Sunday, July 22, 2012

PLEASE SHUT UP!

I just had my haircut, and caught sight of myself in the mirror putting my jacket back on. Jayzus! This time Binh outdid himself, I look darn foxy!
Usually monsieur Duong cuts my hair, but I like it when Binh has a go.
He uses the thinning scissors, and the effect is quite elegant.
Not many men can boast so thick a head of hair.
Especially not once they pass forty.
I'm nicely thick-headed.


ACROSS THE HILL FOR LITTLE CABBAGES

The bus wasn't crowded, but most of us got on through the back door anyway. Touched the screen with our pay cards and passed the crazy lady ceremoniously welcoming us aboard.
A woman sat down in front of me with her teenage daughter, and happily beckoned a shy-looking fat girl to sit with them. Obviously a friend or classmate of her own child.
Both girls looked about fourteen or fifteen.

"Where are you going?"

Fan ok-kei lah.... going home. Softly said.

Before the conversation could get any further, an acquaintance of the mom spotted her and sat nearby.


There are some things that come out of the mouths of countryside ladies that are beyond flabbergasting. Especially if they don't even speak civilized Cantonese, but a version of Mandarin with a lot of spitting sounds. Not the furry pronunciation of the North, but instead a tongue from somewhere far inland where the trains don't go.

The acquaintance was one such. Salt of the friggin' earth, the type of "well-meaning" auntie whose blunt tactlessness leaves you gape-jawed, wondering what the heck just happened.

After briefly saying howdy to the mother, she turned to the fat girl, and continuing in Mandarin, explained to her in kindly tones that if she lost weight, seriously lost weight, she would really be far more presentable, maybe even pretty.
Indeed, losing weight would be the best thing the fat girl could possibly do.
Thinner is so much better, don't you agree?

Teenagers tend to be self-conscious about their appearance anyway.
The well-meant advice to now skinny-up pronto can't have helped.

I could tell that the young lady was exceptionally well brought-up from the fact that despite the busybody words of the country auntie she responded politely, even deferentially.
One must, after all, be respectful and courteous to the older generation.
She tried not to show the effect of what the Mandarin-speaker said.

Except...... when someone has lovely dimpled eyebrows and an expressive intelligent face, it is very hard to keep pain hidden.
And I need to emphasize precisely how nice the young lady looked, because her face really did betray a sweet and likable personality, an active mind, and at that moment, a heartrending vulnerability made plain by the eyes and the wrinkling of the aforementioned lovely dimpled eye-brows.

Oblivious to the impact of her appalling comments, the Mandarin speaker continued her chatter, then switched back to the adult woman to discuss some problem or other, leaving the fat girl in the seat beside her to stare sadly ahead.

If you think about it, learning how to speak English, Cantonese, and Mandarin indicates more than average cleverness and ability for someone so young. But instead of opening windows, it simply made it possible to hear unkind words in three languages.

At the top of the hill the Mandarin speaker renewed her assault. I'm sure she was sincerely worried that the fat girl would never land a husband and consequently come to a bad end. Everybody knows that the only way to land a good man is be willowy.
Men, apparently, like willowy.
There's nothing that says marriageable quite so much as being scrawny, especially if combined with dull-wittedness and domestic skills.
Plus silence and obedience.
That, more or less, was the message that the Mandarin speaking woman seemed determined to impress on the fat girl.

Who looked, at that moment, like someone you just wanted to hug.

Had I done so, both mass panic and tumult would likely have ensued. One should not spontaneously embrace people on the bus, no matter how much they look like they could use some emotional support. Even patting them on the head is out of the question.
I may have mentioned that she was a teenager, yes?
A curvy and huggable teenager.
With breasts.

I very much relish not coming into contact with the authorities.
Nor do I wish to cause outrage, scandal, and embarrassment.

But I do hope that when she got home someone hugged her.
She's a very nice girl.


ADDENDUM

While scarfing down a helping of yummy savoury substances at an eatery on Stockton Street, it became apparent that there is, after all, a wonderful benefit to warm summer days.
Shorts.
Under the right circumstances, some exceptionally appealing visuals will be right in front of you precisely at eye-level.
Young ladies wearing shorts can be quite distracting.
Wielding chopsticks requires dexterity and attention.
Both of which go out the window when there are three radiant pairs of plump and luscious thighs approximately two feet away from your nose. Honey coloured. Impossibly yummy.
I am more adept at keeping my composure than you can even imagine.
Lunch was better than ever.

Black bean sauce spare ribs. Little bokchoi.
Plain soup, stuffed tofu, and rice.
Hot chili sauce.
Yum.

I am a dirty old man.

It's a good day for that.



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7 comments:

Virgin said...

Did the auntie in any way object to her ward's obnoxious behavior?

ADDENDUM: Was the Kedushas YomTov succeeded by his son, the Kedushas YomTov Sheini?

ADDENDUM II: What do you think of this chassidishe maamar?

The back of the hill said...

Hi GW,

Initial thoughts, at 1:27 in the morning:

1. I have no life. I woke up at my desk at work. The last cable car departed an hour ago, I had to take a cab;

2. The auntie had no ward, unless you mean the classmate's mom - who, I think, was shocked at the Mandarin speakers' lack of conversational skillz;

3. I'll have to read the italian opera thing later, when I am more fully awake. It's now 1:32 A.M. in San Francisco. I took a cab home, I'm cognizant of peculiar personal smells, and it's not so much foggy as moist outside. I'm cold.

Will respond later at more length.

Virgin said...

You didn't follow up at more length. Yet.

Virgin said...

Nu?

The back of the hill said...

Might not be able to get to this.
Up to my eyeballs in work.

Virgin said...

Ah, OK. I know not what this strange noun be: wirk? work? werk?

Is that what other people do when they're not blogghiing?

The back of the hill said...

Avade!

Between the requirement that I report on Accounts receivable, process Accounts Receivable, and pursue Accounts Receivable, I am spinning ever sideways, sideways, sideways.

Es iz verk. Verkelikh.

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