Decisions

IN life, there are many decisions we make. Often we have to decide, for instance, whether going into the first cubicle or the second cubicle would lead to a cleaner backside. Occasionally, we may also have to ponder whether at 6pm on the roads at a traffic light, whether people can actually see if one’s digging of the gold in a place where there is little sunshine. (The answer is yes, owner of the blue Mazda 3 SFG 9xx0L at Alexandra Road junction 715pm. I saw you ok. Seriously)

And sometimes, very few sometimes, you get the privilege of trying to make a decision on what your next child will be called.

Me: Hey wife, if we get a son, I think Patrick will be nice. Patrick L.
Wife: When we get a son, which will be our next, I like the name Augustine. Patrick L sounds like a car salesman.
Me: Huh. Why
Wife: Cos salemanish lor
Me: Huh. How many Patrick L car salesmen do you know?
Wife: None.
Me: WTF. And you come from which planet again?
Wife: Aiyah, it just sounds like it ok. Don’t act innocent. You said Aloysius sounds wussy
Me: Yeah, because I actually know two Aloysiuses who ARE wussy.
Wife: That’s as bad as your mum, who hates Francis because she knew a Francis who is her arch-enemy, her nemesis from 10 years ago.
Me: Yeah. Siao. Why does my mum always think so illogically.
Wife: Yah.