It was easier in school: You don’t friend me, I don’t friend you. Simple. One classification.
At work it gets a bit harder cos we learn the words "colleague" and "acquaintance".
But the best part is me seeing Max on Friendster, and having Friendster tell me "Max is not your friend". Well technically he’s my husband but it’s not Husbandster is it?
And so I have to submit a request for my husband to be my friend. Simply amazing
I had the pleasure of visiting Katong Antique House yesterday. It was like going back in time. Not just literally cos the place is like a living museum (and they conduct tours too!). I heard so many words that I’ve not heard since the time Mama passed away in 1994. AND I bought chet-kee, a card game that Mama and I used to play while waiting for my school bus. So that must have been more then 20 years ago. I’m so eager to find someone who can play it with me again but so far, no one I knows has even heard of it but at least I have the instructions.
That hour that I spent at Katong Antique House, I felt like I was part of a world that knew me, and that I knew. As a very very watered down version of a Peranakan kid, I am in no position to share my very limited knowledge of the wonderful rich culture. But what I would like to do is to share what I know, and hopefully, continue learning so that I will have enough to share with my own kids.
First things first. Peranakans are not from a country called "Peranaka". In history books we are known as "Straits-born Chinese", having our roots from either Malacca or Penang. But despite that, many of the older Peranakans* can speak Malay but not Chinese. I can’t speak Malay. It’s embarrassing.
*male = baba, female = nonya, but sometimes in gereral we’re called "babas". Older ladies are referred to as "bibiks", the most famous probably being Bibik Belachan
As the culture faded over time, so did the customs. Peranakan weddings used to be 15-day affairs. The groom would serve tea to his father before leaving his house to pick his bride. At the same time, she would have had her hair combed and bunned on the top of her head with a ‘crown’ that weighs something like 2kg. They’d have procedures like walking over rice buckets and I don’t know what else.
And I only know all this from documentaries. Another one which I watched with my grandmother when I was 7 or 8. By the time my grandparents had gotten married, such a wedding procedure was already very very diluted.
At my wedding, I tried to incorporate as much Peranakan-ness into it as possible. I wore a nonya kebaya. I even borrowed Mama’s kerosang (nonya kebayas do not come with buttons. You have to ‘fasten’ them with the kerosang, which is usually made of gold). But I couldn’t find the beaded slippers so I wore normal strappy shoes. Which would have technically made me a big laughing stock if a true blue Peranakan lady had spotted it. And the irony of it is that my grandaunt actually MAKES these shoes. She even conducts classes.
It was a big shock to me when I started work and I wore a kebaya top to work and people asked what I was wearing. I’d always thought that the general knowledge of the peranakan culture was low, but I never expected this.
My grandfather’s grandmother originated from Penang, but according to my dad, she was born here. So I don’t know if I’m a 4th, 5th or 6th (or even more) generation Peranakan. It’s embarrassing. I don’t know my roots. And I also don’t know how we became Baba Lang ("baba people"). There must have been some intermarriage somewhere up in the line. Must have been way up since nobody remembers.
I grew up always wondering why I was different.
On eating and dining
I wondered why whenever my classmates and I compared favourite foods, none of them had ever heard of gerang assam, or bueh keluak, gantan tng or bakwan kepeteng.
I wondered why most things were spicy. I wondered why we ate with our fingers at Mama house (note to anyone who wants to correct this: the reason why it’s not "Mama’s House" is because as kids we couldn’t pronounce it, so the term "Mama House" stuck. So shut it).
I wondered why we didn’t have the traditional chicken bowls, and had the big yellow / green ones instead.
I wondered why the normal bak chang to me had a blue tip, but nobody else knew what I was talking about
On entertainment
I wondered why nobody ever heard of the play Pilay Menantu when I had watched it over and over again on video with my grandmother. About the kaypoh amah/servant Ah Cheng and the matriach that they called ‘nia’. I couldn’t understand but I knew when to clap and when to laugh together with the audience (filmed in front of a live audience)
On attire
I wondered why my grandmother wore transparent tops with no buttons and long colourful skirts when other grandmothers wore short sleeved tops with matching pants.
