Tea today, with two of the very first friends I made in KL (so err, thank you to The Star for bringing us together). There was lots of screeching and laughing way too loudly to be considered polite in public—but of course that’s to be expected. Which got me thinking about just how absurd conversations can be between girls.
Something like this:
My new favourite place in town is Claret at Troika. We should totally go some time.
I bet it’s expensive though.
Okay, so we’ll go for just one drink. One.
Maybe you could find a nice rich man to take you there.
Yeah! You know, I decided the one thing I can’t stand is when men try to start borrowing money from me.
My ex-boyfriend was a refugee who didn’t have a dime to his name!
Hey, remember that boyfriend who used to swear at you? Just so you know, we hated him.
Are you seeing anyone now?
Yah on and off, a lawyer.
Is he Indian? Indians make the best lawyers.
Oh, we must go to Fierce Curry House to eat their biryani one day.
It’s not that good lah. But oh wow! (looking at a magazine) I’m going to get these shoes.
Looks like something ABBA would have worn!
Look, I just bought a new name-card holder! Give me your new card!
(looking at name card) Oh what! You’re the chairperson <of big fat international NGO in Malaysia>?
What I’d really like to do is governance.
Oh, we really need that. Things are so fucked up even in <insert really big NGOs>. You really need to just start all over again.
(Someone said something intelligent about China and Russia)
(Someone else said something intelligent about the abuse of power in central Africa)
Everyone starts out with good intentions and then it goes pear shaped.
Like, didn’t Jennifer Aniston want to be a serious thespian? And then all she’s done are chick flicks?
(Heated discussion about the whole Jen/ Brad / Angelina thing)
(Animated discussion about Angelina’s lips)
So how did you end up with that refugee?
<explains a long drawn out story then> Really, fuck all that deep and meaningful shit, I’m just going to find myself someone to buy me dinner at Troika.
I did this story once where <exposition of some really awful interview experiences>
What! Oh, that’s like that case <comparison of a global scandal>
Wait, before I forget, I really like the colour of your highlights.
Hey what happened to <that thing you were doing?>
Ohhhh, it was like this <explanation of how it all turned sour>
Well you know what they say about good intentions and the path to hell!
I heard that this is what <this person> did once!
WHAT! I would really like to just throw her in the mud.
So it goes on—disjointed and coherently-jumbled and hysterical, arms waving all over the place, tea getting cold as we absolutely-must add in that extra point, cackling so loud your throat hurts.
And these, undoubtedly, are the most marvellous afternoons ever spent.
PS Obviously, the photo above wasn’t from tea today since 1) those martini glasses are not tea cups and 2)I clearly don’t look like that anymore. But ridiculously, this is the only photo we have together (!)