A Few Updates…

When the days begin to shorten, and the breezes blow in cool and clean, I find my thoughts wandering to-

Just Kidding. You thought I was going there, didn’t you?

Hi Peoples!!! I’ve missed you! Guess, what happened since my last blog post? I turned 22! No… don’t. Stop. Do not quote Taylor Swift. Come on, that’s SO cliché.

JK.

“I’M FEELIN TWENTY TWOooOOO!”

Anyways, since I started this blog at the tender age of 21, I have told many hair raising tales. From Boon Lurt’s window peeping to Uncle Mustache’s gift demanding. To which, the question has been raised: “So what happened next?!?”

Today is the day you find out. The thrilling sequel(s). And… GO.

So, lets start with Boon Lurt. If you don’t know who that is, you better read this first.

After a few more incidents of “BOOM. Boon Lurt.” We politely told him that looking in windows is not polite in foreigner’s minds, and could he please knock on our door instead? Pretty please, Boon Lurt? You’re giving us heart attacks.

Well, he decided that from now on, whenever he needed to talk to us, he would send his grandaughter, Fa, to do his bidding.

Now, I don’t have a picture of Fa for you, because she is really shy. She is 16 years old. She’s a really quiet, sweet person. And she is TINY. Seriously, she probably only weighs 85 pounds.

anyways, back to the story. I imagine their conversation going something like this.

Boon Lurt: “Fa, I need you to go take this chicken to them for me.” (Side Note: Raw, Whole chickens are considered awesome gifts here. Just FYI)

Fa: “Ok.”

Boon Lurt: “Oh, but they don’t want you to look in their windows.”

Fa: “But, what if no one is outside?”

Boon Lurt: “They said to beat on the door.”

Fa: “Wait… They said to what?”

Boon Lurt: “Yeah, they said to hit it until someone comes and opens it.”

Fa: “…ok…” *shrugs shoulders*

Now switch to us. Inside the house. Going about our business.

“BAM!” *Door rattles violently* “BAM! BAM! BAM!” “BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!” *Door begins to sound like it is going to fall off of it’s hinges*

I am in the other room when I hear it. And honestly, it kind of freaked me out. People only knock on door like that when they are

A: The villain in a horror movie who wants to kill you,

B: Someone who is bringing news that someone else is severely injured and on the brink of death,

or C: Paul Revere bringing the news that the british are coming.

Anways, I rush to the door and fling it open. My heart pumping.

and there stands Fa… 85 pound – 4’11” Fa.

She smiles shyly and hands the chicken to me. “Hi Kaimook, This is from Grandpa.”

My voice said something like: “Oh, thank you so much!”

My Brain was saying stuff more along these lines: “Wait, no one’s dead? What the what just happened? …Fa, HOW THE HECK CAN YOU EVEN HIT THAT HARD?!?” Umm… is this door broken?”

So, apparently, the phrase “Knock on the door” when translated to Thai, comes out more like,

“Beat the door-

AS SWIFT AS A COURSING RIVER

Beat the door –

WITH ALL THE FORCE OF A GREAT TYPHOON

Beat the door –

WITH ALL THE STRENGTH OF A RAGING FIRE”

Come on, You know what i’m talking about…

Ok, On to update number 2.

You remember the story of Makro, my butcher buddies, and the 100 pounds of chicken carcasses right? You don’t? Please enlighten yourself here.

Yeah, remember that part where Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me tell those butchers what those 100 pounds of chicken carcasses were for?

Well, things started to get a little awkward (At least for me – As it only seemed to heighten dad’s enjoyment of the whole scenario) When the little female butcher asked me, “What do you use these for?”

I looked at dad, “Can I tell her?”

Dad: *Smirking smile* *Twinkling eyes* “No.”

Me: “SERIOUSLY?!? Great… as if I’m not enough of a weirdo already.”

