Friday, May 29, 2009

Cup Size

There. Got your attention.

On Wednesday evening my mates and I found ourselves at West Mall's Coffee Bean, making excellent use of my friend's expiring-today vouchers, when two ladies walked in. I didn't notice them immediately, because 1) it's not my nature to, and 2) my back was turned to the entrance. Only when my friend piped in Chinese "Hey, the one in pink's not bad." did I realize their presence. I said "I prefer the lady in pants." but I think the rest were too preoccupied checking Pinkerbell out to pick up on my comment.

"Hey, guess her cup size."
"Her what!"
"Guess her cup size."
"That's not a B that's a small C."

"Hey," my friend said to another, "ten bucks if you ask her about her cup size."

And my friend actually started considering the proposition. I wasn't even going to entertain crazy thoughts without mention of a 3-figure offer, but my friend (yet another) said he would do it for 50 provided there was a girl in the group, so we'd at least not look like a bunch of dirty old men in horny 20 year old bodies, and I thought well that's reasonable. It's a blue note we're talking about after all. How many reds do you break on an average day?

We digressed for abit after that, talking about crazy things we've done (the dared friend got major horned at by a beng on his first on-the-road driving lesson, while making a right turn at a T-junction, and in mid-turn he let the car stall, asked the instructor to hang on, stepped out of the car, and went to tell the beng off for horning at a bloody big L-plate.) until just to make him do it, my friends chipped in to make the offer 60 bucks. He was seriously scratching his head now and wondering how to go about it. Honestly I have no problem throwing another twenty on the table. Plus I'm most probably paying to see my friend get whacked or screamed at or something equally mortifyingly entertaining. But something just held me back from supporting what my morals considered an utterly ungentlemanly act.

Or I'm scared of consequences. Whatever peels your potato.

My dear friend was still earnestly considering his speech, exit strategies, attack dodging techniques, preemptive measures, etc, and since one of the set conditions ws that the conversation should last, ie. no "What's your cup size?" "Fuck off." "Sure thing miss.", he asked for my advice on what to say because apparently "your ang moh very power one." I suggested stalling her comprehension with harder words.

"Pardon me there miss, but I was wondering, may I enquire as to the volumetric measurement of your bosoms?"

Even I would have taken a split second more to process such confounding language.

In the end, we decided that it would be best to boost his notoriety level another, since he was wearing an Army T-shirt, and I for one don't consider Detention Barracks a couple of months before ORD a particularly appealing situation to get into.

In trying to egg him into doing it, the guy who started the dare said, "Aiyah, just get her to tell you la. Say you won't remember it beyond tonight anyway."

"You know, I can't decide which is more insulting," I spluttered, "asking about her cup size or telling her you won't remember it past tonight."

Ah. Insane youth and beautiful naivety.

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