15: THE DEVIL WEARS PRATA (DISCOURTESY IS A MANY BRANDED THING)

People are so into branded stuff these days. Just this evening, I overheard a conversation between two young ladies on the MRT which ended with one of them announcing petulantly, for the benefit of all and sundry, “I WOULDN’T BE CAUGHT DEAD  WITH AN UNBRANDED HANDBAG!” Then with a shrug, and a flick of her branded curls, she made a dramatic exit at Ang Mo Kio, her Elvee (they all looked like Elvees to me) swinging at my face.

As the saying goes – if you can’t beat them, join them. So this is where I tell you, and I confess, that I have been into branded stuff all my life. My T-shirts, sleeveless in Penang, THREE LEGS RUNNING. My school shoes, MESTI TAHAN, (Malay for "Lasting") and my watch, WINGO.  Even my towels are branded. My towels, well, my towels, GOOD MORNING.

No, not wishing you Good Morning. That was the only brand  everyone, who is anyone, uses. Back in those days,  I WOULDN’T BE CAUGHT DEAD WITHOUT IT.

They don’t make them like they do before – cheap and good. Nowadays, a handbag can set you back 100k. Called a “Bear-Skin” or something  like that. Apparently, the wife of a high official in a neigbouring state has a collection. How many bears have they killed? Sigh. Animal Conservation groups, where are you?

Then there’s Cursting Tall. I cursed  the first time I saw a Cursting Tall evening gown adorning  the exquisite figure of a 7 foot tall mannequin. They must be mad. Where in the world can they find a woman who is 7 foot tall? I was curious and walked up to the mannequin and stuck a thumb tack into it and a 6 ft 6 inches, with a pair of 6 inches stiletto) screamed and started chasing me. I was young (11), good looking but never been chased by a woman of that proportion before.  I developed a phobia for any female creature big and tall. And I stopped growing. Still considering a multi-million suit against Cursting Tall.

 And Gushee. Everyone owns a Gushee. Including MM who boasted that hers didn’t come  from  Patpong. I know. A friend of a friend who accidentally divulged a dark secret in her presence bribed her so that she will keep her Mighty Mouth shut. Which means that secret is not a secret any more.

There are brands I cannot pronounce, much less spell. I once saw a poster advert which showed  a watch that could have cost me 40 months salary (before CPF). I think it was an Alamak Piglet. Stupid people. I rather buy 1000 piglets and start farming if I had that kind of money.

Chopapart. What a name! Or maybe it was just what it says. It can be chopped into two, and like what they say in tai-chi, you take one part and I take one part, when the marriage falls apart. Bad omen brand, if you ask me.

Which brings me to my favorite person. It is strange that any mention of "bad omen" and my creative juices start flowing. I was told that when she was a young woman, my MIL was into branded stuff too. She could not afford branded watches and other accessories. So she splurged on branded make-up. She started with Seeshadow until one day a blind date dropped her like a ton of bricks after telling her that her shadow looks better then herself in person. She switched to Elizabeth Harden. What a waste, spending all that money on a product like that when she already has a natural hard look.

When she turned 65 for the 20^th times (at least) she had the nerve to ask me to take her shopping for “something suitable” at the Hour Glass. She must be mad.  I don’t know what they sell at the Hour Glass. I don’t intend to find out. But I did tell her politely that I will take her to the Hour Glass when she has a figure like one. She has no sense of humor at all. And I still have a black eye to prove it.

At long last, after years of coaxing, she agreed to celebrate her 66 birthday.   So as usual, I humored that woman “What shall I get for you, mother?”

And mother asked for something unbelievable. Unfathomable. Indescribable. For once, I relented. I gave in. Please the old lady. Make her happy.

So, for her birthday, I ordered 250 roti pratas from Seletar. She now have to put her sewing skills to work. Maybe, just maybe, on her birthday, I will finally get to see 
THE DEVIL WEARS PRATA!

(14) DISCOURTESY AT THE BUFFET

Okay, okay. I will disgrace myself and talk about how Singaporeans behave at a buffet. This eat all you can thingy is getting to me.  And if my MIL chanced upon this post, readers please honor me posthumously for my courage and dedication to tell the truth and nothing but the truth.

I was brought up not to wash dirty linens in public. But dirty linens need washing, publicly or otherwise. Otherwise they smell.

The Community Club (CC)  organized  a buffet at this very exclusive place called  the Compressed Rose, housed in one of those posh luxury hotel. Although this was quite some years back, the per head charge for each “CC” member was a whopping $25++. And we were told that this was the opportunity of a lifetime for “heartlanders”  like us to experience how the towners live! We were told that this high end buffet was heavily subsidized by the Ministry of Social Development. Sort of  a social experiment, giving heartlanders a  chance to taste the good life for a song. No kidding. If it was heavily subsidized why do I still have to pay $25 per head? I decided not to go. I have better use for $25 ++ x 5 (assuming of course I don’t have to pay for my MIL).  I will not pay for her. FULL STOP. As man of the house, I have decided. FULL STOP AGAIN.