Dad: *Still smirking and smiling* *Bursts out laughing* *walks away*

Me: *Looks at little butcher lady* *Smiles and trys to pretend that I didn’t understand the question in the first place* Yeah, the one I just had a whole conversation with my dad about right in front of her. Fingers crossed that she can’t speak english.

Later when we are at home I go to dad. “DADDY! Seriously they probably think we are feeding people those things!… Or… or… making some kind of creepy VooDoo soup out of them.

Dad did not head my pleas. He was still smirking and laughing. LAUGHING AT MY PAIN.

Anyways, You know that one butcher? The one that always smiled and laughed with me over the whole chicken carcass thing?

Wait… He was laughing WITH me, right?

Well, I feel like he’s my buddy. My buddy that I’ve never spoken to other than to order chicken from and who laughs at with me…

He’s really nice for a Thai guy. He’s never a creeper to me. He never tries to give me an eyebrow waggle. Oh, don’t even get me started on that eyebrow waggle.

He’s nice. He smiles nice. Don’t judge me.

ANYWAYS, I went up to the counter and ordered the 100 pounds of chicken carcasses, and that butcher leans over, sticks his head out of his little glass window, smiles and asks, “What do you use these for?”

And I… I… I told him.

You guys:

Me:

I’m sorry that I told my imaginary thai friend about the chicken carcasses. All 100 pounds of them.

And now, the final update.

You guys have to remember Peanut Village, Muay Thai, and Uncle Mustache! If you don’t I forgive you. As long as you go and read this.

the last time I had seen him he had demanded gifts from America upon my return. And he had told me that he would decide what he wanted at a later date and send word via my little siblings.

Ok, Uncle Mustache, whatever you say.

While I was at Missy’s house Benjamin wrote and told me the gift Uncle Mustache had selected for himself was… a pair of camo pants.

Yes, Uncle Mustache is a redneck.

Old Thai men are always very impressed with the “Wrangler” brand name. But what they don’t know is that in America, they sell camo wrangler’s at Wal-Mart.

A few days after I got home Benj and I took to motorcycle out to Uncle Mustache’s home to give him his present. Nothing huge happened during this interaction, but I will still attempt to illustrate the scene.

Uncle Mustache Before: 

Uncle Mustache After:

So… Yeah.

Now, I am going to provide you with a little understanding before I proceed with my final story.

I’m sure if we’re friends on Facebook, or in real life, or whatever, you know that I have many stories to share of Thai women calling me fat.

A few years ago I was all like, “Yes! I want 3 grapes and water for breakfast!”

I literally thought that Apples were my favorite food.

No, I think you read that wrong. I still like apples, BUT I USED TO THINK THAT THEY WERE MY LITERAL FAVORITE.

Needless to say, back then, All the thai ladies only commented on how thin and pretty I was getting.

But now that I’m like: 

I get called fat a lot more frequently.

Whenever they first say it to me I’m just like:

and I finish the conversation with smiles and laughs.

Then I get home. And I do this:

and then I go to my family and do this:

So this brings us to our last story. If you remember The story of Uncle Mustache well, you will remember that he had a granddaughter named Nam. Well, when Benjamin wrote to tell me about uncle mustache’s camo pant selection, we told me that it was Nam’s birthday.

Me: “Oh, that’s nice.”

Benjamin: “Yeah. so, she wants you to bring her a present now too.”

Me: “Wait, she told you this?”

Benjamin: “Yeah. she said, ‘It’s my birthday so Kai-Mook needs to bring me a present from America too.'”

Me: *face palm*

Anyways, I went to Target and bought her a cute shirt that said “U.S.A.” on it and brought it back for her.

I went to her house. I ran in and hugged her.

Me: “I missed you!!”

Nam: “I missed you too!”

Me: “I brought you a present.”

Nam: “Oh! Thank you! You got fat.”

Because of course the appropriate way to respond to a birthday gift is “You got fat.”

So anyways,

I love you people.

Leave me a comment.

But you know,

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