Should write something about Merdeka, but then everyone's probably gonna do it, so I'll just not go with the flow. To non-geeks, the title says Watermelon Shopping, but I thought it would be fun to type in numbers and symbols for a change to try and understand the way Bnet-ers think. This account is completely fictatious, of course.
Languishing at home for two months on my chair can have a weird, debilitating effect on me. My muscles atrophy, my vocabulary deteriorates, green mould like the stuff on sloths start to grow on my skin, all semblance of common sense deserts me, and my IQ deflates to that of a gnat. In a fit to reverse this, I decided to go shopping for household items, like cooking oil and toilet paper. Don't ask me why I picked household items, I told you common sense was MIA, didn't I?
After I had my shopping done in a delightfully air-conditioned supermarket, I was pushing the trolley to the cashier when I passed a vat of watermelons: green, fresh, bigger than a bowling ball and best of all, cheap, at 20 sens a kg. The weather has been unbearably hot these past few days, and the notion of cold crunchy watermelons was calling out to me like a siren. I picked up the one sitting on top of its watermelon buddies, and, staggering under the weight, dropped it onto my trolley. Right on top of the toilet rolls and, luckily, not the eggs. Whew.
Just as I was about to continue on my merry way to the cashier, I suddenly noticed that everyone in or near the Fruit and Vegetables section was looking at me. Maybe 'looking' is not the correct word to convey what happened during my time in the produce section. The shoppers were glaring at me a tad hostilely, like I've just rammed my trolley full-speed into the egg shelf, like I've just mixed the red beans with the green beans and cackled maniacally, like I've just outraged the modesty of the guy in the cute uniform who weighs the fruits.
I began to feel hot, and shifted uneasily under their stares, racking my brains to see what I'd done wrong, when it suddenly dawned on me. I had picked up a watermelon and put in my cart without holding it to my ear and knocking on it first! I had commited the Cardinal Sin of Watermelon Shopping. Shame-faced, I quietly slunk away to the cashier and paid for my goods, feeling the burning gaze of the other shoppers stabbing my back, my inexperience clearly alienating me from the superior breed of Regular Shoppers.
Suffice to say, no more trips to the outside world for me. I've decided to stay at home quietly for the rest of my break, silently nursing my fragile esteem. It seems like I can't even make a decent shopping trip. I can still hear the guffaws of my brother after narrating this upsetting experience to him.
Anyway, the whole point of this is to bring up a question that I believe plagues every water-melon shopper on the face of this planet. Heck, I don't care if it doesn't, it plagues me. Why do people absolutely have to hold a watermelon to their ears, and knock on it to hear the sound before proclaiming it satisfactory and putting it into their trolleys? What do they expect to hear, apart from the plunk sound? Do different watermelons make different plunk sounds? If so, how do I tell a good plunk sound from a bad plunk sound? Unless someone answers my questions, I'm never going watermelon shopping again. Ever.
August 30, 2004
August 28, 2004
Ekin Cheng at Atmosphere!
Last night, I spent 2 hours sitting in a dark pub being blinded by columns of mostly neon green laser lights dancing across the bowels of Atmosphere the pub. The guy/girl who controls the lights must have a very twitchy finger. Someone needs to tell him/her that lights should never blink more than twice per sec. It's a good thing I don't suffer from epilepsy, or I'd find myself jerking on the floor every 20 minutes, foaming at the mouth thrown in for good measure.
We (3 of us) sat in the pub for close to 2 hours, waiting for Ekin Cheng to arrive. 2 of us were actually there to see Chapman To, not Ekin, but as Murphy would have it, Chapman was a no-show. My ass was numb from all that waiting, but we're just lowly peons, nothing much compared to the likes of Ekin, who thought that it was completely appropriate to be late for 2 hours. Never let me hear another word about how women need 2 days advance notice before they can leave the house.
