Archive for the 'Disengagement' Category

The Magical Little Chair That Could

July 23, 2006


This is a magical chair.

It has a strange and potent power to charm people’s minds.

A very similar type of chair can be found and bought at IKEA (a bargain at 5500 yen), but no — this is not just your regular IKEA chair. This is a story about a magic little chair that could break off a marriage engagement.

The magic little chair sits in the dining room of an unspecified household. The Groom-To-Be had always hated it. He said it looked and felt hideously artificial, and the Bride-To-Be couldn’t blame him: the chair is made of reinforced polypropylene and synthetic rubber. Not your regular eco-friendly, mother-naturely chair. But anyway it was cheap, sleek, and readily transportable from the IKEA store to the dining room. In the absence of a car or a Groom-To-Be’s help, the Bride-To-Be had carried two such chairs from the store via public transportation.

One day, the Bride-To-Be and the Groom-To-Be had a little quarrel in the dining room. The Bride had wanted to shop for wedding bands. The Groom refused, flashing his anger as he spoke. “I’m never wearing a ring on my finger, and I’m never buying one for you. If you still want one, go and buy it yourself.” The Bride burst into tears. At this, the Groom quit the dining room and started vacuuming the living room with appalling ferocity.

The Bride sighed. She knew that at times like this, it was best not to bother him for a while. She arranged things in the dining room so that it might be easier for the Groom to vacuum. She pushed the fan into the corner of the room, tucked away the piano chair, and gathered up the newspapers strewn on the floor. Then she picked up the magic little chair and stacked it over the sofa.

Then, the magic little chair did its little magic. It flew.

It made a rather unsubtle racket as it crashed to the floor. The roar of the vacuum cleaner stopped dead in its tracks. The Groom came sauntering into the dining room to find the magic little chair lying helplessly on its side. Slowly he asked the Bride, “Did you kick the chair?” “No, I didn’t,” replied the Bride, “It just fell.” She didn’t tell him that she had arranged it on the sofa so that he may enjoy an easier time with the vacuuming.

The Groom went back to the living room. Pretty soon, he was packing up his things to leave. The bride, stepping out of a quick refreshing shower, was bewildered. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to the office to fetch some important papers,” the Groom said. He left unceremoniously, and that was the last the Bride ever saw of him for a long time.

For two weeks, the Bride spent her days waiting for the Groom to return her calls or acknowledge her e-mails. But no word ever came from the Groom. Confusion turned into anger. Anger slowly turned into despair. Despair slowly morphed into concerns over his physical well-being, and this is when the Bride started binge-drinking every night. Was he sick? Did he mess with the wrong crowd and get buried alive in some lonely mountain landfill? The tears were limitless.

Then, on the 14th day, the Groom finally answered the Bride’s call. “We have to talk, whether you like it or not,” the Bride said. The Groom agreed to come home in time for supper.

The talk was not very forthcoming, so the Bride finally shot a Rodong into his airfield. “Why do you want to leave me?” she asked. It was then that the Groom dropped the Taepodong. “The chair,” he said. “You kicked the chair. I can’t spend the rest of my life with someone who goes around kicking chairs when she’s upset.”

“The chair?… I don’t understand. I never kicked it. You mean… when you were vacuuming?” “Yes.” “Oh, GOD. GOD, no! I just stacked it on top of the sofa so you won’t have to vacuum around the chair!”


Silence. The two airfields lay battered with smoke and debris.

For two weeks, the Groom had played in his mind a terrible image of his butt-ugly fiancee kicking the magic little chair around in rage. For two weeks, the Bride sat on that very chair and pondered death.

The Groom realized that his vision had been mistaken. He apologized, and regretted the two weeks he had lost. He wondered out loud if they could start all over again. But things were never going to be the same, regardless of the apology, the ring, or the chair.

And so it was that the magic little chair altered the lives of two people forever. The chair is doing very well, supporting the butt of the butt-ugly ex-Bride-To-Be as she types this.


The Color Green

June 26, 2006

It’s been AGES since I last uploaded anything here. I blame it squarely and bitterly on NTT, whose sluggishness and tediousness have so far thwarted my blogging attempts at home. I’ve been Internet-less for a month now. As my friend Frank’s grandma puts it, NTT is “slower than molasses going uphill.”

Many curious events took place in the meantime. My brand new Magniflex mattress arrived and drastically ergonomized my life. My days of camping out in my apartment loft with nothing but a sleeping bag and inflatable sheet are GONE! Bye-bye back aches.

I also went through a grueling 5-day training session at my new workplace that just about sapped my life force out of me, partly because the job itself proved intricate and challenging, but mainly because I was faced with a level of animosity heretofore unparalleled. I have never, ever in my previous work been left out of a lunch crowd! On purpose, too! I’m not talking elementary school here. These are mature (older!), sensible, perfectly logical women who opted not to offer me a chance to join them for lunch because they hold grudges against a younger, newer, altogether less qualified office girl coming in and assuming a managerial position. I’ve expected unfriendliness, but not to this detail. It really sucked to have to eat lunch alone at my desk and feign nonchalance. Will the storm eventually pass? I have to either play dumbass clown or total bitch, and I have until August to decide.

On a brighter note, we finally formally got engaged! The date has not been set yet, but it would have to be sometime this August. All the details are up to me and His mother — plus Eli and J’s summer plans, of course. In Osaka, my parents met His parents, shared an exquisite Japanese-style lunch at a breathtakingly beautiful hotel, shared laughs, shook hands, bowed innumerous times, etc. Some highlights: 1) Ten minutes into lunch, my daddy-O spills hojicha all over His daddy-O’s plate; 2) The rice came with green peas mixed in — just the kind He hates the most; and 3) I was ushered into a hospital immediately following lunch due to a rotten toe.

I had to get my left toenail ripped out because I killed it while running in sneakers too small for my feet. My poor toenail first went red, then purple. When I tried trimming it, liquid oozed out and my toenail turned a ghastly white. It eventually settled into an alarming shade of chartreuse. This is when His father, who happens to be a surgeon, gently but firmly led me to his hospital chair and had it yanked out. It sounds worse than it actually was — it really wasn’t all that painful. Plaque cleaning was way worse.

My toenail won’t grow back for another 3 months, and I don’t know if I can resume my morning yogas until I recover fully. In the meantime, in the spirit of a young and wreckless Hina on summer va-cay, I’m having the most fun out of this rare opportunity — Japanese style, of course!