lunar new year...

Didn't quite like my previous attempt, so I'll start again.

The Chinese must be crazy. They base their calender on lunar cycles, so it's kinda no surprise that half of us are lunatics. That said, they have pretty profitable habits, as long as you fulfill certain criteria.

Eve

As with every year, dinner at Dad's Mum's (Ah Mah's).



Then it's sitting around the idiot box for some random chatting of sorts.



Day 1

After the tea ceremony (if you really want to know what that is, Google it), we went over to Ah Mah's for lunch.



After lunch, it's over to number 27, which is down the road from Darien's. MAHJONG MANIA!!!



Tai Kow Foo, if anything else, is most certainly the voice of amusement in the family.



Day 2

Day 2, straight to number 27 for more mahjong, dinner...



...and Loh Sang!



Day 3

Spent the day hanging out with CHSers. The process by which I came to actually be an associate of sorts is kind of strange and entirely clear to myself, but meh.

After picking up Wen, headed over to Dexter's place, with PokX waiting in the Red Box.



After a whole many rounds of blackjack...



...lunch. Not bad at all, except for the prawns and mushrooms.



Usually, I don't DotA, but in this case, I thought why not, after which we had dinner in this Italian place, which Miss Eva Thong will likely review.



Back to Dex's place for a random fire play, blackjack, and back home.



Day 4

Yesterday was a bit tamer than usual. To Auntie Heng's place for mahjong (you can never have enough of this)...



...Loh Sang (again)...



...and losing to about one of the most insanely difficult methods of all.



More to come.

sniff...

Ib ondi I cud tok proberlee. Dis sdupid sduffed dose is godda kill be. Bleargh...

pain...

We just got back from Giant. Anyone who knows my brother knows he's a pretty big talker, especially for a 5 year old kid. Dad went of to the ATM for supplies, and my brother ran off after him. And, as luck would have it, he tripped, scraped some skin off his knees, and began shrieking loud enough to wake the dead. Right now, he's saying he's going to die, he's going to die, he can't move, he can't do his homework, he can't go to school tomorrow.

Incidentally, my sister had similar wounds a few weeks past, if I recall correctly. And because of his rather amusing comments about it being insanely painful and how he'd never go to Giant again, and at that never go shopping again and that somehow it was all his sister's fault, I let out an tickled laugh. At that, my dad said something about me being like that.

As I recall, I am probably the one with the highest tolerances for pain. Take for instance that particularly interesting event that happened at 14. Most of you would probably know about it already, so in summary: apendicitis, 2 weeks ruptured, normally excruciating, felt nothing. Okay, fine. Maybe that doesn't mean I stand pain better, but likely have faulty nervous connections. Doesn't matter.

Of all the interesting ways to be pained, there are two that I'm almost absolutely not likely to experience are childbirth and period cramps. Given my readership demographics, it's better if I just ask this. Is it true that period cramps can hurt like your insides trying to get out?

Sometimes, I'm really grateful that I have an extension rather than a gatehouse.

not serious...

Decided to do a guys' girls-must-have list. Not particularly good, but I'm insanely stupid at this point, so it might somewhat make sense. Meh.

1. Males are designed to notice the innate beauty in things. Did you have a problem when we ogled you?

2. Stop gushing over those "hunky actors". Brad Pitt ain't that good looking.

3. If you wore more, erm, interesting, things, we'd probably treat you more, erm, interestingly.

4. Guys forget things. Including birthdays, anniversaries, and the like. You ARE dating a guy, no?

5. We think about you a lot. Just not all the time.

6. Sometimes, we also wait for your calls.

7. Guys don't take hints that well, at that.

8. We prefer NOT to be jealous. Likewise, we'd prefer it if you wouldn't either.

9. What's so funny about a limp guy?

10. Guys have short attention spans. Be late too often and we might conveniently forget we were on a date.

11. We tend to like your eyes, just not touching them.

12. If we take longer to get ready than you do, maybe it's a sign you aren't dressing up as much as we like.

13. We laugh at all sorts of things. Including ridiculous things.

14. When you ask if that dress makes your butt look fat, what do you REALLY want to hear? Thought as much.

15. Sometimes, we just need hangout time with our friends. Just like you do with yours.

16. If you start an argument, do not be surprised if we don't say anything. The alternative is much worse.

17. Sometimes, we take preferences on Mom over you. Please try to understand.

18. If we don't reply, it doesn't mean we didn't hear you.

19. You have more than enough clothes and shoes.

20. We have an excuse for avoiding you once a month, at least.

21. We believe that you are more than capable for opening that door and lowering that toilet seat yourself.

22. We love surprises, too.

23. We like to be kissed. Period.

24. We like it if you can wake up earlier and make us breakfast. Unless you can't cook, in which case we'd rather we did the cooking.

