No burning midnight oils please

Did I say I was going to tell you all about my New Year’s Eve family dinner? Well, I found that my cousin had already posted up the video on YouTube so that entry will have to go in another blog. In SpaceParade, Runawaycat is of course, a cat. If I were to put up that video with me looking like human, although it’s just like 2 seconds of me in it, it would have defeat all purpose.

So instead, Runawaycat will talk about cooking oil here. The nation is in a frenzy to grab all available cooking oil off the shelves. In fact, they already did so days ago. Try going to any supermarket or sundry shop and see if you can find any. The only oils left would be corn oils, lamp oils, baby oils, massage oils, hair oils, Evening Primrose oils; hmm did I miss out any other oil?

I don’t know what’s with this cooking oil thing. One day I woke up to a new year and rumours are going around that prices of oil are gonna sky rocket and supply is running short. And now the news say that each person (or was it each family?) can only buy up to a maximum of 5kg of cooking oil.

My mom is mad because she can’t buy any peanut oil; it has to be peanut coz she wants to make peanut cookies. And I’m excited because this feels like the end of the world. That's how boring my life is. Brace yourselves! Food supply is running short! Woa…wait. Food running short? That’s a scary thought. Imagine no more cheese for the rest of your life. Or no more fast food because health terrorists bombed every fast food chain on the planet. Or no more char siew because Muslim terrorists bombed every pig farm in the world. Oh I’m making another racist slur.

Oh my god! Oh my god! State of panic! I think we should all go grab all cheese, chocolates, burgers, and every other junk food you can think of off the shelves! Go! Go!

Noisy people

Forget yesterday….make the great escape…da da dada…anyway…da da dadada

This song saved me from noisy invigilators. When I found out my seat was the first one, right in front of the invigilators’ tables, I thought, This is it. I’m gonna have to tolerate people talking while I drain my brain to answer questions. Great. And I was right. From the very beginning two invigilators started talking like it was nobody’s business. And they were exactly 1.5 feet right in front of me.

But the song saved me. For some reason, whatever they said didn’t get to me. The words just kept on playing. Forget yesterday…da da dada…It didn’t matter that they had talked for like 30 minutes, loudly. People next to me were shifting uneasily, but me? Forget yesterday…we’ll make the great escape…

They probably didn’t have that song in their head. Well they should at least tell the invigilators to shut it right? Just like last week when another two loud invigilators, and I mean real loud invigilators were talking and laughing, and everyone sheeesssshhh-ed them. That shut them up for good. Why do they have so many things to talk about? Unlike them, right now I can’t think of anything else to say. What else was I going to say? Hmm…that song is still in my head. Why? Why? Whyyy??!

I broke a record yesterday. I didn’t go to crunchyroll for two straight days. That’s a record. Right now, it’s going to be revenge-crunchyroll-video watching.

I can’t write anymore. I’m so boring these days. Help.

…Forget yesterday…da da dada dada

Because the sky is grey

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are grey

Human beings perceive thing differently. And it’s great that we get to see through others’ eyes by mingling with them. I’m usually too ignorant to notice things like this or maybe none are significant enough to be noticed. But there’s one that I remember.

This song has been playing in my head since…well, not long ago. Maybe it’s because I’m happy? Even though the sky is grey? I like grey skies. Anyway, about perceptions. Once, a few friends and I were singing this song and another friend asked, “How can there be sun when the sky is grey?” And I answered, “Well, the sky was grey but then the sun came out so everyone became happy.” I never saw it the way he did. And he most certainly didn’t see it the way I did hahahaha!

So…hmm…yea. The way I see things now is this will be my last post for the week :P I just can’t keep up with all the crunchyroll, and then there’s the exam. *sucks* If you didn’t notice, I haven’t been reading blogs lately too. Sorry guys for not visiting. Google reader is piling up again. I just want the crunchyroll part. It’s so cool. I go there every time I’m online and the range of videos there…! Simply amazing! I’m so higggghhhhh…. Well, I’m off to watch dramas! Adios~

Yikes!

