The Scribbly One

 
I’m more upset by the “moderately non-intellectual” bit than I am by the fact that I seem to be living in the wrong country!

 
Hat tip: Yvy’s Cozy Corner

* If it costs RM6.90 every 100g, and you suggest I take the RM2 pre-packed bags which weigh 50g each, aren’t you shooting yourself in the foot?

* Why offer assistance if you can’t actually assist? I tell you what I’m looking for and you get a blank look on your face, indicating that you don’t know your stuff. I’m left to browse till I find it on my own - which is what I was doing before you came along, anyway.

* Breathing down my neck does not engender in me a desire to shop. In fact, it makes me feel unwelcome and stalked.

When you wait eagerly for lunch hour because the stroke of one o’clock signals freedom, it gives new meaning to the phrase, “There has to be more to life than this”.

Friend: “I guess you can start looking for something new.”

Me: “But I thought you said I should give it time, I haven’t given myself a chance to adjust yet!”

Friend: “I was just being nice.”

Me: “Hope springs eternal in the human breast.”

Friend: “Which breast?”

Me: “I suppose the left one, since that’s where the heart is located.”

Friend: “Not enough space.”

Me: “You have that much hope?”

Friend: “Yes, I rent a warehouse and outsource storage.”

Driving is my way of wresting back a small measure of control in a life that has suddenly spiralled out of control.

Stop comparing us. I am not like you and never will be. We are light-years apart. And stop pretending that you don’t understand when the truth is that you don’t want to understand. I see through your helpless and sweetly reasonable act even if nobody else does.