March 31, 2005

Thief Be Gone!


Today, I lost 5 pieces of underwear in less than 10 minutes. I even lost my lucky black ones. :( The story: I was in a rush collecting the laundry and accidentally swiped the hangars with my underwear off the line, dropping them 5 storeys below. I didn't want to miss CSI, you see, but it's been a while since Murphy's been around. Of course, because my lucky black undies were in the lump, I had to go retrieve them ASAP. Muttering curses while running down the stairs, I didn't expect anything to happen to them, cos they were boring stretch cotton stuff, but when I got down there they were gone.

Bloody hamsap underwear thief. Wanna steal also pick some lacey sexy stuff to steal la. May your balls rot while still attached to your scrotum and infect your penis, thus making the act of peeing excruciatingly painful. I hope it's like passing stones through your urethra, you bastard. Maybe I should rename this post Pentagrams and Black Candles, just for a little more oomph.

So, to help me take my mind off my lucky underwear, cruelly taken from me before it's time, I decided to look at pics of underwear. Don't say anything about the way I get over stuff, it's already a given that it'll be weird-ish.

Who says you don't learn anything from Victoria's Secret catalogs? *grins* I found out that the type of underwear I like, the type that's notoriously hard to find in Jusco's underwear bin, is called a tanga.


Notes:
Underwear pics are actually from ASOS, not Victoria's Secret. The reason I didn't post any pictures is because I like most of the stuff in VS, and it'll be a waste of space to upload everything from there to Imageshack anyway.

Actually, I think I'll write another post about undies I like and undies I don't like in my next post, probably due tomorrow cos I need to sleep now.

March 30, 2005

March 29, 2005

Making up your mind

I was reading Eve's post and happily posting comments when I realised that I've identified the way I solve problems. You know the standard problem-solving procedure (no, not this one) where you have to identify the problem, set the parameters of your options, generate as many options as you can and assign weightage to the pros and cons, and then finally decide? On a sidenote, I can't believe I still remember all the Business stuff I did. :p

Well, I don't do it that way. Whenever there's something I can't solve or something that bugs me, I find out what exactly is bugging me, which usually surfaces about 10 minutes into the thinking. Immediately I'll go by instinct and limit myself to maybe 3 options, and then do the whole pro-and-con thing. It's at this stage that I'll fret and worry about the right decision and all the possible impacts, cos I'm kinda anal like that.

This stage usually lasts at least a day. Anything less and it's not really a big problem. :p After that one day I'll feel so fed-up and frustrated over the whole thing hanging over my head that I'll just wing it and do what I feel like doing.

Justification: Whatever I plan to do will not work out the way I want it to anyway, so I might as well just do something and force it into action rather than wait around and try to decide. At the time that something happens, I'll just try to be as 'sing muk' as possible, wing it and hope for the best. Actually, those 7 words pretty much sums up my life: Wing it and hope for the best. Hmm, maybe it's time for a blog-name change...

This also explains why I'm not a chess player. On the rare ocassions that I do play, the average time it takes me to make a move is 3 seconds, which would be really Grandmaster-like if I can actually manage to keep at least half of my pieces by the 13th moe. Real chess players would probably feel an insane urge to strangle me now, which is another reason to be thankful for blogs vs real-time convos.

I have a nagging feeling that this is the reason why I keep making bad decisions. Maybe I need my very own Monica (been watching the friends reruns). :D

Notes:
The reason for all this manic updatin is because I'm still evacuated from my flat, and am now stuk in my aunt's house, which is a place where Cartoon Network is on all day. I'm not exaggerating. :(

Nothing in Particular

Yesterday I hopped over to KLCC and met up with Suanie, my uber-garang PIT lecturer back in APIIT. Fortunately, I don't have to call her mam anymore, but that didn't stop me from sweating profusely and giving her a complete explanation as to why I was 10 minutes late for the appointment. Old habits die hard. :)

Actually, I'm just an extremely punctual person who's not used to being late. Hahah, ok, let's try again. Actually, I don't like waiting for people, so I try not to do it to others. -->

She was pretty cool about it, and suggested that we go for a pizza lunch. Happily, I agreed, for three reasons. One, I hate deciding what to eat and can't be happier than when someone decides for me. Two, she seemed to know what she was doing and where she was going. Three, you never disobey your uber-garang PIT lecturer Miss Suan. Sorry, old habits die hard *grins*

I'm glad to report that I was behaving myself very properly despite the swollen-beyond-all-recognition eyes, except for the incident where I spoke with my mouth full and spewed something onto her arm. Or somewhere thereabouts. Overall, I didn't embarrass myself too much, and managed to speak like a normal human being.

Over a pizza and some pretty spectacular salad, we talked about the wonderfulness of blogs (cos it brought us together) and gossiped about blogs we liked (a lot) and blogs we didn't like (quite a lot too). Because limiting our convo topics to just blogs would be something too blogger-ish to do, we also talked about family, friends and bitched about APIIT. Or rather, I bitched and she listened. :) She also gave me some very good advice, which I'm going to take after I stop being stubborn and adamant about my stupid prinsip hidups.

It was a good day.

Sidenote:
  • Apparently FootFoot loves the place but couldn't make it cos she had to work. I think Suanie said something along the lines of "Tough nuts!" which resulted in a barrage of SMS harassment. Tsk tsk.

  • Whenever the word 'lecturer' is mentioned, a vaguely vampire-ish image of a hawkish woman flashes across my mind. Never in a million years would I have expected to be willingly eating lunch with a lecturer, and enjoying the experience.

  • Family problems solved due to earthquake. Personal problems solved due to some hard thinking. I like being happy again. Moping around saps too much energy.
  • Night of Unbelievable Firsts, Part 2

    Not as enjoyable as NOUF1, but still, in the never-ending attempt to chronicle my life, I'll blog about the good and the bad.

    I was sitting in the jamban reading a book when I felt the room move. I thought, 'Oh no, I'm not gonna faint again!' and held onto the sink, ready to slide onto the floor in a practiced maneuver (Backbone Be Gone!) in order to not hit my head (again). Some people think I'm crazy enough as is, heheh. A minute later dad was banging on the door yelling at me to get the hell out because it was an earthquake. He'd already herded my mom, granma and bro out of the house onto the corridor.

    It was then that I realised I had a very slow reaction time cos the only thing running through my mind was WTF. The minute I was out of the loo WTF evaporated cos my dad grabbed my arm and left faint bruises as he practically dragged me out of the house and down the stairs.

    I also realised that I have a pretty relaxed attitude about tremors and collapsing buildings, which probably infuriated my panicked dad at the time, now that I think of it.

    Anyway, we were the first family to reach the ground floor, I think, but it didn't take long for other panicked residents to get there with us. It was then that it hit us how unprepared we were, cos everyone else took their wallets/handphones/bags with them, while my dad didn't even have a shirt on his back. We were a grand sight, dad half naked, mom was okay, granma was also okay, bro's hair was spiked at awkward angles (he has a crew cut and he sleeps weird), and me, I was braless and in fugly blue sweats.