People I meet often become subjects of spaceparade. I put them through various twisted tests before I throw them back to earth.

While working today (for 12 hours, mind you, I just have to say this coz my leg hurts) I met with 2 similar questions from 2 different people of um…very dissimilar characteristics.

Let’s start with the first encounter. A colleague which I’ve never met (don’t ask why I’ve never met my colleague, we just never, heh) came by to chat and half way through, the question of whether I have a boyfriend cropped up. Then it ultimately led to her asking me, “How about I introduce you to my son?”, twice, to which both times I answered with a smile.

That was a shocker. The question popped up just like pop corns in the microwave, you don’t know when it might pop. Geez, that’s a lot of pop in a sentence. Anyway, I don’t wanna know how her son looks like – he may be cute for all I know – and I don’t wanna know what he does or whatever else about him. I don’t care. Stop freaking my out by asking me that twice! Yuck! God! Uh, I’ll take it as a joke.

Now the second encounter. Another colleague brought her son with her and my, was he a talking machine! He came in and right away he says, “What’s your name? I’m __ and I’m 11 but I talk like I’m 50. Some people even liken me to an obasan.”

-_-"

Then he goes on about other stuffs which eleven year olds don’t talk about, like the prime minister’s use of languages (!), the number of homosexuals in his school and their classifications, tada tada tada, you get the idea. And of course he also threw me with loads of questions like, where do you live? How old is your mother? And all those questionings ultimately led to, again, do you have a boyfriend? Is anyone courting you right now? How bout we have a private conversation? (!!!) #_#”

Eleven year olds today! When I was eleven I was watching cartoon at home. Ok I don’t remember what I did when I was eleven. Do you remember your eleven? God, what did the world turn into? My 3 year old niece scoops out guys on the streets. *shakes head*

It just occurred to me that I’m double his age. And he’s got more girlfriends than I do boyfriends.

So about today? It’s more like I’m the one being subjected to twisted tests. My god. That’s all I can say.

Junction mania

I almost hit another car today. I just don’t understand why people cannot treat the junction outside my house like a junction. You’re supposed to stop at a junction and see if there are any oncoming cars. But they stubborn drivers just don’t. They stop at every other junction but never at the junction near my place.

As I was almost at the junction I had to slow down for Mr. Opportunistic. Upon seeing me come, regardless of whether I was making a turn or going straight at him had he come out, he drove out anyway. Like always I approached quite close to him because he had to take his time making the turn. Fine. I’ll let you pass. But thing is, Mr. Pimple Face behind him is kinda dense. Seeing that I was going straight, he decided to speed out anyway. I don’t know. Maybe he wants to die. Or maybe he wants his parents to buy him a new car.

I had to come to an emergency halt and Mr. Pimple Face-Initial D-Jay Chou-wannabe-with-his-tilted-head could only put on a ‘oops…sorry’ face. Had I hit him he’d be in a sorry state alright. And he’ll just be a pain in my ass. He better remember this junction for the rest of his sorry life.

Then there was this other time when Mr. Impatient & co. honked at me. I don’t know how to explain this. Look at the diagram.

Hello? What the fuck is wrong with you?

This somehow made me link it to the oncoming elections. For 10 years people living here have been complaining about this junction and asking the authorities to put up a sign or just do something about it, but they just turned a deaf ear to us. We do have good patience, don’t we? Give us a good reason why we should elect you, whoever you may be.

To wash or not to wash: is it that difficult to choose?

While watching CNN yesterday night, one of the newscasters reported about toilet hygiene; washing your hands after bathroom use. A few kamikaze spies who sacrificed their lives to bathrimotoilosis for toilet statistics in Atlanta’s Turner field bathroom said only 57% of men washed their hands compared to 95% of women. Men! Ugh! Don’t hold your boyfriend’s hands!

But whatever happened to the 5% of women?? I mean, what is wrong with you, not washing your hands!? How can you not wash your hands after going to the loo?! It’s downright unacceptable!

