Yesterday was a mish mash of sorts.
Food, and guests.
Since I'd spent Christmas Eve and Day at my partner J's, and Carl the dense one with his partner, Stanley made it a point to host a festive lunch for all of us at his place.
And so, Stanley the sex bunny opened his doors to what he calls a Leftovers Party, hosting different groups of friends who somehow are alone this season.
They're not charity case, Stanley said, insisting he likes these people enough to make them each bring a dish and for them to partake in his actual leftovers from his Christmas party.
Carl and me -- and my partner J -- were cordially invited to bring "a bottle of wine each and something tasteful".
On Stanley's table lay a variety of cuisines: Thai, Mexican, Chinese, Bengali, Filipino.
I'm pretty sure those nationalities have also once upon a time been laid on his bed.
"Hey gurrrrrl!"
A shriek rose from the ground floor car park.
Carl the dense one, who was helping set the table, looked at me nervously.
Carl is often shy when meeting new people. Especially loud people.
I peered down at the source of the shriek and saw a tall, skinny figure (1.83m as we all found out later). He was lugging with one hand a turkey the size of a microwave.
His wave though, was far from micro.
"Heyyyyyy gurrrrrl!" The tall skinny man swung his one free arm from right to left, as if tracing a large invisible semi-circle in the air. He ended his dramatic gesture with a snap of his fingers.
Five floors up, Stanley mirrored the performance. He waved back, theatrically arching not only his arm but also his back.
Carl looked like he wanted to cry.
My partner J was extremely amused by the display.
"What was that strange greeting ritual about, Stan?" I ask.
"Different folks, different strokes," he said without missing a beat, leaving Carl, J and me to respectively interpret exactly what strokes he's using on tall, skinny man.
Stanley had known this literally colourful character from one of those Out-in-Sg group outings. Wine tasting.
"I'm loving this Christmas sweater on you!" Stanley shrilled at tall skinny man in such high pitch that if he'd hit just a bit higher, we'd all have to sweep up glass shards around his home.
They both proceeded to exchange loud air kisses.
Stanley instinctively took in the large bird from tall skinny man -- an action that surely must be second nature to Stanley.
Tall skinny man now has a name. Greg. He's a 50-something corporate lawyer who works for, aptly enough, Disney. When he's not in his hyped persona, Greg actually looks very tame. He has very kind eyes and a gentile demeanor to him. Something that's hard to reconcile given what we all witnessed minutes ago.
But there was no time to contemplate this.
Soon, the doorbell rang and in stepped Lina, a first-generation Singaporean originally from the land of the Forbidden City.
Lina was a striking figure.
She was tall for a girl (1.73m as we all found out later) and is model-slender. Her long, silky straight hair was worn in a high pony tail which speaks of quiet class. If I were to produce a remake of Kevin Kwan's Crazy Rich Asian film, I'd cast Lina as Astrid Leong the likeable rich heiress.
Lina and Stanley crossed paths while they were both lying on the mat, panting and sweating.
They bonded seven months ago during a hot yoga class organised by Out-in-Sg, when both of them tried very hard to suppress their giggles after a fellow fat, sweaty yoga participant lost control of himself and let out a sudden burst of fart.
"You know how quiet yoga classes are and you can hear a pin drop? That fart sounded like you dropped a claypot. A loud, dull thud," Stanley explained.
Lina brought with her Thai and Filipino food, courtesy of her interest in culinary experiments.
I can see why she bonded with Stanley, who shares her adventure with experimenting nationalities.
Stanley's final guest that evening stood at his door, carrying not one but two log cakes. It was that very fat, sweaty man whose fart had helped forge friendships.
Fat sweaty man was panting but he was beaming with joy. All 1.67m of him (as we all found out later).
Michael was his name. And loud is his game.
Carl kept flinching as Michael chewed loudly with his mouth open, showing the world what he was currently digesting: Lina's adobo chicken.
"This is delicious, Lin!" Michael said heartily even before he had swallowed the carcass in his mouth.
Carl instinctively covered his wine glass which was right below Michael.
Stanley, who has no sense of timing, decided to raise his glass for a toast at this moment.
Everyone had to politely oblige -- Greg who was about to reach for turkey sauce, Lina who had to put down a floppy taco, J who quickly dabbed his mouth with a napkin, Michael who was still chewing loudly with his mouth open, and Carl who was still reluctant to remove his protective hand from his wine glass despite the prospective toast.
"To good health, lots of money and happiness!" Stanley said in that particular order.
One can't choose good health, he reasoned. And with money, you can buy happiness.
Greg, one of two lawyers at Stanley's table, agreed that this argument held water.
Michael didn't hold any water. "To good health, lots of money and happiness!" he echoed, spraying a mix of saliva and sauce at Carl's wine glass.
Carl really wanted to cry because he really wanted to drink to good health, lots of money and happiness but was now unsure.
That afternoon's lunch was extremely enjoyable.
It was really random -- the food had no theme, the guests, apart from Stanley being the common friend, were diverse. But it all worked.
There was a magic formula to it -- a combination of friends, festive cheer and good conversation.
By the fifth bottle of Pinot Grigio, all of us were comfortably lulled into some sort of comfort zone with one another. But not too comfortable because Michael was polite enough to hold in farts.
"And now let's welcome Lina and her Peking Opera performance!" Stanley the random did it again as he handed out Bengali desserts which J brought.
Everyone was thrilled. Nobody knew Lina could sing Peking Opera, including Lina herself.
But always a good sport, Lina graciously accepted that challenge.
She stood up and braced herself for her first note. She had chosen to sing the Opera part of One Night In Beijing, aptly enough.
Her vocals sent chills running down our spine -- and not in a good way.
Carl, himself a great vocalist, thought about covering his ears.
What's with Stanley's friends that made him want to cover this and that, he must have thought.
By the chorus of Lina's singing, the slender songstress managed to lose all quiet class she portrayed earlier.
Stanley and Michael exchanged looks and they both started suppressed giggles so hard that Michael started tearing.
Geez, I thought to myself. The three of them have such a toxic-three way.
But it was great fun.
Thankfully the Peking Opera number Lina chose had an end to it.
And before we left Stanley's Queen Close flat, he made us pose with his 2-metre long Christmas tree.
"Everyone state your actual height please -- I need to line you guys up for the shot," he barked like a demanding tour guide.
As we arranged ourselves in a diagonal line, Stanley said to me.
"This is fun right? Let's do this one more time during Chinese New Year!"
I caught Carl shiver in response.
No comments:
Post a Comment