    After about 10-20 minutes standing in the badminton court, dad decided we should pack up and leave. Incidentally, the badminton court was still in the range of my flat if it were to collapse, so I really don't see the point in rushing down the stairs like there were rabid dogs on our tail. My parents then went back upstairs to switch off various appliances and get our handphones/wallets and drove my granma to my aunt's place in Subang, while we spent the night at my maternal granma's place in Taman Pertama. Don't ask why, it's complicated.

    Spent a half hour calling and SMSing friends in Penang and around KL to see if they were okay, and checking up on my Indon friends. Phone credit habis liao, so I'll not be replying any SMSes until I can manage to raise some money to buy a reload card. Also, I want to say thanks to Angela for updating me about the earthquake while I was still clueless, and for calling to check if I was okay. Love you girl, muaks. Also, I want to mention that Jun either sleeps like a dead pig, or has her handphone switched off before 1am when she's on holiday. Both are decidedly uncool.

    When my parents got back, we had the sleeping bags rolled out and slept in the living room of my grandparent's house. Sleeping bags are surprisingly comfortable if you're the type who can go to sleep flat on your back. I can't. Also, very unfortunately for me, both my dad and my bro snores, and my mom gnaws her teeth. I was smack in the middle of the three of them. Don't ask me what I do when I'm asleep, I don't know, but I'm willing to wager that I'm the only who managed to get the normal genes in this FUBAR-ed family.

    Now I'm home again, persuading my dad that it's safe to stay here while blogging this. When I fire up PPS I'll probably see loads and loads of eathquake links, but hey, I'm nothing if not a spectacular follower. On the upside my family problems are solved and I'm perky again. On the downside (or upside, depending on your POV) my perkiness is tempered by the fact that I have had about 4 hours sleep in the past 2 days. Exam season wasn't this hectic.

    Finally, I'd like to say thanks to Bawang for abusing the comment system in the I Don't Like Whiners post. :) And I'd like to say sorry to Resurrected for going offline suddenly.

    The Firsts:
    First time I've felt tremors in a building (my first earthquake!)
    First time my dad bruised me. First time I've seen my dad this frantic.
    First time I've been out of the house bra-less.
    First time I've actually shown the world my fugly, mismatched PJs. First time I've slept in a sleeping bag.
    First time I've woken up at 7 with no place to go when I'm on a break.

    Hope everyone else is okay.

    March 28, 2005

    Fireflies

    Since Buaya's no longer around to claim the moral high ground, I think it's pretty safe to announce a hiatus. There're some family and personal problems I need to deal with, and depending on the severity it could take anywhere from 3 days to 3 weeks. Sometimes these things sort themselves out, sometimes they don't, in which case I'm expected to be the pillar of strength. Hooo! What that means is that I really don't know how long I'll be gone.

    Just a little heads up in case I disappear for a month. Then again, maybe you'll see me again tomorrow (this line is basically a repeat of the last sentence in the above paragraph). Late nights aren't good for concentration.

    By the time you reach this line, you'll probably have surmised that this is a completely pointless post when you think about it. So to be safe, I've turned off the comment thingy. If you feel the need to wish me well, harness your mental powers and channel em to me, I'll get it all.

    Unless it's within this week, I'll ping PPS when I'm back. I would also like to say thanks to everyone (especially the regulars :D) for reading, I really appreciate the support.

    March 25, 2005

    I don't like whiners

    Okay, pointless statement. No one likes whiners. Lemme rephrase that.

    I don't like whiners who whine at me.

    For some reason, people like to talk to me. I think that's because I usually mumble in reply. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I actually sympathise with you, it's just that I really don't like to talk unless it's with my best friends or my bro, so mumbling is sort of the polite way of telling you to get out of my face.

    Unfortunately, people (read: whiners who whine at me) appear to have developed a nasty habit of sustaining an entire conversation by themselves. Here's a tip, next time, talk to the wall. It'll save me a lot of grief and it'll save you a friend. Unfortunately #2, these people don't appear to take hints, so being me, I thought the direct way is the best way.

    Wrong again. After I told him to never call me again unless he had a real problem, he heeded my advice for all of 2 weeks. After that he came back to me about his stupid relationship problems, which can be easily solved if he just grows a backbone and bloody picks one guy.

    At this point, I would like to clarify that if I find out someone I know cheats/cheated on his girlfriend/her boyfriend, I immediately lose all respect for him/her. To me, respect and trust is a very important part of a relationship, any relationship, so it's kinda hard for me to be good I-tell-you-about-my-period-you-tell-me-about-your-blueballs kind of friends with someone who doesn't understand this basic rule of relationship-ology.

    If you have a problem and you wanna talk about it, that's fine. If you need help solving it, I'll suggest taking the advice of someone sane because I don't want to live with the guilt of ruining your life. If you insist on my advice, that's also fine but please sign the form absolving me of all responsibility should you become suicidal and succeed. What's NOT fine is the fact that he comes back with the same bloody problems over and over again without doing anything to make it better. It's like someone who sits underneath a dripping roof and complains that he can't sleep, but he doesn't get up the roof and patch the leak, so the water just keeps on dripping and he just keeps on whining.

    If it's something serious, like your family not accepting your orientation despite all your efforts, okay, talk about it all you want. I know it's a tough life. If you've been raped and you can't get over it, talk about it all you want. I know what it feels like, a bit. If you want to talk about two-timing your incredibly sweet boyfriend while worrying about whether your secret lover loves you for your looks or your brains, please, for love of all things green, find someone else (The wall, the wall!).

    The point is, a lot of the problems can be solved if you'll just get your lazy ass off your fucking chair and actually expend some energy to do something about it.

    You'd think this is something incredibly easy that a toddler would understand, but noooo, this guy is 23 and he's still clueless. And I thought I live a cloistered life (sadly, I do)

    Everything in life is a choice that no one made but yourself. Stuck in a dead-end job? You got yourself there, get yourself out. I don't understand why some people like to go around whining for help when they made their own decisions in the first place. The thing about decisions is that they always ALWAYS have consequences, and being a adult means dealing with the consequences of the decision that you made. It's not like someone had a gun to your head. If you fuck something up, go unfuck it. Sitting around talking about it isn't going to help.

    So don't bloody say you don't have a choice and whine and cry and say you want to die because you don't have a choice. EVERYONE has a choice. It's just that you didn't make a good one.

    Notes:
    As I type this out, I'm still on the line. I'm not the kind of person who can multitask, which explains why I don't like 69, so guess how much attention I'm paying to him. :p

    Jeez, I really need to get one of those nifty call-screening things.

    March 24, 2005

    Saffy's Arts and Crafts

    Hair product container/pencil case for JW, 2004.


    Height: about 26 cm
    Base: about 9 cm (measured from the outside)

    Materials: discarded DHL cardboard boxes for the frame, UHU gum, papier mache, normal white glue, white mural paint, orange poster colour, gold paint, de-skinned cardboard, photocopy of photograph, tea, scrunched up Ferrero Rocher gold wrapping paper, regular metal wire (tit sin), assorted glass beads, black ink pen, piece of sponge about 13 cm high and cut to fit inside the container, a pair of steady hands, intense boredom and about 3 free days.