I always see people wash their hands after bathroom use. So when I entered university and saw a senior who did not wash her hands after using our school’s stinking, wet, icky, yucky toilet, I was so dumbstruck my jaw dropped open. Of course I had to close it back right away. I can’t risk having bathrimotoilosis infect my gums. They’re fatal. Everyone knows bathrimotoilosis kills. Yet some don’t wash after themselves. Why?

You can read the article here. There are too many statistics my head hurts. If she had reported all the figures last night, I would have switched channel and hence no blog today.

I command you to be grumpy!

The other day I was in the lab doing lab work (duh!) and there was this guy, whom I suspect is a PhD student, who came to help out. No, ‘to observe’ would be a much more appropriate word, I personally think.

Halfway through, someone said something funny and we started to laugh, I suppose I laughed the loudest, and he turned around and said, “Please don’t laugh.” Har??? I looked at him, totally stupefied, not knowing what to say. You’re not allowed to laugh in the lab? Or you’re not allowed to laugh in front of him? I think I’ll go with the latter. What an ass.

I wanted to laugh in front of him and make him say those words again. Then I would take that golden chance which I missed out and ask him, “WHY?” We did laugh again after that, albeit not as loud (you can’t stop people from laughing just like you can’t stop a man from thinking dirty thoughts) but he didn’t say anything. What’s wrong? Why don’t you say it and give me the chance to interact? Why?

Nobody in my near 22 years of life has ever told me not to laugh. I’ve never heard it delivered to anyone else as well. I mean, you can say, “Please be quiet” or “Please don’t make so much noise” which I would totally understand if it was said in the library but in the lab? And he said “Please don’t LAUGH” not make noise or anything, just in case you’ve forgotten. What’s your problem, man? What’s your problem?? Please don't laugh? So should I cry instead?

A confession!

I have to say this. I can’t hold it in anymore. I have a confession to make! I love someone. Who? Who? I love…

…myself.

Haha. Nah, I’m just too bored. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love myself :) I’ve been busy since the last day I blogged (can’t remember when, refer below). But it would also be unfair to say that I’m really busy. A real busy person won’t have the time to go online or do nothing at all right? Obviously, I did not spend all my time studying – yes, I’ve started studying, surprise, surprise – because if I did I would have finished whatever I was supposed to cover. So where did the rest of the time go to? Doing nothing I suppose, since I can’t recall anything. Weird, huh? Who the heck has been stealing my time??! I swear I’ll put you to the guillotine if I ever catch you.

Well this will probably be my only entry for the few weeks to come. Here goes.

The other day, I stayed back in school during a 4 hour break in between classes to study. Yes, study again. I’m trying okay! If I went home I’d probably sleep so I was trying to be productive! And then there was this guy pushing this really heavy machine behind me towards the stairs. He couldn’t lift it so it went thump, thump down the stairs. I turned and saw this other guy talking to a girl next to the staircase. They both looked at the man and what do you know, moments later they continued their conversation. And there, I was thinking, aren’t you going to help him? I thought of helping him but what can a weak, frail, girl with flabby arms like me do? Hah! Fake eh? Anyway if I were to go help, that chatting guy will surely lose face. Eh?? Now why the heck did I think of that!!!? Sometimes I just can’t believe my spontaneous thoughts.

I kept the MP4 I was listening to in my bag and was about to go help him lift the thing, whichever ugly way it may be, but his friend had already come to help. Hmm. I wish his friend didn’t come. It would definitely make me feel better to be able to help him, even if it means he might end up having his toe crushed by the machine. Selfish huh? Now, now, for those thinking that he might be cute, he’s not. He’s a god damned old man probably facing mid-life crisis or atherosclerosis. Don’t even wander there. Yuck.

I guess this marks the beginning of my little hiatus. Ok fine, so it started weeks ago. *rolls eyes*

Why it's good

Surely I have another reason to say today is better than usual. I went for squash and for the first time I felt like I was doing something right. I even got a few “Good” from the coach. He didn’t really tell us how to move or how to run or how to hold, tada tada tada so perhaps that made me perform better. Or maybe it was because I was hungry. You know, when you’re hungry you work harder. I think it’s a combination of both.