25. Our underwear choices should not matter to you, only what's UNDER the underwear.

26. Shaving is usually a good idea. Hairy legs on a girl be scary.

27. It takes a long period of cultivation for us to get our rooms the way they are. Asking us to uproot everything for your one hour visit is a bit much.

28. Even though we avoid you during those times of the month, we care for you. It's just that we care for ourselves, too.

29. The male ego is a fragile thing. Take care of it.

30. When we say no, we usually mean no.

31. When we're in love with someone, usually the dressing does not play a significant enough part for you to be obsessed about it.

32. Guys have certain needs that you may not always be willing to fulfill.

33. Girls that you can be friends with and make love to are REALLY great.

34. Stop comparing us to your numerous ex-es.

35. We forget. Forgiveness is key to any relationship.

36. Sometimes we want more than a cuddle.

37. Guys tend to be outspoken.

38. Guy says nothing = something is wrong.

39. When we say we can't dance, we usually can't. *see 29*.

40. Just because a guy doesn't pick up on the first ring doesn't mean he wasn't waiting.

41. We don't have to spend a lot. We usually mean that more than what we spend.

42. You don't have to say anything. We know you love us.

43. If you lie to us, we won't mind. In fact, it's a perfectly valid excuse for us to start lying, too.

44. When guys get together, we have fun. Our buddies won't know anything much about you, unless it's about the sex.

Sigh. No brain mass to process this crap.

argh...

What the hell is wrong with me?!?!??!!?

dream interpretation...

I had one of the kinkiest dreams of my life last night, at least, one of the kinkiest I do remember. The details are a bit too, erm, gory, to describe in public publishing, but all that you need to know was that it was a gay orgy with very, erm, familiar, people, following up by a rather extreme bondage session.

Ever notice how real your dreams feel at the point? And in my case, at least, it always feels perfectly normal, as if you'd do it all the time in real life. Like the dream I had where I could fly. There was no questioning, like it was an expected thing. And when you wake up, it's a different thing entirely, and it's almost disappointing that it wasn't real.

Lucid dreaming, that strange ability some of us have where we can control our actions in a dream. How many of you have lucid dreams? Do you like to direct your own night action sequences, or do you normally sit and stay for a preplanned ride? With me, it almost always is a directed shot.

So all that said, ever wonder what your dreams mean, if they mean anything at all? Taking into account last night's dream, the fact that it was real as real can be, and that I could basically have decided to change the dream had I wanted to, what did last night mean? Assuming, as many psychologists do, that dreams are a manifestation of our deepest and darkest desires/fears/wants/needs/blah, that would mean I'm a closet gay, even to my own conciousness.

Aiya, dunno la. You psychology students help me la.

Okay, that done, I'll make this a nonsensically long post by doing a little something I found at the Old Jeans Depot.

In italics are my opinions on generically female opinions. Haha. Opiniated opinions.

1. Don't tell us when you think other girls are hot.
You'd rather we just ogle?

2. Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.
Depends really. I rarely keep my thoughts to myself. If you can't stand it, you'd best make sure you find someone you can.

3. If you don't act like soap-opera guys, don't expect us to dress like Victoria's Secret Models.
If we did act like soap opera guys, you'd think we wanted a fuck all the time. And if you did dress like Victoria's Secret models, we would, lolz.

4. Mark anniversaries on the calendar.
You like men ruled by a stack of papers? I thought electronics and sports kinda killed the appeal, let alone inanimate, nonresponsive objects.

5. We think about you all the time.
Then you gotta seriously either get a dog, or pick up knitting.

6. This is how we see it : Don't call = Don't care.
We see it as giving you personal space. Or we ran out of credit.

7. Which also means that if we don't call, take a hint.
Very few guys wait by the phone. Those who do are probably sexually deprived stalkers.

8. We like you to be a little jealous. But overly possessive is not necessary.
Make up your mind...

9. Being able to make us laugh is so much more important than knowing how much you can bench-press.
Being confident enough to bench press 100 allows us to make stupid nonsensical jokes.

