The week before last, I did something big for my country. No, I didn’t win any gold medal No, I didn’t break any sporting records or any stupid records; but I did something that enough to make me smile all week.

I told my friends a story.

‘Friends’ might be an overstatement, they are more of colleague that is. You see, being one of few people who are not white and speak different accent need me to work harder if I want to survive socially.

And if I even managed to deal with that, I have to work on my bizarre sense of humor and offbeat personality to hook for some more. Maybe that is why I have many friends, but few good and closed ones.

It is worth noted that Facebook is certainly not a way to see how well I am doing socially, while it boast itself as the number one social-networking site. If my calculation is right, Facebook is a no exception to fit in and resign in the nasty social-networking site short product life cycle.

We’ll talk about it later. I promise.

Little we knew that our group assignment would be so unexciting that we literally had to drag ourselves in putting our medically trained mind on those monotonous medical papers. Don’t get me wrong, we still love what we are doing, but as the saying has it, too much of things will fuck you up big time.

Your body will manifest in assortment and multiplicity of ways to say that you’ve had enough of doing work. It will start with the most obvious, you will get tired and your mind will divert itself automatically to think to non-educational stuff and starts to reject any exam materials.

You will think on things that will make you feel more satisfying.

A guy across the table started to think about boozing himself up after we are done with acute liver disease. Another started to whine on how hungry he is. A girl next to me just couldn’t be bothered with whatever on the table and started to think which route to take and what snack to buy from which shop on her way back. A guy on my right was half asleep and was spinning my pencil. Another girl was playing with her hair and asked me to have sex with her. You should know whether I was joking or not about the last bit.

They just love to think out loud. That is why I know.

That is when I kicked in, and they were all alive again.

I taught them Bahasa Melayu.

The story? 'Girlfriend Gua'.

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And just yesteday, one of them greeted me with something to remind me of home –

Apa cer?