First, I’m not a robot. Things can difficult when you start telling people how they should hold the racket or how they should run to the ball and stuff. Yea sure you’re teaching us the skills to do it the right way, but it’s a bad start.

Like last week, a young guy taught us and he kept on talking and talking and talking and by the time it was my turn again I couldn’t even hit a ball. He kept talking about how you should do this and how you should do that I kinda lost control of everything. When you try to control every part according to how someone is telling you to, you miss the main point. I’m not a machine. You don’t say “First, lift your hands up 29.8 degress.” *Eeekk eek eeeekkkek* “Second, swing it downwards until it crosses over the front of your knees.” *Eekk crreeekkk craaakk ekkkekk* Read appendix 4 if you hear weird sounds. Appendix 4.3: When you hear a crreeekkk, it means you need to add oil. Instructions: Open lid, lift your hands to 45 degrees and pour oil. Don’t forget to close lid by turning it 9.7 rounds.

Get my point?

I saw him again today and I’m like, “Ughhh” He didn’t come near us though, which was good. Another thing, get a haircut. Make sure you get it from a hairstylist that has already done 196 styles on 785 heads. …. You know what, any stylist will do. The fashion of hair you’re wearing is what a 46 year old nerdy uncle would wear. It’s not gonna help you with the girls. Trust me. You’re gonna wanna thank me later.

There are of course, the not so hee hee haa haa parts of my day like how I was hungry since before squash until I got home at 9 pm and why I got home that late (because I had errands to run and everyone decided to take the same road that I did) and thus I had to just simply do an image of 3 plain people wearing crowns and not do something more elaborate. But I’m not gonna talk about them. Today is a good day.

Crying out loud in the middle of the dark place down there

Just in case you didn’t know, I went for a talk today, one which includes dinner in it. It was in g Hotel, a new hotel and I’ve never been there before. I have to say, the lobby was impressive. Since I couldn’t find any signs which could show me to the room where the talk will be held (the lobby was impressive but dark) I went up to the front desk and asked the man, “Do you know how I can get to the dinner talk by XXX?” He disappears into the back and I saw the automatic wall close behind him. Cool. Just like some secret passage. A moment later he came back and he asked me, “Are you sure it’s held in g Hotel and not Gurney Hotel? We do not have any dinner talks tonight.” Ok, right now I’m not so sure. If the front desk says they don’t have one, surely they can’t be wrong. I mean, they’re the front desk! I called my friend to confirm and to hell with the front desk, I found my own way to the room.

While the talk was going on, I was thinking about the food. No, no, I’m not saying the talk was boring. I was just hungry. And one of the three things I learned in the second half of 2007 besides being able to belch whether I like it or not and to sleep sitting up in class, was that my stomach could not resist not making noises when I was hungry. Surely I don’t want my stomach to greet everyone in the room right? So I had to think of when I can have the food. The talk? It wasn’t bad at all actually. However, what was bad was the food. It was still tolerable but I’m not going to talk about it. The broccoli was nice though.

Now, one thing that I can be sure is bad is the service. It’s by far the worse by a hotel. Not like I’ve been to that many hotels. The worse that I know of, at least. Sometimes the waiter didn’t even ask if you still wanted the food and would just grab your plate away and replace it with a new one. It didn’t happen to me, because I was only busy eating and I finished my food relatively quick, but it happened to my friend who was talking away. And they would refill your drink after every sip you take. It’s like the level of the water must not be 95.978% or less. It’s annoying! You’re like talking and he’ll come up and say, “Excuse me” and start pouring away, with his fat hands blocking you from the person you were talking to. You get the idea.

