The title is not pho-am, contrary to what any sane person would think. As in, you'd think it was pronounced [fo - am]. But no. According to Nigel, Master of Unlame Jokes, it's pronounced FOAM. Like, I was made to think it was pho, with added amness. But apparently not.
Now, how did we get into this dumb conversation about pho-am? Banh's pho party, of course. The 18th that never was. All very exciting stuff. Location: Banh's house. Time: 7 o' clock Friday. How to find it: invisible balloons tied outside the house. And car with headlights on.
So I got there, chilled with Jono and Tim(?) for a bit, watching 30 Rock. Then Nigelz rocked up in his scarf. After everyone got there (I can't be stuffed naming all of them), we rocked the party of pho. Yeah. We all got pho. Of the chicken variety. And ate. Then spring rolls. It was good. Thanks Banh's mum for the spring rolls.
Harry Potter was up next. It seems so much funnier when you have a bunch of sick-minded freaks in the same room watching it. A good laugh.
Before I knew it, Meng was calling me on Banh's phone. Dot dot dot, you might say. Well, I say that Banh's house has no reception, except on his phone. Anyway, Meng was calling me to tell me to call my mother because she was looking for me. What do you know? Anyway, it was time for me to go. So I said some tearful farewells, and promptly left the party. I was the first one out of there, but you know what they say. You should leave a party before you're the last one there. Or something like that. Thanks Banh.
In other news, nothing much else has happened. Upset a few people, futilely looked for a new pair of jeans, etc. I must work on my social life.
No comments:
Post a Comment