Wherein I Celebrate Another Birthday and (Don't) Want Things

Today was Wei Chuen's birthday, and we went to celebrate at KTV and then dim sum. Didn't sing much, and ate too much dim sum, meaning I was mostly rather bored during the evening, and had a stomachache after. Wei Chuen maganimously ordered everything on two pages of the menu other than the fried food, which didn't meet the approval of the healthy-and-sick-people and we stuffed ourselves on semi-good dim sum stuff.

Sometimes I think classy Chinese food names are the best part of the meal.

Along the way to the restaurant, these taiwanese tourists asked us if we were locals. I said yes, though the alarm signs should have gone off in my head to warn me against speaking to anyone in the Chinese language (I'm so bad at it). They asked if we knew the best place to have Hainanese Chicken Rice in Chinatown.

I was stumped. I seldom eat chicken rice (after a horrible experience with a maid in my youthful years) and even if I did eat chicken rice with any regularity my ability give directions has been commented on as being poor at best (YOU'RE USELESS, ALEX!!! at worst) Luckily Wei Chuen (a Malaysian) managed to point out some street directions to some eateries around the area, but I am now suitably embarrassed that I am Singaporean and I know little of my country's tourism hotspots. My confidence in making it in a hospitality career has died.

Shamed, I went home and checked it out on the internet. Here's some recommendations for good Hainanese chicken rice at makantime, and here's confirmation that any red-blooded Singaporean should know where to find good Hainanese chicken rice - it's supposedly one of our representative cuisines.

Before you mock the dish as having another country's name tagged to it, might I remind you that it's borrowed-name nature very distincively portrays our nation's migratory origins as well as our willingness to import foreign talent to supplement local manpower, making it symbolic in so many ways. The fact that the dish combines so many ingredients of different colours could also stand for our multi... And if that still fails to convince you, two words - french fries.

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I'd actually wanted to take WC to ride the reverse-bungee at Clarke Quay (WC, if you're reading this you escaped, but only barely), but I thought the only way I could possibly get him to get on it was to have some of us ride with him. I was fully prepared to do it, of course, having done it before and knowing that it's really fun and exciting - just thinking of it makes my balls shrink and gives me that crawling feeling in my gut (or that could be the dim sum) - but I knew that wouldn't get him in and that I needed another certified coward to do it also.

Unfortunately certified cowards are, predictably, rather hard to get to go on reverse-bungee rides. And in the end I scrapped the idea, after being disappointed with answers of lack of money, courage, potentially-popping-blood-vessels and weak hearts.

Strangely enough, though no one had the guts to ride, they still wanted to watch.

Those cowardly friends of mine who have birthdays coming up, be prepared - you can find more information here. In case you can't figure out where it is, here's some maps (courtesy of Streetdirectory.com):

Someone's gonna have an exciting birthday.

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I've never really noticed it before, but I get bored very easily when I'm with people and we're not doing anything. Things like sitting around in a cafe and talking, or having meals meets the limit of doing things.

I've never noticed it before mainly because 1) I don't really meet people unless there's some activity planned, and 2) my friends are starting to work, meaning they have precious little time to do anything but go for meals or drinks.

I'm not sure if I should envy those who can really, really appreciate good polite conversation.

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Went home today finally. Mother plied her tactics once more - this time the conversation was strange (even stranger if you don't understand Singapore's housing laws - singles in Singapore can only purchase housing after the age of 35, those who are married or have parents, kids, etc can get them at 21 - for more info, check out the HDB website)

Mother: You know, if you want to buy a house we can sell off this one.
Me: Sheesh. I can't even buy a house till I'm 30. Singles need to be 30. Or 35.
Mother: Dad can sign up for it with you. Then you could get a house now.
Me: What? But Dad's already signed up for this house with you.
Mother: But he can sell off his share of this house and then he can apply again.
Me: What? Sell off his share? Then where would he live?
Mother: We can get a three-room apartment.
Me: What? Then who would live here?
Mother: Whoever buys the flat lah!
Me: What? Why would you want to sell the flat? (As you can see, I'm rather confused by the whole conversation)
Mother: So that you can buy a new flat lah.
Me: Then where would you live?
Mother: We'll get a three-room apartment.
(I am stunned for a couple seconds as my mother's words make an impact)
Me: But why would you want to do that? I don't need your help to buy an apartment. I'll earn the money.
Mother: (snorts in derision) You don't know how expensive it is, you have to pay so much to buy a house.
Me: No need lah. I don't want your money. (This is a blatant lie, I DO want my parents' money, and I take it from them on a regular basis)
Mother: You say that now, wait until you want to buy a house.
Me: Please. Give it to Victor to study with lah. He needs it more.
Mother: Wah. so kind ah, give money to your brother
(I rush off before it can get any weirder)

It's never figured to me before that my parents would ever leave me anything (other than my poorly-constructed body, alienation from my roots and siblings who will want money from me). And it got me to thinking that I couldn't, on any basis, take any money from them, not after telling them for so many years what Bad Parents they were for not being richer, or more well-connected, or having given me a better education (if it sounds like I'm horrible, my siblings are worse - at least I don't complain about not being breast-fed).

It feels a bit too much like extortion. And considering how much they've given me already, I'm really quite thankful. I feel like the evil son that I always read about in the evening tabloids who get headlines like UNFILLIAL SON BEATS MOTHER, TAKES HER MONEY!!!, though it really touched me that my parents were willing to do this for me. They'd probably get the headline that says PARENTS SACRIFICE ALL FOR UNFILLIAL CHILD WHO RUNS AWAY!!!. Yeouch. No way my parents are going to pay for my flat for me (big words for a 24-year-old who still takes money from mummy).

If it ever gets that bad I'll find a sugar-daddy. Daddies not related by blood are okay to take money from. And if there's one thing my parents raised me up to be, it would be to be independant (despite being somewhat tardy about laundry and cleaning the floor) and resourceful.

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On the other hand, if I did have some money, I would want so very much to do a road trip.

A few glitches:

1. I don't own a car
2. Even if I did it wouldn't matter, because I can't drive
3. Even if I did own a car and I let others drive I don't trust those friends of mine who can drive
4. Being rooted to my country (ie. never been out of it for more than a month) I can only road trip in Singapore
5. A road tip around Singapore is about as exciting as getting your nails polished (assuming you're not Elvira Deville)
6. Assuming the stars align themselves, I'm still too much of a coward and a stick-in-the-mud to drop everything and run off
7. Lastly... I may be too old

I always knew the day would come when I'd start regretting not doing the things that kids do because otherwise I'd never get the chance to do it again because some things you can only do as a child. I just didn't think it would be this soon.

Regretting my youth marks my first step to middle age. Next stop - concealing age. Looks like it's concealer instead of car.