” *wink*

Grandpa : “OH… YOU BROUGHT ME DINNER. HOW NICE OF YOU, whoever you are.”

Me : “YEAH. MOM HAD A FALL AND HURT HERSELF PRETTY BAD ON THE CHIN. SHE COULDN’T COME TONIGHT SO SHE SENT ME” *smile*

Grandpa : “YOUR MOM… DO I KNOW YOUR MOM?”

Me : “MY MOM IS YOUR DAUGHTER, GRANDPA. HER NAME’S KAREN.”

Grandpa : “OH MY, IS SHE OK? WHERE IS SHE NOW?”

Me : “SHE’S FINE. JUST A SMALL BRUISE AND NOW RECUPERATING AT MY SISTER’S HOME”

Grandpa : “SHE’S AT HOME?”

Me : “NO, MY SISTER’S HOME”

Grandpa :”WHERE IS THAT PLACE?”

Me : “JUST A FEW STREETS AWAY, RIGHT OVER THERE, REMEMBER?”

Grandpa : “OH YEAH I REMEMBER. SO, YOUR MOM’S FINE?”

Me : “YES, SHE IS. SHE JUST WANTED TO STAY OVER FOR A FEW DAYS AND THEN SHE’LL BE BACK TO MY PLACE.”

Grandpa : “AND WHERE DO YOU LIVE?”

Me : “I LIVE IN [location], DO YOU REMEMBER?”

Grandpa : *puzzled look*

Me : “THE PLACE NEAR THE UNIVERSITY, REMEMBER?”

Grandpa : “OHH, THAT NEW APARTMENT. I REMEMBER NOW. SO, YOU MUST BE KAREN’S SON?”

Me : “THAT’S WHAT I TOLD YOU, GRANDPA. YES I AM.” *wink*

Grandpa : *smacks head* “AHAKS! FORGIVE ME, AS I AM A VERY OLD MAN NOW… MY MEMORY IS FAILING. I MAY EVEN HAVE A BRAIN DAMAGE, HAHAHHH”

Me : “YOU’RE JUST FINE, GRANDPA. AT LEAST YOU REMEMBER ME NOW, RIGHT?”

Grandpa : “HAHAH, AND WOW, YOU’VE GROWN UP TO SUCH A GOOD LOOKING MAN NOW. THAT’S WHY I CAN’T RECOGNIZE YOU…” [note: I did not make this up]

Me : “NAAAAW GRANDPA, I ALWAYS LOOKED GOOD, HAHAH”

Grandpa : “HAHAH RIGHT RIGHT. SO WHERE’S YOUR MOM?”

Me : *feet in the air*

The process would repeat for countless of cycles. And I had to answer him the same thing over and over again.

But then, ironically, my grandfather isn’t as forgetful as he always claimed to be. I think he’s just feigning it. You know why? It’s because after our dinner, he started to tell us stories about his heydays… about how he endured his hardship when he was at my age. Bla bla bla. And those events took place like, over 60 years ago… If you ask me, I would say that old dude have a better memory than I do.

Anyway, that Friday night’s experience was a pleasant one. And I am glad that my grandfather enjoyed the evening telling us stories.

I did not have a good sleep last night after getting inebriated from an outing with friends. That was why I had this terrible hangover this morning. I could have slept through into the afternoon but I couldn’t as I was making myself obliged to watch that Formula 1 race on TV.

As I was watching the race with my half-sober mind, suddenly, a large object appeared out of nowhere blocking the TV. It was my mom.

“What happened to you? You look terrible”
“I looked the same mom.”

It is always a mistake to tell your mom that you’ve been drinking the previous night. I was exactly doing that same denial…

“You look sick. You need to go to the doctor”
“No I’m fine mom. You are blocking the TV”
“No, I seriously think you should go to the doctor.”

I actually puked too hard last night and had developed some tiny red spots around the rim of my eyes. Those spots were resulted from burst blood capillaries (or something like that, according to doc) when I strained too hard from the puking. I was trying in vain not to let my mom find out about my misadventure the night before.

“Look, mom, I’m fine. It’s nothing serious. Really”
“Look at the red spots around your eyes! I think you have measles!”
“No mom… I’m not having measles. It’s just that… spots… developed when I puked too hard last night..”
“You puked? Why did you puke?”
“Errr…. food poisoning I guess. Mom.. you are blocking the damn race”

And that was when Montoya attempted his stupid overtaking maneuver, which caused Jenson Button to mow a part of Melbourne circuit’s grassy lawn. My mom almost made me missed that.

“You know, you have to be careful… bla bla bla… grow up… bla bla”
“Mom! Can’t you do this later? I’m trying to watch some TV here.”
“bla bla bla”
“I’ll give you some money mom. Go buy yourself something and let me watch my TV… ok?”

I didn’t know why I said that. Probably still very blur from the hangover and deprivation of sleep. My mom let out a snigger and left me alone after that. I guess it didn’t take her very long to find out that her son still have some small amount of alcohol flowing inside his brain.

Right after the race, I told Emily that I “needed to solve some serious problem inside the toilet” — and puked again. I felt so lethargic after that… and crashed without regaining consciousness until 6pm today. That has got to be one of the worst hangover I’ve ever had in my life.

When I was on my way to the kitchen, my mom suddenly jumped out of nowhere and scared the shit out of me. She complained that her mobile phone wouldn’t power up. Well, when she told me that, it was understandable for me that she actually meant - “can you fix my goddamn phone? or buy me a new one?”.

You see, my work usually involves technical stuffs like figuring out why notebook computers aren’t working the way they are supposed to work … so, a mobile phone shouldn’t be that much of a problem for me.

Me : **briefly looks at the phone** “Hmm… did you charge your battery?”

