Monday, January 10, 2005
No, You Did Not, Did You?
Dr. Watson is a family man and a good teacher. He was one of the registrars who bothered to grill me, took trouble to find out what I don't know. Sometimes till I begged him to stop, because intertwined in those good intentions, he could really worked me up. I was very pleased that I saw him again last night at his dad's 60th birthday do.
To mingle is to mix something with something else, to blend something with something else. Now, in a social context, how far do you want this mixing and blending to go.
To the point where you become comfortable with the people you mingle with or to the point the conversation runs dry and suddenly the weather becomes the 'hot' topic again? Either way it's the most fertile set up to exercise one's creativity to come up with the most clever silence-breaker questions.
So, is your wife here today Dr. R? I said
I was never married Naj, he said.
*Naj eats boots*...exactly..and the other one as well.
***
It was at a very posh VIP lounge of Mr. Chew's Palace in Hull. The crowd was eclectic ranging from the ODAs(operating department assistants) to senior house officers to registrars and consultants.
I had tsunami topic running all night, because it kept people talking. Apart from helping with the mingling pallaver, I was genuinely engulfed in the topic itself and very much intrigued to see what these consultants thought of it.
I found that some thought Aceh is part of Japan and some other thought Sri Lanka and Indonesia is one country. That is without alcohol. And these people first taught me how to put homosapiens to sleep a year ago?
Superb venue, nice menu (not much to comment if you can't eat half of the food), 19 year old DJ who had a bitter taste in jazz, he later got bullied into playing some nicer floor fillers by yours truly. He avoided eye contact with me after that.
The faces became familiar again, and conversations liquidified over good music and wholesome food. I was very comfortable 'mingling' so much so, that being 80% attended by those of Indian background, I acquired a bindi in between my eyebrows, had a swing to my accent, gained ability to do Punjabi dance and answered to anybody calling me Nachmala and I was told I come from Manipur.
***
It was not easy to refuse a help from a 40 something year old Polish flatmate to dress me to a party. She was right about a lot of things and let me borrow her matching chains. To be exact, she put it on and said to not take it off, so I suppose I didn't have much choice. Many strict orders were muttered, but I only remembered one, 'never touch your hair'. I failed miserably to comply with any of the rest.
I liked the idea of 'mingling' a dress and a pair of boots that she came up with. It toned down the girly wurly pinkish frilly-ness of the dress with a more roughened, worn out, earthy colour of the boots. Probably not the best way (I was later told), but a way nonetheless, to get that dress off the price tag.
She gave a thumbs up so I went with it. She did the hair, I didn't object. She slapped on some glittery stuff, I didn't flinch.
The make up though was a complete barmy with capital B. What a disaster! They looked like I've just come out of a punched up!!! Was she or was she not trying to make me look 40!!
At a Shell gas station, I rushed to the WC and washed it off and what happened? It won't come off and the white and blue bit naturally became ashy battered colour. Aiyoooooo. Much much worse.
In the end it was just an au natural pink, with a touch of soreness from the vigorous rubbing. So the lesson there is never let anyone with a surname you can't pronounce dress you to a party. Just don't.
To mingle is to mix something with something else, to blend something with something else. Now, in a social context, how far do you want this mixing and blending to go.
To the point where you become comfortable with the people you mingle with or to the point the conversation runs dry and suddenly the weather becomes the 'hot' topic again? Either way it's the most fertile set up to exercise one's creativity to come up with the most clever silence-breaker questions.
So, is your wife here today Dr. R? I said
I was never married Naj, he said.
*Naj eats boots*...exactly..and the other one as well.
***
It was at a very posh VIP lounge of Mr. Chew's Palace in Hull. The crowd was eclectic ranging from the ODAs(operating department assistants) to senior house officers to registrars and consultants.
I had tsunami topic running all night, because it kept people talking. Apart from helping with the mingling pallaver, I was genuinely engulfed in the topic itself and very much intrigued to see what these consultants thought of it.
I found that some thought Aceh is part of Japan and some other thought Sri Lanka and Indonesia is one country. That is without alcohol. And these people first taught me how to put homosapiens to sleep a year ago?
Superb venue, nice menu (not much to comment if you can't eat half of the food), 19 year old DJ who had a bitter taste in jazz, he later got bullied into playing some nicer floor fillers by yours truly. He avoided eye contact with me after that.
The faces became familiar again, and conversations liquidified over good music and wholesome food. I was very comfortable 'mingling' so much so, that being 80% attended by those of Indian background, I acquired a bindi in between my eyebrows, had a swing to my accent, gained ability to do Punjabi dance and answered to anybody calling me Nachmala and I was told I come from Manipur.
***
It was not easy to refuse a help from a 40 something year old Polish flatmate to dress me to a party. She was right about a lot of things and let me borrow her matching chains. To be exact, she put it on and said to not take it off, so I suppose I didn't have much choice. Many strict orders were muttered, but I only remembered one, 'never touch your hair'. I failed miserably to comply with any of the rest.
I liked the idea of 'mingling' a dress and a pair of boots that she came up with. It toned down the girly wurly pinkish frilly-ness of the dress with a more roughened, worn out, earthy colour of the boots. Probably not the best way (I was later told), but a way nonetheless, to get that dress off the price tag.
She gave a thumbs up so I went with it. She did the hair, I didn't object. She slapped on some glittery stuff, I didn't flinch.
The make up though was a complete barmy with capital B. What a disaster! They looked like I've just come out of a punched up!!! Was she or was she not trying to make me look 40!!
At a Shell gas station, I rushed to the WC and washed it off and what happened? It won't come off and the white and blue bit naturally became ashy battered colour. Aiyoooooo. Much much worse.
In the end it was just an au natural pink, with a touch of soreness from the vigorous rubbing. So the lesson there is never let anyone with a surname you can't pronounce dress you to a party. Just don't.
