TONG TE TE CHANG! TONG TE TE CHANG!

*caveat: if you’re the type that is easily offended when someone pokes fun at lanterns, fireworks, waxed ducks, bak kwa and other things related to Chinese New Year (CNY), PLEASE, PLEASE, READ ON.

As those of you who know my being rather Scroogy when it comes to celebrations of any sort, this year I’m going to try to be less Scroogy. Let’s see, for me Christmas is about seeing girls wearing skimpy dresses and far too short skirts (it happens in churches here WITHOUT FAIL. Practically tradition it is.). Hari Raya is all about eating far too much ketupat and rending and other meaty meats (i.e. NOT lamb :P) while watching Siti Nurhaliza (I like her) belt yet another Raya song. Whereas for Deepavali, it’s about eating with hands (I’m quite proficient unlike some of my friends who tend to shove their hand instead of the food. Seeing them wince in pain is so much fun.), and devouring as much vegetarian chicken as humanly possible. But for me, CNY is all about the red packets and seeing girls in skimpy dresses and far too short skirts and going through it sulky and wishing I was somewhere far, far away from it.

I grew up not knowing what the hullabaloo was all about. I see red packets, I go delirious. That’s it. And not forgetting the massive feast the day before which is given the rather portentous title of Reunion Dinner. It’s where all the brothers, sisters, cousins, grandparents and relatives gather to eat more food than is normally eaten. My memories of CNY are always the same: me being left by myself because none of my cousins could understand me, aunties trying to outdo each other’s bouffant and overall auntieness, uncles boasting and guffawing at the top of their lungs about absolutely nothing while the grandfather calls me up to his room, surreptitiously opens his cupboard and gives me extra ang pow.

While it may seem that my CNYs are all right but to be very frank, I hate it. Seriously, I couldn’t give a shit. It’s not like Confucius is going to appear out of thin air and say, “You bad boy. No play the filewoks! No olanges!” or the ever glib businesswoman Lillian Too with the extremely awful dyed hair (She looks like a burnt mangosteen.) is going to personally espouse the virtues of some green stone which can make your house more feng shuied. I’m not bothered by it. To me, it’s just another day. The only difference is that I have to wear red instead of my customary black (groan, red makes me look like an over-ripe tomato.), I have to be nice to people I have no clue who they are even though they know me.

I tend to have a crummy and dreadful time at my dad’s side whereas at my mom’s I will ALWAYS have a ball of a time. You won’t find any faux pas nonsense; it’s all about the family. Everyone is genuinely happy to see one another. And the food, bah! It’s way better here. This post may come across as bitter, angry or even sacrilegious.

Chris signing off…

PS: Have a great Chinese New Year to those who celebrate it. And don’t eat too much olanges ya. ;)