Late Friday night in Brooklyn, early Saturday afternoon in Hong Kong
Rrrrrrrrrring. Rrrrrrrring.
Mona: Hey ats!
Maya: Hey! What’s up?
Mona: I have something weighing down my left hand.
Maya: What, a bottle of beer?
Mona: No, lighter than that.
Maya: What, a glass of wine?
Mona: No, lighter than that.
…
Maya (the bulb finally lights up): Holy crap!!!! You’re engaged!
Mona: Yup!
Holy crap. My little sister’s engaged. I want to cry.
It will be daw in New York with Father O’Hare officiating, Start saving!
Love,
Papa
Hunh!!!! Guess I can’t have a kid yet.
Mona tells the story a little differently:
There was no moment of epiphany with the “bulb lighting up.” Instead, a male voice in the background:
“She did the Katigbak thing, dumbass - went to the States, got a Master’s degree, then got hitched!”
What say you?
Yeah that voice in the background was Mickey’s, but it came *after* the lightbulb thingy. “I sense a pattern here. You girls go abroad, get an Ivy League education, and then get married. Hmph.” He seems bitter about something, can’t figure what, though.
Incidentally: et tu, Pronkitus?
And don’t forget: “Let the sonafabitch pay for the student loans”.
Aaah.
The future Mr. Mona Katigbak just read this now. His first comment: “So after we spend all night making a thirty-year financial projection, you decide to spring student loans on me?!?!?!”
Aaah.
Comment number two: “If we get married this year, you’ll save me at least $XX in taxes…”
Comment number three: “I want an iPod.”
Thirty-year financial projections? Is that what they teach them at HBS? And do these projections include an income stream from you? I think Mickey’s working on the assumption that my own future cash flow is zero.
Tell your boy that iPods are just the beginning. Once you start down that slippery slope there’s no going back.