0

Under the super moon

That night (19 March) as we walked along the busy street after a therapeutic massage session, she asked if I had noticed that the night appeared to be brighter and there were no street lamps around us. I paused and looked around. “Oh ya, it is brighter.”

“Do you know why?”

And we looked up at the moon at the same time. It was a full moon, directly above us in the sky, and basking us in its almost white fluorescent glow.

We immediately started struggling to grab each other’s hands, seeing who would be the first to point at the moon.

You see, legend has it that long ago in the far far away land, there was a moon goddess who did not take very kindly to little children pointing their dirty grubby hands at her full shining moon. Those who did will always find a long cut at the back of their ears the next day. The cut will hurt enough to cause slight pus but it will not bleed. The cut will eventually heal around a week or so but not before driving the poor kid nuts with the itchiness as it turns to scab. That is until the child points to the full moon again. (I tried pointing at the moon a few times just to prove the myth was false when I was five and I always got cut without fail.)

The amazing part is out of seven billion people in the world, TWO people – me and her – found the only other person who believes in the same legend. TWO out of over four million people in this city who resolutely believe that the full moon will cut our ears if we were ever rude enough to start pointing at it.

We are, as far as we know, the only two people who got our ears cut when we pointed at a full moon when we were young. That was more than two decades ago. And we are the only two people who genuinely think our ears will get cut if we ever point at it now. So we will never point at a full moon willingly.

Which is why we always attempt to grab each other’s hands so we can force the loser into pointing at the moon. The victor will then spend the rest of the night taunting, “Orh… You pointed to the moon. You’re gonna get a cut now. The moon god is going to punish you.”

This, as you can imagine, has caused a few upsetting moments because we would really make a lot of “noise” and start whining if we were forced to point at the moon. Or she will resort to (mock?) anger so I would stop disturbing her.

That night as I failed to grab her hand because she was smart (or strong) enough to keep her arms down, I accidentally raised my hand to the air to trick her. I panicked and she noticed.

“Orh… you pointed. I saw you pointing. Ah-ha see la, see la, play. Serves you right. Humph.”

“I never! I didn’t do it on purpose! It was accidental.”

“Ha you did it on purpose. You did, you did! You will get cut tomorrow.”

“Never never never!”

By now my face was flushed and guilty and she was gloating like how a smirky but adorable arse like her would.

20110321-012342.jpg

0

Closer to me

Listening: Closer to me by Blank & Jones – I wrote this on 10 July last year. Updated on 15 August 2010. Added more stuff on and off. Finally decided to publish it today.

Have you ever had a weekend that was so awesome you find yourself reliving the best moments over and over again – whether you’re at work or at in public – and then you find yourself grinning stupidly? And when you realise you’re grinning stupidly, you try to stop grinning but you end up grinning even more because you’re so damn happy and the thought of you grinning because of those moments makes you happier? No? Right, it’s just me then.

At the end of the first week of June, I was on the tail end of my holiday in Shanghai and she was returning from Christchurch, New Zealand. We had spent hours talking on the phone before that – she bought a 24-hr Internet access card to talk to me while I used up my Skype credits to call her hotel – and it still wasn’t enough for both of us. Our schedules had coincided such that when we were talking over Skype about how much we miss each other, we decided to cut short my holiday and book a weekend getaway to make up for the 1.5 weeks of not seeing each other. Change of flight timing, ferry tickets and hotel room were booked all within 15 hours.

It was the best decision we ever made that month.

She welcomed me home at the airport with a soggy chicken bun (and glutinous rice, if I remember correctly) because my flight was delayed and we went home together, excited about the next day.

When she picked me up in a cab at midday, I passed her my white Ray Ban shades and we started comparing how fascinatingly gorgeous the scenery looks through the lenses. (Ok I might have been the only who thought so while she nodded along.) Let’s just skip forward to the more exciting parts now, shall we?

We checked in at the resort, dropped our luggages in the room, looked at each other, paused and jumped on the bed. We had woken up really early for this after all. Oh wait, the first thing she did when she put down her bag was to take out a pair of disposable slippers because we are similar in that sense that we can’t have our feet touch unfamiliar – therefore dirty- ground. We also ordered room service in between. So we ate, cleaned up and here comes the best bit… We cuddled, snuggled and made out until we spent every single moment of the entire afternoon and evening away. We finally fell asleep, exhausted.

Then we woke up just nice for a really late dinner and we almost couldn’t get the shuttle bus in time. We had crayfish, some green leafy vegetables and some meat, I reckon. We were really full after that. Immobilised. But really, what we did when we returned to our room after dinner was much more exciting. Ahem.

The minute she went off to shower, I opened the door as quietly as I could and I ran like the wind, well as fast as my full stomach can handle it, to the front office. I saw the lone front reception staff and I started speaking incoherently from my breathlessness. Thankfully, the kind person could understand from my wild gesturing that I needed ice, loads of ice urgently and within five minutes, I ran back like the wind with a bagful of ice cubes. The coast was clear. She was still in the shower.

You see, few hours earlier when she was out in the balcony shortly after we checked in, I had washed two glasses and placed them along with a bottle of champagne I secretly sneaked past the customs into the fridge. Now the surprise is ready to be unveiled.

But I was really paranoid that she would discover the champagne when I went to shower so I took it out and hid it behind the cushions on the couch. I thought I was smart. I wasn’t.