    Cheapskate way to get out of paying for expensive birthday gifts (haircare products are not very expensive when the cost is halved *grins*).

    Keyword: try.

    Just came back from yamcha session. Things that I have been doing these few nights:
    • sleeping late
    • eating a lot of you tiao
    • drinking wine
    • sleeping late
    • shoving loads of seafood down my throat

    As a result, skin is getting a bit patchy and acne is popping up. Should cease and desist immediately before I get full-blwon pimples, cos then I will look fugly, and since I am a girl that means the end of the world for me. I never thought I'd actually get sick of seafood, but I'm getting there. :p

    After-exam resolution: try to sleep early, try to not drink, try to work out at least once a week, try to eat less meat, try to shit once a day, try to eat more fruits, try to be good.

    March 23, 2005

    "dad, is port klang in klang?"

    We were all sitting in Fara's car, all excited about our seafood dinner, when we were suddenly struck by a revelation. None of the 5 girls in the car had any idea where the heck Port Klang is.

    Hence the title of this post, an SMS sent by none other than yours truly. Yes, I realise the utter stupidity of that SMS (you can tell by this alone that I probably didn't do very good in my exams). But hey, imagine my dad's consternation when he got that from me. Actually, you don't have to, cos I'm gonna tell you.

    The moment it said "message sent", 2 seconds later I got a call from the guy who's responsible for my existence (so to the people who hate me, hate my dad instead *grins*). With the help of my superb communication skills, I managed to reassure my dad that we knew what we were doing (we didn't), confirmed that Port Klang was in Klang (double duh), and we went along our happy way.

    At this point, I would like to say that the collective knowledge level and navigational skills inside Fara's car did not increase. Because we were all young and therefore brainless, we decided to wing it and follow the signboards to Port Klang. Stop looking at me, I had nothing to do with the let's-wing-it decision whatsoever.

    Now if you're Malaysian, you will reread the second last sentence again, and you will be overcome with awe, because Malaysian signboards are hopeless. For the benefit of the filthy foreign dogs whom I hope are reading this, there is only one reason for the existence of the Malaysian Signboarding Authorities Department, and that is to make driving in Malaysia as challenging as possible to those with absolutely no knowledge of which road leads where.

    For example, imagine you're on a highway (freeway, expressway, etc) and you want to get to Banting. Obviously you can't stay on the highway forever or it'll take you to someplace completely ulu like Bukit Kayu Hitam (I paid attention in Geog *grins*). So you need to keep your eyes for big shiny blue signboards that spell out "Banting" in white letters so you know where to get off the highway. Very easy, yes? Not if the Malaysian Signboarding Authorities Department has anything to do with it!


    FIGURE 1: PINK FUGLY CAR IS DOING 60.
    The Banting signboard will be placed exactly 1 meter into the off-ramp that you're supposed to get on, so you'll see cars slamming on the brakes and leaving about an inch of rubber on the tar roads. It's still an exercise in futility because even if you're a slowpoke and drive at 60km/j, there's no way you'll be able to stop in time.

    Some things are incomprehensible to the human mind, like the utter vastness of the universe and the utter stupidity of the Malaysian Signboarding Authorities Department, so for clarity purposes I've decided to flex my MSPaint skills and show you a little drawing I made. Complaints about confusion or the suckiness of my line art will not be entertained, thank you. Please note placement of the blue square that's supposed to be a reproduction of our signboards.

    Now for point number 2, referring to the same picture (figure 1), I would like to draw your attention to the little blue square again. The names of the locations are actually nicely spaced and straight in real life, unlike the little lines on mine, so pretend it's perfect, ya? Anyway, your location is pretty hard to miss if it's the first one on the list, but again, the Malaysian Signboarding Authorities Department likes to place really obscure places on the top, like, I dunno, Kuala Krai or something, so if you want to bet on anything, you can bet that the place you want to go to is listed as item number 27 on the board. By the time you actually manage to spot it and wave excitedly, you're already well on your way to Bukit Kayu Hitam.


    FIGURE 2: TREE SEZ, "HI!".
    In the event that you DO manage to find a nice, clear, shiny signboard that's placed at a strategic location in plain view of every passing motorist, the Malaysian Signboarding Authorities Department will quickly remedy the situation by planting a fragile little sapling smack in front of it. Because we're in the tropics, trees grow at an alarming rate. Give the little sapling 3 weeks and it'll be a towering behemoth with huge wavy branches that will block the entire signboard except for Kuala Krai.

    Again, those unable to imagine the scenario can refer to Figure 2, which is essentially Figure 1 but with more oddly-shaped cars and a tree.

    I think that's enough examples for one night. So you see, driving is hopeless unless you know exactly where you want to go to. Think of it as a very sick sort of state-sanctioned punishment for not paying attention to the road when your dad was driving you to Banting, cos when you need to drive to Banting yourself, you will invariably end up somewhere far, far away. Like maybe Klang. It wouldn't surprise me at all if we ended up in Banting (because we wanted to get to Klang for seafood, remember?).

    However, don't think too harshly of the Malaysian Signboarding Authorities Department. That which does not kill you makes you stronger, they say, and in Malaysia, that which does not make you go completely bonkers and start flipping the little birdie at everyone else on the road makes you a survivor, to fight another battle another day.

    Now for the conclusion of this drawn-out post. Although we took a few wrong turns, drove on the wrong side of the road and made a few U-turns (some illegal, some not), we eventually managed to get to the place we wanted to go to, and had some pretty spectacular chili crab. We were all survivors that day. Except maybe the crabs.

    Notes:
    Malaysian Signboarding Authorities Department is not the real name of whatever department it is that supervises the manufacture and placement of signboards in Malaysia. Like I would actually do research before typing something this long, tsk.

    March 22, 2005

    Iced berries

    Over a tall glass of thick chocolate milkshake, the topic of conversation turned to inter-racial marriages. As he blew smoke rings right at my face, he told me that Ivan was getting married soon, and we were all invited to his Operation Freedom One Last Night to party.

    "To be honest, I didn't think they'd last this long," I flicked my shake-laden straw at him and managed to splatter his t-shirt. He shortens my life-span, I make him do extra laundry. It's a fair exchange.

    "Hoi! Don't la, I'm not going home this weekend," he said, as he slapped my hands lightly. "To be honest, I didn't expect him to marry her. Thought it was just one of those flings."

    "O ye of little faith..." I grinned.

    "Said the resident cynic!" He retorted.

    We went back to sipping our drinks, when suddenly he asked me if I would date a Malay guy.

    "Why not?"

    "True also, but then you dated Chai, haha."

    I narrowed my eyes at him. He never did like my ex.

    "You have a lot to say about the people I date hor? So free ah? Want to talk about Ah Bin or not?"

    Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes, and feign some nasty blubbering. I shrugged and sipped more milkshake. The thing about being with secondary school friends is that we always know where to hit where it really hurts.

    "But then hor, you'll have to wear tudung ler."

    The other thing about being with secondary school friends is that you know when to acquiesce to drastic topic changes.