On names
I wondered we addressed our aunts by weird names like ‘ko-beseh’ and ‘ko-chic’.
On physical appearance
I wondered why my arms were so hairy (at one time I thought no boy would ever love me because I was so hairy) and why I was so dark and why my eyes were so big.
On language
I wondered why everyone (till now) tells me the way I speak hokkien is different (but to me I can’t tell the difference). I wondered why I had differente everyday words as compared to my friends - we said ‘tuala’ for towel, and ‘lengkang kangkong’ to symbolize ‘making the fan rotate’.
I wondered why shopkeepers looked at me strangely when I told them I wanted to buy a ‘tangkot’.
I’d like to share as much as I know but I think I should beef up on that before I start thinking about saving the world. For now, I’ll leave that to Captain Planet. I wonder if he has a batik shirt though.
I shall say this only once: If you intend to watch the movie, please do not read this yet ok?
So. I had preview tickets to see Superman. I didn’t expect it but HE WAS THERE! Right at Golden Village Great World City! So when he walked to the toilet, I walked super fast and caught up with him, to ask him a few questions that we are all dying to ask.
This very exclusive interview is brought to you by Adora Tan, and by the letters A and T.
Adora: Why is your suit in red and blue?
Superman: Because I’m a true blue American hero
Adora: What’s with the underwear on the outside?
Superman: Everyone asks me this. I was in a rush one day and the phone booth was extra small - it was in Asia, and the booths were all Asian sized, I mean come on, I am 6feet 4 inches tall! So it was really claustrophobic in there and I just wanted to get out quick. It was an honest mistake but hey, they fashion caught on, didn’t it? I mean, look at Batman and Robin! (They’re gay, by the way)
Adora: Speaking of Batman, why can’t we see your nipples through your costume? He had custom made suits with nipples
Superman: Ah. Nippies - great invention
Adora: Are you a Marvel comic character?
Superman: No no. DC Comics actually. X-men are Marvel. DC is way way better. Let me explain. I’m the main star in the movie, yes? And who’s my sidekick? Scott from X-men. He can fly too but he needs a helicopter but me, I just raise one arm and away I go.
Adora: Are you made of plastic? Seemed so in the movie
Superman: I’m the man of steel, not plastic. I keep telling the make up artists that
Adora: What’s with the curl?
Superman: I was a 1940s superhero and the curl was a big thing then. Another thing my make up artists refuse to change. We have to move with the times don’t we?
Adora: What have you learnt over the years?
Superman: To be smarter! I now wear my suit UNDER my dowdy Clark Kent wear. It’s hot like hell (especially when you’re in the Middle East) but hey, saves alot of time. Plus I no longer have to rely on phone booths. You know some countries do not have phone booths. In the past I had to fly to the nearest phone booth country, change, and fly back to site of destruction. Very time consuming.
Adora: What’s it like being compared to birds and planes?
Superman: Planes are ok but birds? Come on, I’m in red and blue. What bird do people think I am, a parrot? A cockatoo?
Adora: You lifting all that heavy stuff, injuring your hands and arms… that must have hurt
Superman: Special effects my dear, special effects. But the hands… I have to go for manicures every day!
Adora: So the World Cup, what do you think?
Superman: China? Sorry, we don’t get cable where I come from
Adora: Complete the sentence: My idea of a dream woman is…
Superman: Wonder Woman. Just look at her great all American outfit!
Adora: Do you think the lady who played Lois Lane was a good fit for the role?
Superman: Nah. I voted for Oprah
Adora: So…. when did you and Lois have supersex to create your super kid?
Superman: Hey, even super heroes are entitled to super secrets. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to pee.
Adora: One last question. Any advice for our readers?
Superman: If you want to be a superhero, get a job in the media. I mean look at me, and look at Spiderman.
Once upon a time we were kids. One thing I remember from the beginning of time is that I’d always wanted my parents to be proud of me, especially my dad. He’s a man of few words, and he also feels awkward saying things like "I love you". I think he’s said told me he’s proud of me twice in my life - on the day I graduated and on the day I got married. Hearing those words (or reading them in an sms) made me tear. It still makes my eyes sweat when I think about it.