Mom : “Yes… I did.”

Me : “In that case, either your battery or your charging circuit has croaked.”

Mom : “Whatever… so, can you fix it? I once had this same problem before, but after reinserting the battery, it became fine.”

Me : “Hmmm… then this could be due to bad contacts… Let me see…”

And then, I proceeded to bent one of the pins to get a better contact to the battery - but still, it won’t power up. Then, I tried to tilt the battery in an angle to have it directly shorted to the pin - still, it wouldn’t power up. I had to conclude that the problem was due to the defective internal circuit…

Me : “Mom… I think you may need to send your phone for repair or something.”

Emily : **shouting from inside the bedroom** “Dear! Just smack it!”

Me : “Smack it? Why would I want to do that?”

Emily : **shouting from inside the bedroom** “Just do it dear”

And I proceeded to give the phone the biggest smack with my palm. And it worked fine after that.

Lesson learnt : A solution doesn’t always come in proper form.

Today, someone slipped a note under my mom’s car wiper that reads :

“Pls be considerate to other residents”

It was written in a very bad handwriting. My mom’s car was parked under the main porch of our apartment - but it did not block anyone’s right of way there.

That was why I got really ticked off reading the crudely written note. I was ticked off particularly at the word ‘considerate’ written in there. I knew it was written by that sadistic fat Indian bastard who always complain about everyone who parks under the porch. It’s inconsiderate, he said. Inconsiderate because he has a very ill father who could collapse anytime, and if it were to rain, he’d need to porch for the ambulance to stop.

But fuck, if it is a life threatening situation for his father, the ambulance could have stopped ANY-FUCKING-WHERE, right?? What is a drop or two of rain to exchange for your life?! And guess what? The fucker himself always park at that spot, right under that porch, where his fat Naza Ria would block 40% way, which is way worst that anyone else… Is that what he calls considerate??

And as if it wasn’t ironic enough, his car was parked at the carwash lot… the time I discovered the note under my mom’s wiper. Is that considerate?

His son … that goes around making weird noises around the apartment block… is that considerate ?

He always complain about others, but never take a look back at himself. Whenever his car is under that porch, it’s always the right thing to do, just because his father is sick (even though the old man’s not traveling with him). And if anyone else were to do that, he would stuck a note under that person’s wiper. How considerate.

I was about to wreck that fucker’s fat piece of junk vehicle up when I saw the note… but my conscience woke me up. I realized that I should not make it any worse for a motherfucker who has a brain the size 1/10th of my testicle. It will be like beating up a cripple with my abled limbs.

Let’s just see if he pisses me off again… and I’m going to make sure his fat car has more holes on it. Fucking neighbors.

I was awakened by a violent knock on my front door this morning. Still suffering the hangover from the drinking binge the night before, I lazily schlepped over to answer the knock. It was an Indian lady… whom I recognized as the bitch neighbor who lives 2 floors beneath my apartment.

Me : “Yeah ?”

Bitch : “Eh… itu kereta nombor XXX kamu punya?”
[translation: is that car with the number XXX yours?]

Me : “Ermm yeah… it is my mom’s car. What seems to be the problem?”

Bitch : “You boleh adjust itu kereta ka?? Itu tempat untuk orang cuci kereta… kereta saya tak boleh masuk!”
[can you adjust your car?? That's a carwash lot and I need to wash my car!]

Apparently, my ignorant mother parked at the carwash lot again, and she had gone out with my aunt. But I did not have her car keys with me at that time, so there was nothing I can do about the car. And that bitch wanted to wash her car, like, very desperately.

She was looking very pissed and was very rude when talked to me. Actually, I was not any less pissed too - partly because I was deprived of sleep, and secondly, she was yelling at me. But since I do not want any troubles, I tried to play it nice as I do not want to be ‘the unfriendly guy in the neighborhood’.

Me : “I’m really sorry about that but, my mom’s not in and I do not have her car key. Anyway, I’ll make sure she’s informed and move her car promptly.”

Bitch : “Ok”

And she left. I immediately called my mom on her cellphone after that, and gave her a good scolding. She told me that she was on her way home and it shouldn’t be long. So, I went back to my sleep. About 5 minutes later, I was crudely awakened again… this time, it was somebody honking the car. I went out to check the commotion, it was the same Indian bitch. She was honking her car like a lunatic, behind my mom’s static automobile.

Me : [irated] “What do you want?”

Bitch : “Eh… lu tak mau adjust lu mia kereta ke??”
[Eh... why haven't you adjust your car yet??]

I was fucking pissed.

Me : “Didn’t I just tell you, I do not have the fucking keys! What do you want me to do now?? Why can’t you hold back your oh-so-important mission to wash your car until my mom comes back??”

Bitch : “Orang nak cuci kereta… tiap kali kena naik rumah kamu untuk cakap! Susah macam ni!”
[Each time I want to wash my car, I'll have to come up to your place to ask you move your car! This isn't right!]

Me : [super fucking pissed] “Go fuck yourself”

But I think she did not hear my cuss. What I could not understand was, why couldn’t she just fucking wait? I already told her I do not have the fucking key to my mom’s car. I wonder what was she expecting me to do, burn my mom’s car to ashes so that she can use the carwash lot??

And her car is just a 10 over years old Proton junk. And she fucking washes her car a few times a week… what kind of sadistic creature would wash its car a few times a week? (I only washes mine a few times A YEAR. And my car is much more expensive than her’s…) Only an uneducated yokel like her would do that (that explains why she couldn’t communicate in English…)

I hope this would be the last time of our encounter. The next time she yells or honks at me, I’m gonna wreck her fucking car up so bad that she won’t be able to wash it ever again in her miserable life.