Last week was my apartment mate's birthday. And you must understand that, coming from a typical old-country Cantonese background though born in the United States as well as in the modern age, being a girl with a birthday so close to Christmas was a sobering experience. Conflation of events, sheer convenience, and low regard for her gender (all the other kids were boys), as well as the last one of the litter by a wide margin, has made this time of year permanently fraught.
"Oh, we'll just give you your present on Christmas. And surely you don't need cake, why, there will be TONNES to eat on Christmas! It would just go to waste."
Yes, that works. Nothing says "happy birthday" like feeling overlooked. Or actually being overlooked. The good food was, additionally, usually larded with guilt. "We worked so hard for you kids!" "Why aren't you boys married?!?" "You, girl-child, will eventually find a Toishanese dentist, and be part of someone else's family".
Of course, if she had been White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, she and her brothers would undoubtedly have been told that they were all going to hell, because the laying on of guilt is a universal part of raising kids. Even Jews and Catholics need psychotherapy when they become adults.
Coming from an enlightened and religio-skeptic family, this blogger is less scarred than most people. My neuroses are entirely self-made.
In case you were wondering.
Naturally we celebrated her birthday.
I gave her comfy jammoos, with little happy baa-sheep on them.
It is a firm belief of mine that small women especially need comfy jammoos. Nothing else in this world says that all is well than small women padding around in comfy jammoos, all cheerful.
Small women must have comfy jammoos.
Fortunately, gifting all small women with comfy jammoos is not my task in life. I only do it for small women who are part of the inner circle.
To any readers who are filthy minded, I should clarify that there is nothing perverse about this. Even if she and I were lovers, comfy jammoos would be on the agenda. And she is merely an apartment mate, so it is entirely pure and innocent.
If I had a girlfriend, I should give her comfy jammoos as well.
The gift of comfy jammoos is profound and gallant.
It shows that you are a gentleman.
And that you care.
Christmas is in four days. It is not too late to go out and buy a pair of comfy jammoos. I've already done so (the next thing up is a warm sweater, for those times when she has to leave the apartment).
But maybe you haven't. Why do you dawdle?
Go on, do it; make someone happy.
JAMMOOS!
Oh, and get a nice cake for Christmas too.
Just because, and why the heck not?
Cake is so very festive.
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9 comments:
What an intimate, sexy, post, despite all claims to the contrary.
Anyway, since you are a "vastless" expert, can you please tell me help in the recipe for ice-cubes: If I am making ice-cubes, what is the ideal proportion of salt to water?
100% (zeggen en schrijven: honderd procent) water. 0% salt (z & s: nul procent).
Easy. All you need is a refrigerator.
Not a freezer?
The freezer compartment is usually the top part of a refrigerator.
Most refrigerators.
Maybe in Amerikkka. By the way, why do you no longer write any full posts in Dutch? I'd look forward to one.
More posts fully (or nearly fully) in Dutch? Please? It could be about your regular topics.
What's a Jamoo? I'm so cold.
Jammoo = Warm comfy pajamas.
And by the way, I still don't believe that you are a twenty year old Cantonese girl.
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