Will Thailand Kill My Sense of Irony?

I like clueless foreign bastardizations of the English language as much as the next guy, but I'm afraid that if I continue to see so many mind-blowing, nonsensical malapropisms and whatnot that I will cease to find "Engrish" funny at all.

At some point all of this will be Anglo-sensory overload, and I won't have to stop and double over laughing at every block corner and in between.

Imagine:

A futuristic looking barber shop called "Q Bone"

A faded street sign, pointing to an abandoned lot, that reads "To Switzerland."

An American steak restaurant called "Uncle Tom's."

The proprietor of an apartment building, a forty year old man, thick pedophile mustache, magenta tank top, white hot pants, who did not see us walk in the door because he was too focused on his GameBoy.

Where am I? What year is this?

Luckily my students continue to constantly renew my faith in humans, and the global goodness of mankind.

As I was walking around checking some student's work, one group of boys told me I looked like Adam Sandler.

"You look like Adam Sandler," they all laughed. And then one held out an invisble remote. "Click! Click!"

I have been asking all of my students to stand up at the end of class and say one thing they like to do.

One gayish boy said, "I like to move it, move it."

No joke.

A nerdy Urkel boy, hours before a freshman mixer, said, "I like to dance, and I hope to dance with my fellow classmates later tonight."

Total, awkward silence.

I have nicknamed this boy "Jason Gilbert, Ages 14-??"

For obvious reasons.

And then there are my two new girlfriends.

After I asked about the dance, one girl told me that I should come, and blushed.

And then, when it was her turn to say what she liked to do, she said, "I like to speak English," and then she and her friends giggled.

Not to be outdone, another girl came up to my desk after class. And she apologized: "I like to speak English, too."


A few minutes later I passed that girl on the staircase. I said hello, and she whispered to me, "Would you like to come to lunch with me?"

"Lunch!" I exclaimed, getting girlishly excited, as I always do when thinking about food. "When?"

But she just giggled and ran away. Tata, sweet Patthaporn*. I shall see you in class on Friday, non?

*Name changed to protect the innocent, and my total ignorance of the Thai language.

Oh, I almost forgot: I have so many bloody pus blisters on heels and arches and whatnot. I mean, seriously, my left foot looks like Jim Caviezel's chest at the end of Passion of the Christ.

Too much?

rly though my feet hurt.


1 comments:

Charlie said...

What doesn't kill it is only going to make it stronger.

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