10. We're allowed to be late. You're not.
Also the same way guys are allowed to sleep around, eh?

11. Eye contact is the key.
Yes, but eye contact with whom?

12. Don't take longer to get ready than we do.
I don't see how that's even remotely possible.

13. Laugh at our jokes.
The male sense of humour is something that most girls do NOT want to be acquainted with, believe me.

14. 3 words: honesty, honesty, honesty!
Likewise, eh?

15. Girls can be groupies. Guy groupies are stalkers.
Any guy who would go groupie is definitely suffering from a testosterone deficiency, and therefore hardly could be defined as male.

16. Do not start with us. You will not win.
Do not start with ME. Being female does NOT give you the winning edge. Mwahahaha.

17. Would you like it if a guy treated your sister that way? Didn't think so.
You really think that would make a difference?

18 If you ask nicely, we'll answer the same way.
Maybe.

19. We will never have enough clothes or shoes.
And we'll never have enough sex either.

20. We have an excuse for being bitchy at least once a month.
I suppose that's the same reason rapists can use as well...

21. Open the door for us no matter where we are.
It's a habit for me.

22. We love surprises.
Some things are best left unknown, really.

23. We like to be kissed softly. Not with an iron tongue.
Iron tongue? Sadness.

24. Pay attention to the little things we do, because they mean the most.
Subtleties only really work when the big things are flops, leh.

25. Boxers and maybe boxer briefs sometimes.Never tighty-whities!
Why not?

26. Always brush your teeth before you see us. A fresh mouth and white teeth are a neccessity.
Understood.

27. Clean your room before we come over.
My room is cleaner than most girls' leh.

28. Even though you're sometimes insensitive and hurt us, we still love you with everything we are.
Erm, okay. Now I feel like a jerk.

29. Don't act hard around your friends.
Tak faham leh.

30. Sometimes "NO" really means "NO!".
I always assume that No means No.

31. "Wife beaters" are not an adequate form of fashion.
What's a wife beater?

32. If we wanted to be on video tape, we'd be a porn star. NOT your girlfriend.
If we wanted porn stars, we'd buy video tapes.

33. Sensitive guys are great.. but crying more than we do in a movie just isn't right.
Make up your minds...

34. Don't let ex-girlfriends cause drama, relationships are stressful enough.
I thought it was more of a female field where the ex-es caused high profile soap operas?

35. It takes a special kind of stupid to forget birthdays.
Well, yes, but since I forget my own birthday as well, you can hardly expect me to remember anything else.

36. Guys who are good cuddlers = guys who know how to satisfy a woman.
Eh, oh-kay...

37. "Fat chicks" have feelings, too.
I don't stereotype leh. And your feelings are also subject to mine, as in, I think what I think, you feel what you feel.

38. Silent treatment, shoulder shrugs, tears, yelling, & nasty looks add up to = YOU DID SOMETHING WRONG.
I noticed...

39. The excuse "I can't dance" is unacceptable.We'll appreciate the simple fact that you're trying.
I CAN dance.

40. Just because a girl doesn't pick up on the first ring, doesn't mean she's not waiting by the phone.
Waiting by the phone? Why would you do that? Get the phone to wait beside you.

41. You don't have to spend a lot; if it means a lot.
Especially if you're always broke like me.

42. Don't say you love me if you don't mean it.
Then again, if we didn't say anything...

43. Don't lie to us. We will catch you.
And then?

44. When the girls get together, we talk about everything. meaning, my best friends know everything about you.
Yes, and all that stuff about penis size and what have you. Is it genetic that girls should have one shared conciousness?

I'd do my own list of girls-must-haves, but I'm really not picky. Maybe someone out there would like to take that up, eh?

tagging...

Blog tags, I think, are kind of like toe tags. Getting one is a sure sign that you have no life. This particular death herald is from Liz.

1) Write an entry of between 100-200 words, with these words have to be included once, and only once:

- I
- me
- blowjob
- grapes
- random
- power
- loneliness
- water
- robot
- blue

2) Out of the 10 words, you can only change 2 words.

I changed 'I' to 'cherries', and 'me' to 'flowering'.


3) Your essay must make some kind of sense. If it's not cool, then it won't get published.


4) Send to 5 people.

Suet.

PokX.

Suan.

Adam.

Kai.

Here we go. This is rather more explicit than others, so you know what to do.

The pastry chef had enough. This was the seventh time this week that a customer had returned the souffle. It wasn't his fault that the head waiter moaned so loudly in the broom closet during each of his daily blowjobs that the hostess was bribing him with for the dinner shift. Each time, just as the light sugary fluffiness that was the Bistro's special was perfecting, Jorge had to make this unearthly groaning and the resulting sound waves flattened the flowering dessert.

