brain farts

I Am So Bad

Posted on: October 27, 2006

A few weeks ago, I took my brother to the US embassy to re-new his passport. As you probably know already, before entering the embassy, everyone is required to check in their belongings and undergo a brief security check. Well, when our turn came around, I passed through scot-free. My brother, however, didn’t.

And it was all because of me. Turns out that a few days prior I’d asked my brother to keep my embryology notes in his backpack for me and had completely forgotten about them. Which is why the last thing I ever expected was for the security guard to stop my brother and pull out my packet of notes on the male reproductive system and stare at them. And rather intensely, I might note.

J: Why is he staring at your notes like that?
ME: I don’t know. Maybe he thinks they’re secret plans for weapons of mass destruction?
J: Huh?
ME: You know, missiles.
J: I know what WMDs are. But what do your notes have to do with missiles?
ME: Come on. You’re a guy. Those are notes on the male reproductive system.  USE YOUR IMAGINATION.

Hardy har har.  Lame, I know, but I thought it was kind of funny at the time. And yeah, I know — I’m horrible. A regular corruptor of youth. I should not be allowed to get within ten feet of anyone below the age of 18.

After a rather lengthy perusal of my embryology notes (I’m talking five minutes here, people, and no, I am not even joking), we were finally allowed into the embassy; I guess they finally realized that what they were looking at wasn’t missiles after all, but rather parts of the male anatomy. We waited in the loooong line and were told to return after lunch to hand in in my brother’s forms and passport photos. So we crossed the street, snapped my brother’s mugshot at a photo shop, and had some chicken wraps at Au Bon Pain, where my brother proceeded to ask me the following question:

“When we re-new our passport, do we have to be sworn in or do anything like in that Green Card movie?”

Now, the last time my brother had his passport re-newed was when he was 11; obviously he has little to no memory of what it was like (and maybe also because the process requires you to do virtually nothing, but whatever). Which is why I thought it’d be fun to mess with him a bit, mwahahaha.

ME: [totally deadpan] If I remember correctly, you have to make a pledge.
J: A pledge?
ME: Yeah. Nothing fancy, though. Just the pledge of allegiance.
J: [worriedly] The pledge of allegiance? But I don’t know the pledge of allegiance!
ME: Oh, don’t worry. It’s easy peasy. All you have to say is — I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, for liberty and justice for all.
J: Okay, let me try. I pledge allegiance to the flag of America—
ME: The United States of America.
J: The United States of America, and to…um…the people—
ME: The republic.
J: The republic…um…
ME: For which it stands.
J: For which it stands, one nation before God—
ME: Under God.
J: Underdog. I mean, under God, invisible—
ME: Indivisible.
J: Indivisible, for liberty and freedom for all.
ME: Justice for all.
J: [turning just slightly green] How am I supposed to know all this?!?!?! How do YOU know all this?!?!?!
ME: We had to say it every Friday morning at assembly at Almond.
J: But at RIS, all we ever had to say was the Lord’s Prayer.
ME: That’s because Father Travis wanted to make sure you’d know what to say at mass. Not that you ever WENT to mass, that is.
J: Yeah, sure. Watch the pot call the kettle black. So is this all I have to say? Just the pledge of allegience, right?
ME: I think so. Oh no, wait…
J: Now what?
ME: Actually, if I remember correctly, they also make you sing the Star Spangled Banner.
J: WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?

I’m sorry, but it was so funny I just couldn’t stop. :P How I ever managed to keep a straight face is beyond me, especially since I am seriously the world’s worst liar ever. You can rest assured, however, that I didn’t let the charade go on for long.

Well, only until after he’d sung the national anthem…twice.

I am so bad. Such is the privilege of being a first-born. In my next life, I bet karma’s gonna pay me back ten-fold — I’ll probably be born as the youngest kid in a family of ten.

~*~

Currently Reading: New Moon by Stephenie Meyer. I finally found it! Thanks, Asia Books!

Currently Playing: LDN by Lily Allen. First off, the video is pretty cool. And second of all, how could I possibly resist witty lyrics like, “There was a little old lady who was walkin’ down the road/She was struggling with bags from Tesco/There were people from the city having lunch in the park/I believe that it’s called al fresco/Then a kid came along to offer a hand/But before she had time to accept it/Hits her over the head, doesn’t care if she’s dead/Cause he’s got all her jewelry and wallet/You might laugh, you might frown, walkin’ ’round London town”?

The lyrics to her other song, Smile, are just as cheeky, if not more so. Am I so wrong to laugh at the music video, especially towards the end of the song where she sings, “at first when I see you cry, yeah it makes me smile, yeah it makes me smile” when the ex-boyfriend’s life goes down the toilet (quite literally, actually)?

I am so bad.

8 Responses to "I Am So Bad"

hahaha. thats good one on ur bro. :)

good seein ya for lunch, we gotta do it again soon.

555 bad lynn!! did you make him practice there in the restaurant with other people listening?

by the way, i think it’s “with liberty…” hm… i don’t know how many years it’s been since i’ve recited the pledge. i could be wrong.

Bo: Yeah, lunch was fun! We definitely have to do that again sometime soon. :)

Pan: Haha, you’re right! It IS “with liberty and justice for all.” Goes to show how much I remember from elementary school. ;)

And yeah, he did practice, right there in Au Bon Pain. But fortunately we were sitting at a corner table, so nobody heard us…except for the farang businessman at the table next to us.  Hopefully he wasn’t American, hehe.

This is too funny. Poor little bro– you made him sing O— say, can-you-seeeeeee twice???? I don’t know anyone (except maybe Pit) who can actually sing that song— it’s too hard on a normal person’s voice range. Let’s see, what else could you have told your bro that they would ask? The population of the US? Name all the 50 states alphabetically backwards AND their capitals?? Is hispanic a race or an ethnic origin? (the Census makes a big deal out of this question). Sexiest Man and Woman in the US?? (I think the tabloids last said Matthew McConnaughey and Scarlet Johansson?) Hehehe.. endless possibilities.

It’s funny, I’m reading this on the day I finally got my application for a new passport in, after a week of scrambling, missing the closign time for the photoshop, etc. On the phone, the people at the embassy said my girlfriend couldn’t be a real doctor — I think the Korean staff assumed a real doctor would never date a stupid foreigner, to be honest — but she gave me her license to take in and show them. The lady was all, “Ah, she is a doctor. Then she can be your guarantor. Okay, then…”

I am glad they didn’t make me sing “Oh Canada”, as I’m not sure I would remember it all. I’m such a bad patriot.

I’m from the US and I don’t even know the Pledge of Allegiance! And I’m glad I didn’t have to take a citizenship-type test for the UK passport. That would have sucked, since the only thing I know about the UK is that they eat “digestives” with their tea. GROSS. Well, actually, the chocolate topped ones are kind of yummy. :)

LOL!!! my my… poor little brother!!! :) :) (but then again… reading tweet’s comment, I think he’s better off being your bro instead of hers!!! :P)

Swita: Um, after seeing your totally exhaustive list of questions, all I can really say is thank God you don’t work for the US government!

Gord: I can’t believe they didn’t believe you! That’s horrible. Heh, I wish I could’ve seen the look on her face when you showed her your girlfriend’s license.

Kate: I have to wonder what digestives are…with a name like that, they’ve gotta be interesting. ;)

Noi: I know — poor Smathi!

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