    I said, "Wear what tudung? I said date, not marry."

    "But if you date then eventually you'll get married right? You girls, all one-track minds one," he said, then ducked as I flicked more milkshake at him. "Hoi!"

    "Dunno who told me I would still be a virgin at 30 one hor?"

    "Maybe you'll get married at 31," he grinned.

    "Haha, I also hope la," I smiled, "but no Malay guys, thanks."

    He raised one eyebrow, and asked, "Racist?"

    "No, I'll date but I won't marry."

    "Why?"

    "The whole convert thing la."

    "If you love him you will change for him ler."

    "I'm not gonna start liking footie just because the guy I'm with likes Man U." I stuck my tongue out before thinking.

    "Different ma, cannot compare with football. Eh, I thought you like football? Last time dunno who scream OFFSIDE!! loud loud and curse the referee one?"

    "That time betting money ma!"

    "Haha, suck la you. But really, you're not a very religious person wat, what's the problem with converting? I mean, it's not like the universe's laws are overturned if you become a Muslim right?" He blew more smoke rings, much to my disgust.

    "That's the whole point. If I'm going to convert, I want to believe then only convert. Otherwise why convert? Wasting time only, and bloody hypocritical wei."

    "Ask you marry the guy only, you think about hypocrite for what?"

    "This is called prinsip hidup la, something you don't understand one." I ducked as he flicked his pineapple juice at me.

    "Ceh, copycat. But seriously," I continued, "I don't believe in forcing people to do things that they don't want to do. I also believe that if you like someone you take them as they are." I paused here before adding succinctly, "That's why I don't ask you to stop smoking, dear."

    He chuckled, and said, "True also, but it depends la. If you're in love with him then how ler?"

    "Dunno. If you're willing then I suppose it's ok ler, but if you're not willing ler? Then compulsory conversion's a bit like emotional blackmail la. If you love me you will do this this this for me. What bullshit is that?"

    "Hooiyo, people's religion la, don't go and say bullshit."

    "I'm not knocking their religion, I don't care about what you believe in as long as you don't try to convert me. That's all. If I really believed in your god and I wanted to convert, then awal-awal I'd have converted, no need to wait till marriage. If I don't believe, then what's the point of forcing me just so you have one more ummat Islam? No point right?"

    "Love ma."

    "Eh, don't make me bring up why you went and studied in Nilai, ok?"

    With an injured look on his face, he said, "Lowblow la, Saffy."

    I laughed.

    "Eh, enough with the interrogation la. What about you? You'll marry your girl if she's Muslim?"

    "Dunno. Never thought about it."

    "I give you time to think now," I smiled sweetly as he grunted.

    "Probably ler, not a big deal. Except the bersunat part."


    At this point we talked about something else. Superb memory I have, yes? Parts of the dialogue was reconstructed cos seriously, I don't have a superb memory. We should've been talking about lightweight stuff like how much he had to spend on fixing his car after his latest accident. Instead, we went deep into prinsip hidup and stuff like that, bleah.

    This is why there should always be beer around when you're chatting. Or maybe beer wouldn't have been good in this case. He tends to want to discuss crazy physics equations when drunk. :p

    March 18, 2005

    The calm before the storm

    What's worse than painstakingly accumulating 1 million Gs in 3k amounts in FF3 just to find out that the cute little white chocobo in the Aunction House ain't for sale?

    Ans: Having a Pysch exam on Sunday. Yeah, you read that right. On a fucking Sunday, bloody hell.

    There's no better way to completely screw up my weekend, cos being me, I haven't started on anything yet, so I have 10 chapters to cover tomorrow. Hooray!

    On top of it all, it has to be Pysch. I hate pyscho-analysing people (actually I'm just really bad at it, so I pretend that I don't like to do it), and I hate having people pyscho-analysing me (they're spot-on most of the time, which makes me very uncomfortable).

    So instead, I'll continue to annoy people with my disgusting, irritating I'm-perky-always-look-on-the-bright-side attitude, and focus on the things I'll be doing at exactly 5.15pm on Sunday.
      I will be going to Port Klang with the gang for a seafood dinner, during which I will attempt to single-handedly cause the unnatural extinction of whatever species of crab we'll be ordering.

      I will go drinking with buddies and proceed to get smashed. Or I'll just drink at home if no one takes me up on that offer. Bloody spoilsports.

      I will install the Sims and play till my right hand dies of carpal tunnel. Ditto KoTOR, and any other game I haven't played up till now.

      I will go for the Haagen Daz RM33 eat-all-you-can promotion, and boy am I going to eat all I can.

      I will go on a trip with my buds from college, and proceed to flirt the balls off any guys I meet.

      I will go out and have lunch with Suanie some day, and hopefully survive the encounter.

      I will update my cache of porn.

      I will finally have time to make the belated surprise gift for my friend's birthday.

      I will rewrite Jasmine, Leelee and The House of Broken Dreams. (yes, I suck at title-ing, bite me)

      I will find suitable storage facilities to store my books that are haphazardly arranged everywhere because my mom took down 4 of my shelves.

      I will get a job, maybe in the second month of my vacation, when I really start to stink. IF the pay is right.

      I will go back to updating this blog regularly.

      I will fall in love.

    Nothing can stop me now, muahahaha.

    PS: Surprisingly, I feel so calm now I'm lazy to even start studying. Maybe focusing on imminent death (when my parents see my result slip) would be better motivation to study. Oh well, too late now. ;)

    March 16, 2005

    Late Night Cravings

    I was watching Jamie Oliver grill hunks of meat over a barbeque and got hungry. Of course, the night when I'm craving greasy meat is the night we have vegetarian porridge for dinner, yucks. Don't you just hate it when they put foodie shows when it's really late at night?

    Because I have nothing to do (I refuse to touch my Psych notes) and I'm hungry, I've decided to make a list of the stuff I'm craving right this minute. Also, it's an opportunity for you Yanks and Canucks to see what you're really missing. *grins*


    PIG'S STOMACH IN WHITE PEPPER SOUP,
    ZHU DU HU JIAO TANG
    .
    This is my favourite. I'd eat this for every meal of every day for 3 days straight (3 days is a LOT!) if I didn't have abnormally large tonsils (they get infected very easily which causes fever). As it is, whenever we go for bak kut teh dad orders a little claypot of this stuff, just for me, that no one else can touch. Not even the Oaf. Hey, get your own claypot, grrr.

    The place where I get my fix has either moved or closed shop, so it's been a while. :(


    VARIOUS PIG PARTS IN HERBAL SOUP, BAK
    KUT TEH
    .
    So far my favourite haunt is a shop on Jalan Imbi, which sells out before noon, so we have to wake up early to get the stuff, which is not a good incentive, especially on Sundays. My mom is a meat-phobe, so she just takes soup and yau char kuay, and maybe a mushroom or two. My brother goes for the 3 layer meat and maybe some ribs if he's feeling happy. Everything else in the pot is whacked by dad and myself.

    I like my bak kut teh with the whole works: chopped garlic, thick soy sauce and cili padi. Figured if I'm gonna do it I might as well do it right. Dating is completely out of the question when I'm doing bak kut teh. It ain't pretty.


