Charmeleon Karma

I've been slaving my ass off the past couple of weeks. Slave master decided to amuse himself by delegating more of what he refers to as 'important responsibilities' on my front. I didn't want it but it was, according to him, for the good of the whole outfit or some bullshit like that. I'm not complaining. It's them elves I'm concern about. There are already signs of unrest among them but screw that. The slatmine's in a bit of a mess but I'm just tired of this shit right now.

And again on the issue of death, one of my favourite rock god - with a small 'g' - died last month. Ronnie James Dio, front man of the band Dio. He was 67 and if you didn't know yet, Ron made the 'devil's horn' sign popular. You know that sign. Curl your two middle fingers like this and...nevermind.

I also made it for the Gawai do at the longhouse this year which turned out to be good as always. Arrived on the eve and because I couldn't do it last year, I was received with much drunkard enthusiasm. One of the men cordially informed me the drinking had started the day before. Thus, justifying the fact that one has to get into the drinking rhythm lest one wants to get totally wasted for the next three days. It's like this - if you drink as much as you can before the festivity and continue drinking, theres a chance you wont get totally wasted. Drunk, yes. But not wasted. Or some concept like that.

Totally bullshit.

I was literally dragged to the 'ruai' and owing to the liberal distribution of beer from Belgium and mostly from China, drunkenness obviously came into play and the whole scene was converted into careless amusement and noisy talk on frivolous subjects which were more or less at the expense of those sitting around.

Me included.

I seriously can't remember what happened for the next three days I was there but it was an orgy of drinking, eating and just being blissfully happy. Which pretty much sums up what Gawai's all about. At least for some people.

It was really fun.

And this morning, this dude walks into the office, introduced himself at the front desk and said he wanted to see me.

My telephone rings.

Ms. H : Boss, there's this gentleman who wants to see you. Says his name is George.

Me : George? I don't think I have a George this morning and...'click'.

Before I could finish, Ms. H was at my door with George.

I showed him his chair and we shook hands. Said he was from Ulu Krian and was responding to a letter we had apparently sent him. He produced the letter and says he has a flight to Singapore to catch in the afternoon. It was addressed to a George Anak Meran.

He was uneasy. Nervous.

Ms. H returned with his file and I pretended to look important while flipping through the meaningless paper in the file.

Me : So George, says here you were involved in an accident in 2008. Yes?

George : Yes. And errrr...my name is Boy George, actually.

Before I could say anything, he reached inside his bag and slid his passport across the table.

I flipped to the front page and thats when I started to laugh.

Very loudly.

"Boy George Anak Meran"

Boy fucking George, yo!!!!! I fucking swear!!!!