Showing posts with label O. Show all posts
Showing posts with label O. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Bad Words

I had a sort of bet last night with O concerning my mother's swearing vocabulary, specifically her knowledge of the word 'cunt'. Turns out we were both wrong.

'Mom, do you know what cunt means?'
*long pause*..... 'Fucking?'
'Urm, no not really but yeah ok.'
'Why, did you learn this last night at the pool place?'
'No, I was checking to see if you knew, that's all.'
'I saw the look on your face! You didn't know!'
'What!? I just wanted to know if you knew!!'

That went on for a while. Fine, I did not, admittedly, seem to have a strong basis for my questioning. But I couldn't tell her that the real reason was a bet, because a) She'd be insulted that I doubted her, and b) That would involve exposing that I could not possibly have picked up a new word from foul mouthed pool players, because I simply wasn't around any.

So last night was actually spent at O's place, and I won't go into too many details... but I do give the evening a very, er, positive review. The reason I did not tell my mother is rooted in the cultural differences between us. Being at the house of someone of the opposite gender till early morning does not acquire many Good Daughter points, especially by Filipino standards. I love my dear mother very much, and do not at all enjoy lying to her (especially when it gets complicated due to completely forgetting that the metro closes on a Monday night, thus lengthening my trip home by an hour and resulting in the vague 'There Was a Fight at the Billiard Hall!' saga). But I simply have come to the conclusion that some things are worth not mentioning because our opinions differ too widely.

Note that I did not start a conversation about what the word actually means. 9am laborious laundering with my mother really does not require a discussion of the multiple words used to say vagina.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Forgetfulness

Every now and then, in my enthusiasm to be a little bit sophisticated, I forget that I really despise the taste of wine. Such Enthusiasm-Inspired-Forgetfullness aka selective memory is also seen in: the excitement to go on a long distance bike ride (forgotten: how much I want to die after 40km), or thinking I should wear my fabulous 5 inch heels for a night out (forgotten: they make my feet acquire muscular dystrophy after one hour).

This transpired again last night at a cocktail bar: I ordered an expensive (by my cheap standards) glass of wine, and ended up drinking the complimentary glass of water. Good job! Nevertheless, I had a wonderful night out with a good friend who happens to be one of the few people in the world that can understand jokes and references to both Swedish and Filipino culture. Who else can I talk to about fjortisar (shudder) and eating Balut?*



Then at 4 in the morning I got a call from O, whom I hadn't talked to since last year. He amusingly demonstrated a fine example of Alcohol-Inspired-Forgetfulness (forgotten: we're not dating anymore).

Definitely an entertaining night!

*Fjortisar: young swedish teenage girls trying to be cool, Balut: fertilised duck egg. In case you wanted to know :oD