When I came out smelling nice and fresh, she was already out on the beach, lying in the hammock. The moon, high above us, was particularly bright that night. I walked to her with the champagne and two glasses discreetly behind my back and said, “Look what I found.”

“You’re so sweet.”

I sat in with her in the hammock and we opened the bottle. As we said cheers to the sweet bubbly, she said, “Actually, I saw it earlier under the cushions.”

“Ahhhh…”

“I didn’t mean it. I thought I misplaced your Ray Bans so I was looking for it and I found it. But I put it back nicely.”

By now, I was rather gutted for the failed surprise.

“But I like it. You’re so sweet for thinking of surprising me.”

And as we lay in the hammock under the moonlight, we kissed. And we kissed again. And again as the waves rolled towards us from a distance. The night belonged to us and us only.

If someone had told me kisses were sweet before tonight, I would not have believed them. But tonight, with the combination of sparkling wine, tingling ice cubes and the soft moonlight shining on us, when our lips met, our kisses were sweeter than you can possibly imagine.

We headed back into the room soon after. And kids, some things are best left to your imagination.

Memorable items: Tissue undies, champagne, hammock, the waves, ice cubes, moonlight, sexy soundtrack.

When I made love to you that night, this song was playing. If ever there should be a perfect soundtrack for lovemaking, this song would be it.

1

Her celebratory dance

Last Friday (25 February), we went to a deserted area in the western part of the city after work to collect vouchers from her friend. It’s a place we would have never thought of exploring if she hadn’t need to meet her friend, I reminded her in the cab. But I’m glad we did.

There was a night market near the bus interchange when we arrived and her dream to eat sinful oily yummy snacks with me came true. There were fried Taiwanese sausages, fried prawn fritter, fried tapioca pancakes, corn in cups, colourful cupcakes and Ramly burgers. Her eyes lit up when she saw Ramly burgers. For the uninformed, it comes with a thin chicken patty, laced generously with mayonaise and wrapped in a large egg omelette in between two burger buns.

We ordered two of those sinful burgers for late night snacks. We also ate a prawn fritter and a sausage at the market. Thinking back, I don’t think we gorged ourselves silly enough.

We then made our way to the cinema near my place to purchase movie tickets. Now the mall in which the cinema was at is decent enough if you want to have dinner, watch a movie, shop for groceries, buy terrifying looking guinea pigs which are the size of alley cats or go to the gym. It has nothing else beyond that. Until we found the games arcade. It was the place where we parted with $10 in less than an hour. And had our hearts in our mouths several times in the same time period.

It was the game where you would manipulate a giant claw to grab a soft toy strategically positioned to drop the minute you think you succeeded in securing it long enough to reach the drop point.

We’d grab our hands in excitement, hold our breaths in case exhaling would cause the toy bear to drop. We had our eyes wide open, refusing to blink to will the claw to hang onto the toy tightly. We also had our hopes dashed many times. Until we decided to stop donating our money to the arcade. But we will be back.

On our way home, I suggested getting some macaroni and cheese for supper later and we did. This was a big mistake as you will see later.

During our walk back, we started playing “Guess that 90s song” while holding hands. It’s easy. You sing one line from a song released anytime between 1990 and 1999 and see if your partner knows the song title within five minutes. I might have tried humming my way through some songs. She did got stuck at certain songs. But whenever we came up with a classic we could instantly recognise, we would sing it out loud with gusto. The 90s were our era, dude. Those were nostalgic times. Now back to the present.

We then spent an hour in bed laughing at everything, playing and talking about random stuff (ok, some kissing were involved too) without even realising we had spent an hour entertaining ourselves with each other’s company.

And just like the week before, we soon settled in to watch American Idol (our current favourite). But there was a documentary that piqued our interest – The secret cellar of that Austrian freak who imprisoned his daughter for over 20 years  – and we didn’t know if we should feel more sorry for the daughter or the mother or the innocents kids.

Anyway, some hours later that night after we finally fell asleep, as I threw the blanket off while stretching my limbs, a long loud – I mean trumpet-LOUD- bubbly “PBROOOOOOOOT’ sound was heard suddenly. My eyes shot wide open. She was already awake when I turned to look at her with a mixture of innocence and guilt so I kissed her cheek gently while wrapping my arms around her. As she turned to snuggle herself into my arms, she said quietly, “You farted.”

I froze. Then without warning, I dug right into the pillow with embarrassment, whimpering, “Huhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…. Shy shy…I didn’t meant it.”

I’ll never forget her reaction as she immediately kicked her legs off the bed and flung her butt up in the air repeatedly, dancing energetically in triumph with her arms waving in the air. Cue sounds of victory cheers.

When she calmed down to catch her breath for a bit, she said, “Your fart cuts through the silence of the night.”

And she was off dancing and celebrating again. This time, synchronising her butt movements with her hands turning in a curling motion.

Remember how I said earlier that buying macaroni and cheese was a big mistake? When we finally calmed down, I reasoned that “cheese makes me gassy” but she was too busy gloating to hear me explain.

“There was no urge or resistance at all. I didn’t even know there was a fart coming. The air just came out like that. My butt didn’t even know until we heard the sound. It was so relaxed.”

“HA, now you know how my butt felt that night.”

So yes, Internet, the score is now even. Her wish has been granted and I swear she has been dancing non-stop since. No matter how hard I tried to not talk about The Loud Bubbly Fart, I know part of the reason why she has been looking so blissful recently is because she has now heard me burp and fart in front of her and the fact I have done these private actions in front of her is something making her very happy.