Seekarlui and I would like to thank everyone for the kind wishes, the cards and the red packets! Most of all, thank you for making our wedding a huge success.
It’s Christmas morning, and I find myself on my hands and knees. My entire kitchen floor is covered with a smelly and sticky liquid. I start checking the entire area, looking for the source. I crawl slowly getting sticker and sticker by the minute when I notice a trickle of the liquid running down the kitchen cabinet.
My eyes follow the sluggish brown line up and across the kitchen counter, finally resting on an innocent looking watermelon. I placed it on the counter top barely a week ago.
“Who? Me?” the watermelon protests it’s innocence, albeit a little unconvincingly.
I gently lift the fruit and a gush of the sticky brown juices greets me. *splaaaaaaaaaassssshhhhhhhhhh*
The watermelon is bad, and there’s a huge hole in the bottom. My kitchen walls, cabinets and floor is covered with the liquid. I take four hours to clean up the entire place. Even today, two weeks later, my house smells funky.
I shower and collapse in front of the television. As evening approaches, Seekarlui shows up with a Christmas present for me.
It is a bottle of perfume.
My grandma told me this story many, many years ago.
Three men are sitting in a bar drinking late one night. It’s almost closing time so the men reluctantly order their last drinks.
“I don’t want to go home,” sighs the first man.
“Why not?” ask the second man.
“My wife’s a real ball breaker. The sight of her shadow in the doorway would be enough to scare the sh*t out of me.”
“That’s nothing,” interjects the second man.
“Just hearing my wife’s voice will send me hiding and quaking under my bed.”
All this time, the third man listens solemnly to his friends stories without commenting. Finally, he quietly says, “I don’t drink tea anymore. I am too afraid of the teapots.”
His two friends are puzzled.
“My wife adopts this pose whenever she scolds me,” he explains.