one night, out of the blue, hock called me. (hopefully his internet will die and never ever work cause' i did not ask permission from him to put this up).
so he calls me in the middle of the night, and i pick it up, wary and suspicious.
"HI YOU ARE A GIRL AND YOU COOK RIGHT?"
=.=
I SUPPOSE i am. a girl. i mean. and i cook. sometimes. i mean i try to not burn my cooking, if that's what cooking is supposed to *be*.
"ya..." I replied, still suspicious. You have to understand. Hock makes me suspicious most of the time , like he's perpetually up to no good.
It's a compliment.
And hock calls me randomly, for random stuff. This one time it was HELLO, DO YOU KNOW THE DIRECTION TO THIS PLACE. And this other time it was HELLO DO YOU KNOW IF THEY HAVE TAXIS HERE. By now, I fully anticipate any question from him and I do not flinch and wonder why. Because it's hock. Just accept it. And I also tell myself that it's because I am so brilliant and so smart that he likes to come to me for answers because he knows that I will give him all the best answers there are.
Ohoho.
No I am not being smug.
"What's tartare sauce!" He asked me over the phone.
"It's black right??? With honey in it right?"
Uhh...
I racked my brain, thinking of all the tartare sauce I have had in the past, and whether any single one of them was black and tasted anything like honey. To be honest, when he asked me whether I knew what tartare sauce was, I thought he was going to tell me a dirty joke or ask me a riddle.
"Nope. I think it's white. With Stuff in it. You eat it with fish and chips."
What the heck is black with honey then???
:p
No idea, hock. Never tasted anything like it.
And I have not heard from him since, so I hope he's still alive after my suggestion to substitute tartare sauce with mayo and don't worry, your senior will not notice.
are you alive, really?
oh, if you are, can i ask your permission to put this up?