I won’t say how his sleeves were brushing against my glass when he was pouring water for the person next to me. Okay so I just said it. It’s just that I’ve been rather particular about customer services after reading the book Secret Service by John R. DiJulius. It’s an interesting read. Now I know I’ve NEVER experienced excellent customer service. Nor have I seen it. Maybe I would if I pay a thousand bucks for a dinner. But customer service shouldn’t just extend to the super rich.

Anyway have you been experiencing déjà vu lately? I don’t know why but it happened like a dozen times this week. When the waiter took the plate off the table, boom! Déjà vu. When I was driving home and I saw a man in blue riding a bike in front of my car, boom! Déjà vu. Oh and you know, the drive home was freaking long. Those dumb people decided it would be a great idea to tar the road on a Friday night and made the weekend traffic pile 4 km long. And with a bladder full of urine exceeding its limit didn’t help. To add salt to the injury, the engine vibration created resonance and the whole car was vibrating, at least I think it did, with the focal point just right below my bladder. Hallelujah.

the the the the

I’ve noticed a trend among the people I’ve recently had contact with. Hey, hey, not that kind of contact. These people have a tendency to use ‘the’ in almost all their sentences. Here I am, editing an assignment, and I can’t tell you how many ‘the-s’ that I’ve already come across. Right now I have the headache and I’m not sure the mind of mine can last any the longer. Look. That sentence sounded fake, I know. I just can't do it like them. And I can’t copy and paste it here because it’s supposed to be confidential. It is, if I wanna survive another 2 years around them unharmed. Haha. Nah, it’s not that serious. I just told joyfulchicken that I’m a nice person, so I’m going to prove it by stopping here. You guys are all the nice people and I will stop talking about the the-s in your language and the headache you’re giving me. I still suck at it.

Surely a bracing encounter

I was just going through my messy table when I noticed something which brought back some memories.

There was this time when I went to the supermarket and one of the promoters started a considerably long conversation with me. I was waiting for my friend to arrive so I took a troll around the toiletries section. This woman came up to me and started asking me to try her product. I don’t remember what it was but it was something I already had, only of a different brand. Somehow the conversation led to what I do for a living and what I study and that was when she noticed my pearl and crystal bracelet. From there the conversation carried on to her interest in crystals and she started exhibiting those of her own. Of course I don’t know anything about crystals, at least not like her, so I just answered whatever she asked with a straight face.

“Where did you buy it?” she asked.

“I didn’t buy it. It was a gift from my aunt.”

“I don’t know if they’re real crystals though,” I continued, knowing nothing about what she was going to say.

“You can’t say that! It’s a gift from someone, and you must not doubt the authenticity of it!”

I was taken aback. She continued on with her lecture and I just stood there speechless, muted, tongue-tied. I played dumb because I know there was no point to provoke her, but I must say she certainly did me, though not enough to make me smack her. So I tried to amuse that old lady and simply smiled at her every word. Thank god my friend called and I had a good excuse to leave her. Politely.

I was a bit angry I didn’t defended myself, but heck, who’s she to deserve my two cents?

Just for your information, I like the bracelet, plus the color of the crystal is yellow, which signifies wealth. I love money.

Cinderella

I had to make a ‘house’ for the monitor today, to cover it up so others cannot see it (don’t ask me why). I took the largest box from the store room which had just the right size to fit a computer monitor. But I was too stupid to realize it wasn’t deep enough before cutting the box cover off (the part that folds to close the box, if you know what I mean) So, due to my near sightedness, I had to reconnect pieces of the cardboard box which I had cut off.

Work ends at 2pm today but since I was not done with the box yet, I thought I’d stay back and finish it. It was 80% done anyway, I might as well finish it before I go. But the thing is, there’s an auntie that works the same shift as me too, who for some reason has to go back on the dot. She can’t do a little extra and yet too paiseh* to leave alone. As I cut the cardboard sheets…

Auntie: It’s time to go back, leave the rest for K (another colleague).

Me: Never mind, you go first, I want to finish this.

