Reality bites

I’ve resolved to start writing all my posts in Word prior to publishing because of the disgraceful number of grammatical errors that Weng finds every time he reads it and the excessive number he doesn’t find. How embarrassing. It feels like my dyslexia is worsening under the onslaught of age I think, not sure about that, I’ll have to ask Tish, haha. I jest.

I’m so bored. I want to watch more Desperate Housewives, only that if I do, Weng will protest and I’m not really supposed to have the time anyway. More selfishly, I’ll run out of episodes to sneak off Darren’s laptop and be even more bored afterwards. Sex and the City runs like a dissertation in microeconomic management after Desperate Housewives. It’s going to be the next ‘Friends’ I tell you.

I talked to my sister today for the first time in a month or so. I know that’s a long time to not talk to my dear sister, but my family practice a kind of ‘tough love’ – not to say that we’re unsentimental, we’re just all sarcastic butts. Our affection is primarily reflected in the effort we put into the complexity and wittiness of our insults.

Cheryl was regaling me with stories of Chinese New Year at Grandma’s, how she’s tricked our 2 year old cousin Nick into doing whatever she says, mostly about how many times my brother, Bryan was humiliated. Moral of the story: Toddlers are lethal weapons and don’t leave your underwear lying around when your massively extended family is over, otherwise said toddler will grab aforementioned underwear and run around the house showing everybody.

Anyhow, that conversation ended quickly when mum got home late from a girls’ night out and busted her ass. I miss home.