Tuesday, May 31, 2005

The mole people

I love watching people. Maybe that's why I don't get to go out much but we're an absolutely fascinating species. Here's the latest in my string of observations as I strive to be 'edgy'.

It's summertime and although the temperature sometimes drops into the range of a warm winter's day, there's been a bit more sunshine and blue sky. Enter sunglasses and skirts.

You can almost hear the whisper of the mass donning of sunshades across London as the sun eases out from behind a cloud and everything from Guccis and Prada to Mickey Mouse get whipped out of bags and briskly pushed into place. Yes, Londoners must need those shades after living in gloom for ten months, the sunlight burns I tell you.

Then there's the skirts. I haven't seen all that much denim, I'm assuming tiny denim skirts are for winter and flouncy peasant skirts for spring. It's a melange of frills and dreamy layers walking along High Street, accompanied by Monroe-esque shocks as vagrant gusts of wind tease and torment, much to the amusement of most things male.

But what I don't really get is with the debut of pretty skirts follows the airing of some of the ugliest shoes I've ever seen. Ugg boots don't go with anything and if you're going to get so sweetly dolled up, don't put on a pair of manly hobnailed sandals that an entire cow died to make. Most importantly though, get a pedicure - nine months is pointy boots does nothing for feet.

Okay I'm done being prissy. You see, I'll pretend I know some stuff about people and kooky fashion because I know little about movies, and, as it was kindly pointed out the other day, even less about football.

Otherwise I can feel my ass expand. I've been sitting here all day playing FM. My eyes are going to fall out.

Call of the wild

I got up nice and early under the pretense of being ultra productive to squeeze in half an hour of FM and to check that my tagboard hadn't turned into a minefield over night before we had to leave for Southampton.

Unfortunately that half an hour was quickly given over to looking for my railcard (at Hsiang's) and my pen drive (also at Hsiang's) which meant I was stressing by about 9.00am in dicussion with Weng about when it would be a polite time to call and wake him (Hsiang) up.

So we made it ahead of schedule and I'm on location (for a change) in his comp lab waiting for him to track down his supervisor who seems to be fully contactable by email but seems to live in an office on the 13th floor of another dimension.

Southampton: where everybody knows everyone else and there's too much fresh air.

Ten days and counting until its back to the pigeonpooped streets of London.

Monday, May 30, 2005

You put the curl inside of my world

I get the feeling that some readers who come to this site already have it in their minds that anything I write is insulting or designed to cause offense, that they look for hidden meanings, enjoy reading between the lines, and then get all worked up about it.

I bet some people think this post is directed at them... but is it, really? Haha, how twisted. Think about that for a while.

It seems that some people also think I should stop analyzing people. What is it called, hmm, oh right, holding an opinion. So maybe I should stick to safer topics like um, movies, music, and pop culture? Maybe I should write yet another review on Return of the Sith or how hot Denise Keller is (Rudy's got total rights to that project btw). But then again, maybe someone'll read way into the post and accuse me of using Cinderella's evil stepmother as a metaphor for their own godforsaken life.

It's hard to please. No wonder Tish just goes with pictures, and Evan rhymes until you start thinking in prose too. Clever.

Sunday, May 29, 2005

Like stepping on glass

I guess everybody just got bored hanging around waiting for me to post so they started a whole new tag war without me.

James, gosh, I'm really quite flattered you read my blog. What I can't believe though is that you actually let it get to you. I won't take back what I said or apologise for it. No, wait, I'll take it back. I'll take it back for the rest of your teammates but not you, because that's exactly how you came across that day, oh, like a six year old. You just didn't understand that it's a friendly tournament, that the refs actually volunteer for the harrassment, that they aren't professional and they most definitely aren't getting paid to put up with your shit, but that's okay, there's a fine line between passion and making an ass out of yourself, and your sportmanship is definitely well known.

I have lots of friends graduating with an Arts and just as many coming out with an Eng degree. Engineers will forever poke fun at Arts students and Arts students'll have all kinds of witty retorts up their sleeves. It's harmless banter. You might think about spending more time working towards your degree than writing rebuttals to your own imagined offenses.

On holiday

Tish and I are crap at Monopoly, we can't throw dice for our lives or make bargains. We're too nice. Weng and Hsiang however kept it going well into the night after we crashed out early as they pit ego against ego, suffering so many boom and bust cycles until they were too tired to continue.

It was good seeing everyone yesterday, it's been a while. A lot of talk of summer plans and everything, I can't wait to go home. The packing's been going okay I think. I don't have a lot of stuff.

CM05 is kinda weird. I think I'd prefer FM simply for the layout because it's closer to the old CMs, but there's alot more information. I'm getting addicted again quite quickly.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

Football: Forever the beautiful game

"Football is the only game where men can act like pussies - they can hug other men, kiss other men, and touch other men's asses, and they're still heroes." - Darren Tan

I swear my heart dropped past my knees when Liverpool let 3 in. They looked like a Division 1 team as they struggled to string passes together. The white shirts were everywhere. I wouldn't have known what to say to them at half time if I had had to. Benitez is a genius.

But that's why football's so beautiful, a game where heroes are made in seconds and villains last a lifetime. Old money, new money, bad management, good management, so many human factors make it such a finely balanced game, an intricate dance that has everyone on their feet.

Truly a sport where every dog has its day, it would be horribly boring if titans stayed titans forever.

Liverpool owned the 80s and looked a spent force as Man Utd rose to the fore and took over the 90s. Arsenal flickered relatively briefly as the epitome of good football, and now it's Chelsea. Or is it? Next season'll be good, so many teams are undergoing revivals, pulling of wins worthy of the record books. I can't wait.