The emcee (I'm told he was Lam Tak Wing of some chinese radio station) helped relieve the boredom by hosting some games, but I'm making an educated guess that some of the contestants didn't like him a lot. It's not nice to call people fat on stage, especially when the person in question is just slightly plump. Aside from sporadic hand-clapping, we sat there in a state of suspended animation, for the better part of an hour. No one would suspect us of popping Ecstasy, that's for sure.
Anyways, my friend was aroused out of her stupor once the emcee announced the arrival of Ekin and Group, and we lost sight of her about 3 seconds before Ekin appeared on stage. FYI, we had the third table from the stage, so it was a pretty good vantage point, but she was armed with a digital camera, and needed to stand right under Ekin's nose to be able to get good shots. At least, that was we thought at first.
Murphy, great friend of mine, decided to drop by and visit us one more time that night. My fanatic friend ended up with crappy shots of Ekin cos of the distance, and when he DID manage to get closer to the crowd (standing near the edge of the stage and posing) my friend's battery died on her. Thankfully she managed to bribe another Ekin-lover to email her some pics, so I guess all was well.
After Ekin left, we split up and I went off for some supper with another group of friends. I survived a night of social activities, away from my hole, quite nicely.
Note to self, cardigan tops are not considered appropriate attire for going to pubs. Next time, try a handkerchief held together with 4 strands of floss. Iced teas of the Long Island variety taste better when the ice has melted quite a bit.
Thanks to Michelle (Miss Malaysia Tourism 2004!) for getting me the tickets. I promise I'll be more graceful the next time I'm begging for something.
We (3 of us) sat in the pub for close to 2 hours, waiting for Ekin Cheng to arrive. 2 of us were actually there to see Chapman To, not Ekin, but as Murphy would have it, Chapman was a no-show. My ass was numb from all that waiting, but we're just lowly peons, nothing much compared to the likes of Ekin, who thought that it was completely appropriate to be late for 2 hours. Never let me hear another word about how women need 2 days advance notice before they can leave the house.
The emcee (I'm told he was Lam Tak Wing of some chinese radio station) helped relieve the boredom by hosting some games, but I'm making an educated guess that some of the contestants didn't like him a lot. It's not nice to call people fat on stage, especially when the person in question is just slightly plump. Aside from sporadic hand-clapping, we sat there in a state of suspended animation, for the better part of an hour. No one would suspect us of popping Ecstasy, that's for sure.
Anyways, my friend was aroused out of her stupor once the emcee announced the arrival of Ekin and Group, and we lost sight of her about 3 seconds before Ekin appeared on stage. FYI, we had the third table from the stage, so it was a pretty good vantage point, but she was armed with a digital camera, and needed to stand right under Ekin's nose to be able to get good shots. At least, that was we thought at first.
Murphy, great friend of mine, decided to drop by and visit us one more time that night. My fanatic friend ended up with crappy shots of Ekin cos of the distance, and when he DID manage to get closer to the crowd (standing near the edge of the stage and posing) my friend's battery died on her. Thankfully she managed to bribe another Ekin-lover to email her some pics, so I guess all was well.
After Ekin left, we split up and I went off for some supper with another group of friends. I survived a night of social activities, away from my hole, quite nicely.
Note to self, cardigan tops are not considered appropriate attire for going to pubs. Next time, try a handkerchief held together with 4 strands of floss. Iced teas of the Long Island variety taste better when the ice has melted quite a bit.
Thanks to Michelle (Miss Malaysia Tourism 2004!) for getting me the tickets. I promise I'll be more graceful the next time I'm begging for something.
Post #1
First post. Should probably have tried stating something a little less obvious, but I'm still trying to figure out how to change the font to arial.
I'm forced to write a journal/diary for my assignment, and I figured that since I had to chronicle my mostly boring life, might as well try my hand at making a blog thingy. Here's to hoping this thing'll still be updated in 3 months.
Template looks kinda weird. :p
I'm forced to write a journal/diary for my assignment, and I figured that since I had to chronicle my mostly boring life, might as well try my hand at making a blog thingy. Here's to hoping this thing'll still be updated in 3 months.
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