Oed' und leer das Meer.

The weather in flogging land is unusually freakish for this time of the year, and not only is it unfuckabelievably scorching hot some days, it more often than not ends up raining less than halfway into the day. I'm stuck as to what to wear out most days since there's really nothing more I hate than sweating under the sun without a specific purpose like swimming (explains why I am so "peh" - see below), but getting stuck out in an airconditioned room with the rain pouring outside isn't very fun, either.

I've been eating like a pig, and shopping like there is no tomorrow. The GSS is bound to be my downfall, and not only that, the Food Festival begins as of today. My "multi-talented" neighbour is currently playing the Wedding March continuously on her piano.

***

The dad was being ultra sneaky yesterday when he suggested that "we might as well drop off uncle's letters" after I requested to drop something off at V's when he got back from work.

Me: "Um... what letters?"
Him: "You know, all those we brought back for him..."

Note that said "letters" are in fact a bunch of useless bank statements, and really why couldn't he have done it over the weekend when he sent my grandmother to church (yes, she's a convert now, apparently)?

Me: (Pause) "And... where is uncle?"
Him: "Oh he's at work. But we can just go and drop them off..."
Me: "Er. Right. Drop them off... where?"
Him: "Mama. Mama's house."
Me: "..."

For the uninitiated, "Mama" is my paternal grandmother, with whom I have absolutely no means of conversation or connection with, and honestly? If I didn't see any of the relatives on my dad's side ever again it wouldn't make much of a difference to me. It's a long story. I swear all this sneakiness no longer works on me. I can so totally see through all the ploys to get me to see her, under the guise of "dropping something off", "having dinner", or "picking something up". The thing is, it wasn't even about the visiting bit - I probably wouldn't have been so sullen about it (maybe even quite acquiescing) if I'd just been told that he wanted me to stop by. It was the sneakiness behind it, which I didn't hesitate to call him out on.

To make matters worse, my paternal aunts are the weirdest bunch ever, I swear. The moment I got there I was cornered by two of them and my grandmother on the couch, and between the three of them they managed to make the following observations in a matter of ten too-long minutes:

1. "Le jin peh (as in white) ah!" - Grandmother
2. "Wah you really lost weight ah!" - Super Kaypoh Aunt #1
3. "So what does your mother think of your new figure ah?" - SKA #1, part 2
4. "I also want to be so white can?" - SKA #1, part 3
4. "So how, got boyfriend already or not?" - SKA #2

I mean, really. As was previously established here, why should you care, when the crux of my existence to you is a free tour guide in drunken-slut land? I see them twice a year at most; more than is absolutely neccessary, and more than I care to. Apparently the dad won a bit of cash in toto, and despite it having been a loooong time back (and the money all spent), he's decided to wait til I get back before organizing a "get-together" dinner on the 16th with all 76 (give or take) of the folks over on his side. Fuck. Look out for bitchy post thereabouts.

I had a hundred bucks forcefully wedged into my hands by my grandmother as I left. Say what you will, but I'm calling it as it is - it's not that different from being a high-end escort. I don't mind being offered monetary compensation for time better spent elsewhere.

***

"I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me."

- Dixon Steele, In A Lonely Place (1950)