But tonight I felt like the parent watching my kid going up on stage for his first kindergarten performance. Tonight we were at the old Parliament house watching my dad receive his SECDC official appoinment from the Senior Minister, no less. Yes it was the perfect opportunity to wear my new Chanel dress (OK, it was a tailor made dress…. made from Chanel cloth…. bought from Arab Street) … no doubt I could hardly breathe and I was afraid the zip would burst but that’s all beside the point.
Seeing my father in the suit with the corsage on his lapel (Mum and I debated on the actual place to pin it on his suit. He didn’t have it for my wedding so we were all quite blur), looking at him wave at us from the ground (WHERE MINISTERS SIT FOR PARLIAMENT!!!), hearing his name being called and watching him receive the actual thingie from GTC really made my heart burst with pride.
He was grouped amongst people with so many titles added on to their names (Dr, LBBS, PBM, ABC, DEF…), he was probably the youngest out of all of them, and one out of only 9 to receive this appointment today. This man, who has so selflessly dedicated his time to the community, who gave without remembering and took without forgetting, finally got his recognition. At almost 50 years old, he looked like a child among all the other old foggies there.
I wanted so so much to yell out "DADDY!" from where I was filming him on my phone, but I reconsidered cos I didn’t want to be dragged out by security officials screaming and kicking in a straightjacket over my nice new Chanel dress. So I did what I knew he’d be comfortable with.
I sent him an sms saying "I’m so proud of you, Daddy"
Parliament House, OK!
Wah… A familiar face!
And us 
How the years have flown by. I think the only way to make you feel that way is to bump into 1. an old boss and 2. an ex boyfriend, both of whom I had the pleasure of meeting yesterday.
The old boss now runs a cafe, which I happened to be meeting some people at for lunch. I think it was fated that I arrived earlier than the rest cos if I had arrived just in time and then saw him, I would probably have tried to avoid him. But I was there, and he was there, and I decided to just talk to him. And after some small talk, I decided to come clean and that’s when I said I’m sorry we parted on lousy terms. He asked why I did what I did and I explained and he seemed OK with it. If my childhood taught me not to lie, then my adulthood taught me to shake hands.
The ex boyfriend. He’s now married, and so am I. I think we parted on lousy terms too (he told me he had to leave me to become a priest). Over the years I bumped into him a few times but it was always hi and bye and a wave and really small small talk. But with Max, I felt stronger. We were at Parkway Parade’s Pacific Cafe when I saw the ex and his wife and I waved to them. They waved back and went into MPH. When they came out, they made the first move and came over to talk to us. Which was nice. And we made small talk, which was civil. We probably would never double date, or invite each other over for dinners at home, but I’m glad we both feel some kind of closure
And I’m just grateful I decided to dress up yesterday
Another one.
An external party wants to return some things to me. Office stuff. So she drops by unannounced (Strike 1), refuses to give her name at the reception counter (so I have no idea who I’m walking out to meet. Strike 2), tells me lies (why do people do that?!) of ‘Oh I tried calling you but you weren’t around (Nonsense. I was around all the time. Except lunch time when I went to the doctor. But that’s my time so, Strike 2 1/2) and I couldn’t reach you because I didn’t have your mobile number’ (Strike 3. Call the mail line? Speak to a colleague? Leave a message?)
I said it’s my personal mobile number and I don’t give it out because people abuse it. Oh yes, you wouldn’t believe it. People whom I thought were friends would call at 10.50pm at night and ask for work related help. To me, if we’re not close, any mode of communication that requires a human response should cease at 10pm at the latest.
Sidetracked. Sorry.
So. Personal number. And I don’t get reimbursements, and I get too many work related calls from OUT of the office (suppliers and whatnot).