P.S.: The Welsh champions have offered a playoff against Liverpool for their spot in the qualifying round of the Champions league next season - watch this space.

It's a tingly feeling

I'm free, so free that it feels...wrong. Crap isn't it? Now that there's no more pressure and I have nothing that I need to do urgently, I feel like I'm missing an arm or something. But that's okay, I'm happy! Uh, maybe I need to hold a book or something. Withdrawal symptoms and all that.

Liverpool deserved every bit of that win. Who else can come from 3-0 down against Milan? Woot! I'm still reliving the rush.

I need to start packing. +sigh+

Sleeping on adrenaline

I've never known so many highs and lows in 24 hours. I'm still reeling from the three first half goals last night, still unbelieving the three second half goals we put straight back, and not understanding how on earth we won the Champions' League Final. Mg, I really hope we get to defend it next year.

I screamed my heart out last night, and funnily enough, my throat's perfect today. Maybe it really was because I haven't been using my voice much over the last couple of weeks, what with all the anti-social studying and stuff, so it felt neglected and decided to pull crap on me this week. Oh well.

I'm three hours fifteen twenty minutes away from summer. How am I supposed to sit here and cram EIC formulas and components into my head when it's on so much more important thoughts three or four light years away from books.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Wiiinniiinnggg!!!1!!

Omg, we won! We won!! We WONNN!!!!

Second half wrap up

WHALAUEH!!!!

Extra time.

It's carnage

Here's my half time talk.

It looks like Millwall vs. Arsenal, except that Millwall would've probably held their own longer than Liverpool have.

Traore sucks. Everyone steps forward, he steps back, playing Shevchenko or Crespo onside and then isn't fast enough to catch those buggers.

The Milan defence are good at dirty tugging and Baros goes down too quickly.

They might as well blindfold all their players, gift wrap the ball and present it to Milan along with the trophy.

Oh me of little faith

You're going to love this. You know why? Wait for it...wait for it...

This is where I admit that I've been wrong.

It's so easy to judge people, even people you've known forever. All it takes is a long absence and a couple of really ugly scenes, some bad gossip, and voila, a completely misguided impression.

I'd have to say that I haven't been in touch with a lot of my old friends, that we're spread too thin across this world, too far apart, in much too different courses to have reason to keep in touch.

Little did I realise that the reason you have to keep in touch is simply because they're your old friends and forever will be. Sure it might take kinda long to catch up with them coupled with the effort of many unreturned phone calls or messages, but it's worth it in the end.

And also because some things really don't change.

5.5 hours

So after I terrorized Tish into playing solitaire with me, it turned out to be a difficult lesson in crap talking and here I am riding on a wave of threats to dethrone him, sitting in my corner licking my wounds. So tapau-ed. The final score was something like 9-2. It was 8-1 for much of the time until a late surge netted me one.

I got everything else done though. Chased my money, arranged a van to take my stuff to Junlinn's on Monday, and have generally had quite a good morning. Now I need to sort out my throat.

My mummy called as well, to check up on me after Cheryl told her I told her I'd fail. I think my sister stores up these tidbits of information that would get me in trouble for when she gets in trouble, at which point she throws them at my mum to distract her.

I'm so psyched about the match. All the pre-talk is really starting to get to me and I'm tearing the net apart looking for every piece of new Liverpool news.

O2 suck

O2 owes me money. They've been owing me money for the last six months and I'm so fed up with them. They should double it AND give it back.

I've also learnt it's futile raising your voice at British helpdesk people - they don't jump and aren't as easily intimidated as the ones in KL. I've also learnt it's pointless taking down their contact details because a) you can't contact them personally because that infuriatingly cheery voice of the recorded operator doesn't ever offer you the option of dialing extension numbers, and b) they can't connect you internally because it's not under their jurisdiction. They call themselves a phone company.

Grr.

A million sighs

I woke up feeling like my the inside of my throat was a minefield of barbed wire and grit.

I'm generally happy that it's Wednesday. There's the match today, Weng's last deadline is today, and I'm one day closer to finishing my exams. Not so thrilled at the prospect of having to pack up and move by Monday though, but oh well. It looks like I'll be in Southampton a lot sooner than I thought.

Feeling like it's almost over just increases my reluctance to take out my EIC notes and get started. It took me so long to figure out what 'abscise' meant in relation to filters that when I eventually did (and Tom, the electrical engineer couldn't help me either) my brain got tired so I stopped.

My connection's still shitting on me from last night so I'm filching off the neighbour's again.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

And the egg said bugger off

What is it that suddenly makes girls click and say "Oh I can't wait to have children"? I have to say though that this applies to guys as well. Actually, I've heard more guys than girls say, "I want to have children someday" strangely enough.

But what makes them suddenly want to start this whole paternal/maternal groove? Is it the beaming smiles of young mothers walking their offspring home clothed in tiny parkas and every tinier shoes? Or the screams and giggles of children playing make believe in the garden?

I suppose guys can say it more readily than girls because they don't need to pass a watermelon though their anus. They don't ever have to know the pain. But honestly, I don't quite see the appeal in children. Little girls are sweet I guess, but little boys always smell bad, run you ragged, and demand constant attention.

I'm not saying I'll never have any, I'll eventually bow to the pressures of society and my mother and hopefully be blessed with children (2 only please), but it's not something I want with every fibre of my being. I don't want the stretch marks, having to loose the extra weight, the nausea, the swelling ankles, and feeling like a beached whale all the time, not just on fat days.

The only thing that appeals to me about having children is naming them and dressing them up. Yea I know, I should get a doll not a child. And that's true too, I can't even take care of myself much less a child. It would be cruelty to another human being.