"I'm telling you, Jorge, this is the final fucking time I'm putting up with your broom closet antics. It's a good thing that you don't go down on her."

"I tell you Hans, that girl has one of the most beautiful cherries of his fine city's orchards," the sniggering head waiter, err, sniggered.

"Fucking in the staff rest room, I can take. But this random excursions to the broom closet are extremely disruptive to the dessert production. Mess it up for me one more time, and I'll see to it that the only 'cherries' you ever get in this city's 'orchards' are sour grapes."

Meanwhile, in the back alleys, Hilde and Fran were chatting over a Cuban joint.

"I tell you, Fran, that Jorge is a tiring man to please. If it wasn't that my rent was several times the GDP of a small African country, I wouldn't try to get the dinner shift so often."

"Well, dahling, at least you're seeing some action. My old man's like a robot, so there's nothing a horny bitch like me can do. Hmm, maybe I should try for the dinner shift too..."

The hostess laughed at the barmaid's comment.

"As is, ol' Jorge ain't that much of a lover. With two of us going after him, he's gonna have some real watery cum!"

Back in the Bistro, Jose, the gay Mexican waiter, was sitting around, waiting for the lunch crowd to disperse. He was flipping a wine opener in his hands, staring blankly at the plainface brick wall. Myra walked up to him.

"Why so blue, Jose?"

"Mi novio se separó conmigo..."

"Well darling, if you weren't gay, I'd go out with you."

"Sí, and if I weren't gay, I'd fuck you, too, chica."

"Hmm, yes. Well, what say you we go for supper tonight. At least something for us both to forget our loneliness with?"

"¿Cuando amigos, sí?"

"Yes, Jose," laughed the curvaceous blonde Myra.

From within, the pissed off voice of Hans echoed like a bad wind out of a bean stuffed glutton.

"Myra! Will you please get the fucking hostess and head waiter out of the fucking broom closet! Do it now or I'll get out the power sander!"

Hmm, didn't make any sense. Joda.

questions...

There is really no direction. No way to go, no obvious alignment to take.

Lost is probably the best description for the situation. I no longer know where I'm going. I no longer know where I came from. I no longer know why I'm doing anything.

Why do I bother writing if I have nothing to say? What happened to the wit that was my one redeeming grace? In gathering the bits I do not have, I have lost the defining truth that was me. The sarcastic acid response that was trademark.

Where has the nonchalant don't-give-a-flying-fuck disappeared to? How do you adjust to a situation that has always been creeping on you unconciously? Help.

I'm lost within myself. I'm not as complete as I'd be comfortable with, let alone want to be. I'm not as well put together as I'd need to be to do any much. I'm not as balanced as I'd require if I were to walk the road I find myself treading. And then I have a sort of unexplained confidence in the steps.

Is this faith? I know what I believe in. Do you?

I had this same questions one year ago.

Happy Birthday, quicksilverlining.

speech patterns...

In an imperfect world, there are always going to be things that annoy beyond all understanding. One of the most insanely frustrating are speech patterns, colloquilisms, and the what-nots.

One particular speech pattern I cannot stand is something I have to put up with everyday. It seems that my sisters really like talking in half sentences. For example: I like... Like what? Sial, bloody annoying. And another one is when they insist on using complete names for games and restaurants. Like, they can't just say that Taipan Klang Bak Kut Teh shop. They must say The Under the Klang Bridge Bak Kut Teh (there's more, but I couldn't be bothered). Yes, it's extremely important to be specific, but what the fuck, there are only so many bak kut tehs in Taipan. And it's always Manhattan Fish Market. They can't stick with the simple Manhattan. So freaking annoying...

Sometimes, my parents' speech patterns also annoy me. Now, for some reason, I can't really put my finger on what it is that's annoying, but then again, it just is. Then again, basically everyone I know is annoyed by something about their parents, even though they don't really know what.

Biologically, people are designed to be irritated by their families once they reach a certain age. Brain chemistry makes everything family members do seem extremely annoying, irrational as it is. A likely hypothesis is that it's so we move out and start our own families, sorta completing the circle. An interesting side effect to note is that even after leaving, we will still feel irritated by our parents (you can usually observe this by seeing your parents' reactions towards your grandparents). If this sounds too ridiculous to be true, just wait until you get married. Mwahahah!

