Not Fun Anymore

To go to sleep pissing mad and wake up the next morning still pissing mad.

Sleeping has always been the remedy for me. I’d go to sleep if I were hungry, if I were gravely in need to pee when I was a kid stuck in the backseat during a traffic jam, and to get ride of the anger after every fight.

But this time, it didn’t make any difference for me.

Woke up cursing and was having a foul mood for the rest of the day.

Stupid accident.

Really, I don’t think it’s a big deal, I don’t really want to think about it, but I just want the punch the old bugger’s worn face.

But it was MY mistake.

God, I couldn’t be more preposterous than this.

I should’ve been punching my own face.

So much trouble two packets of the awesomest Char Kuey Teow can get me into. It’s barely after dinner, that.

See, I waited almost half an hour for those two packets of goodness, walked to my car, reversed and BANG!!!

I hit a bleary-eyed idiot staring back at me from his driver’s seat.

It was parked inches behind mine.

I could swear the car wasn’t there when I was circling the rear of my car before getting into it.

I admit it was my fault that I didn’t take a peep into the rear mirror to determine whether a car was behind me or not. Because I was in a rush, to go back, to gobble up the Greater Goodness left of this town aside from ‘kong piang’, to watch ‘Eureka!’, to …. I dunno… be a normal person not showing her bitchy side to the rest of the innocent Sitiawan folk?

So I’m at fault, yeah? That I readily agree.

My only lament is that the Idiot could’ve seen my taillights as soon as I turned on the engines and headlamps. It didn’t take 10 seconds for me to walk from the back of my car, get into the seat and switch on the ignition. He’ most probably still on the move when my taillights were turned on.

My impression of what he was thinking at the time:

Oh… what to cockbull about when I meet my mates yeah? What about that fucking awesome fifty grand that my granduncle’s grandson in-law won from playing fear factor Malaysia last two years? Oh, wait, I’ve repeated that many times before ….but everybody enjoys a good story right? Especially when he went through all that sheep testicle chomping and grainworm blend. Ahhh….that’s a great one….

Hey! The car’s got a driver! The reverse light is also turned on! She’s trying to get her car out of the parking space!!

*drives straight behind it (INCHES behind it) and *wait* with A STRAIGHT FACE*

BANG!!

“Aahh…the sweet sound of my door being wrecked…”

*closes eyes and suck in the moment*

*stare at the other driver’s general direction with a bleary face*

——————–And this is where I come into the picture.—————–

Fumbling, trying to turn off radio, air-cond and engine at the same time as trying to move back inside, to the original position. Cursing incessantly while doing all these.

Opens the car door, hoping it was just a boulder that caused that bump.

‘Crap’, saw a car and got all pissed. (Frankly, I don’t know why I’m so pissed)

I said sorry many many times. He kept going on about how much damage there is…blablabla.

Frankly, it was just a dent. Let’s say about 1cm’s depth(at its deepest) over an area of maybe the surface of a 2 CD cases.

I put on my bitchy face and started arguing with him.

“I had my lights turned on!! I was going to reverse!! Why would you still want to park your car behind mine!!???”

He blabbered about some stuff…which I don’t really give a damn.

So I asked him, “Ok, so how much damage are we talking about here? How much do you want?”

Obviously, nobody does that. But it’s all because I’m in a rush, “to go back, to gobble up the Greater Goodness left of this town aside from ‘kong piang’, to watch ‘Eureka!’….etc.”

He couldn’t give me an answer, fished out his handphone and made a call.

So I asked why would he wanna call somebody? So ah-bengish, but he’s an old dude la…. I dunno, maybe he feels safer with a few buddies with him staring down at a 20-ish, lone, female-driver.

He said he called so that some dude can come over and estimate the repair fees. Naturally I asked who’s that and he said it’s some guy from the workshop he knows and stuff. So I questioned why he cannot just call a price–frankly, I think 150 or less is good enough for that damage on his 90’s Ford Telstar(I think), and I have that amount with me at the time and would just part with it if he would just say it.

So, to his defence, he said “If I name the price already, about 100 something, you probably have like only a few tens, what for?” or something along that line… it was in Mandarin(which its sentence structure would be quite different from that of English…so it sounded like ah-beng)

Old geezer who thinks a youngster like me couldn’t possibly be having hundreds in her tiny wallet. Hmpph!

At this point I shutted up and was seething with rage. All the while thinking he’s certainly a dumbass. What makes him think I would trust the estimated price his FRIEND gives then, if I couldn’t trust HIS? God save his dumb soul. I’m not a mechanic but a-hundred-something is a fair price, everybody knows that.

After thinking it over, I felt that I should call my dad over. Really, that thought pains me. It would be humiliating for me to call him and tell him that I had butted someone else’s door. But it would really make me feel safer, because the old dude might have a gang of ah-bengs in white, modded satrias coming over.

So my dad came…blablabla…. old dude’s son came, because it was his car. Was quite well-mannered actually, but I was in a pissy mood, so who gives a damn..

They talked it over, my dad asked him to bring it to a workshop he’s(my dad) familiar with and he’ll foot the bill. Gau-tim.

All the while my eyes were fixed on the old dude’s, with all the bitchiness I could gather(I dunno why, but he didn’t look like he wanted to slap me at all and was a bit shifty–I wouldn’t recommend this to anyone who’s got involved in an accident, has a sane mind and wants to go back in one piece).

Ok, I think I overreacted. But this old dude, he was dodgy, pacing around while making his call and all the noise about the damage but couldn’t just name me a price. Maybe he knows he was partly at fault too. But obviously my fault was more grievous. Which was why I have to pay for the damage.

But damn! It’s such a bitch to get into things like these. And my temper, oh my, it’s unbelievably ridiculous. Thinking back, even though I had something to say, I should’ve just act cool and not go bonkers on him like that.

And can you believe my horoscope reading for the day?

Probably the best snack ever, side-by-side with marshmallows, is pocky. Avaible throughout Japan for around 150 yen, these sticks of joy are what I went crazy munching on throughout my whole time there.

Apparently, according to Wikipedia, ‘Pocky’ was renamed ‘Rocky’ in Malaysia because it sounded similar to a Malaysian foul word. I wonder what it is?

Imagine a kid wailing and stamping his foot, demanding ‘I wanna wanna Pocky!!!’.

That’s gonna raise quite a few eyebrows….heheh.

Or when he finally gets his hands on some, he’ll probably go “ummm…..Pocky so nice….I like Pocky!!”

*facepalm*

muahhhaa…

Ok, Ok, the point is, the night before we leave Japan, we practically went on a Pocky shopping spree in one of their fantastic 24-hour conbini(that’s convenience store for you and me). Trust me, you can do that.With its mighty range of flavors, what I bought was just a sliver of the big cake.

The best evar is the one second from the right, top-most. It’s stick is made thinner and covered with bitter dark chocolate that beats any local bitter dark. I like!!