Learn Thai the easy way!
If you’re a guy, what do you say to a lovely Thai girl?
.
.
.
.
Saw-a-D-cup! (cue Laugh track)
If you’re a girl… I dunno.
(Saw a D*ck ah?)
That’s my random thought for today…
Lived to learn, lived to learn, lived to learn…
This is not going to end well, thought he. But he had to make a choice. So he suggested an option. Have the guys take his girl back to their place while he picked the friend up from her apparently “dark and dangerous” apartment parking lot. No objections. Fine. He didn’t like it, but it would be over quickly, he hoped. And the party could do with her presence…
Speechless. She’d walked out of the parking lot, to the lighted area. What. The. FUCK. It was impossible not to raise his voice. But now the objective was to get her to the house and hopefully get off the ship before the shit just ran aground. “It’s alright, she’ll be alright” said the friend. Comforting to hear, but… it was a toss up. Heads or tails? A nervous laugh escaped his lips then.
“Come on down, come on down, open the door,” he said over the phone. He’d quickly dropped her off and raced to his friends’ apartment. “Is everything alright?” was his first question to his friend. Apparently she hadn’t been venting to them. Good, he thought. It’s gonna be alright. I made the smart choice and I didn’t fail. He sighed with relief.
It was when they were walking to his house that everything started to crash and burn. She was being engaging enough with the others, but intentionally ignoring him. Don’t panic. He might still be able to fix it. Just give her time, she might just want to talk in private.
“How do you unlock your door.” It wasn’t a question. It sounded too much like an order. And that pissed him off. He was pouring her a drink, too. “I don’t have the key, nobody does. Use your brains.” A big mistake, he would later admit. He unlocked it for her anyway. Apparently she wanted to dress up. Trying to get some envy into his sails? He wouldn’t fall for that.
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret in the morning.” he whispered in her ear. As he expected, there was no response. It was an act he’d seen all night. No matter. It was important that he show some attention, even if it was not returned. He would deal with it after the party. He walked away calmly, but inside he was howling with panic, alarm and distress.
“What can we say?” said the girls. Dumb question. “I don’t know. Just talk to her for me,” was the cold reply. In hindsight, they were the two worst people he could ask to do that. Weak-minded ditzes. Another failed attempt.
Where was she?! He’d looked upstairs, downstairs, even in the basement for God’s sake! Where?! Roommates didn’t know. Nobody else he could ask. One last place. His room. Unlocked it. Resistance. So she was inside. Alone? Or not? FUCK! He had to know. Luckily she wasn’t strong. She fell onto the bed, hugging her blue plush toy. Another sigh of relief. He wasn’t about to let this chance slip away. “Talk to me,” he said, as gently as he could. “Please.” Ignored. He repelled all her attempts to open the door and rejoin the party. At the very least, he might be able to force her to talk, if only to fight. Didn’t happen. She surfed the net for a while, and he just sat there, alternately apologizing and coaxing her to share her thoughts. Finally, nothing. She simply turned the computer off and went to sleep. This was a disaster. much worse than he anticipated.
Morning after. He was hungry. She would be too. One last try. Egg tarts from Chinatown, her favourite treat. He’d get breakfast for the rest too. Win-win. When he came back, she was up. So he arranged his offerings and opened the door to tell her he’d got her food. She was packing. Bad sign, but she was supposed to leave today anyway, just not so soon. Maybe if he could just stall her…
Then she just left. It was so sudden. Not a word. No time to think. He was angry, hurt, panicked, concerned, all at once. Shouting “STOP!”, he went after her, not caring if anyone heard. He grabbed hold of her luggage and tried to reason with her. It was his last chance. It was as if every tug was a sledgehammer to his heart. “Let me go!” was all she could say. But she didn’t have to say anymore. She must have already decided when he left to pick the other girl up. Why didn’t she say anything then? He should have known. But she’d been with him for so long! Was there no trust? He saw both sides and no solution. Then came the final blow. “If you don’t let go of this bag right now, it’s over between us.”
He chose to hang on.
“Fine. I’m breaking up with you. You are no longer my boyfriend and you no longer have the right to stop me. Now LET. ME. GO!”
“NO! I’ll never let you go!”
“Take the bag then, take it. I don’t need it. BYE.”
Now he had to give chase. “Wait. Please, listen to me. Let’s talk it over rationally.” But she just wouldn’t stop. It was time to take drastic measures.
He put the bag down and grabbed her arm. “I said STOP.”
“Ow! You’re hurting me!”
“I’m sorry, but just calm down and listen!”
“Why do you care if I leave? You want her, you chose her, so let me go!”