The  woman of the house took away my full stops. She came into the living room pouting.  I could have hung a shopping basket from her stiff upper lips. I said “NO!” before she even started talking. She said her mother insisted. I looked passed her into the kitchen. There she was, her mother, my nemesis. I wished this arch enemy a well-deserved promotion to an archangel. I simply love her to death.

The woman of the house repeated “Yes, your arch enemy insisted.” That woman in the kitchen was wearing her wicked smile. That was all it took for me to change my mind. I am a sucker for wicked smiles.  I also recall the pain of ignoring her wicked smiles.

A calculator on which some numbers have been punched was pushed to my face. I promptly coughed up $25 ++ (x 6). I am not a petty man. Times 5. Times 6.  The only difference between the two numbers is a broken leg.  Or a black eye. I don’t intend to go to the Compressed Rose with either.

So we were gathered together at the CC properly dressed – which simply meant “No slippers!” My MIL was carrying her new oversized Gushi bag.  Very matching. No, not with her clothes, with her big mouth.

There must be at least 30 of us on the bus. Blackie with wife and 4 kids in tow. Sans MIL. Lucky Blackie - his MIL was  promoted to an archangel in Chapter 2. Apoo could be seen all over the place, yakity yak yak. Non -stop. We ignored each other. I have not forgiven him since Chapter 4 – that traitor told all the neighbors….oh, never mind. Dandy the CB could be seen and heard, telling everyone of his last trip to the Compressed Rose. He announced, for the benefit of all and sundry “Aiya, $25 very cheap. The buffet cost at least $80 you know! The oysters alone already worth $25."

And then Blackie chipped in “The pan-fried fai kua is simply out of this world.” I was  puzzled. What in the world is “fai kua”?

And there we were, 30 of us, queuing for the lift to the 65^th floor of this very tall posh building with Apoo shouting excitedly “We are going to the 65^th floor. Never been  up so high before. This place must be at least 65 storey high!” He is such an embarrassment to the people of Ang Mo Kio.

I somehow got split up from my family. Or maybe they abandoned me. I was relegated to the second car. When I stepped out onto the 65^th, we were directed to 3 specially arranged long tables on which were tent cards announcing the special arrangements for the heart-landers from AMK CC paying a subsidized rate for this buffet.  I could see Mighty Mouth and my wife  being fawned over by Apoo.  Traitors all! They knew I wasn’t talking to that man.

And Dandy shouted “Eh, you all better go and queue for the food! The oysters and crayfish disappear fast fast loh!” I cringed, realizing that everyone else was looking at us. Suddenly he turned to me “Wah, you very smart. Your three kids already stationed at 3 different buffet tables! They got future.”

To my horror he was right! But my kids were not alone. Apoo’s kids were there too and so was Blackie’s. I saw the same wicked smile on Mighty Mouth’s face and concluded that she was behind the arrangements. I wanted to go and get my three kids back, for goodness sake, but MM hissed at me. Which meant I was to stay put. An important looking well-dressed man then started to explain the arrangements but before he finished, everyone started rushing. Dandy’s voice was the loudest “I go for the seafood first!” And Blackie joined in “Fai kua here I come. Fai kua here I come.” I was so very embarrassed. After some pushing and shoving I found myself behind 3 neighborhood aunties at the “hot food” table,  using their hands to sample everything and gushing excitedly “Wah! Shiok man!”

Embarrassment  was an understatement. The three aunties were still munching away, piling up their plates (two each) with whatever was in sight. I threw caution to the air. I had to – firstly there was no wind. Secondly, as the aunties were passing the food dishes between them, the only way to get some was from the pieces flying around in the air. If you can’t beat them, join them. So I took two serving plates. But the food were disappearing fast. I found myself with a plate of steamed rice and two pieces of duck. The other plate was fried rice, two miserable looking shrimp sitting at the plateau. And the three aunties declared generously “Let’s go. Don’t take anymore! Must leave some for the people behind!” I was bewildered. Where did all the food go? Surely those six plates…and that was when I froze. They were carrying the same over-sized Gushi bag as MM. Don’t tell me………………

And that was when we heard a loud but very calm voice speaking “Sorry, our first batch of pan-fried foie gras has been taken by that gentleman. Please be patient. Second batch will be ready in 30 minutes!”

And that was when I heard Blackie boasting “There, I told you. The fai kua very popular one. Must queue first. Luckily I was fast.” Ah, the pan fried fai kua. Must be Singlish for foie gras. Someone mentioned this on Facebook just a few days back. Someone from El Paso. But she was referring  to The Compass Rose. Dandy told me we were going to The Compressed Rose. Oops!

I went back to my table with my two miserable plates only to be met by my loving family, including my dear MIL and on the table was a spread of smoked salmon, cold seafood platters, at least a dozen oysters. And even a small plate of fai kua, courtesy of Blackie. We had a good time. And lived off the Gushi bag for one whole week. Our neighbors, the three aunties lived off theirs for two. Three weeks later the Compressed Rose closed for business. Permanently. Too bad – I was looking forward to spending another $25 ++ x 6!