I don't understand it, what makes girls want to have babies?

Home is where my dog is

My sister's crap at telling stories, but this is what I've got out of her so far.

My grandma, aunty, and baby cousin went up to visit them in KL for about five days or so, which means Perdy's just come off a very stressful weekend defending her territory and telling herself that we still love her. She definitely does not like Nick and when he makes a move to touch her, she'll grab his hand in a very gentle but firm bite and glare at him. Nick's quite used to being bitten, he lives with three dogs whom he irritates on a daily basis, so he just giggles and walks away (wisely, it has to be said).

Nick's well into the terribles twos or threes and he's usually quite charming but seems to think it's hilarious to hit Grandma. My dad, who's very much a silent figure when it comes to other people's kids, told Nick very sternly not to do that, at which point he shut up, ran behind the chair and hid. My aunty thought it was damn funny and said, "Uh oh Nick, red card liao!" and then Mum promptly went and swept him up in her arms effectively wiping away all trace of any kind of character building that episode instilled. I think Mum's been waiting for years to mess up someone else's children.

Then it was time to say goodbye, and Nick started crying so Mum picked him up and carried him onto the bus, at which point my dog, who was waiting in the car, started crying as well and scrabbled madly at the window whimpering for Mum. Now that Perdy no longer feels threatened by anyone, she's back to her don't-give-a-damn-sleep-all-day mode.

Anyhow, after Cheryl finished talking and I finished beating her in Solitaire, Mum came home and busted her. I thought that was pretty funny. It's so nice to have a sister to chill out with.

Over the next hilltop

I'm almost there. I can just about smell the lighter air of a long long summer holiday filled with nothing but the things I want to do.

The whirr of an electric drill melts into the high pitched whine of a child throwing a tantrum. There's been a lot of noise lately; it seems the herds of elephants grazing on the reaches of the lush savannah upstairs have been joined by the baboons, hordes of screaming chimpanzees, a basketball training session, and houseflies with megaphones.

Can you feel my creativity coming back into force? Me too. One more paper baby. One more between me and freedom. Oh sweet freedom.

Monday, May 23, 2005

The ultimate design

HSBC are to go on strike on Friday. It's really an extended holiday under the guise of industrial action I think.

"Hmm, when could we go on strike, I think we need a good strike, ah I know, there's a bank holiday this Monday so if we schedule the strike the Friday before, that gives me enough time to go to Mallorca and play 36 holes. Yea, that would work..."

Cunning.

And it wasn't death by Pringles in the end, if you were at all interested in my welfare, it was chocolate chip cookies and milk, then pringles, then strawberry laces, and then a tummy ache.

Geez

That blew.

I hate thermofluids.

Grr. Stupid creative questions. Why couldn't we just have had run of the mill ones, and why couldn't they've been the ones I studied for.

I'm so depressed and to make things worse, I have to study for the design paper tomorrow.

But first, in protest to the cruel world that sets such stupid papers, I'm going to eat myself into oblivion! Death by Pringles.

Sunday, May 22, 2005

The ship is sinking and I've got a lead belt

I swear I fell asleep once and the weekend was over just like that. I've lost my motivation to study and I think it happened on Thursday night, after the maths paper, which went 'okay' Cheryl, please let Dad know.

Anyhow, the rest of the papers are being approached in an incredibly blase manner, or so I feel, even though I get a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I look at a design paper. I just can't seem to care anymore. I'm not trying hard enough. This is unacceptable! I gotta get back in the groove...

Saturday, May 21, 2005

I want to hit something

Everybody's jumping on the bandwagon eh? Maybe except Tish who isn't writing so much as putting up pictures. Evan, we're still waiting for one.

I'm quite tired. I just watched almost three and a half hours of Eurovision and got a similarly inversely proportionate amount of studying done. I'm panicking a little now. My eyes are dry and blurry and that skanky Greecian woman won with a song that went "You're my lover under cover, you're my passion I have no other" and some seriously dodgy un-dancing.

The British commentator wasn't much more entertaining, sounding like he was talking through a vat of formaldehyde, knowing he wasn't being paid enough to talk through the painful event that is Eurovision, and dying to go home I imagine.

FA cup final and all that. Go Arsenal. I thought they were going to bring on Howard in the dying minutes of extra time to be the shot stopper in the penalty shoot out, but oh well, Carroll tried.

I think that's it for now. Monaco GP tomorrow. Don't bug me from one to three.

I swear, when I'm desperate for entertainment, no one wants to fill that role, cept Rudy whom I have to credit for his valliant effort, and whenever I'm studying for a bloody exam, everyone wants a piece.

Weng says my face and my voice get 'sharper' when I'm PMSing. The bitch commeth.

Friday, May 20, 2005

We're gonna party like its 1999

It's amazing how good Fridays feel. You never get tired of them or forget about them like all your other anniversaries, birthdays, y'know, the other important days.

This Friday is no different if even more of a welcome break from the neverending panic, and to celebrate this day, I'm not working tonight. I didn't work last night either which is probably why I pulled up short in the thermofluids exam today. Oh dear and all that, but I fully cannot be bothered any more. Too bad there's another version of that, only slightly more complicated, on Monday.

I've decided that I don't like hysterical women. Whenever the hero in the movie ups and kills somebody the lady lead screams even though she chose to get involved in the whole thing at the very beginning. I really can't stand it when they do that. Scream the first time, fine, but stand there and keep screaming while an assassin tries to kill the dark, handsome stranger you just met, not so much. If I were her I'd be on the next plane to Papua New Guinea.

I'm waiting for someone to come online and play Solitaire Showdown with me. Any takers? I'm really living it up tonight. Message me.