I was just thinking, Kenny Sia's huge coconuts may actually be inguinal hernias.

Like, whatever...

ah...

It looks like it's Monash for me. Anyone interested in sharing a place?

Sharing beds will not be necessary.

argh...

Monosyllabic is a long word.

I'm wondering. Why is it that girls can get away with ogling other guys at say work or play, while their boyfriends must always keep their eyes only on them? Socially speaking la. Normally, I notice both parties tengok tengok kat orang lain, regardless of. And in some unusual cases, Suet and Baz, for example, both parties will take in the gorgeous chicks around them. Baz, I jeles kat you la.

Seriously, and although this is hardly an original topic, gender equality is somewhat of a misnomer, if the public understanding of the issue is to be taken as definition. One commonplace myth is that it is easier for guys to be handsome than it is for girls to be pretty. As far as I see it, thanks to those pretty boys out there that are apparently quite popular, the male definition of beauty --- smooth face, broad chest, chiseled finish --- is a bit harder to get than the female definition of curves in the right places. For us, we mostly have to work for those definitions, while you girls just keep to your diets. Of course, I could have discounted that female metabolisms tend to like fats, and that testosterone laden males do build muscle quickly, or that this is the male idea of male and female beauty and that the female ideal is more towards a perfect inside, or stuff like that. But you cannot say I'm wrong that you girls like seeing a pretty boy with a hot bod. Unless of course, erm, wait. I don't want to even think that.

I've been a bit bent out of shape recently. Like, emotionally. Assuming, of course, that the emotion, as something of a discernable shape, can be misshapen. I prefer to pronounce that is miss-happen, rather than mis-shapen. It's funnier that way, to think that it should not have happened, rather than given a bad shape.

I burned a soup. If it wasn't such a fantastically bad testimonial of my culinary proficiencies, I'd probably laugh. Then again, I know people who can burn water. That said, it wasn't my fault that there was a 1 hour jam from Sunway back to my place.

People who expouse the wonders of wearing boxers should try going without undies. It's pretty much the same effect, although getting your little friend caught in a zip is probably quite painful (yes, I know girls who wear boxers for fun too, but there is always a similar, although practically infinitely diminished, chance that you'd get caught in them).

My posts are beginning to become very themeless and nonsensical. I blame the music Darien sends me. They have no coherence whatsoever. I wonder why Asy posts his songs up. I wonder why I even bother thinking about these things.

Tomorrow's the day I find out if I'm getting into Uni Melb or not. And I'm still quite annoyed at a Leow Pok. Maner itu bowling dan yum char? Eh, Li-Ann. Can you get your brother to like go out or something? Maybe on Wednesday. So I got a reason to spend money, lolz.

"Time's fun when you're having flies." - Kermit the Frog.

friendster...

friendster is a type of hamster. The size of your friendster is determined by the number of friends you have. The amount of fur on your friendster depends on how many testimonials you get.

I have a naked mole rat.

why...

... doesn't anything interesting ever happen to me?!?!?

Okay, truth be told, having an interesting life isn't exactly something you should wish upon yourself. An ancient Chinese curse goes: may you live in eventful times.

Events of the day runs up to about waking early, winding through the intro of Trinity Blood (there's good anime for you), going through some, err, manga, then there's off to Petaling Street, walking randomly, eating (and getting fatter in the process), meeting someone, then going off to eat some more, cousins came over, hiding in my room from durian smells while cousins are still here, watching up to episode 10 of Trinity Blood, doing more, erm, manga (hmm, lots of Japanese media going on), then dinner (and fatter again), then being deliriously bored, playing Brickman's Angel Eyes, then writing this, mostly because nobody could make it to Coffee Bean. Longest sentence I've ever written. Coolio.

I'm pretty annoyed at my current social standing. Basically, I've had very little contact with any hand-picked acquaintances a.k.a. friends. It's almost like they're purposefully evading me. To say that this borders on depressing would be extremely inaccurate. I'd say more like pissing. And at the risk of sounding like an incontinent pissant (which pissant isn't?), I'd say that it seems that EVERYONE'S own lives are just a mite too important to spend like maybe an evening or so sipping expensive coffee blends and chatting, especially at a point near which I will likely not have the liberty of choosing to comunicate in person with ever again. At the risk of sounding harsh (hell, it's not a risk, it's a given), I'd say that I'll probably, now given circumstances, be glad that I wasn't important enough because it's hardly likely that I'll want to talk to them anyway. Of course, I didn't say any of that. Rather, I was on the verge of forming those thoughts when I decided that it was better to be depressed, and revert to a year old style that seemed to work well with appearances and efficiency.

