I don't think that there are a more bowel losening, vomit inducing collection of words than.. "We've been invited to a family gathering".. although what 'family gathering' actually means is 'we're going to sit on the floor and make approving grunts as we spoon large amounts of rice and pigs testicles in our mouths..not quite my idea of an enjoyable suaree..
But alas, oh woe is me, oh great deep woe..when will the powers that be have mercy on my gradually deteriorating soul?..
Yes, the mrs recently uttered the satanic hex..
Oh great joy, I get to stick out like a fucking pimp in a nunery once again..
But this time, I went prepared..I went with a book..and what a difference it made.
Instead of having to hold tedious conversations with various family members, which often range from: 'Does your country have Brandy Thai?' to 'Can you eat spicy?' to 'She isn't my only bird, you know' to 'When I'm not eating boiled sections of jungle, you'll find me up to my nuts in a roasted pigeon'..ad nauseum..I found myself engrossed in a John Grisham novel, playing the ultimate wallflower..only speaking when the offer of beer was made..after which a simple grunt and point at the empty glass suggested that, yes, top it up, Somjit.
'Dinner time' was called and I joined the flock of baboons to graze on the feast of grains and matter that was laid before us..
I honed in on a particuarly obscene looking sausage which after the first nibble, appealed to my tastes..I transferred it to my plate and told everyone else 'bollocks', this is the only edible thing at the table, sorry, floor, and that they should continue with their thousand year old fish munching...when I dine, dear family, it'd be preferrable if the scent of the room was not synonymous to that of a ferret that had expired up a tramp's anus..
I took my sausage to the porch and went back to Grisham..
All in all a successful day's work..
Can't wait for the next gathering..