Of cocks and roosters

Today was the ujiantara day, admittedly not my favourite day at all throughout the history of my schooling life but it was kind of fun, minus the embarrassing fact that I fell down (conveniently blame it on the ground). I managed to get 2 points, an Amazing feat in my opinion as come on lar, I’m Not All That athletic. I’m one of those who love to watch sports and play but doing it well? Nah.. Anyways, I take comfort in the fact that this will be the ultimate last time I’ll be doing it in my whole life…! I thought form 5 would be the last but it turned out to be the penultimate at that time and don’t get me started on that.

I started back my violin classes today as I stopped for the month of February.
From the rate that I was going, it must have been so very obvious to my sir that I didn’t touch the violin At ALL that whole month. I even had the cheek to wipe of any evidence of dust collecting on my violin case just in case he would notice, as if he’d care anyway. I’m thinking of finding a new center but the rest are all so expensive!

My family and I went out for dinner and for once we managed to decide where to eat even before I drove out of my house’s apartment’s gate. What a relief! Usually, I would reach the T-junction of my house and basically, “Where? Turn left or right?! Left?! Right?! Faster! Got car behind!” We had the usual dinner, rice with all the lauk-pauk. I cleaned up my plate! My mom commented that since I started school my appetite has been increasing triple-fold. Or more.
On the way back, a seriously unexpected and somewhat unsuitable topic of conversation for a supposedly nice and sweet family cropped up, thanks to my father. We were comparing Tesco and Giant when out of the blue he brought up a topic. The conversation went something like this :

Pa : “Do you know the difference between the word cock and rooster?”

Ma : Rolling her eyes (though I was driving and I couldn’t see it but I sensed that she did anyway) “What?”

Pa : “The British calls the male chicken a cock but the Americans like to roast the male chicken to eat, as in a roasted cock so they called it a Roaster…Roaster…Rooster! Tada!

At this point, my family, being absolutely Not innocent, in other words, a little dirty in the cerebellum, cerebrum, medulla oblongata and the rest of the grey matter in our heads made our imaginations run wild, causing havoc in the car. My mum said something which I will not mention here, in case any small kid reads this which prompted my father to comment that the word cock is not a bad word.

Me : Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. (sarcastically)

A day in the life of the Chuah family.