the malay girl and the french robot

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.

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the malay girl and the french robot

February 21, 2012

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