It was a good thing I wasn't born royalty. The decorum and white-assed nonsense you'd need to keep your head in court is hardly going to interest me long enough to keep from passing out in boredom. In a sense I'm already bored enough that I'm writing this, although I'm sure that I'd actually HAVE a readership if I was royalty. Accounting to that, I hear that the Pope has a blog. And does the President of the Undergroud Shithead Accomodation. Of course, I suppose anyone who runs the company running subterranean hotels for shittants (I suppose the solid version of pissants) would write a blog. Who could have a more interesting life?

Ah. Manical depressed. Why the hell can't I revert back to that mode? I kind of attribute it to the strangely long lasting afterglow of a certain setting that ended some time back. Apparently, it MAY have been impactful enough to produce so permanent an effect, which is extremely strange with me. Ah. I don't really know anymore. If anything, I still write in riddles that I usually don't understand about two weeks after writing. I confuse myself.

I feel like having a good cry. Why that is so is kind of a strange thing, considering the large volumes of occular saline I've been dripping, due mostly to a particularly fucked pair of contact lenses I had the privelege to wear. Good thing they're disposable. My eyes feel a bit itchy and dry, probably resultant of all that pseudo-crying, mostly in the first 4 days of the year. So, maybe I won't cry after all. I still feel really bad over certain things past, and they emerge at random, which is quite out of place because they cause me to pause, no matter where I am. I should get my head checked.

I got the biggest hong pao I ever received from my grandmother today. Notice, this should be read: the [biggest hong pao I ever received from my grandmother] today. Meaning the biggest red packet she ever gave me. I've gotten bigger ones, but this one is still quite a whopper. Woo hoo! Xie xie ah mah! All in good timing too. I guess I should have been more of a genius more often. Ah, thank God for the little gifts like intellectual superiority. No, really. Mwahahaha!

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Let them have the earth, I want fire! Pyromania!

Meh.

new toys...

Wahey! Laptop's been here for about 2 days now. Been spending the better half of yesterday and most of today fiddling with it. My only real issue is that Generals don't seem to run on it for some reason. Gonna try installing the normal version next. Technically there is no reason why it should not work, since the specifications on that mobile marvel is above the grounded one. Also, I need to find a 30 meter LAN cable if I'm gonna stay connected in this house. Or a WiFi router. Ah.

That said, I seriously need to go on a preperatory shopping spree. Suitcases, clothes, stuff. Wonderful. Nothing to get the blood pumping like a good money spending session. If this sounds obscenely feminine, it is. But hell if I let your questioning of my sexuality stop me. Let your pervy thoughts run through your cranium. Let that little pea that would rattle in a flea's skull which runs your futile imagination proceed. I'm the one getting all the new stuff.

My grandma thinks I'm too skinny. I think I'm obscenely overweight. My pants are loose, and people are telling me I lost weight. Yeap, that clinches it. I win. Now, if this is any indicator to how the world around me revolves, I will spell it out for you. No matter how wrong I appear to be, I'm not. Mwahahaha. For instance. I'm obscenely overweight. For a 2 footer, that is.

It's a sign of sorts when even my friends start telling me I'm arrogant. Now, if I had not beforehand known it, I'd likely be shocked. Like, terribly so. But then, since I make it a public statement of sorts, can it not be that I'm actually TRYING to make people think I'm arrogant? Maybe I'm actually not, but for some convenience the likes of which I'm not telling you, I'm just making it seem like I'm so? Ever thought about that? I guessed as much. People think very little these days. So unlike me. Mwaha!

Damn, I feel like a coffee. An expensive one.

incensed...

... is just another fancy word meaning angry. So is enraged. Another more commonplace way of saying it is pissed. And I duly am, for a couple of reasons.

The staff at Malaysian fast food outlets have brought incompetence to a particularly interesting peak. I was in a nearby 24 hour rootbeer bar where I ordered a waffle. It seems that the girl had gotten my order wrong, so I pointed it out. Since she had already punched it in, it seems that it was impossible for her to correct this. Fair enough. So I suggested a solution in which they simply add on to my order, and all would be well. Or another solution, being that they refund the bill, and open a new one, since the error could be easily fixed by a simple addition of a single scoop of ice cream. But apparently, they didn't think they could do that. And strangely, they didn't have a single scoop of ice cream on their menu. Knowing the level of intelligence, or rather the infinitely superior inferiority of their processing faculties, I decided to just let them be. And that is probably one of the most blatant displays of lack of common sense I've seen in a long time. In fact, this newest display of absolute ridiculousness should logically lead to a plateau of the stupidity graph, but then again, knowing them, nothing is too impossible where preposterousness is involved. No wonder they're still working there.

