Rough Rhymes

Sunday, March 09, 2008

You know, the sad thing about being an Indian is when you have people who cannot pronounce the name your parents had a hard time choosing. Breaking it down for you, my name is pronounced pra-ba-garan. No two ways about it. There's only one fuggin way you could possibly pronounce my name. But, sometimes, it's just impossible to have people say my name. Really. They all sound like they're saying my name giving a blowjob concurrently. When you have someone who goes "JunpingJek in posi-son ready. Fie counts of foe", how the fuck on earth is he possibly gonna pronounce my name? And what the fuck is "Junpin jek"?!?!?!?! Where the fuck did he get that from?

Staying with the same guy, he calls me Bar-Bras. No joke. He calls me BAR-BRAS. If his left eye is a lil crooked to the left, maybe it's about time I slap him so hard that his left crooked eye becomes straight. He's one of those who look at me and go "You're quite ink-telligent. Keeps it up....." and just before I can smile and say thank you, he fucks it up by completing it "You're quite ink-telligent. Keeps it up BAR-BRAS." It's hard enough for me to hate him because he always has that innocent look and 'spongebob squarepants' like smile right after he calls me Bar-Bras. Not that long ago, he was sharing with me his problems. About how his wife wants to divorce him and move out with the kids. I felt for him. For once I wasn't joking in the office and felt like I was indeed in the office. And definitely, for once, I didn't mind him speaking although I thought some parts were in Chinese but wasn't the matter. He actually mispronounced. I was a lil' cons-pused. But on a more serious note, it is quite difficult when the person you love wants to move on and fuels the fire by bringing along the children with them. I came from a broken home. I felt the pinch then. I ain't allowing that to happen to him though he fuckin' gets my name wrong all the time.

With a 'easy on eye' editing of his powder-full England, this is how the conversation, as detailed as I can recall, went:

Me: So, is she definitely bringing the children along with her?
Him: Ya. See say see kif bird mah. [She said she give birth mah.]
Me: Hmm. Okie. And you said OK for that?
Him: Whak can I do? See gives bird mah. You thing I dohwan my chewdren meh?[What can I do? She gave birth mah. You think I don't want my children meh?}
Me: Hmm. Then can I ask you something?
Him: Ask la. But no off for you nest week. Got sun inkportant thins. [Ask la. But no off for you next week. Got some important things]
Me: Not that. If you were to go to a vending machine, and after you slot in a dollar coin and punch 'Pokka Peach Tea' and the drink comes out, and when it's all set and done, does the drink belong to you or the vending machine?
Him: Eh, what you sayink? [Eh, what you saying]
Me: Aiya, nevermind. Forget it. Go think about it then come back to me.

After around 50 minutes:

Him: HEY! You quite ink-telligent ah! Keeps it up .........

And just before he could finish, the office is filled with me screaming

"NO, DON'T PRONOUNCE MY NAME PLEASE! I GET THE MESSAGE!"

Praba - 10:27 PM 1 comment(s)

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