When Looking for Partners...
As dictated by Faranza Syns
I just spent... wait, allow me to calculate the time...
Oh, yes. I believe I've just spent three hours slicing the crumbs off sadwiches. No, no typo there. From now on I will call them SAD-wiches. Because inadvertently, after eight-plus-three (that makes eleven, in case you're feeling pretty slow like I am tonight) loaves of jumbo sized bread, I am feeling utterly depressed. And sore. And ... well, I think I'll develop back-bone problems faster than my dad.
Eugh, I don't think I can chew another bite of bread ever in my life, much less tuna sadwich, and egg sadwich.
Gad, I sound like I have sinus problems.
Usually, on the 3rd day of Eid, my mom's side of the family has an Open House of sorts. So being the "maidens" (what the heck, that is beyond archaic) in the family, Jaz, me and Qiha had to help out.
Sadwich duty it is.
What a back-wearing day. I was bent over the slicing board for-bloody-ever. When the other girls have finished, I still stayed behind to finish off the crumb-slicing, four-part-dividing duty.
I'm complaining. I know. Okay, let me tell you the good parts.
I got paid a cup of Slurpee.
Period.
It's sad how cheap we are. Or cheap they think we are.
Next year, I believe I'll develop arthritis of some kind.
Or maybe I'll just sneeze and say "H1-fucking-N1!"
Yay.
H1-fucking-N1.
Hishamuddin One fucking Najib One.
Someone screwed with my head.
Rule of thumb: When pairing off sadwiches, take em two at a time. Duh.
Blood-red ocean;
It's what I call my emotions.
Oh, yes. I believe I've just spent three hours slicing the crumbs off sadwiches. No, no typo there. From now on I will call them SAD-wiches. Because inadvertently, after eight-plus-three (that makes eleven, in case you're feeling pretty slow like I am tonight) loaves of jumbo sized bread, I am feeling utterly depressed. And sore. And ... well, I think I'll develop back-bone problems faster than my dad.
Eugh, I don't think I can chew another bite of bread ever in my life, much less tuna sadwich, and egg sadwich.
Gad, I sound like I have sinus problems.
Usually, on the 3rd day of Eid, my mom's side of the family has an Open House of sorts. So being the "maidens" (what the heck, that is beyond archaic) in the family, Jaz, me and Qiha had to help out.
Sadwich duty it is.
What a back-wearing day. I was bent over the slicing board for-bloody-ever. When the other girls have finished, I still stayed behind to finish off the crumb-slicing, four-part-dividing duty.
I'm complaining. I know. Okay, let me tell you the good parts.
I got paid a cup of Slurpee.
Period.
Aunt #2: Ho, ho, this year, if you lot finish your duties, we'll buy you Slurpees!
Me: Haaaa? (very indelicate sound)
Aunt #3 : Ah yes, next year, we'll promote them!
Mama: And maybe we'll pay them with McDonald's instead!
Aunt 2#: Ahha! Brilliant!
It's sad how cheap we are. Or cheap they think we are.
Next year, I believe I'll develop arthritis of some kind.
Or maybe I'll just sneeze and say "H1-fucking-N1!"
Yay.
H1-fucking-N1.
Hishamuddin One fucking Najib One.
Someone screwed with my head.
Rule of thumb: When pairing off sadwiches, take em two at a time. Duh.
Blood-red ocean;
It's what I call my emotions.
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