Wear a paper bag, dear

I was just reading about a standing panda called Futa in a Japanese Zoo - isn't it so typical of the culture to come up with such a 'kawai' stunt? - and it got to the last part where it said that Futa had a female panda mate and that hopefully they were going to have babies soon.

Which made me think about zoo breeding programs. I think they're risky but well intentioned, if zoos keep swapping animals, they'll soon be mating cousins which would severely limit the gene pool and remove all hope of ever being able to reintroduce the entire species into the wild. Your grandchildren will be able to see the great grandchildren of the animals you were introduced to as Kiki the 500-lb orangutan and Darth Maul the kite simply because if they tried to kick them outta the zoo, they'd die out.

From the animal's point of view this is where it might suck a little. I think the reason that breeding programs take so long to work is because the fe/male is probably hideous. It's like playing desert island where you're one of the last two survivors and to get some action you'd have to do the ugliest guy/girl imaginable, and s/he probably smells funny too. Can you imagine the pressure you're under to even get it going? That's cruel and you've got to be really really desperate to want to make babies, which is why it probably takes them so long to conceive.

Yes, I know I have a huge paper in a few hours. I also know nothing which leaves me in a bad state and thinking about the reproductive incentives of zoo animals.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

I feel like a dead jellyfish

I'm an emotional mess. The stress is right up there and I've been on the verge of tears all morning. The Math Paper looms like an iceberg in the mists. That 1/9th you see rising out of the even bleaker water about matches my confidence level in this subject.

So I ranted at Cheryl who wanted to talk about learning French and American Idol and called me weird before running off to watch her X-men cartoon. Mum got wind of my anxiety and called to pile on more pressure.

"You're not confident? You don't know how to do it?! What have you been learning all year then?!" she asked rhetorically, which was strangely what I needed.

It's almost routine, come exams, she'll ask completely irrelevant questions. She's been doing it to me my whole life so maybe I needed the sense of normalcy (which is purely relative) to shore up my extremely fragile psyche. Then she laughed, I laughed nervously and things were okay for a bit. Hung up, and I was still on the verge of tears but only because of homesickness. I'm a wreck and I have a craving for deep fried wan tan.

I need a Babel fish, ideally

Here's a question. I get to choose some electives next year right. This has me over the moon because language is as far away from numbers as you can possibly get in this course. So here are my choices:
  1. Italian
  2. Spanish
  3. Russian
  4. Japanese
  5. Mandarin
If anyone has had any experience learning these at a very basic level, please let me know which one you enjoyed learning. And Tom, don't say Italian, we've already had this conversation and established your biasness. kthxbai.

It's all in the matrix

So here we are, or rather here I am, because I can only think of five other people it may apply to, four and a half hours from The Maths Paper. Yes, that one. I know I can't bullshit my way through even thought I may need to.

Oh how I envy those who can line up the numbers and make them jump through flaming hoops of death 24-storeys high. +Whoop-pah+ I swear they sit there on my pieces of paper and laugh at me. Numbers are such a natural part of this world that, being human and all, I've come to detest things that natural. Give me my computer and I don't wanna know how it got here.

Other things that come under that category of Too Natural are insects that burrow under your skin and uh, horror movies. Worse still, horror movies featuring insects that burrow under your skin. Ew.

Okay, I should stop wasting time +hur hur+ and really get down to some studying so I stand half a chance in this. You know what subject I'm not doing next year.

And goodluck to my brother who's also sitting for his math IGCSEs. I'd much rather do his paper.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

The heavens celebrate!

Oh, should mine ears not deceive me, for we have a star in our midst! A rising star!
What thinkest thou, 'ishen? Never did I think that the most revered Evan would grace mine iTunes playlist with his very name! And oh what a name! And oh what lyrics! And oh what mastery of the musical art! (now with extended chording)

Perchance I could impose upon thee to forward some more aural tidbits?

Midnight oil

This is pretty late for me. You should take seven hours off the post time because I haven't been bothered to change the clock yet. I got hungry because I ate dinner too early because I was really bored.

Rudy, you over explain everything, but that's okay, you're really pedantic, is all. And don't try to talk Cockney anymore okay? You stick to your Malaysian.

Suren, when Rudy talks to me about you, you sound like that pig in Sinfest. You can hit him now.

And I <3 'Zeke!!1!

And Hsiang, don't worry, a lot of us are far from together at this point in time and I constantly flip out at fact that I'm really starting to need a five year plan, but mostly I'm hoping Weng has his five year plan. Hehe. And I flip out a lot anyway. Okay, I'm probably not in the best position to reassure you.

I need to get some solid math-ing done tomorrow and this is so not the way to do it, but that's okay, I'm sure I'll wake up when my entire street does. London is punshing me for calling this place a city of slackers, everyone feels the need to drill, spin their washing machines, hammer, and attempt to park trucks right outside my window at 8.37am, and damn the sun that rises two hours before that!

I'd wear blinkers and ear-plugs if it weren't for the monsters and the fact that they're grossly uncomfortable.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Me: In Pictures #2

Me: In Pictures #1

Scandalous

Weng doesn't use a touchpad anymore! I just found out! But that's okay, I still win +winkwink+

Which means, Tish, he's worse than I am.

The low down on the slow down

Oh yes, you knew it before you even started reading, didn't you? I'm at the height of corniness today, which Weng seems to find ultra-amusing (Bless 'im, he laughs at everything I say, makes me feel special).

I'm so bored and studying's the last thing I want to do. No really, there are some days that the primal geek in me takes over and I really want to study. Today's paper was okay, it wasn't as traumatising as yesterday's, but I refuse to say more in fear of jinxing it.

