my wife is annoyed at me.

we had a conversation yesterday over a lunch of horlicks and milo dinosaurs, two plates of fried chicken nasi bryani and one egg roti prata. the previous night, we had watched munich, and neither of us had quite gotten the ending.

"i googled the ending of munich today, but i couldn't find anything. i've decided that eric bana is cute, though. don't you think so?"

"mm." (what do you want me to say about a guy with a surname like bana? at least i didn't go "eric bana... naaa.")

irritated look

and since we were on the celebrity theme, i decided to bring up an interesting fact i had discovered a couple of days ago.

"do you know i was born on the same day as jessica alba? if she had been born in singapore, we could have shared the same incubator. that would have been... hot."

very irritated look

five minutes later :

"can you stop thinking about jessica alba?"

three times, apparently, she had asked me to get the bill so we could leave. i honestly hadn't heard a word. took the words "jessica alba" to wake me from my reverie.

in the car on the way home, seeing how she was mildly cross, i offered the olive branch in the form of an observation about my toilet habits :

"i always feel like sh*tting after i eat curry or spicy food. i think i might have irritable bowel syndrome."

she obviously hadn't gotten over my relationship with jess, and felt it necessary to demonstrate her unhappiness.

"maybe you have racist bowel syndrome."

not much sympathy there.

fast forward to yesterday evening. we were waiting for our friends to arrive so we could play matchmaker. both are single, and we were introducing them to each other. my wife, probably as a result of some innate (and incomprehensible) female predilection, was fretting greatly that everything would go well. i, on the other hand, was rather content to throw them together and let nature take its course, for better or for worse.

anyhow, my wife then asked me what i thought we should do, what activity we could engage in that could create the most fertile - bad choice of word - salubrious atmosphere for whatever it was she was hoping would happen. a movie was one option, but did not have enough quality interaction, so it seemed, to be ideal.

blame it on my nobleness of spirit, but i am nothing if not willing to try to be helpful. and i have a propensity towards honesty that oftentimes goes unappreciated. i offered the first idea that came to my mind (which, may i add, i still think is rather ingenious) :

"skinny dipping?"

banishment to the study ensued. my banishment, incredibly enough. i am on the verge of reporting myself to the police as a victim of domestic abuse.

ultimately, it was decided that we would go for dessert. i had just voiced my opinion that i was full and would be content to pilfer bits of cake off everyone when my wife gave me a glare and, in a voice filled with surprising sweetness, asked me :

"why don't you order something?"

bewildered look

"er ok."

long pause

"what should i order?"

another glare

a most stressful weekend. can't wait to go back to work on monday.