That said, I will now hereby state in print that I am no longer going to take a particular blood relative of mine anywhere anymore, nor waste a single cent on that person if I can possibly help it, at least till reason aboud enough that I should change my sentiment, and her being related is not possibly good enough to warrant my forgiveness. So pestilential is the semblance of that presence that I will utterly refuse to have more to do with that person if I can possibly help it. You may say it's the age, and that I was the same at that same period. So what? I am being how I am now. If you can offer such pardons for such behaviour on account of youth, the same logic applies here. Or is the elder suppose to display such perfection and the younger gets away with every God forsaken thing? If that is so, it's rather too bad for the system. I play by rules I like. If I do not enjoy a game, I do not take part. It's quite simple.

Of course, there usually are happier things to distract from such distracting countenances. The laptop's coming tomorrow. And that alone is reason enough to ignore the overly annoying annoyances that everyday irritants somehow manage to worm under my skin time and time again. To fuck with them I say. Enough with the preciseness of words and more with the precision of sentiment.

Who am I kidding? I'm no wizard with words. And if I'm not among the best, I'd rather be nearer the bottom. If you are not king, then do not be the jester. There is honor among thieves, if someone does not steal it first. If you have to be second best, make sure it is not as a servant of another. If you must serve, make sure it is in a way that your master cannot by himself achieve. To be priceless, you must be irreplacable. You need not be impeccable if no one knows what you do. The lack of knowledge is as powerful as knowledge in itself, granted that the right people know, and do not. Then again, the threat of power in itself is.

Of the few books I have, I presume that the ones I have left are difficult to move. Chemistry is strangely stagnant this year. Perhaps it is due to the low temperatures that reaction rates are so slow. Or perhaps our test subjects are themselves lacking of wit. Pray tell, do I make myself too random?

The final day of Christmas this was, and it went out spectacularly indeed. Have a great year.

Meh.

anticipation...

A few hours away from finding out if I do land in a university at all or not. The tingling sensation of waiting to find out is extremely alien to me, in the sense that I do not normally give a rat's ass about these things, not that I'd know where to find a rat's ass, or would I touch it in the first place.

Gah. I forgot what I was going to say. That happens a lot.

Anyhoo, I should likely wake up early tomorrow, go for a long walk, get back, change, take a morning nap, then get to college for a booksale. Finally getting rid of the stuff unnecessary to me. Think I should sell my calculator too.

Laptop's coming. Finally, a computer of my own.

I must admit, these three days of being below the meteorological map has had me worried. It's not unlike that feeling I had back in the final days of being 13, what with the flickering fevers and whatnot. I was almost on the verge of taking for a fact that I was dying. Again. And the bitter irony was that I'd never see my very own, very first, computer. It's not so much the worry of anything else. So infuriating. The extremely mild fever-flu-headache-whatever still lingers somewhere, and if it flares up again, I'll seriously give myself up for loss.

I suppose the anticipation of an acceptance letter is kind of like getting ready to die. In both cases, you don't really know when it's coming, IF it's coming. And then, you can NEVER be too sure where you're going. There is no absolution. And in addition, it would be rather ironic and expensive, with no talk of return on investment at that, for my parents if I DID die now. Like, what the fuck?

Hell, it does feel like my body is shutting down. My eyes are very blurry, my throat is parched, muscle aches all over, my innards are overheating, and my thoughts are jumbled. It could just be the fever, or I could be dismatling myself. Either way, it's cool, although not so figuratively. Who ever heard of a cold fever?

I kinda miss the depressed lunacy-driven writings of the earlier days of this blog. In a way, it was fresh, and although it had less of an audience back then, I suppose it was when I was truer to my feelings, rather than the popularity hunt of most of the newer posts. Of course, fuck popularity. I have never been popular exactly, so it's strange that I should be seeking it of all times now. Mwahaha. Revelations in a fever. They always come when you least are able to take advantage of them.

Delusions, delusions. Tomorrow should prove interesting. I'll probably meet a few people I don't want to. And I might not. Or I may just hallucinate over the whole thing.

Meh.

heating up...

What a way to spend the first few days of the new year.