Thursday sees the arrival of the dreaded math paper. Math is intimidating; I blame the fact that I wasn't bred in Singapore for this deepseated fear. It doesn't come second hand to me at all, or third hand or even fourth for that matter. And it's worth a whole damn unit. That's like a lot.

I've finished reading Sinfest, and credit to the cartoonist, the existing archives sustained me a little longer than PvP did. I've also started Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and I'm trying to savour it - I'm actually reading every single word, and saving it for when I think I really deserve a break, but the pages are flying by too. (Can you tell I'm very much a work-and-reward type child?)

I told my mum the other day that I was so sick of studying. She didn't react quite the way I expected with a barrage of "We're investing half a million in you!" but it was more like "Oh dear, so how, you have two more years you know". I don't really know what to read into that, but I felt bad anyway and corrected it by saying, "I mean sick of these exams".

We've started leaving little notes in the kitchen with instructions for certain basic chores. It wasn't my idea, honest.

Um, I'm almost embarrassed to say that that's been the most exciting bits of my week so far. Oh, that and having found a Solitaire-Showdow-touchpad-playing buddy in Weng. He says it's to even it up a little. He's pushing my win percentage. Hehe.

Monday, May 16, 2005

Of things to come

People who don't blog usually don't realise the daily struggle people who do blog have to go through with what they choose to put on their websites for public scrutiny. It's quite often the case of a toss up between keeping the blog interesting and lively and crossing the line and saying too much.

I've been warned so many times to be careful of what I write, that people who get offended tend to stay offended, and like I say so many times myself, people only remember the bad things, which is why the good things have to be truly great.

(Let's sit back and let that soak in for a while - me coming up with impressive sayings happens about as often as Liverpool winning the Champions League.)

Okay, moment over.

I actually enjoy this moral debate. Sometimes I relax my hold and write politically incorrect articles that take stabs at certain groups of people specifically to provoke a reaction although the stabs are nothing but some fancy wielding of a spoon, and the reactions are only from bored, angry people. Sometimes I don't even have to do that and I get a reaction anyway.

That's what writing's all about though, it's the feedback and the knowledge that people are actually interested in what you have to say. So expect more mild toeing of the line in as soon as my exams are over. Things are bound to get a little hotter when I get freer. +Phwoar+

Entertainment's new low

This is supposed to be fun? I love After Eights but their marketing department needs help. Or they should've written "1. Drink eight shots of tequila and then put mint on your forehead".

Badly shaken but looking forward

I'm still reeling. There's only one way to describe the trauma we were just put through:

"I wanted to cry and give up after the first hour" - Godwin

Can you believe Godwin said that? Lester was happily fatalistic. Think about how the rest of us feel. That's right. Relieved. I thought the paper royally sucked but hey, everyone else came out cursing and swearing so that's fine by me. I'll leave it up to the forces of moderation to come up with a grade. Considering the fact that the person setting the paper got some of the questions wrong, I'm surprised we managed to finish at all. Although finish is used broadly in the sense that I tried very hard.

I'm hungry.

Thanks for the panic tip Hsiang, I definitely felt like that during the exam. I shall put it to good use tomorrow.

Evan, thanks for the good luck and don't worry about the foreign chick, it might be better that she doesn't understand you actually. Kd.

And Weng hunny, we gotta pray harder! Muaxx

Sunday, May 15, 2005

A quick word

And so it begins.

I don't know whether to start panicking (that never accomplishes anything) or take it all in stride and be calm (like I am now, not accomplishing anything either). But maybe I'm too calm, too laid back, and I'm going to flunk because I'm not panicking enough. EEEeaaaaeeeggghhh.

And my connection keeps dying.

I could think of a whole lot of things I should be doing now, but obviously I'm not being as productive as I should be. Time between papers is scarce. A precious resource that I'll have to delicately share between cramming for the next one and getting over the last one.

I think I'll start panicking now then. Later days.

Saturday, May 14, 2005

Owed

Gosh, two days to certain death and I feel amazingly balanced. I think I've broken right past the panic threshold and into dead calm. Dead. Calm.

Here's something to think about. When you're walking down the street and you see an acquaintance coming towards you, what do you do? It doesn't count crossing to the other side because you know them but don't like them. I mean what do you say? Do you acknowledge each other with a curt nod and a 'Hi', or do you stop in the street and strike up a conversation.

I never know what to do, worse still when you see them coming from a block away and have enough time to establish eye contact and rack your brains for something nice to say. How do you know if they're too busy to talk but nice enough to stop and put up with you for a bit? Or how do you know that they really want to talk to you because they haven't seen you in a while?

Or how do you prevent yourself from looking like a groupie, creeping them out, and going "Hi!!! How are you!!!", putting yourself out there with all those exclamation marks. It's a real problem that's had me going "Oh mg, what did I just do..." because I get absolutely thrilled seeing people I know on the street and saying hi, but it's hard to know when to stop the conversation, or even if you should start one, or whether it's really obvious that you haven't had much human contact lately.

Tough one.

This is no where near my usual level of eloquence because I'm struggling to memorise pages and pages of creep stuff and crack growth.

Friday, May 13, 2005

It's like fish and biscuits

One of the things that guys say that really bug me apart from "Hey gurl" is "She's outta my league". Enter: 84% of the male population (and Rudy, the last male to utter that phrase).

Exactly what is "She's outta my league" supposed to mean? How can anyone be out of your league, we're all living breathing humans, we all have likes, dislikes, and a sex drive. If you and her share the same interests and, if given the chance, form an emotional connection like Calvin and Hobbes or Slick and Monique (Sinfest is featuring large in my life at the moment), then you're set; you and her probably just move in different circles and therefore haven't met i.e. been given the chance.