And she says "Oh but I won’t call unnecessarily" (strike 4. Listen, will you? I said no!) and "but you have mine" (strike 5. Your job requires you to be on the phone half the time. Mine doesn’t. Yours is printed on your name card. Mine isn’t. Your company pays for yours, mine doesn’t)
Sorry, just in a crappy mood cos I’m like sick but not sick. Just weak in the stomach (it just feels so cold!) and I break out in cold sweat occasionally…
So I went to see the doctor and she says I have post food poisoning blues. I don’t know what to feel - 1. disappointed that I’m not preggie 2. grateful that it’s not an ulcer or anything serious or 3. just roll my eyes at the crazy diagnosis
I hate not knowing what’s wrong.
I hate people who lie. Of course I’m no angel and I’ve had my fair share of "Ok ma, I’m going out. Ya ya study already. No no, no homework" and "I’m staying at Julia’s house tonight" but when it comes to the professional world, lying really really isn’t accepted. Even if it’s small white lies. It’s all about professionalism, yes?
I got a call today from a lady who spoke damn softly, which I can’t stand… I couldn’t hear half of what she was saying! I also can’t stand those who slang, like fake angmohs. So anyway this lady tells my colleagues that she’s my friend so they put the call through me.
What I hate: If you’re my friend, you would have my direct line or my mobile number, right? And not saying you’re my friend will still get you through to me. It’s not that I’m Zeus sitting on Mt Olympus you know. I am reachable. Anyway.
When she gets through to me she says ‘Oh I was trying to reach Cassandra but she’s not on her desk (she never is, actually. And now that I think about it, none of us are ever on our desks. We’re always at them) so she asked to be transfered to me.
What I hate: You want to talk to me, just say you want to talk to me. You want to talk to Cassandra, just say you want to talk to Cassandra. 1. get to the point 2. dropping names of people in my department doesn’t score you any points
And then she says ‘Oh I saw your name in the magazines that IKEA gives out and I thought you would be the person in charge for me to introduce our company’s services’
What I hate: Don’t lie, please, don’t lie. We don’t give out any magazines and my name is not on anything.
At this point I’m really pissed. So I ask where she got the so called magazine and she panics, "oh maybe it’s a brochure, or maybe I received it through mail". So I take a deep breath and I tell THE TRUTH - that we’re a franchised store and we have to abide by strict regulations when it comes to internal and external communications and it really does have to go through me so if my name is in it, I would know. And if something goes out that I don’t know about, then I would need to know how that happened. So I told her I would really appreciate it if she could send me that thing that she received.
She hung up.
Moral of story: Don’t lie.
I remember when I was 7 and I was coughing badly. I was always coughing badly at that stage. I wonder why. My mother would say don’t drink cold drinks but who could resist the brightly coloured 10-cent drinks from the drink stall right? You know the red ones with the frogs eggs swimming inside?
So I drank of course. And of course at night I would cough at home which would lead my mother to ask if I had disobeyed her. Of course I said no la. And she’d ask me to account for my $1 pocket money. Shit, kena trapped in maths question. Have to remember one bowl of mee how much, one chicken wing how much, one cup of hot milo how much, one packet of kaka how much, and then have to find the right combination to include the price of the 10-cent colourful drink… Of course I gabra-ed la. Maths was never my strongest subject.
That was the first time I think, that my mother told me it’s easier to stick with the truth. It’s more challenging to have to cover lies with lies and then remembering all your lies.
So, moral is? Everybody, altogether now,
DON’T LIE!
I’m sick and tired. Both literally (sick - stomach been reacting to Vincent’s BBQ and I’m reacting quite badly to anything cold. Tired - sleep late, wake up early) and ‘phrase’ly.
I think many of us 70s kids are quite intrigued by the whole blogging thing (No? Hands up those of you posted your virgin blog within the last 12 months. My hand’s way up). The things we used to write in diaries (that we’d hide from our parents) are suddenly allowed to be written for the world to see.
I can’t answer for everyone but I think most people blog to share their thoughts and to keep their friends updated on their lives. Corright or corrwrong? Of course there are those who’d post only makeover shots but hey, to each his own.