    DEEP FRIED CRULLERS, YOU TIAO.
    Popularly known as yau char kuay. This stuff'll put doughnuts out of business. I get mine from a dirty little stall in Yulek, where I get my bubur chacha as well. I hate it when they over-fry the you tiao to the extent that bits of razor-sharp dough stick into the roof of my mouth, killing any pleasure of food for the next day or two. The perfect you tiao is one that's crunchy on the outside but soft and doughy in the inside.

    My record so far is eating 7 pairs at one sitting (after dinner). I would've polished off the whole plastic bagful if not for the enlarged tonsils in my throat.


    SWEET POTATO, YAMS, SAGO WITH PANDAN
    LEAVES IN COCONUT MILK, BUBUR CHA CHA
    Notice I have a little tag game going on here. :)

    The time I tried to make this, it was a colossal failure. After that debacle, I decided to just buy em from my favourite hawker stall instead of going through all that trouble again. A bad habit of mine is eating all the other-coloured yams first and leaving the purple ones behind, cos I like the purples. Yellows are ugh-est of all.

    I wanted to go on with my list, but after spending the better part of an hour looking for the bubur cha cha pic, I think I'm gonna call it a night and leave the rest for part 2.

    March 14, 2005

    Saffy's Expert Critique on Trendy Fashionistas

    I have to wake up early tomorrow (6.30 am) to make my brother's breakfast, so I figured I might as well hang out till it's dawn. To explain, I need to sleep 7 hours at a stretch or I'll be growly all day.

    My aunt had a little celebration today: her 15th wedding anniversary. I'm not going to give my very opinionated opinion about massive anniversary celebrations here (and it was MASSIVE. The entire extended clan and then some came. Even my 90+ great granpa :p). Instead, I'm going to talk about something completely girly, mundane and pointless, which is the way some people like to dress when they leave the comforts of their home.

    To illustrate, I'll quote some case studies I managed to observe during my 2-hour stay at my aunt's place.

    Auntie #1:
    Wore an animal print top. If you think that I'm being intentionally vague with the description, rest assured, it's because I really don't know what animal that top came from. It was a nightmarish amalgamation of zebra, leopard, snake and even a giraffe or two, I think. I never thought this was humanly possible, but someone just topped my fugly green shirt in the Scale of Utter Horror.

    That top itself is a travesty to good taste. As if scaring the bejesus out of kiddies with that hideous thing wasn't enough, she had to pair it with green camouflage pants. And diamante everything else, from earrings, necklace, hairclip to bracelet, anklet and heels. OMFG!! Considered poking my eyes out with the plastic fork in my hand, but then decided to stuff my face instead. Oh, the trauma.

    Auntie #2:
    Wore a black top with a huge sparkly patch in front that covered her entire chest area. Wasn't too bad, and she paired it with blue jeans, but she also wore a huge blue stone necklace with a 'centrepiece' the size of my palm, and it dangled smack in the middle of the sparkly patch.

    Okay, admittedly, that's not too bad. The purpose of this blog post is just to illustrate the utter horendousness of Auntie #1's complete lack of style.

    Yours truly wore a white ribbed tee and navy jeans, which is very casual indeedy, but hey, I don't want to stand out for the wrong reasons!

    Scribbles:
    All pics from E!

    3 Strikes

    Me, the Oaf, and my dad were walking back to SJMC after dinner. We were walking in front while dad was playing with his Pocket PC thing about 4 paces behind us.

    Oaf: Jie, got longkang. Don't step in it.

    Me: Ok, I saw it. *smile*

    Walked for 5 seconds...

    Oaf: Jie, longkang again.

    Me: Ya la, can see.

    Walked for 5 seconds...

    Oaf: Jie, longkang.

    Me: Oi, any moron can see that they actually spaced the drains out regularly here. Planned township dei. Moron in question can also predict where the next drain will be and avoid it la. You think I blind or stupid? Babi.

    Pause for 1 second.

    Oaf: Babi mia kakak.

    Me: [CAST EVIL EYE LEVEL 1]
    One step removed from you is good enough liao.

    Walk for 5 seconds.

    Oaf: Eh, belakang tu babi mia ayah.

    Me & Oaf: giggle uncontrollably while walking to hospital lobby. Dad clueless behind us.

    Oh ya, my mom confirmed dengue case. The tally so far is my granma, my bro, and now my mom. The odds of either me or my dad getting it is significantly higher already. The best news? No one came to fog our place since my granma's case. Anyway, the story about super-mutated mozzies appears to be playing out in my house. It's either that or someone has a serious grudge against our family and is exacting revenge in the sickest possible way.

    This blog is now officially renamed The Dengue Blog.

    March 13, 2005

    Humdrum day out of the roost

    Yesterday night I went yamcha with a secondary school friend. This is the guy I used to whack on the head with my uber thick Bio textbook, because he called me turkey in school. To be honest, I also called him Polar in return, cos, well, retaliation is fun. He's one of those maniac drivers you read about, the kind who hurtle through highways at speeds of up to 170km/j and the ones who don't hit the brakes when they turn a corner. Obviously, I'm taking a huge risk whenever I step into his car, but I never mention it while he's driving. You don't poke a bear when it's holding the keys to the rapidly-submerging cage that you're trapped inside, duh.

    His insanity has nothing to do with me and my bio textbook. He was just born like that.

    As I was waiting for him to get to my house, it occured to me that it was really very sweet of him to drive from Yulek (where he lives) to my place, and then back to Yulek for our drinks again. I also love him for being punctual with me after I screamed at him once for making me wait at the bus-stop. Alone. The screaming was completely justified, thank you.

    When we got out of his car, I noticed that he was wearing a t-shirt that was the exact same shade of red as the polo t I was wearing. What's more, we were both wearing the exact same bootcut jeans, and they were in the exact same shade of, uh, washed blue!

    I told him about my upcoming 3 month break and asked for suggestions on how to earn as much money as I can in the shortest time. He suggested selling beer to horny old men, which, I admit, is an idea I've also entertained before. After I agreed with him, he looked at me over his drink and said, "But I don't think you can do it lor."

    "Why wor? Doubting my sweet-talk ability meh? I know I don't talk much, but when the situation calls for it, I can one ler!"

    "No, it's not your mouth. It's your body. No tits, no hourglass figure, who want to buy from you?"

    "I got leftover kam from CNY. Maybe can put those in my bra."

    "Wah, so long liao still got kam? Your family weird one ah? I finsh one crate by myself you know? But yes, that's a good idea."

    "Sadly hor, my bra not big enough to fit a kam inside. How?"

    "You stay at home and sleep better la."

    Thanks to constant ribbing from him and a few other secondary school guy friends, I've completely gotten over the utter suckage of not having a chest. In consolation, I have legs that go on forever and pretty nice ass.

    It's funny how I never really developed any close relationships after I left secondary school. Almost every single one of the people who can really claim to know me are either related by blood or are people from my alma mater. It's hard to take things at face value now, especially after my stint at APIIT, where all manner of despicable slugs reside.

