What To Make Of It
A friend of mine is turning a year older this Friday and for a present he asked for something relatively simple, a burned CD with the completely discography of his favorite bands: Tool and A Perfect Circle. I listen to these bands every now and then but am not a die hard fan but he is and given that he has given me my first ever skateboard I wanna make sure I get that CD for him. So I managed find someone with those files and hopefully I’ll get them tomorrow.
We were texting the other day when he mentioned a friend of him from work whom I happen to met sometime last month at a gathering. His text message where as follows (translated in English):
him : bai, remember Jason? my height, a team mate of mine … introduced you guys last month? nyways, I mentioned to him you were getting me the Tool and A Perfect Circle discography, know what he said?
moi: the preppy guy? yeah I remember him, he gave me the traditional head-foot look over. not my type though too preppy for me … don’t tell him that, that’d ruin his ego. lol
him: hahahha funny thing is you are sorta his … as he put it, you are pretty geeky and conservative to be a skateboarder and to be addicted to the kind of music you are listening to. you also appear to be pretty oblivious.
moi: what’d you say?
him: told him to leave you alone
moi: good. bwahahaha. and yeah you can tell him he’s too preppy for me. see yah Friday.
So there you go … I was like … ah … it’s either I’d be amused that I happen to be someone’s “sorta” type or be annoyed for having met someone so stereotypical. It reminded me of how someone who pointed out that am raised to be conservative made it sound that in this day and age … that bloody well is a crime. That being single is pitiful … oh which brings to mind a team mate of mine who kept on asking me that he introduce me to his friend in Singapore. Whoooohooo … can you people just leave me alone???
He prolly mean well but it’s annoying, how my seemingly unattached state is giving him the creeps and the cause for worry. Weird.