“I DON’T. You’re blowing things all out of proportion. She was a friend, I went to pick her up. Nothing else.”
She wouldn’t listen, and kept struggling out of his grasp. He never stopped pleading his case. She was crying now, and so was he. But she was getting nearer and nearer to the train station with every escape. Desperate, he gripped both her arms as hard as he could. Now she couldn’t free herself. And they talked some more. And eventually, she listened. She stopped running.
“Let’s go home,” he said. She refused.
He tried again. “I’ll ask my roommate to throw her out.”
“It’s not that. I can’t let them see me like this.”
“Okay, but we should get some food.”
So they went to Chinatown, luggage and all, and she was herself again. The rest is history.
But the words have already been said. Can we ever go back to normal? You killed a part of me. Can apologizing make up for a murder? You love to ask me that. Now you tell me your answer. I’ll live, I’ve learnt. I just want you to see things from my point of view. It was a disaster, an incredible mess. And that’s all we’ve got now.
I don’t want
I don’t want anything more than to see your face when you open the door, you’ll make me beans on toast and a nice cup of tea, then we’ll get a chinese and watch TV. tomorrow we’ll take the dog for a walk and in the afternoon then maybe we’ll talk, I’ll be exhausted so I’ll probably sleep, then we’ll get a chinese and watch TV…
I’m in a moody frame of mind these days, and Lily Allen’s voice echoes, pulling at my heartstrings the way a mournful violin does. She’s far away, yet she doesn’t call or feel motivated to call anymore. I call her, and her voice sounds cheerful and warm as before, but I can’t help it. I just can’t help thinking of the possibilities. And through it all, this weary feeling…
I don’t want anything more than to see your face…
Thoughts
Today, I wasted too much time in front of a computer. Then the question of romance occurred to me. What is romance? Many have tried to answer this question. As with all social… things, for lack of a better word, the definition varies from person to person, and even for the same person, from day to day, hour to hour, perhaps. Romance, to me, is in the daily calls, the vocalization of that time-worn phrase, sometimes clothed in new garb, mostly just presented as is, with sincerity and affection. Sincerity and affection. I like the sound of that. Could that be our secret? 2 years is hardly eternity, but it’s a milestone. I subscribe to the idea of daily romance. I’d even say I advocate it, only I don’t have the right to. It’s not that she doesn’t recognize this. She does (and I love her for it). Where am I even going with this? Haha. Let me ramble. I’ve read a bunch of stuff in 20 years, and much on romance. Only recently did I learn that daily is not enough. You also need a concentrated does sometimes. It’s like… I was thinking of caffeine, but sweet like sugar. If you honestly like coffee and drink a cup every day, you don’t feel the caffeine any more. You know it’s there, but it becomes imaginary, intangible. And humans like the tangible. So once in a while you want to get an espresso. There. Not the best analogy, I know. Does it matter? Those seeking wisdom won’t understand until years later. Those who have the wisdom will, regardless. This is really for myself. A memory. Like a photograph, only in words. After all, how do you photograph thoughts? So yes, romance is like caffeine., only sweet. For someone who’s read so much random stuff, it still comes as new knowledge. That’s how it always is for me. Never really get it till I’ve worked through it myself. But she’s somewhat patient, sometimes able to express her thoughts, in love, and determined to stay. A toast to you, my dear. A toast to years ahead. I’ve heard (from a longtime married man) that the secret to a long and happy relationship is not just to find the pleasure, but the joy of being together. Here’s to us.
Dear Santa
Oh. My Gosh. So I have this Exam, right? It’s like Thermodynamics or something? It’s totally, like, impossible. It’s even harder than Pre-Calculus, and even that fried some of my brains. Okay, so I totally don’t get it at all, but my major is, like, Chemical Engineering and all that, so it’s sorta required? Just for this, I had to totally stay in, like, the library, overnight, you know? So not my thing. I mean, who does that? I feel like I’m, I don’t know, homeless or something. I can’t wait to get home and, like, totally relax? That would be, like, heaven. Totally. Like, I’m so stressed right now? I had a nightmare that my face grew a zit. Like, major Grossness. Anyway, I know Christmas is coming and all that? I know what I want for Christmas, and I want it now. Santa, get me an A in this class. Please? Pretty Please? Ohmigosh. I’m totally running late. Kthxbye!
XOXO
Bimbo
[Author's note]
Hey, I was stressed. I wanted to write a formal-ish letter, but the bimboness makes it even funnier. I’m the one de-stressing here, It’s funny if I think it is. Well-wishes and prayers for me are welcome too!
A song?
