My Magnet

I have discovered the ultimate chick-magnet!
Yesterday, I met up with the Big Boss, a.k.a. the Boss’ wife. We met up in Queensbay as we have agreed earlier to pick up the blazin’ new iMac.

But of course, being the resident-sesat that I am – no one can get lost as well as I do – I got lost while searching for the underground car park, “Meng ah, where are you ah? We’re at the food court and we’re done eating..”

I need to make one big ass U-turn to get back to Queensbay, “I’m on my way!” I said.

Eventually, I manage to find the parking lot, and it wasn’t underground, I ended spiraling up the multi-storey car park. Hmmph…

Long story short, she told me I should go grab some lunch first, while she was taking her daughter to the toilet…”But I hate eating alone!” I said, though I do that on most occasions. I rather not eat alone.

“OK lah, I accompany you, meet me at the food court.”

We met up and I had my extra large lunch. Chicken rice with extra rice! They actually made it look like a smiley face, which made the daughter laugh. Then it happens. The discovery of the magnet…

Mrs. Boss got off her seat, “Meng ah, you look after her for awhile ah, I go toilet,” and then she left. Leaving the 6-year-old daughter and me. I look at her she looks at me. One thing led to another, I actually manage to have a decent conversation with her. Mr. Boss was right; she is pretty damn mature (and smart) for a 6 year old.

Despite all that, she did veer the conversation back into playing. Telling me how she is looking forward to Friday, “My cousins will be visiting and I’ll get to play with them!”

“Wah, long weekend huh?” I say.

“Yeah! But sometimes, I wish mommy will just give birth to a little brother for me,” citing that it sucks to play by herself and she would rather have a constant playmate. Since – according to her – she’s been studying like mad and being a real good girl, maybe she does deserve a sibling. After telling me she love Saturdays the most, courtesy of Mickey Mouse morning cartoons. I told her I hate Sundays and she understood.

As I struggle to finish my colossal plate of chicken rice, I started noticing the attention I was getting from the surrounding table, especially this group of girls that has just gotten a table next to us. They look at her, then me, then her and then me again. Exchanging whispers.

The next thing I know, this girl – who sat closest to us – whipped out her Razr phone and aim the camera at us. Pretending to be writing an SMS. I looked at her (just to make sure she IS taking a picture of us), she panicked and hid her phone. OK-lah, confirm. So now must control macho. I looked away. I can be quite the cam-whore. And just as expected, the phone resurfaced and she snaps away. I manage to make a couple of random remarks that made us laugh – must look cool mah – as she was still snapping at us.

I tell you; the amount of attention I got was superstar-like. Everyone adored us. My cloud 9 trip ended with the return of Mrs. Boss.

Whatever it was, I’m sure I’ve found the ultimate chick-magnet. And this is not some pathetic fridge magnet-typed chick magnet. This is Industrial Magnet Quality chick-magnet yo. Industrial type quality that will get me into an all-girl-orgy and me being the only guy. Ooh baby.

“Dude, I need to borrow your daughter more often,” I told Mr. Boss later that evening.

“She does have that chick-magnet quality, huh?”

Oh yeah.