Auntie: *facial expression changes a little* Let me help you stick it together. *grabs scotch tape before I could do anything*

Me: Uh…okay. *puts the pieces together*

She starts sticking the cardboard together with the tape in a rather hasty way. You know, if you don’t stick the tape properly, it’ll create creases, and I hate that! I absolutely hate that! And that was exactly what she was doing in her hastiness. At that point I was starting to get annoyed already. I know you want to go back, so go back! You don’t have to help me finish my work faster so you can go back! So stop rushing me!

There was one more piece for me to cut and stick together but she quickly took one that was left over from the one previously cut.

Auntie: Nah, use this.

I took it and tried to match them.

Me: No, it doesn’t fit. I’ll have to cut another one.

Auntie: *sounding persuasive* It won’t matter la. Just stick it together. It’s OK one. *grabs scotch tape again*

Me: *throws that cardboard away* Never mind, I want to cut another one. I want it to fit nicely.

I tried to say it as nice as possible, as if I wasn’t aware that she was rushing me and that I was getting angry. My annoyance level was reaching its peak and I was trying to not show it. I then took a new cardboard and started cutting it. She stood and watched. Peer pressure! As soon as I was done cutting the thick piece of cardboard, again she tried to grab the scotch tape. But I was faster! HAHAHA! No creases this time!

After sticking it together, a customer came so I left the box for a few seconds to see if my help was needed. K got everything handled so I went back to my box. Where’s my box!? It seems that the auntie had already taken the box and put it over the monitor, and she did it the wrong way round. No! No! No! That’s not how you do it! And I’m not done with the box yet! Worst of all, she had already kept the scissors and tape I used! *annoyance level peaked* How is she so fast?!

I smiled and said nicely that she was putting it the wrong way and I’m not done with it yet and quickly grabbed the box. I continued taping the edges and K came to help as the auntie looked on. As I put the final piece of tape in its place and took it to the monitor, the boss walked past, towards the toilet. Seeing that, the auntie quickly grabbed her bag, bid goodbye, and ran off.

Ahh…My box, all done! The boss came out, and I took my stuffs, ready to go.

Me: Bye everyone!

K: Bye!

Boss: Neko ar, you’re so bad la.

Me: Huh?

Boss: You made her go back late! *starts laughing*

You see, once, this auntie abandoned whatever she was doing just like that exactly on the dot when her shift was over. She just left everything on the table and ran off. So it was funny that she couldn’t go today because the boss was there and I didn’t want to go yet too.

Boss: Next week, we can all put up an act. You stay for an extra hour and I don’t go to the toilet, see what happens!

Oh no! It’s 2 pm! My carriage is turning into a pumpkin! We gotta go~~~!!!

Footnote: *paiseh: the only word I can think of is ‘shy’ which is not right in this context. ‘Paiseh’ here means something like ‘not nice to do something~’, in this sense, it is not nice to leave alone when your colleague who works the same shift as you hasn’t left. If you know the word for it, tell me!!!

Encounters

There are all sorts of people in this world. Some weird, some nice, some kind, some weird, oh ya I mentioned that already, some mean, some really mean you’d want to slit their throat and watch the blood ooze out till it dries and lots more. Hmm…whatever I said doesn’t really have anything to do with what I’m about to say but who cares. This is partly the result of the rude fat guy which I will come to later.

Last night at about 12:20am I heard a commotion outside my apartment. I looked out the window and saw people, a lot of people! They were clad in white shirt walking down the road. Uh…walkathon? At midnight?! Nah… I told my mom and she came to look too.

Me: Hey there are so many people on the street!
Mom: Where?
Me: Huh? Where? Are you telling me I’m seeing ghosts? A lot of ghosts? *shivers* There, On the streets!
Mom: Oh, that.

Huh? That was her response? A road which is usually, correction, always deserted at night is suddenly filled with strange people in white shirt and your response is “Oh, that.”???