Key word here: Chance. So don't ever say "she's out of my league". Unless she's Denise Keller and your mum makes you wear a paper bag to school. Hey who knows, that could just do it for her.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

The eye of the hurricane

The anticipation is killing me, as well as knowing that I'm not going to be any more prepared for these exams come Monday as I am today. Okay, maybe a little, but it's going to be way way way offset by the anxiety that's starting to set in.

I'm freakishly calm right now, missing the sense of panic that's been hovering over my shoulder, or maybe I'm just tired. I'm less stressed about the exams this year than I was last year, it's almost fatalistic. Metaphorically though, it's been raining heavily, we'll just have to see if my dam of lollipopsticks is going to hold up.

Weng's under a different kind of pressure, the group leader kind of pressure when everyone else is more or less happy to write their part and hand it off, leaving it up to you to compile, proof read, and submit the final report.

Iceland sounds incredible. I envy the one who's going whale watching +sigh+ what a treat! It was nice to break from studying and talk to a physical kind of someone, not to an electronic someone miles and miles away.

Did you know: After about six years, one tenth of the weight of your pillow is made up of mites, mite dung, and dead skin cells. A short history of everything satisfies the geek in me like a cosy duvet, a mug of hotchocolate with marshmallows, and poker.

From sports

Mavs have beat Phoenix at home to tie the series at 1-1!! Nash may have the silverware but we have the game.

Man Utd. got crushed by Chelsea 3-1!! (We beat them)

Arsenal opened a can of whoopass on Everyton, 7-0!! That's not football, that's like hockey or something. Best team in Liverpool my ass.

Highly recommended

Here are a few sites that take up enough of my time to make it worth mentioning

Cheryl's page. Goodness knows she talks a lot but it's usually pretty interesting or about our dog.

Rudy's page. He's usually got a lot going on there. Okay no, I lie, I wouldn't know how to pitch Rudy's page other than it's pretty funny if you know him better. Oh, and Suren now lives there too.

Jac's page. She brings the most mundane things to life in vivid colour. Birds are suddenly not just birds anymore and we live in a beautiful beautiful world. It's an education in itself.

Viv's page. Completely grounds me. It's wonderful reading a blog that's really straight from the heart - or as personal as a blog can get.

Sinfest. Hours and hours of entertainment. SO funny.

Hit that beehive

In retrospect, there's only one apology on that last post, where I felt it was really due, but the rest were just setting things straight.

This is probably going to provoke another lashback but here are some things I've noticed about the people who comment, the fact that most of them are from Melbourne, Australia have nothing to do with it. I'm sure.

  1. They all tag or comment anonymously. It's not polite at all to take low underhanded blows from behind a false name or no name at all. I don't mind the underhandedness, just the fact that no one seems to want to admit to anything afterwards. Get a pair of balls.
  2. They don't read the topic of discussion at hand. If you're going to write a rebuttal of any kind or even a 'I see your point' please read the print. It's not even fine print, and taking some time to really understand what you're commenting about and your very own comment will save you some embarrassment later.
  3. They're so touchy. I suppose I could blame the hangovers for this or maybe they've just had a really shit day because they haven't been able to find that perfect top to fall out of. Who knows why they're so cranky all the time.
  4. They don't know how to say sorry. It was an apology of sorts and it's always good karma to set things straight and say sorry no matter how long ago it's been. You lie if you say highschool didn't leave you with any baggage whatsoever. And when you're wrong, admit it and apologise dammit. At least I can say I tried.
Disclaimer: This is not an unprovoked attack at Australians.

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Putting some demons to rest

Highschool was a pretty traumatic time for everyone I think, unless you cruised through in a padded suit of steel, I think everyone got hurt at some point. My fiesty personality did nothing to help that case and I got involved in a lot of things I shouldn't have, so here are my apologies

To Young, I'm so sorry for the fights, I really am. I'm also tired of guys getting between us, whether they're acting as the go-between or whether they're the problem in itself. Too many things get misinterpreted when you let someone else do the talking for you.

The only reason I made Sabina cry was because I didn't let her win. I'm sorry for that too, maybe I should've slowed down a little in that final race, maybe highschool would've been a lot more peaceful.

I didn't ever tell Rachel that if she was friends with Regine I wouldn't be friends with her. Hell, when Regine came to GIS, I think my friendship with Rachel was more or less way past its expiry date. We weren't even talking, and at that point I liked Regine more anyway. Then again, this is all from Louis, and we know what happens when guys try to help sort out these kinda things.

I never intentionally flirted with guys in our year to get them to fall for me or break up relationships on purpose. I'm sorry if it happened like that to anybody. The only time I played the field that vigorously was in year 8 and completely directed at older guys. The rest of highschool was taken up by Ming.

And I don't don't like Amanda. In fact I think she's quite nice and I'm glad that her and Ming got together. I'll admit that it took a while for me to let go of the whole thing, but hey, it worked out for the best right? I think they were meant for each other right from the beginning anyway, I made a mistake and butted in.

There, I've said my piece, if anyone else has any more issues they want to put to rest, I'm more than happy to talk about it. I'd appreciate it way more than the snide comments that get shot out from behind pseudonyms.

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Wombat almost died!

Do you even have to ask what I'm doing? Do you even want to know. I've been writing for so many hours, so many days. Everyone else looks so relaxed, I don't get it. You can see the stress in my face, I wear much of my emotion on the outside. I'm so tired. Once this is over, I'm going to spend at least a whole day sleeping (a day's a lot!) and then I'm going to get started on some serious summering.