I was studying and looking out the window at Chicago snow, when I heard a song in my head. After some refinement, it sounds like this:
(To the tune of White Christmas)
I’m dreaming of a fine business
owned by someone i used to know…
It’s on NASDAQ listing
and if I listen
real hard, I can hear it grow, and grow
I’m dreaming of a fine business
and now the timing seems just right
With a billion dollars, I’ll buy it!
And may all your businesses be mine!
What should the title be?
Lost and found
It was already evening. A quick flip of the wrist and the Samsung screen lit up, displaying the numbers 17:54. “Let’s go already!” Alice shouted from a little way ahead. Bossy as usual. I quickly caught up, and asked if she’d ever been to the bank by bike before. “No, but I know the way,” she replied. I checked the front pocket of my hoodie. Camera, check. (Why did I even bother? She’d never allow me the time to talk to Greg about homework…) Envelope, check. Checks in envelope, check. Four of them in total. Almost sixteen hundred dollars right there. I made a mental note to check and adjust it regularly on the way to the bank.
“Are we there yet?” It had been almost 10 minutes now, and the bank was nowhere in sight. Apparently we’d taken a wrong turn a few minutes ago, according to a pedestrian we asked. Crap. My muscles were beginning to tire, and the Chicago wind didn’t help. It was good exercise though, and I left the gears just as they were. Low. Up till now, I’d been checking the contents of my hoodie pouch, and I quickly did so now. All there.
After another 5 minutes of biking, we saw the familiar Walgreens and other signs that indicated we’d arrived at the outskirts of Chinatown. Whoever designed Chinatown’s roads was an idiot. I never realized before, how annoying those slanting roads and pedestrian crossings could be. We looked across at the opposite side of the street and saw a ‘walk’ signal light up, and began to cross… but turns out that signal wasn’t for us, it was for the crossing perpendicular to ours. Because they were placed so close to each other, we could see both and didn’t know which was which. Stupid signals! We got to the halfway point between the two directions of traffic, but not without some blaring of horns. It’s worse with a bike, because its so bulky. Double damn the designer! Finally, we arrived at the gates of citibank. We walked in, and… I discovered that my envelope wasn’t there anymore.
Unbelievable. Where WAS it? WHERE WAS IT?? I was almost panicking. The wind probably blew it right out. It was a terrible misjudgement to think that it would stay in the hoodie pouch. I even searched her bag (i was carrying it on the bike), in case it miraculously dropped inside or something. Nope. Again. Still nothing. The third seach yielded the same result. I was prepared to tear out my hair by this time. Alice suggested backtracking to find where it’d dropped. I was sceptical of the success of this, but at least it was a try. After she’d finished with her stuff, we got on our bikes again and backtracked. I knew it couldn’t have been far off, because the last time I checked it, we were close to Chinatown.
Imagine the joy I felt when we saw an innocent white envelope on the ground near a particularly sharp turn we’d had to make earlier on. Yes, it was mine! Unharmed, too! Amazing.
The rest of the night ended without much interest, and that’s my story for the day.
Back for a while.
The independent life, huh? Moving out of the dorms, tiring. But I did it! I still need to clean my room, and get furniture. Don’t even have internet! It’ll take a week. Using the computers in the library right now. Jessy came, and then she left. Sad. School starts tomorrow, too. Can’t be helped. Time marches on, and I have to study again. 12 creds. Light semester. Not of my own choosing. Would have 15 or 18 if possible, but important courses NOT OFFERED!!! Pissed. Already talked to advisor, not fruitful. Wasted time? Work, I guess. And very interestingly, they are all in the States, though they don’t all live in Texas. California is far from IL though. And I’m the better for it. Will it never go away? Memory… Moonlight… Forget… Good night…
Drunk
So today is the first time i ever got drunk enough to feel dizzy. I think i skipped the so called “buzz” and went straight to “wasted” . Even as I’m typing this, I feel beer trying to come out of my mouth. excuse me. now, what I really had was two beers and some vodka. BUT! The first shot of vodka i had was pretty concentrated. That was, I realize now, a bad idea. As a side note, I will remind myself that I made a lot of spelling mistakes while I was typing this, only I still had enough presence of mind to correct them. Why am I enven writing this? So that I remember my first experience of intoxication. It’s alright, but I should watch it. Jessy, I promise not to do it again. Alright. I gtg gts (sleep). tomorrow, I have WORK at MSI. Whoo! bye….
Night after she left
I saw a girl at the Roosevelt stop. She was black, and small. I put her maximum age at 18. I know I’m bad at guessing ages, and there are always Jessy’s in the world who look younger than they are, but at any rate, she looked young. She was alone, except…
She was carrying a baby.
And it broke my heart.