I think I'm running up a temperature. The sort of crusty baked feeling being a fress loaf of bread must entail has been visiting ever since this morning. Top it off with a dull headache and muscle aches all over, and you have a perfect start to a new year.

Wonderful omens, for two days in a row. Yesterday, I was running a flu. Anyone who has seen me with an upset nose knows that it's no small matter. Despite that, won a few dollars in an ancient tile chucking game. Mwahaha.

Some poor saps started 'school' today. Whatever THAT is.

Ah. Really no mood to blog. No sex drive either. How terrible.

Meh.

and so it begins...

Three hours and fourteen minutes into the new year and already I plan to make it the most fascinating I have seen thus far. Of course, new things generally are fascinating, up to a point. The year 2006 and has a few interesting things held in store for it, if planning, or prophecy, or random chance, are to be believed in. Take for example:

~Some people will actually use Latin in less literal translation. Carpe anno.

~Jin is going to Uni. Which one remains to be seen, but the all indicators are, well, indicating the University of Melbourne. Jin is secretly annoyed at a particular Piggy at not having already made a firm decision but merely hinting at his likelihood of going to a middle-of-nowhere-dead-town rather than the hip-and-happening-urban-metropolis-of-a-southerly-nature, thereby enabling Jin to save a ton on rental, and have a roomie he THINKS he'd be comfortable with. Meh.

~Jin is going to avoid engaging in any relationships of the romantic and/or sexual kinds, male and/or female. He feels that he's probably caused enough harm in this field for the time being.

~A few people are getting their driver's licenses. Finally. Now we can have those initiation rites a.k.a. chaueffeuring.

~Angpow collections will increase in this annum.

~A Third World War is predicted to begin in 2006. It is said it will be of a nuclear nature, and be over in a matter of months. Of course, the chances are that a major chunk of the planet's populace will be wiped out. As with all suggestions of a prophetic and apocalyptic scale, we take all this with a trailer full of NaCl, but keep our particle cannons charged and ready just in case.

~Adam will finally plant a garden that actually produces fruits. And one of them will be lemons.

~The stock market is going to rise in the early part of the year, with businesses confident of a year of growth, then will see a sharp downturn sometime just before August, as people realise that it probably makes sense to save up in the face of impending destruction. Stock analysts blame the weather, politicians, unverified prophecies, and cows. Somehow, the cow theory makes the most sense so far.

~Xiaxue will buy up the land titles of all Singaporean disabled people's toilets, and charge a vanity fee to use them.

~This will be a year of discovery, where scientists will finally cure AIDS and the common cold. They will find that the cause of these diseases are humans, and will obliterate the planet, and AIDS, the common cold, and practically every ailment, will be cured.

~Jin will finally have his own computer. Yay!

~There will be rain in every part of the world in which rain is currently falling.

~Jin will finally build the nerve to say something he never knew he always wanted to say to someone he never knew he always wanted to say it to. And it will likely result anticlimatically.

~Asy might finally get that mysterious [her].

~Victor will turn gay, and try to seduce Jin, who will actively, but rather unconvincingly, thwart his advances. Then again, purple pigs with gills that fly underground is also most probable in comparison.

~April will decide that lemon is best left as a bright yellow citrus fruit, rather than homoerotic fiction.

~Ksuan will finally realise that she might as well do something about that insanely ticklish fantasy of hers.

~Wingz will turn pro, then finally find another stock of Ferari laptops to sell, and Jin will this time be ready with enough dough to make that purchase.

~Evon will decide that bugs are cute, just as cute as it was fascinating hearing some stranger breath heavily during a show.

~Richard Clayderman will shave his head, and crotch, and become a gay pornstar. And his records will sell better. And he will start dressing like Elton John.

~A cousin will start college, another will learn to walk.

~Jin MIGHT get a nipple pierced.

~A pair will finally get laid and stop talking about saving it for later (but ironically not for marriage). That way, there will be more kinky stories to hear, and less maybe later talk to bear.

~Potatoes will probably be made a staple internationally. The Irish will impose a silly green hat onto everyone who does not eat potatoes. Stupid Atkins geeks.

The probability of none, some, or all, of these happening is about as known as a woman's mind is. So we should not speculate but all just assume that I'm right. That will save us a lot of time, and give me lots of credibility, thus allowing me to get a credit card.

Then, I will go out and buy a horrendously expensive and horrendously ugly pink suit, burn it in front of starving peasants, then make them eat radishes. Mwahahaha.

Happy New Year.