I completely drained my mini's battery and I was so scared when it took so long for it to come back to life once it was hooked up. My baby almost died! +Sniff+ Never again.

At least the hot water's back. +Sigh+ It actually comes out of the taps and showers, we don't have to boil in in the kettle anymore or bathe with a cup.

Cheryl got into KSIIS this year. That's great, takes her away from me for almost three weeks this summer, a welcome break no doubt. Only kidding. She can go and talk the ears off all the other Asia-Pac youth in Hawaii. Damn, I want to go back. Three years ago suddenly seems so long. Such an incredible place, thinking about all the people back there grounds me somewhat.

Life's too short to hold grudges, there are too many new people to meet.

Women are from Venus, Men are from Uranus

All around the world you'll find men ruing the day they have to answer "Do I look fat?" or "Is she prettier than me?" It's like hell on earth for them as they rack their brains to come up with a non-offensive answer - the ones that care at least, or the ones that firmly believe the old adage 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'.

Sometimes they turn it around with "Why do you always ask that?". Needless to say, we deem this evasive behaviour incredibly insulting and reflects poorly on the man's trustworthiness, which usually results in more questions.

Males were born with a defective chromosone, which I shall blame, with no biological training whatsoever, for their obvious lack of communication skills. Do you know why sport is such a hit with guys? There's little to no talking - all communication is carried via hand gestures or at the top of their voices and decibel range. Which is why we have to mask our deeply probing questions in a series of less intellectual inquiries.

"Does this make me look fat?" really translates to "I'm trying to gage depths to which you truly love me, and whether the love you bear is unconditional or simply a means to get laid."

And here's the best part, the correct answer is: "No dear, you look incredible, and I think you look amazing no matter what you wear." Under no circumstances tack on "have you lost weight?" or "hold on, I can't see the mirror". The former pushes you past charming and straight on into fake, while the latter would just be devestating.

"Do you think she's pretty?" actually means "I want to find out the level of regard with which you hold me, to know whether you're happy with me and have therefore gained emotional and physical fulfilment or whether you're an asshole and I'm a pitstop on your way to greener pastures."

The right answer? We're not looking for a flat out "Oh no, you're much prettier" because we didn't ask that in the first place. Common mistake men make is to always assume we're fishing for compliments. That's completely wrong, we only do that 96% of the time.

Be believeable, if the person in question is no uglier than say, Cindy Crawford, go "Hmm, yes, she's quite attractive, but oh, what's that? Looks like she forgot to shave." Be quick to point out flaws while putting your arm snuggly around her waist.

See, the only reason we ask such simple questions is because men don't tell us anything. We don't know if you're happy with us, if 'I love you's just routine, or if you close your eyes and think about someone else while we make love.

If you actually told us things rather than go about your daily lives in a kind of bemused enigmatic silence, then we wouldn't need to pick fights so often.

Monday, May 09, 2005

Remarkable

Trial by algidity

At first there was blackness. Then a blinding yellow light chased the darkness into the furthest corners and an invisible fan whirred into life.

The once-warm mat felt dead under the soles of my feet as I stepped forward, goosebumps shooting up along my arms and legs. The pastel finish did little to warm my heart as the plastic door swung shut, rubber seals closed up against rubber seals. There was no turning back.

The tap gleamed ominously under the harsh lighting, the cold tiles seeming to close in tighter and tighter. My breath caught in my throat and my brow creased in anxiety as I tentatively reached for the handle, wishing there was another way, I flicked it up and drew back quickly.

The cascade of frigid water was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath.

Water off. Suds on. Water on. Suds off. And I reached gratefully for my towel with numb fingers.

Oh, when will it stop

I'm so tired of studying! Gah! It's been nothing but study study study for the whole year! I'm thinking about begging Weng to marry me and let me stay home so I won't have to face another flow-over-a-cylinder-question. +Sigh+

I just want to cry...oh wait, I already did that, or sleep, no, wait, did that too - almost didn't want to get up, like ever.

And why is my sister so free as to have the time adopt fictitious characters and post made up comments on my blog? Haha. She makes me laugh.

Still no cold water. I hate the service here, they're so slow! The only reason Britain is any kind of economic superpower is because of all the illegal immigrants. Dammit.

Sunday, May 08, 2005

The grass is greener over there

The first paper kicks off in exactly 1 week 18 hrs. I think I'm reaching the end of my tether, straining towards insanity. It looks better than this.

Oh wait, there's no hot water, the upstairs neighbours' kids have been jumping off the sofa all afternoon, and Arsenal owned Liverpool, so it's definitely better than this.

I wish I was on the flip side of it all, looking back with an "Ah, I'm glad it's over" and looking forward to a summer at the end of which I will happily drain the remnants of my brain out of one ear.

And I really miss you, sweetie +sniff+

Saturday, May 07, 2005

ROFLMAO

weng says:
you know Q-tip is not spelt like tht right?
ash says:
it is
weng says:
no way
ash says:
haha
ash says:
i thot it was
ash says:
it's not cue tip, that means something else
ash says:
the americans call a cotton bud a q-tip
weng says:
it's cutetip
ash says:
cute tip?
ash says:
omg
ash says:
what is a cute tip?
ash says:
ROFLMAO
weng says:
go google it
weng says:
lol
weng says:
trust me
weng says:
lol
weng says:
dont laugh so loud, i can hear u through the wall

Moment of the day... =)

Blah-nd

Today was just blah. Blah all over. I can't wait for the exams to be over while at the same time the prospect of having to undergo the entire process leaves me in moments of completel and utter despair.

Watched Hitch last night, great movie, have I ever said how close to the truth it is? It really all depends on the opportunity, carpe diem. Weng did the cutetip shimmy the morning after, he must've been inspired.

