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This one time, in the first grade, I totally learned how to spell.

Homeslice. You are not getting payed, okay? You’re getting paid. Didn’t you listen to NSYNC? Because, dude, I’m pretty sure they definitely had a song about it.

Also? No matter how many times you say it, you will never, ever, get layed (unless you’re a part of the poultry family, and suddenly developed an affinity for clucking). Though, for your sake, I do hope you get laid soon.

K?

Thxbai.

 

 

Why you should probably never add your Mom on Facebook.

My Mom is quite the Internet savvy person - well, at least, in comparison to other Moms, that is. She knows about Flickr, Facebook, Friendster, Twitter, Myspace, and a whole bunch of other social networking sites. She knows how domains work, and she even knows a bit of (very) basic HTML. Most of the time, I’m pretty proud that I have such an awesomesauce Mom.

But sometimes, I can’t help but wish that she was more like the other 90% of the Asian Mom contingency, who’s never even heard of Facebook. Because that way, we would never, ever, have had a phone conversation that went like this:

Mom: Why is it that you liked Budapest so much again?
Me: Hmm…I liked the Opera House a lot. And I guess just the architecture in general. Yeah, I really liked the architecture.
Mom: Really?
Me: Yeah, for sure.
Mom: So it has nothing to do with that boy, then?
Me: Erm, what boy?
Mom: The one who looks like Heath Ledger. You know, the one who was licking Tequila from your neck?
Me: Durr…
Mom: You got tagged on some interesting pictures here, Sweetheart.
Me: Erm…
Mom: Architecture. So that’s what they’re calling it these days.

Awkward.

Just. Awkward.

 

 

This one time, in Kindergarten…

The past few days have pretty much been some of the most horrible days I’ve had in a long, long, long time. So, universe? If you’re done hating me right now, please, feel free to wipe my memory clean of everything that happened. No, seriously. Please.

Boo hiss.

Anyway, don’t worry, I’ll spare you from my quasi adolescent angst. Instead, I bring to you a semi response of sorts to Michael Buckley’s school years video.

What do I remember about Kindergarten? Hmm.

First, let me preface by saying how completely made of fail I am. Because, dude. I totally had to look up how to spell the word Kindergarten. I know.

Most memorable kindergarten memories. Well, first, my two kindergarten years (along with first to third grade) were spent in Philippines. So, if you come across a line or two (or, erm, the entire post) that makes you scrunch your nose in disbelief, just remember: I’m Asian. And I went to an Asian school. They didn’t exactly educate children - they educated androids.

++ My first day of kindergarten was a test. Literally. My parents wanted to see if I can test out of kindergarten, and go directly to first grade, so they had me sit in this room with three other kids. I can’t remember what the other kids look like, but I know one of them had the runniest nose, ever, and I kept on shifting further and further away, because I was scared his boogers was going to catch me. Anyway. That test was brutal, man. And I’m pretty sure that’s what started my vendetta against fractions. All those stupid pies I had to colour in to show a half, a third, an eight, and some other random things. I failed the test by one question, much to the utter despair and disappointment of le parentals. Oh, well. At least I had more time to watch the Mickey Mouse Club.

++ I peed in my pants. Every kid in my class was required to bring in a bag of clothes, in case “accidents” ever happened. They were all placed in one of the back shelves, and as the year went on, the bags started to slowly disappear. I don’t know why, but I seriously thought I was retarded because my bag was still in the shelf. Everytime one of my friends would suddenly start crying, and exit the room, only to return wearing shiny nice new clothes, I fumed in envy. I wanted to change into shiny nice new clothes, too, damn it. I wanted to wear the sparkly pink dress my mom packed for me! So, I did what every smart thinking five year old would have done - I stood up on my chair and started to pee. In the middle of the class. But, hey, I got to wear the sparkly pink dress. I know. Genius.

++ I got kissed by a boy named Dominic. He and I were on the same bus, and one day, he sat down beside me, and said that he liked someone. I asked him who it was, and he said he was shy and didn’t want to say the name. So I said, “Okay, just spell it out. I won’t tell.” And so he did. He said, “Umm…A…L…E.” And then he planted a whopping sloppy kiss on my mouth. I kind of just sat there and processed everything, until he asked if I got it. And then it hit me. ALE. AL-E. Allee. Eww. I never spoke to him again. Even as a five year old kid, I knew I would never be able to like someone who couldn’t spell.

++ I encountered my first Mean Girl. Every year, a number of Kindergarteners were selected to do a dance in front of the entire school. Clearly, clearly, this was my calling. And to my delight, the teacher picked me! Me! You can imagine my excitement as I inched towards the rehearsal room door. This was going to be awesome. Except. The main dancer girl stopped, looked at me, and turned to the teacher. “Eww. What is she doing here? She’s too fat. She can’t dance,” she said. I pushed her, and ran back outside to my Mom, crying. I told her I didn’t want to dance anymore, and just wanted to go home. So, we did. To this day, I don’t think my mom ever knew the reason why I didn’t dance with the Kindergarten group. Hmm.

That’s my kindergarten years, in a nutshell. Or at least, the most important part of Kindergarten. Now, since I suddenly feel like a loser, I’m going to go and indulge in that tub of Toll House Cookie and Brownie Chunk ice cream I just bought.

What do you remember about your own Kindergarten years?

 

 

 

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