Now Aren't You Doggone Brillz

I am a proud mother. Proud but sad, for this week marks the day my baby is all grown up. I wish I could say that Chewie has spread his wings but all I can say is he spread his legs. I'm glad I'm a mother of a puppy and not a daughter in such circumstances.

Chewie turned 6 months on the 4th of January 2010. I guess that's like your son growing his first facial hair/armpit hair/pubes because 6 months seem to be when puppies hit puberty. Vets usually advise owners to spay or neuter their puppies when they hit 6 months old.

I was washing the dishes when I saw Chewie casually walked into his pen from the corner of my eye. He's shy. He doesn't like people watching him piss or take a dump. I mean, would you? So I feigned ignorance while secretly keeping an eye on him to be sure he leaks on his weeweepad. To my surprise, I see him lifting his left leg and sprayed urine all over the pad like a hose on a warm summer's day.

Pride shifted to woe. It dawned on me that he is no longer a baby. However, because of his size and permanent adorability plastered on his face, that thought didn't linger on my mind very long.

Here's where things get exciting and creative. Two days later, I catch Chewie walking into his pen again. Because this peeing with one leg up is all still new to him, he has trouble balancing as a tripod. So his pisses alternates between squats and something in between a squat and a leg lift - like me when my mom tells me to get off my fat ass and bring the laundry downstairs.

He walks into his pen. Stops mid entrance. Half body in, half body out the door. Lifts his leg 45 degrees in the air and I was telling myself with glee "This is it!".

He rests his foot at the door of his pen and showered away. This is the same brilliant dog who did this.

Tuber Or Not Tuber

I've always thought of myself as more of a tuber plant than any other ordinary plant. Why is that so? Well, as opposed to other plants whose roots are underground, I believe I play the major role in keeping myself grounded whilst my roots are well... on top of my head, so to speak.

My grandmother was from China, so she knew everything Chinese. Then came my mom who only picked up half of it and passed on what she thought she knew, which isn't much, really, to me who really didn't give a shit at all. I ate what was served to me and if I liked it, I would learn it in Chinese so I can order at restaurants. And I did whatever I was told blindly in terms of traditions.

It wasn't until this week did I have to find that shovel to dig myself out of that ground a.ka the shit hole I've been buried in all along.

See, The Boyf wasn't feeling too well this week and I would first like to address two things. The first being, he is such a dude who knows nothing about taking care of himself when feeling ill and two, his western upbringing allows him to think that fried chicken is OK if you're having a sorethroat. Just eat, so you don't die. Explaining what is 'heaty' for your body is just as bad as explaining what is 'Lah' to the world. I guess it's an Asian thing.

So, I found myself cursing Cliffside Park for not having a Chinese grocer nearby to buy ingredients. I had to make do with whatever I could find in the fridge.

I've always associated porridge to prison food and dying. Hence, I never had the desire to learn how to cook it and when I am forced to eat it, I would be too sick to learn anyway. So this week, I had to channel my inner warden and cook up what I would like to call a traditional dying meal. The Porridge.

Then, I had to make soup. I hate soup. In the name of 'Love', I had to make some and the easiest soup to make would be the infamous ABC soup but all I know about that is DEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ. So once again, I channeled my inner kindergarten cafeteria lady and learned how to make this dish.

This is not just limited to food. When I served him the soup, it came with a glass Chinese spoon. He turns to me and asks for a metal spoon instead. When asked why, he said it's angled in an awkward position and he's not used to it. Kindergarten cafeteria lady then morphed into chemistry teacher where I had to explain that metal + hot soup = burnt tongue. Such smart creatures these Chinese people are.

When you're across the world, your world turns upside down. Metaphorically speaking, my tuber is now inverted and my roots are now grounding me.

Since we're on the subject of plants, I would also like to add that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. With all the drink more fluids nagging and take your medicine reminders, as much as I hate it, I'm beginning to sound like my Ah Ma.

Got Milk?

As you can tell by now, I am very fond of the word Koe. That's only because my father gave it to me. It's a family possession that's worth more than your Magic the Gathering card collection.

My friends discovered the joy of name calling at the age of 14. Fast forward to 13 years later, apart from the growth of their bra size, so did their vocabulary. The words they use now are far more superior that 'dodo head' and 'chicken shit'.

They've taken it a step further by insulting my inheritance in the name of wit, art and creativity. This is their Sistine Chapel.

1. Koenica
2. Koe ca - Koe la
3. Koepi (at least 20 koepi variations. Koepi O, Koepi Koesong, Koepi Ais etc.)
4. Koekoenut
5. My favorite, Koetek.
6. "What does E uses on her period?" - Koetex 
7. Koe Storage (Cold Storage)
8. KoeKoeMo
9.Koekoepops
10.Koekoepuffs
11. Koerek hidung

And the list goes on.

I was born with dark skin. Everyone joked I was picked up from the trash. So, I yearned to be fair. This has nothing to do with my story.

But I will say this, as years go by, I began accepting and growing fond of the color of my skin. Just like how I've learned to find this list directory amusing. You know why? I found a better last name to fuck with - 'Chow'.