Then this morning we went to the sports center where there was a food fair. The fair was inside the stadium-like place which has two entrances, one leading to the ground of the stadium, the other to the top. I didn’t know the fair was at the top and I was lazy to climb up, you know me, so I thought I’d enter through the ground level entrance. Then this fat guy rudely called out, “Hoi, hoi,” and pointed to the other entrance. Excuse me, is my name Hoi? Did your mother not teach you not to call people that? Or were you raised by bears and only knows how to growl at people with your limited vocabulary of “Hoi”? Man, I swear I would have given him the homicidal stare if only my killer nerve impulses traveled any faster. Usually my reaction to this kind of people would be an innocent, blank, confused look followed by an “Oh”. And then I walk three steps and my killer instincts would only kick in but by then it would be too late for it to be cool. You don’t walk away three steps and then turn around staring at him expecting him to see that, do you? I wonder how he feels at the end of the day, after a series of incivilities. *prays* Make my face appear in his head whenever he tries to sleep tonight. Make my face appear in his head whenever he tries to sleep tonight. That should teach him not to growl at me again. Hmph!

After going around the place twice, this girl who was promoting something pops up and calls me. “Oh hie!” I said, as my head frantically tried to place her. Who the hell is this? Think, Neko, think! Pretend you know her first. Thankfully we didn’t stop to talk and just exchanged hellos and continued walking. Until now I still can’t quite place her. I tried imagining her in Form 6 school uniform but it still doesn’t seem right. Then who is she? Is she the girl who went to Form 6 and later transferred after a few weeks? I must have known her from there, there’s nowhere else I can think of.

After the food fair, we went to the supermarket to get some stuffs and I approached this man at a shop selling handicraft materials.

Me: Do you have magnetic buttons?
Man: Magnetic button? How?
Me: -_-“ A button made of magnet…?

You ask me how? How am I supposed to answer that? A round object made of silver coloured matter which exerts a magnetic field around it and is able to act as a button when a similar object exerting the opposite field is placed near it? What’s so difficult to understand? I’ve met enough people today. I’m going home.

Seafood Club

Something weird is going on in MSN. Two crazy sisters are starting this thing called the seafood club and they’re making people join. Well, the younger sister, the vice president is making people join. I’m not sure if that’s the right word. Forcing would probably fit better.

VP (I’d like to call her the crazy girl but I have a feeling she’ll kill me if she hears that word again): QUICK

VP: PICK A SEAFOOD

VP: QUICK

VP: THEY’RE RUNNING OUT

Neko: crab

VP: must put firstname “seafood” lastname (I altered that. My name is Anonymous. Haha)

Neko: yerrr…

VP: fast

VP: fast

VP: FAST

Neko: crab

VP: i choose for you

VP: abalone

Neko: ok

She ignored me twice when I said crab. Wondered why. Maybe this is another obsessive-compulsive case. She can’t stop typing. So now I’m abalone. I don’t even eat abalone. I don’t really like seafood in the first place. Anyway, abalone sounds nicer than crab. And more expensive too. I like the sound of that.

Let’s see. They now have (in the order she said it) squid, prawn, shrimp, shark, turtle, jellyfish, clam, sea cucumber, abalone, scallop, oyster, crayfish, lobster, and escargot. Notice she said squid (which is her) before the prawn (the president). Heh.

They’re lacking an eel. Nobody wants to be the eel. Why? Somebody chose to be a sea cucumber but not an eel? I’m going to laugh at the sea cucumber. Mr. Tae. HAHAHAHA!

I think I’m going to send those seafood club members who also happen to be in my MSN list this link.

You guys can tell me the privileges of joining this club. Every club has its privileges. No benefits no club. Well?

Power Puff Boys

Today I went to the branch office of the country’s main telecommunications provider to make some enquiries. I sat there with my back facing the counters while waiting for my number. Mom was looking at the people behind the counters telling me how slow they are at their work. I sat with my ass facing them for a reason. I don’t want to know how slow they are. It will just make my blood boil. And I definitely didn’t need commentaries fed into my ears either. Tick tock tick tock. My number is still not called. Only one counter is open for enquiries and that 3032 two guys there are taking forever. (I was 3036) I can’t imagine how long they might take to chat up a girl. Maybe they’ll keep on going until she gets old and her breasts sag.

