Sense & Sensibility

(This is long overdue. This confounded machine ate up part of my post… *growl*)

It has become quite apparent that the Frou and I, when put together, are a lethal combination lacking in both sense and sensibility.

Case Study 1
We signed up for a climbing course. It was sheer commitment – climbing from 10am to 5pm on Saturday and *gasp* Sunday. We were brimming with positivity and raring to go. It was agreed that we would sleep early on Friday night to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. On Saturday morning, we tumbled into the gym which is located in the abyss of an industrial estate. We were compliant children, practising diligently what we have learnt, tying clove-hitch knots and following instructions to the T. Yes, there were moments of when we strayed off the narrow path of goodness e.g. when the Frou pointed at a course-mate and whispered, “Look at her ter-ka (pig’s trotters)!” However, these moments were few and far in between; we were paragons of good behaviour.

When our tummies started growling, I went to the instructor to ask him about lunch. According to the Frou, I was flirting unabashedly. Whatever it was, I managed to weasel a 1.5 hour lunch break instead of an hour. To which Ter-ka whined, “Why so long??” I swear, Ter-ka was bubbling with so much enthusiasm that her cup (and many other parts of her body) runneth over.

Everything went awry later on that night. After our hard work, we decided to give ourselves a little treat. We sat down for a proper meal where the cutlery was shiny, the food was fancy and the waiters looked like penguins in their snazzy suits. It started with pleasantries and polite chatter. As the night wore on, we found ourselves at a helicopter pad blasting loud thumping music. The Frou and The Toe, left to their own devices, are often deluded.
Toe: We have a climbing course at 10am.
Frou: It’s only 11:45pm…
Toe: Let’s leave at 12. Deal?
Frou (nodding earnestly): Hokay!

We left at 2am. The Frou slid into the passenger seat of my car and commanded The P to drive her to the nearest bak ku teh. In order to get her point across, The Frou deemed it fit to shout “bak ku teh” repeatedly. Relegated to the backseat of my own car, I also had to shout (over her shouts) directions to the nearest bkt, send a wobbly text to The Frou’s pal and maintain general peace and calm.

Case Study 2
One evening, The Frou and I decided to inject some culture in our banal lives. We trooped to the National Library to watch The Importance of Being Earnest. As usual, our quiet meal escalated to flailing arms across the table and rising decibels. This was our main concern:
Frou (looking worried): What if we laugh at all the wrong parts? Will they throw us out?
Toe: What if we need to pee during the play?

There was a lot of giggling, dashing to the loo, swigging the last bit of grog and back to a lot more giggling. The Frou and The Toe were being earnest.