    Oh, he also suggested that I start smoking to get more friends. When smokers go on a smoke break, they have to talk in between breaths, so that's a nice little common denominator. If I didn't know him that well, I would've thought he really cared about my social life, as opposed to wanting to paw off a free stick or two if I had my own pack.

    And I found out that a friend actually went and named herself Swallow Cheong, cos her name has 'yen' in it, which means swallow (the bird) in Chinese. She's either very naive or has a wicked sense of humour, cos all that name's gonna do for her is inspire a lot of ribald ribbing.

    In the end, we caught up on a lot of stuff, including but not limited to: our schedules, the utter banality of our daily routines, the complete non-existence of anything even resembling a sex life, etc. I found out that a friend was sleeping with his neighbour because he misses his ex-gf (guy logic. I don't pretend to understand, I just nod along). He found out that some of our classmates were gay. I found out one of our classmates was rumoured to be prostituting herself. He also told me about the time he was almost raped by his big-titted colleague.

    "You'd have been lucky!" I pealed with laughter.

    I also found out that I'm one of the girls predicted to be a virgin at the age of 30. It's supposed to be some sort of pathetic label. It obviously has an effect on me. :p

    After that, a few other guys friends (all smokers) dropped by and as we sat there chatting while munching chips, it was almost like BM class again. I suppose the whole outing was worth shortening my already-very-short lifespan by about 2 years.

    Lizardus Terribelus

    I used to be the proud owner of a Nokia 8210.


    TEH RAWR! RAWR! RAWR! RAWR!
    My 8210, in the exact same shade of red as this one, was affectionately refered to as the T-Rex, lovingly by myself, scornfully by my polyphonic-MMS-Bluetooth-canggih-phone-wielding friends.

    My T-rex wasn't in as good condition as the phone pictured though. The silvery thingies by the sides of my screen were cracked, and the red edges were worn and discoloured. Being a typical girl, I also had a little pucca dollie hanging from it. Take a look at the pucca doll pictured, mine is exactly like that. Maternal granma bought it as a souvenir on her trip to Korea, and it matches my phone colour, so bleh. That was also the period in my life where everthing I owned, and I mean everything, was red. Bag = red. Phone = red. Pencil box = red. Wallet = red.


    I AM PUCCA! TOUCH ME AND DIE!
    The 8210 is a tough phone. You really wouldn't guess from its size. This lil bugger can be (accidentally) dropped, thrown (with empathic force), dunked in (toxic) toilet water, and used as a replacement for brass knuckles. That's apart from the usual phone functions of receiving calls, sending SMSes, etc. Isn't it spectacular?

    Okay, to illustrate the utter spectacularness of the T-Rex, let me recount an experience. The year I was in Form 5, we decided to do an experiment and dropped a 8210 from the third floor of our block (that's where our class rooms were) onto the tarred road below. Upon impact, it broke apart into 3 pieces: the front shell, the battery, and the back shell.

    Imagine the sight of about 10 kids of various genders in school uniforms rushing down 6 flights of stairs. Utter pandemonium, heheh. Anyway, after some hurried maneuvering, we managed to fix the phone and, with bated breaths, pressed the on-off button. Miraculously, the screen blinked to life and we heard the distinct and annoying Nokia greeting sound. Against all odds, that phone was still working! Gravity and force obviously had nothing on Nokia!

    After ooh-ing and aah-ing over the spectacularness of the model, we quickly rushed back upstairs and replaced the phone in the bag of its clueless owner, and then each and every one of us went about our business as usual.


    A few weeks ago my dad bought my brother a purple phone with flashy disco lights that's really a travesty to good taste, IMO. I said as much to my bro and almost got a black eye for that. Anyway, because my bro had a new phone, my dad pestered me to pick one as well. After much harangue-ing, my dad decided to pick the model himself, and my poor T-Rex was traded-in for the model pictured on top. Now, I am one of the masses who owns a phone with a colour screen and polyphonic ringtone. I'd like to try this model out in terms of durability, but I have a feeling it's not gonna be as tough as my Red Rex. Besides, it's in a wimpy blue and silver, blek.

    *sigh*

    I wonder where my beloved T-Rex is now...

    March 11, 2005

    Old English: lufu

    I don't know why, but "I love you" never made me grin like a cheshire cat and go weak in the knees and go all melty-like. At one point in my past relationship, I even told my ex to stop telling me that he loved me. That was back when I used to blurt things out without thinking, and I guess there's absolutely no doubt why that little relationship ended. ;p

    Never did put much stock in words, but tonight I'm going to readjust my paradigms and re-evaluate the power of words.


    GET THEM CUTE BEARS HERE.
    The thing that prompted tonight's sappy-nightmarish blog is the amazing fact that a relationship in limbo can be salvaged by just a few right words at the right time (that's the sappy part). And a teddy bear holding a red lovey heart (that's the nightmarish part). Because I'm always nice and I hope other people can benefit from my friend's bf's genius, I'll reproduce the line he fed her, verbatim.

    "You inspire me. You make me want to try and be a better person."

    Three little words, but wow, packs a punch. Of course, notice he said "try", so there's no promise, and like I said, it could be just a line, but hey, at least it's a good line. Sometimes you just have to fly blind and not be cynical and blurty.

    I think someone's happy tonight. And to fit in with the typical catty girl stereotype, I'm gonna end this by calling her a bitch.

    The bitch.

    March 09, 2005

    de-stressing

    Today, I found out how much of a klutz I was. Well ok, I already knew how much of a klutz I was, but I was reminded again today. :p I thought my SP exam was on Friday, which was correct, only it was next Friday instead of this Friday, so I find myself with an excess of 9 days between stressful exam season, and what do I do?

    I actually wanted to go out and have a drink so that I can get completely smashed and forget everything I've learned so far. Before you go and judge me, there's a reason why I want to do that. You see, I've sat for 4 subjects thus far, and I've memorised a lot of stuff I don't like, so in order to clear my head to memorise yet more stuff I don't like, I have to get drunk, hungover and recover over the weekend to start studying on Monday. Tadaa!

    Love my logic, don't ya? My science teachers used to love me for that too. :p Unfortunately hangovers aren't conducive for lunches, so instead, I blog.

    Hmm...The topics to choose from when I'm all calm and zen-like... Thought I might wanna talk about the kind of god I believe in, but that would be too philosophical for a relaxed post. Then I thought maybe I wanna talk about what Lorena Bobbitt did and how it's completely justified, but then again I don't want to deal with flames this close to my exams. So in the end, I remembered what a sort-of mentor told me when I said I wanted to be a writer. He said, "Saffy, write about something you know very well. And for the love of god don't write when you're drunk."

    Sage advice. I should have that pinned somewhere in my room so that I'll remember it.

    Anyway, I've decided to talk about how I de-stress during exam periods. Palpitating hearts and fluttery stomachs aren't good for writing clear, consice answers that will help me score a pass, so the trick is to relax.

