On Saturday we were invited over to a club (yes – like a gymkhana in India, especially since it was started by an Indian) to watch the cricket. Both V and I haven’t watched cricket for ages and have actually lost interest in it. But still it’s something to do.

The club was great but the cricket was sooo boring that we actually watched the rugby instead. I swear I am going to get hooked on that sport. I never had a thing for men of that bulk but if you see them up close (as I did at the Sevens) they have very slim hips and tight asses. And the defenders are the huuuge ones – the quarterbacks look like you could have sex with them without suffocation if they got on top of you. OK I know this is about sport but it helps to have players of visual appeal – my rule about goodlooking people on TV applies to sport too. I guess that’s why I was always traumatised to find myself torn between rooting for India and Pakistan (because Wasim Akram was/is sooo hot – I swear I was brokenhearted when I realised he had a wife. And she was pretty sweet looking too and on tour which meant he loved her. Gah!) Anyway you’ll be relieved to hear that India won out but only just.

Anyway I’m going to start following rugby.

The next day we had a huuuge breakfast at The Flying Pan. It’s always heartening that one can stuff onesface with egg and cheese and sausage and coffee and then it’s really enough to keep you full the whole day. Incredible.

In the evening, we were invited to one of V’s friends houses for their kid’s birthday dinner. I don’t understand why people invite adults for dinner but in this case it was becase the kid actually didn’t have kid friends but the mom wanted to do something. We didn’t even know the kid. Most people didn’t even wish the kid – I tried to catch his eye but he was chewing something goopy at the time so backed off.

Malaysian Indians are as bad as Indian Indians in terms of the amount of food they need to have on the table for guests. It’s scary really. I ended up talking to the women who stay at home with the kids. At one point in the evening we were talking about maids (how to get one since I don’t have one) and I laughed and said how V wants to get a maid just to iron his shirts and one of the wives said: “We both iron our husband’s shirts”. This, then, is what divides us – the ironing of shirts.

Faux pas of the evening: I threw a plate in the garbage thinking I was being helpful and the hostess swooped down on went ‘ohhh they’re not disposable’. So I had to pick it back out of the bin and pretend that was perfectly normal.

Weird outcome of the evening: The icing used on the cake was so pink that it turned my teeth pink. And yesterday my shit was pink. It is a completely weird thing you know.