For me, I get sudden flashes of inspiration and blasts from the past and most times I think those who grew up in the same era as me would enjoy reading about things from our childhood and go ‘oh ya ya ya YA! I peed in class too!!!!!’. (Sometimes I read other blogs and I laugh out in the office. Sometimes I slap my thigh as I laugh too)
Anyway. Let’s face it, we’re almost 30. 15 years ago if I said ‘Want to ciao school and go to Orchard Road?’, you can be sure I would be in Orchard Road with at least ONE friend. These days I’m having trouble getting 3 other people to get together for Mahjong. I’ve been trying since Good Friday. Can I rest my case? So, blogging allows us to share what we could and probably should share over coffee.
Which brings me to: Hey you wanna read and have a laugh, be my guest. But if you’re reading only to drop me nasty lines and comment on my broken English and correct my spelling*, or tell me what a stupid topic I’ve picked to write about, or that I look fat in my wedding gown, I have one word for you: STOP. Just STOP, wait a minute Mr Postman and save it, ok? You’re just proving you have too much time on your hands.
(Disclaimer: I got A for Engrish at PSLE ok, so just maybe I made an intentional mistake for a laugh? Disclaimer against disclaimer: Good for you if you got A for PSLE also, and A1 at O Levels [I only got A2]. I just needed to make a point ok?)
I don’t have to justify my mistakes and if it bothers you that much, and if you can’t just read my blog with a pinch of salt and enjoy a laugh, aiyoh just don’t read la. I’m entitled to freedom of speech, and you’re entitled to freedom of sight. Don’t need to force yourself to read just so you can complain ok?
You don’t buy a Dan Brown book and say "walau eh so lousy, waste my money". Did Mr Brown ask you to buy?
My closing note: you know, the name of my blog IS "Confessions of a Drama Mama". It means that I’m entitled to write about my drama mama life.
And if it absolutely will kill you if you didn’t know, I write about everything and I especially love writing about silly stuff because I have to be serious at work so my sillyness in MY blog gives me an avenue to express my non professional self. Even if it’s mundane things like housework. If I’m proud of living away from my parents and not having a maid do my laundry, CANNOT MEH?
Oh I feel a strong urge to say this! : PLEASE, donch need to write to me and comment about THIS entry. Shit, it will be a never ending cycle.
OK, I’m back to being nice again. Have a nice day everybody! I hope every path you take today will be cushioned with rose petals!
We went picnicking yesterday at East Coast beach. I remember we did it alot when I was much younger and I didn’t really appreciate it back then. When you’re a teenager, there were things far cooler than sitting on groundsheet at the beach with your parents.
So we went, we played our family card game TRUMP, which everybody still enjoys (and now Max too) and I think we were all almost sad to leave but we had to catch our 7pm reservation at Pasta Fresca for Father’s Day dinner.
Smile!
Dad says "Aiyah wanted to take a photo of you feeding her"
So we posed again. Success!
Dylan showing off his fake tattooed arm
Trump!
And cute sign
The dinner was nice but overly priced. But it was nice to have everyone there. There were a few kids dancing to the live music. I think that’s the diff between angmoh kids and asian kids. The angmoh kids were clearly having a good time dancing but the asian kids had to be dragged by their parents and told to ‘go have fun’. It’s quite sad. I wonder how our kids are going to be. But we saw a father swinging his little girl so my sister and I asked my dad to swing us too haha. Max says he will dance with our kids
It was a nice happy family day Will definitely bring our kids for picnics.
OK I’ve always wondered why lawyers must wear the funny wig. Have you ever wondered? Ah. But the difference is, I asked.
The wig in question:
It’s because we’re still using British law, and it’s the custom, and we still use old fashioned language e.g. Herewith, hereto, thou etc.
Of course I’m not satisfied with such a boring answer right? So I probe further into more exciting stuff like :
Q: Are there different wigs for male and female heads?
Ans: No. Same wig. (don’t they consider style?)
Q: Does every lawyer have his/her own designated wig?
Ans: No, there are like 1 or 2 in the firm of the person I asked (of course I can’t say who I asked or what firm), and everyone shares the precious wigs. (Hooray for hygiene!)
Q: Must wear for every court case ah?
Ans: No, only high profile criminal cases when meet the big big dua liap judge.
OK, question of the day answered. Maybe I should make this a regular topic.