    Last semester, I had a subject taught by a lecturer that we called the Dragon Lady. From that name alone you know she's not someone you can play play with. 15 minutes before the exam, I was walking around the corridors outside the exam venue with my brother, and singing Close To You. Very warbly, very loudly, and very very off-key.

    In retrospect it probably wasn't very de-stressing, especially if you were my brother, but at least I was doing something to distract myself from the impending doom (I scored an A, btw).

    This semester, my trick to relaxing is by understanding and accepting the fact that there's no way I can get spectacular scores, so I settled for something lower, less stressful, and altogether more healthy. So that's the answer to life. Keep your expectations low and you won't get disappointed. Tadaa!

    What an utterly useless post, eh? I have wine. *grins*

    March 08, 2005

    Filler filler filler


    circa 1998, probably done during chem class :p


    Cropped pic cos my graphics cannot exceed 400 pix if I don't wanna completely weird out the alignment of my blog. This looks fine to me, but if you're on IE you're probably screwed anyway. Just a little heads up. :)

    Click on the pretty little heads for the original image.

    This is very obviously a filler post, cos now I need to take a shower, eat my dinner and get cracking at CTR, which I haven't even touched all day. I will be doing 2 questions out of the required 3, and I will be hoping that I will somehow, by the grace of whatever it is that protects me during exam season, pass my CTR.

    I've been good, I just want a pass. It's not like I want something completely unachievable, like OMG Hugh Jackman OMG.

    March 07, 2005

    random exam update

    Today I was stuck in the exam hall for 2 hours with approximately 30+ other kids, and there was no air cond. Worse, the invigilators never thought about opening the bloody doors or something. Thank fuck I'm not claustrophobic.

    I also found out that I cannot fan myself with a piece of paper and write at the same time. So much for crowing about multitasking, bleh. I also woke up with a crick in my neck, only it was in the left portion of my back. I sleep flat on my back or I sleep face down, so how the heck I managed to sprain myself sleeping is completely beyond me. Someone help me out with this, please.

    In other news, I've recently (and by that I mean the past week or so) spent a lot of credit SMSing Jun while we're both supposed to be 'studying for exams'. Of course, sometimes she SMS to bug me about study stuff, of which I have absolutely no idea, thank you. Sometimes I SMS her and tell her it's futile to study and we should just relax and enjoy life. She told me I was very selamba about the whole exam thing.

    I've blogged about how much it sucks to want to score good results. Surprise surprise, I got my total lack of ambition back. Right now, I'm just bumming around and studying when I feel like it, and updating my blog when I'm not in the mood to analyse scholars.

    Of course, being totally realistic, I hope to get a 2.5 this semester, which would probably screw up my CGPA, but then I was never one to believe in exams anyway. Ren seng duan duan hau ji nian, don't waste it on studying.

    The Queen of Winging It is back, folks, and she's enjoying every bloody minute!

    Notes:
    The relentless spate of SMSing I've been on probably means that I will be incommunicado sometime around the April-May-Jun period. I can't top up my credit before it expires, it's this thing I have.

    March 05, 2005

    Ramblings of a sotong

    I hate people who...

    Ask stupid questions like, "Do you know you're eating a cow?" Like I'm the only idiot on the planet who doesn't know that, oh wow, beef comes from moo cows that like to chew cud when they're standing around meadows. Or your regular factory farm, whatever.

    Ask stupid questions like, "Do you know that's cig's gonna kill you?" Like I'm the only...okay, so I don't smoke. That doesn't mean I don't cringe when people assume they're the only people who know that cigarettes are bad for health. So's drinking, so's driving, so's breathing, but I don't see anyone complaining about those.


    In other news...

    Exam season. Hate scholars. Hate CTR. Wished week was over.

    Yet more news...
    Was taken to an audio company on Friday. Was also given a grand tour of the rooms they use to make movies not sound like bad porn. Naturally I wouldn't know anything about porn, bad or otherwise. A friend of The Man also explained a lot of audio-related tidbits to me and I never knew how much work went into creating one simple scene in a movie. Well, if you wanna do it right, of course.

    Went for some ice-cream. I love ice-cream, there's something about cold, sweet, creamy stuff melting in your mouth that just makes the world a prettier place. Went for a drive afterwards, exploring some places and watched a lot of scenery. Tarred roads are fine, especially if you're only clad in cheap plastic slippers, but I kinda like dead-ends more, especially if they're untarred with weeds and trees by the side. They're kinda mysterious in a way, cos you already know there's absolutely nothing when you reach the end of the road, but if you keep your eyes peeled there's bound to be some stuff along the way that makes your eyes sparkle and the whole trip'll worthwhile.

    Kinda like life.

    Went for wonderfully soft and juicy tandoori chicken. Not like the tree bark my dad bought once. :p Also went for beer later in the evening, and my magic lucky pen came to the rescue! Free beer, w00tness! Free beer always puts me in a good mood, heheh.

    Expenses were all on The Man, who has this weird thing about splitting the bill and Swiss Mushroom burgers. That day we chatted about sunsets, my parents, tentacle porn, my normal-ness, relationships, bloggers, anal sex, rainbows and stalkers. Of course, there were other stuff, but I'm blur when I'm cramming for exams, so I can't remember most of the topics right now.

    Thank god for Friday. Would definitely have not have been able to keep a sane mind today if it weren't for the relaxing bits. I hate exams. Can't wait for the end of this week before I'll be free, finally free of this stupid cannonball chained to my leg.

    Then I can play KoTOR 2 with a clear conscience.

    Scribbles:
    The people who should be named have already been named, and those who have not shall remain unnamed for the time being. God I'm horny. And that was totally random. Thanks for wading through that block of text, and g'night.

    March 03, 2005

    Something new to try out

    Because I was not doing what I'm supposed to be doing (get cracking at my books), I decided to play a game with Jun and her friend Evelyn (hi Evey!). We'll do simultaneous blogs about the same subject.

    My perfect Valentine's day


    Being that I'm only in my early 20s, I don't really know what I want. I have trouble deciding what to eat for lunch, so when I think about the 'perfect' VDay, my brain short circuits.

    (Of course, we can start by debating the existence of perfection, but that would be a kill-joy)

    Instead, I'll talk about some sweet stuff people have done for me in the past. Let's see, the sweetest thing a guy has done for me was when my brother stole a purple balloon when he attended his prom thingy a few months back. It was helium-filled, and it came with a pinkish ribbon. The oaf tied it to his wrist and walked around the fashionable part of town with the balloon bobbing around like an inflated dog, all night, until he got home and gave it to me.

    The thing that kills me is it was his prom night, he was supposed to be out having fun and kicking up some hell, and instead he saw purple floating balloons and he thought of me. How sweet is that? *melts*

    My favourite ice-cream is Coffee Crunch that comes in a gold tin. 1.9 litres, about RM19. I think they stopped making it, but it doesn't stop the oaf from searching for it whenever he's in supermarkets. I don't remind him about this, but he does it because he remembers. This from the guy who forgets to pick up his dirty clothes when he showers. :p

    I suppose what I'm trying to say is I don't want flowers and romantic dinners (ooh, especially not those) on a special day. Just sweet thoughts on normal days would suffice. Which is not to say that romantic stuff like this isn't appreciated, just don't go the whole flowers-to-the-office (assuming I have one) route.

