Cat Shit, Fuck (episode II)

I screeched to a halt in front of the tutor's rooms, went in and saw two pretty Indian girls with young, radiant faces looking up expectantly.

Mmmm...... :) I thought to myself.

"Miss Nisha?" I asked uncertainly, looking from one to the other.
One of them laughed and covered her mouth. The other pointed to her.
"Khai Tzer?" She laughed again.
"Yes..." I put on my best formal-looking good boy polite look. Never failed to impress strangers.
"You don't recognise me ah?" 'Ms. Nisha' said.
"I.... don't think so." I squinted a bit and thought that she looked familiar.
"I'm Nisha. We were in the same Alpha(foundation year) class together."
*Dumbstruck me just stands there agape like a stupid fool*
"Uh... flubber blubber blubberbjilinumlaiyalk...." I said.
"HAHA. Sit down. sit down. It's so nice to see you again!!"

Here's the absurdity of the situation:

I have an academic advisor who was a former classmate in a degree course that I technically haven't finished. So I'm a student, and she's faculty staff.

Now that's not so absurd on its own(After all, I'm sure it happens quite often in university with people extending their courses). You'll need a little background in order to understand how I suddenly appeared in a real-life rendition of a Franz Kafka play:

5 years ago, I was a motherfucker. The absolute most prank-playing hyperactive button-pushing authority-defying noise-making disruptive freshman possible. I had just entered university, and due to an unscheduled, mind-switched-off crazy moment during orientation week(that I will not elaborate upon), I was probably blacklisted by the security department, and practically every freshman of my year knew who I was even before class started.

So then we were assigned to different groups(of about 30 students) according to the results of an English aptitude test that all freshies had to take. I know for sure that my group contained all the cunning linguists and verbal magicians, because I was in the same class, too. On the first day of class we had to choose a class monitor(glorified photostat coolie), and guess which infamous person got nominated and won overwhelmingly?

Yes. Guilty as charged.

This did not in any way detract from my purpose in life at that time: To rule every social circle I joined, and to have as much fun as possible.

I succeeded in both. The year 2000 was probably the best year of my life. In the context of the classroom however, my being class monitor did not prevent me from causing havoc at all, especially during English class. Double entendres and scathing public pranks were the norm in my group(incidentally group #6, which was naturally renamed Group Sex by us), with almost everyone an immensely intelligent and talented (albeit attention-seeking and scandal-loving) individual, especially the guys.

Everytime we were invited by the lecturer to give our opinions on something, everyone would wait in anticipation for the fun that would undoubtedly ensue. The topics would invariably be steered to sex by all and sundry, with discourses on the advantages of being female(multiple orgasms) to public debates on the sexual prowess of whichever male classmate looked most vulnerable that day. This happened during actual lessons! In avowedly chaste and Muslim Malaysia! In a class taught by a young, very pretty lady! I don't remember the lecturer ever finishing her teaching plan for the day.

During a project involving presentation skills, my group presented Hairgra(viagra for bald men, I kid you not) and I even dressed up in drag for a skit once. We were whores for novelty and shock value, and I was the worst one of them all. It got so bad that whenever the lecturer asked for an opinion and I invariably raised my hand, she'd give me a "please khai tzer, don't do this to me" look. And when she reluctantly pointed to me and I'd stand up, you would hear giggles from the girls and sniggers from the guys interspersed with "nah. nah. Sure come again wan." and "look at him, he's going to start." I am not exaggerating.

So that brings me back to THIS story. Nisha was hands-down the quietest person in my group. Among such loud, colourful, unsavoury characters, you could say that she was almost invisible, even among the girls. I don't remember speaking more than 10 sentences with her during that year.

So naturally I'm feeling funny now. The irony was my intention to show my most charming self today to a former Group Sex classmate. I even dressed up and worried my nuts off about being late, stepped in cat shit and almost drove a mid-level executive off the road, all to impress my academic advisor. It would DEFINITELY not work with Nisha. She has seen first hand all the shenanigans, lurid outbursts, and unspeakable behaviour that I've exhibited in class, and for an entire year too. I gave up and just plopped down into her offered chair, not knowing what to say. Compounding my embarrasment was the fact that I didn't even recognise her. It was awkward to say the least. I looked longingly at the window and quelled my urge to jump out the 3rd floor in shame.

"So I've got to evalute you...." Nisha said with a kind of embarrassed voice. Imagine the quietest girl in your class evaluating the most prolific outspoken happening one. It's weird isn't it?

"Sure. sure. Go ahead. Do you have to like, ask me questions?" I asked with a huge smile.

"Yes. It's just for the faculty. I have to do this, you know........?" She tried to explain. Nisha felt bad, which she shouldn't have, but it was reflex, I suppose, at inflicting bureaucratic pain on a friend.

I told her no problem and reassured her and said ask away and promised to myself that I'd be the nicest person to her today since she was so nice to me and I almost didn't remember who she was.

So she asked questions like do I have co-curricular activities on campus, how many subjects I was taking, etc. etc. Basically questions that didn't apply to me since I was just waiting for the university to let me graduate. I answered her the best I could, the urge to come up with 'creative' answers not even appearing once. I told her what my situation was like and that I was already doing mobile applications at a tech start-up.

All the while I couldn't stop smiling because it was so nice to....... well, not see a familiar face since I didn't recognise her at first, but meet with a former classmate. There was an instant familiarity at meeting an old friend that gives you a warm fuzzy feeling.

"So Khai Tzer. How would you rate your presentation and communications skil.... Oh, never mind, I know about your communications skills. They're excellent!"She gave a short laugh and I had a good laugh at that, but I was embarrassed all the same. I didn't think talking lots of cock in class constituted the ability to communicate, but who was I to dispel the myth? :)

So anyway we chatted for a while after that, I asked about her Master's programme and how was tutoring like, and then I left, happy to have met her that day.

All the way during the drive back, I was shaking my head to myself and repeating endlessly,"Fuck man.... fuck. Fuck man..... what the fuck." and banging my palm on the steering wheel. I'm still mortified that I didn't recognise Nisha. What kind of friend is that?

Fuck man..... fuck.

And now I've got to wash off all this #@$(***#)_)))@#$&&&#&!!!!-ing cat faeces from my car. Fuck.

All cats should be shot.