That’s it! I said. I’m gonna…I’m gonna…

Just sit down and wait patiently. Hah! Were you thinking I was going to explode? Did you think that I screamed at the top of my lungs, and took home the drama queen award? Dream on. I did nothing. I’d rather take home the composure award. Patience, my friend. Patience. Did you not learn that in school?

With my butt nicely rooted to the sofa (thank god it’s cushion!) I stared out the door. A woman walks in. The middle-aged guard opens the door. He asks her what she wants. A man walks in. The middle-aged guard opens the door and asks what he wants too. Middle-aged guard finishes his shift and young, bald guard takes over. A woman walks in. Young, bald guard pretends to be blind. And mute. For the rest of his shift, use your imagination.

I continue to observe. A tall man walks in and turns to his friend. He gives the “Hey, how’s it coming?” gesture with his head. His friend flashes him his queue number. Tall Man pats his friend on the back and gives him the “Since we’ll have to wait till the next lifetime, why don’t we go out?” look. They give each other an approving nod and leave. They didn’t exactly leave actually. They simply walked out and stood by the glass door. Both start to smoke a fag. With the cigarette in his mouth, Tall Man starts mumbling to his friend. His friend, who also has a cigarette in his mouth, mumbles back. They both laugh.

Ladies and gentlemen, that was the art of puffing. Do it like the pro. Man, I wanted to say faggots with their faggotry but the definition isn’t right. I might only confuse you up with my own language. But it’s just so fitting don’t you think? Faggots smoking fags doing their faggotry speaking faganese.

Wonderful

I had to wake up before noon today, so it was probably best that I slept earlier than usual last night. Would you believe me if I told you I did?

I didn’t. I stayed up watching TV like I always do, but there was nothing interesting on. So I switched to Celestial, a channel I sorta forgot about, (but still paying for it!) and they were showing Twins Effect. There’s no reason for me to watch the movie again if not for this eye candy:

Yummy!

After watching the movie I thought I should move my ass and do something productive before going to bed. You know, make myself feel a little contented before calling it a day. I went into my room, turned on the lights, only for the lights turn off by itself. The hell…? Did the light tube just blow up? Oh no wait, it’s darker than usual. It’s very, very dark. Then it hit me. It’s an electricity cut-off! I looked out the window and the whole damned area is pitch-black, except for one idiot who was waving his high-powered flashlight at another apartment block 3 miles away. Imagine disco lights. Yea, yea, we know you have a damned flashlight. Some sicko will always do that. Some sicko who’s still awake at 3 am.

Well, there goes my plan for something productive. I only have 25% of battery life left for my laptop and I tell you, she’s one hell of a battery drainer. I’ve decided. My laptop shall be a she. I hope I remember that. Anyhow, I have to do something productive! I need to. So I carried on anyway with what’s left of the battery. And yea, that’s it. End of my story. Electricity returned, I didn’t have to sleep choking my own sweat, and yeah, that’s about it.

Of course I had a great dream, but no, it wasn’t of Edison Chen. I was vacationing with a stranger who was not strange at all in my dream. We were staying in a chalet overlooking a wonderful, wonderful blue sea. It’s really, really blue. It’s bluer than any blue sea, you feel like you want to die in it. And then there’s the wonderful cool breeze too. I lay on the wooden floor and the stranger came up and called me. I opened my eyes and there I see my mom.

“Wake up, it’s already 11:30AM.”

Wonderful.


P.S: Did you know how long it took me to get a decent photo of him? (the guy above just in case you don't remember) Long. I ended up copying one from his friendster account. And it's not those magazine cover type too. Whatever. If I go on, my tipsiness will get a better of me. I opened a bottle of red muscat I bought, which I had forgotten about and mom said she'll drink it with me. Now she says it smells too much like alcohol. :/ Great. Cheer me on while I finish a whole bottle of wine by myself. And this one incidentally can get me tipsy after only a glass.