    The end.

    Notes:
    You may think that I have an unhealthy obsession about Vday. You would be wrong.
    You may think this post reeks with heavy incestuous undertones. You would again, be wrong.
    You may think this post reads like a kindy "What do you want to be when you grow up" essay. You would be right. :)

    Perfection

    I stupidly closed my compose window earlier while typing a post, so potong stim. *grumble grumble*

    Instead, I'm going to blog about something Seanna said. She told me that my blog's alignment was off . Apparently, the pic of the fugly CNY top I posted was too big, causing the lines to go sideways. Or something like that.

    Apparently IE fucks things up, cos it looks fine to me in Opera. If you've been reading this blog pretty regularly, you'll know that fiddling with HTML doesn't really get me all excited, so I leave things as they are. It's pretty obvious that this blog isn't about flashy graphics anyway. :p

    Seanna then said I should bullet my sidebar. She has purple/pink hearts. I hate hearts. I asked her for dancing condoms, she just laughed and pretended I was making a joke. So much for bullets, heheh.

    The she told me my blog was disorganised (disorganised? My links are in alphabetical order!!) and that I should justify my text. At this point I told her, very sweetly, that I was gonna make her the topic of my blog post. This is the result. If you flip after reading this Seanna, let this be a reminder never to try and be perfect with me. :)

    March 02, 2005

    Explodes!

    I am just an ordinary person who is good in looking for excitement in this ordinary world! Blogging is my new found excitement and credit has to go to Saffy. Many people told me that I am creative, but I think my creativity only shows in my appreciation for arts. Like how I appreciate photography but it is not necessary that I take good pictures. I enojoy cooking and going for pilates classes. I have never smoke in my entire life but enjoy smoking cigar occasionally. I also like trying out new makan let it be mamak stalls or fine dining.I am blessed because I have people around me who love me dearly and that is the reason why I look forward to each brand new day!

    From Suanie's profile.

    Obviously, the most important line is the one containing my name, heheh. This is the one person I never thought I'd be sharing information about sexual preferences and manga porn with, blog celebrities notwithstanding. Reproduced in case she changes it in the future. :)

    Have no idea how long it's been there, cos I don't usually read profiles. Kinda like the way I completely ignore the links in people's siggies. *grins* It's really remarkable what a single blogpost can do in terms of ushering along serendipity. Ex-classmates still can't believe it. They now look at me with awe, something I've never managed to achieve in all my years of schooling.

    Good things come in threes, they tell me. The day I saw this, not only was I mentioned in Buaya's post, but I was mentioned in the same breath as Lilian. My life has meaning now. *grins*

    March 01, 2005

    Things to do before going to prom

    Being asked to go to prom as a date of the askee is pretty romantic, no? Unfortunately, it's not as much fun when you know you're the backup date because no one else is desperate/blind/adventurous/stupid enough to go with him. :p

    So, Some Things I Need to Do Before Going to Prom:

    One: find contact lenses


    Because girlies look better in strapless evening dresses in contact lenses than in dorky specs. Unfortunately, I look like this if I wear em for more than 4 hours. More bad news: I think my lenses have expired, cos the last time I wore em was two years ago. Dare I chance it? Cataracts are extremely gross, I'm told, but I'm too cheapskate to go get myself a new pair of lenses.

    Two: find dress
    You generally need to be clothed in order to impress people socially, unless you're built like Angelina Jolie, in which case you can parade around with nary a stitch on and people'll still cheer. Or try to stab you with their jealous death stares, whatever.

    My hottie friend with a body that makes men want to do naughty things to her has a lot of pretty gowns. Unfortunately, I'm flat as a slat and built like a boy, so none of that would fit me. I'm trying to see the logic in blowing more than RM100 on a dress I'll wear 0.8 times a year, if I'm lucky (running out of relatives to marry off), when I only spend about 40 bucks on jeans that I wear everyday.

    Nope, doesn't work out.

    Three: find make-up
    I own a tube of lip stick (expired), mascara (ditto) and a stick of colourless lip balm (hijacked by the Oaf). He's not a trannie, btw. He just has fugly chapped lips. Now I have to borrow makeup from friends because I'm not terribly partial towards my mom's blood red lipstick and auntie-style makeup. Ever notice how auntie-fied women always wear blood red lipstick? I wonder if that's a requirement to join the Almost-50 Club.

    Reminder to self: Also enlist help of erection-inspiring hottie friend in application, cos I always manage to stab myself in the eye while wielding the mascara stick.

    Maybe my mom will read the first paragraph and kill me before prom rolls around.

    Four: find shoes
    I own a pair of pale pink (now dirty-looking) running shoes that I wear everywhere, a pair of sparkly sandals that I wear whenever "formal" exists in the dress-code, and a pair of clunky man-style slippers that I wear to the pasar malam or to 2020 for my supper. (if you live in Pandan Indah you'll know where it is) I also have a pair of inch-high wedges I bought on a whim.

    Obviously none of these can be worn to prom, and it's kinda tough to find flats that flatter a prom dress. Unfortunately, I can't walk in heels. I can stand pretty spectacularly though.

    Saffron admires women who can walk in heels. Respect maut. She has even more admiration for women who can run in stilettos. Tabik hormat.

    Five: practice talking normally to complete strangers
    Easier said than done. I wish we could revert back to stone-age grunting and moaning to communicate. Less chances of committing embarrassing faux pas, eep.

    The whole point of this whole post is to play the sympathy card and ask if anyone would like to go to prom with my friend. He's pretty well-built with a head full of shaggy hair that falls into his eyes, and he's quite tall. When sober, he's also relatively intelligent and can debate chemical reactions. The downside of him being drunk is that he likes to talk about physics equations, and he drives like a maniac, drunk OR sober. Any takers? Free food and drink beckons, and I'll owe you a debt of gratitude.

    Image of the Evil Eye monster taken from DarkFallOnline.
    Was half asleep when some stupid piece of moulding char siew on a motorbike decided to rev his engine up the little hill outside my flat and woke me up. I hate being jolted out of sleep. Now I'm cranky AND hungry.

    So I got to thinking about marriage proposals ala baseball park style. The kind where they write "Will you marry me, (insert name here)?" and advertise it all over the baseball stadium and the audience enunciates "Awww" collectively and the girl says yes.

    I don't like stuff like that. The very same reason why I don't want flowers on Valentine's day. Or any other day for that matter. Sounds kinda tacky and kitschy. The prude in me doesn't like PDAs either. Real love doesn't need any advertisement.

    Friend says I make good mistress material. When I'm sober, I'm inclined to agree.

    Scribbles:
    A secondary school friend told me earlier that he reads my blog. So babe, the next time you SMS me, there will be absolutely no mention of me ending up alone, and there will be no smart comments about counting my chicks before they're hatched, or there'll be hell to pay.

    Now I have to decide whether I should trek downstairs for more burgers, or if I should just root in the fridge for some cornflakes. On second thoughts, maybe I should just curse the char siew and go back to bed.