06 March, 2007

*318 - crabbypatty

In celebration of my results, which had caused Mummy to be so absolutely thrilled that after I called her to tell her the good news, then called Daddy, 30 seconds later when I called Elisa she had already heard of my grades from Mummy, we had chilli crabs for dinner.

Long sentences don't seem to make sense but this one actually does, if you look at the first and last phrase and ignore everything between commas. What poor writing. Anyway.

It was the last day of Chinese New Year, which has some special name and some special meaning, of which I know nothing about. But it meant that queues were long, and we joined the crowd standing on the curb, waiting for tables. Elisa and I decided, in our usual brazen and unabashed fashion, to take a photo of me in the middle of the road looking revolted by the sight of the crowd.

I think it turned out pretty well.



Upon closer inspection of the photo, and because I saw them myself, we found people watching me in amusement (especially because we took many shots with me running to and fro between Elisa and the middle of the road each time). The ang moh lady was even smiling benignly at me! (:



We had a couple of bottles of Tiger beer, and I realised I could still recite the malting milling mashing sparging boiling fermenting packaging food biotechnology nonsense, which proves to me that my memory is not as bad as I thought it was!





Perks of being the baby of the family: I always get the pincer. (That makes me sound like a brat.) So while everybody started grappling with the nutcracker and shells and getting covered by flecks of orange sauce, I sat there, prim and proper, daintily tweezing crab meat out of the pincer with my chopsticks and insisting on using only the thumb and index finger of my left hand to touch the crab. (That makes me sound like the ultimate brat.) I am fastidious like that - I hate touching food with my hands, and this means that I feel like screeching every time I accidentally plunge my fingers into mushy saucy remains or touch dirty cutlery at work while clearing plates.



There's my finished pincer, and the mound of tissues I used, and knowing that I only dirtied 2 fingers on my left hand, one wonders where the need for so much tissue came from. (Some were used to pat my man tou's dry of excess oil.)

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Crabs are great, and it's only too bad that someone's allergic to shellfish!