My husband is French. From the south. He's the geek of geeks, can be quite the egocentric French b*$^\rd and very proud of his heritage. An intelligent and knowledgeable man who is also so full of shit. He talks a lot. When it gets really excessive, I switch off. He knows it but carries on anyway. He's picked up Singlish expletives and words from the Malay language and so now he thinks the cashiers at the petrol station are always gossiping about him. Every now and then, he breaks out into new alter egos in the middle of the night - The African dancer, El Matador, Stripper from Texas etc. He looks into the mirror more frequently than I do, obsessively pluck the hairs on his fingers and had manicured nails that glowed in the dark when I first met him. He has a long term love affair with my brother. Loves sambal goreng paru, is fascinated by science and space and is very bitchy behind closed doors. He doesn't remember most of the people he's been introduced to, he insists it's half of Singapore. He's definitely funnier in person.
Husband’s starter, croquettes de mozzarella, with a help on presentation. How was it @fizzlep0p @helmindra #foodie #lunch #croquettes #mozzarella (Taken with Instagram at Still Road)
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lunch croquettes foodie mozzarella
Eh, why did you do that? It’s so gang-gu.
The HusbandHmmm, ketiak aku bau macam kway teow. No. Ketiak aku bau macam HDB pakcik kway teow.
The Husband