Writer's Block Ends Up Pretty Productive

Sometimes, my head comes up with the most amazing questions. All of which I have yet to find an answer for.

Such as, if you pour alcohol out of a bottle, and while it's flowing out, you light the stream of liquid? My mind always wonders if the alcohol would catch fire, and since it's flammable, would the fire travel upward into the bottle since there is still some left inside? And then I wonder, would the bottle explode? It's something I bring up in times of boredom. I start theorizing about the different ways this could happen, until I asked a pal of mine and he told me, matter-of-factly, that alcohol in liquid form won't burn.

And sometimes I wonder what the heck's wrong with words. Blood contains haemoglobin, which is iron. So naturally if you bit your lip and taste blood it'd taste like iron, yeah? Why then, does every other story I read (guilty of commiting the same crime myself) describe it as "coppery?" It hardly tastes like copper, does it?

I am p.o.'ed.

Really.

Just got a call from my driving instructor. My ex-driving instructor, may I specify. A couple of weeks ago I postponed my lessons on Sat and Sun because I was having my A Levels exams. The fella sounded alright at the time, so I thought, OK. Don't have to worry about driving in between exams. So I asked if we could have the lessons the week after, when I've finished majority of my exams. He says he's on holiday then. I think I got the wth? Driving instructors have holidays? look on my face when he said that.

So we settled that when my exams were over, sometime in June, I'd call him up and arrange for me. That's exactly what I did, the first working day after my exams, which happened to be this Monday. He replied that he's still on holiday and won't get his teaching schedule till Thursday which just happens to be today. It's OK, I can still handle it. But I was getting seriously fed up of talking to him. For one, he's a Chinese fella who can't speak proper English and hence, I have no bloody idea what the heck he's saying half the time. Secondly, when I do stuff wrong, he acts as though it's all my fault (which is technically true but hey, I've only started driving, what, a couple times? Dude, you think I wanna mess this up?) And third, he smokes. Teaching me to drive, he smokes. Teaching me to park, he smokes. (OK, so he's got a great technique on how to park, but dude, that's probably his only redeeming factor.)

As a result, I asked my dad to talk to him instead. So Dad gamely does it while I run out for ice cream, and I come back to the car to see he's visibly frustrated because he's trying to explain to the fella that he's the father of Yours Truly (not gonna put my name up here) -- that's the other thing. It takes close to three minutes to explain who I am because he doesn't get my name that well and all.

Sorry, cantonese subtitles suck like hell.

"Peing kor?" (Who is it?)

"Hello, Ah ..... I'm (insert my name)." Yes, I used English.

"Meh wah?" (What was that)

In exasperation. "Ngor hai (insert my name). Lei gao zhar che kor zhek lui zai.* Sorry lah, my canto sucks terribly. I understand better than I speak. I sound like some ang mo. Faltering canto. * Basically translates to "I am...... The girl you taught driving to."

"Pin zhek?" (Which one? God, does he not remember the klutz who killed the engine multiply times?)

"Menjalara kor zhek." (The one from Menjarala)

"Meh wah?" (What's that?)

Exhale. Inhale. "Menjalara kor zhek lui zai." (The girl from Menjalara)

Silence. Then..

"Oh! Men zha la ra gor zhek lui zai!" (Yes, he pronounces it Men zha la ra. Chinese accent lah. Took him so bloody long.)

By this time I'm yelling at the phone even though I prefer taking calls politely without raising my voice (don't you just hate the way people practically scream into the phone and the other fella on the line screams back with equal loudness that you can listen in if you just concentrate?) but when I speak with him I feel like commiting murder.

And this happens every single bloody time I pick up the phone and dial his number.

Back to the story. Dad is trying to explain that he's calling to confirm my lessons that weekend. Then the fella says that he doesn't have any free slots this week and wants me to postpone it to next week, I think? Understandably, Dad gets upset at this because my lessons have been postponing for a few weeks already and if it gets any longer, I may forget all that I've learned. So Dad gets p.o.'ed, and he hangs up, and calls Metro instead to arrange for someone else to teach me.

Then me and my big mouth mentioned casually that my pal had Mr Lee who is good (sadly, the good one is Mr Cheong who left. Mr Lee is the impatient one. Hope I'm not putting my head on the chopping block here. :/ ) So Dad asked for Mr Lee. Then there was another big hoo hah about the time and dates because apparently Mr Lee does not teach on Sundays or something like that so after much debating (In which my dad kept muttering, "Let's not talk anymore. Let's just settle this.") my lessons are on Sat, Sat and Sun. Sats are in the evening while Sun is crazy ass early in the morning which means I need to wake up before dawn, go for my 2 hour lesson and then church and hopefully do the test the next day. Dad was pissed when he finally got everything done.

Then at roughly two minutes before I started ranting about my driving in this post, the fella called and told me Dad had called him (yeah, like I didn't know. I asked him to call, remember? I was present during the call.) So he went on about how this weekend couldn't work out and I mentioned, Hey, dude, my dad's getting me a new teach so don't worry about anything alright? Not the exact words I used (Canto, anyone?) but I was already incredibly annoyed by this time so yeah.

He then asked, Oh? Your dad called the Metro already? (Yep, people, Metro is the driving school). So I answered, Affirmative, soldier. Or something to that point. I thought he'd be cool with that. Turns out, he goes around then saying that he arranges the slots for me, but then I didn't want them (hey! I let you know in advance!) and how I'm supposed to call him to arrange but didn't (Dude! I did! You didn't have your schedule. What can I do?) and now that he's got slots for me next week I don't want to go. Then he hangs up. Abruptly.

Gosh, this whole driving thing is seriously driving me nuts!

Thankfully, Dad was of the same mind (that the driving instructor was nuts) and he said, "It's alright. Let's just get it over with. Prepare you for real life."

Go, Dad!

Finis.