Running old movie searches on Limewire just doesn't work. The amount of porn that comes up is astoundingly funny, but then again "Three to Tango" can mean anything, huh? As can 'About a boy' I suppose...

Friday, May 06, 2005

We are most definitely amused

My statcounter's dropped way way off compared to the last two days. I guess it's because the fight's stopped. I guess. So people aren't hitting my page as often in anticipation of the next biting installment. But that's only in my opinion, not to be misinterpreted, so don't get offended, k? Haha, sorry, I couldn't resist, I still think it's pretty funny.

Weng watched A bug's life for the first time yesterday. What a feel-good movie, I love that kinda flick and we're probably going to watch Hitch soon too. He's not much of a movie person, so I kinda have to make him sit and watch.

I'm so tired of studying. Two more years of this too, the prospect of which doesn't do much to hurry your feet to school. I have never ever studied so much before, in my whole life. I hate going into exams with barely enough prep, banking on the 'nicer' questions coming out, it puts the rest of my summer in an uncomfortable limbo while the results get posted. I'm goin' nuts.

And Labour won, which means, oh, about +this much+.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

050505

For want of better things to do, what a cool date.

Happy Birthday Bry! Be good.

Cranky pants

Yesterday night, I laughed so hard when I heard the all-time trickiest question ever: "She's quite skinny, don't you think?" That's like a bear pit with a revolving door.

This morning it's seven degrees. Why is spring time so cold? Seven degrees isn't spring, seven degrees is more like mid-winter. And I probably shouldn't have shot back at the annonymous comment person like that, as trying as his/her ignorance may be, but I have a sleep debt of four hours and I'm cranky.

My books came today +yay+ but it's funny, I can't bring myself to open the box. Poor Hanwen had to sign for them nice 'n early this morning.

I just want to fall over but a math lecture beckons. Nine days til exams, and three weeks til summer. I can almost see the freedom over the next hill.

In need of a sedative

Ever since my friends (yes, there are some out there) got me an iPod for my birthday, it's on the "never leave home without it" list, with my wallet and towel.

Listening to it on the way to anywhere or when you're doing anything almost makes it feel like you have your very own personal soundtrack. The soundtrack of your life. Mine sounds kinda like a romantic comedy with a couple of cartoons thrown in for variety. High school would've been a bit like Linkin Park meets Evanesence, many dramatics. Now it's more punk rock with Groban somewhere in the mix, only because his voice sends chills up and down my spine - see Ev? It's all in the voice.

The match just now was incredible. Forza Milan indeed, although they were lucky to get that goal. Poor PSV, they had one foot in the door of the final until the dying minutes. I could've cried for them.

The only reason I'm still up at this time is because I took a really shite nap this afternoon that was a real waste of one-and-a-half hours. I could've worked through at least ten learning objectives in that time. I'm at 42, 14 more to go +sigh+.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Where's the fire?

What with being the owner of this blog, I get to say things without a word limit. So okay, it's getting a little out of hand, too many tags are being traded on what really isn't much at all.

I never said cleavage/skin/drunkeness is bad, however you choose to live your life is well, quite frankly your choice, as is what you choose, your paranoid-self, to read into my words or between the lines. They're just words describing the action, expressing an observation. I'm sorry, maybe I should've written it more sensitively, shall we try "bosoms, epidermal layer, and inebriation"?

They were also conclusions drawn on some photographs. A picture's worth a thousand words, and when I look at them, that's what I see. I couldn't exactly go "Oh, wow, here's yet another blog where people are smiling at the camera with such wonderful alert looks and their hands neatly in their laps" because it isn't what I saw.

Blogs are there for that reason, to show the whole world what kind of life you live, so if you put anything on the internet, it's there to be judged.

I'm happy for you that Melbourne looks like such a party place, and yes, you really do look like you're having a good time in all those pictures. Maybe you should also take a step back and lighten up slightly. It was meant to be humorous, or perhaps you are too caught up in alcoholic fumes to realise that, some people are happy drunks, others not so much.

I must ask though, why are you attacking something I said so indignantly? Are you ashamed of the things I said because it hits close to home, because you think of it that way too? Don't get mad at me for your own inadequacies or immorality.

But hey, who am I to tell you what to do right? I just sit here, like I always have expressing my own opinions. You really shouldn't let it get to you, and don't ruin Melbourne for the rest of us, it's a beautiful place.

Some witty repartee and an aspirin

The boxing match on my tagboard has ceased for the time being and my hit rate has soared. People must be waiting for the next tag so they keep refreshing.

Thank you, Cheryl, for coming to my defense, and Weng of course, with his academic arguments. It's funny that I miss my sister so much, ironic that I spent the last fifteen years or so trying to get rid of her and now all I wanna do is hang out with her.

I do believe it's Melb's turn though, and I say to her (or him, although it is in my opinion and so many more that it was probably mention of the hissy fit that triggered the assault), yes, make full use of your freedom of speech, that is what the board is for; and why would I ever want to take it down, the most entertaining battles have been fought in that two-inch wide box over there, albeit annonymously (which is probably what bugs me more than the comments).

A blog without feed back is like a diary you keep under lock and key. Bring it on.

Otherwise Rudy's plying me with stories of world domination involving armies of ducks and bread and squirrels and nuts. He's on painkillers, I thought that was obvious. He's not usually this lucid.

When ducks speak

I can almost hear Weng's remanding voice now: "I leave you for two hours and you declare war on Melbourne!"

I didn't start it!

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

If I close my eyes, maybe it'll go away

Liverpool winning anything is like a drug. It doesn't happen often but when it does, it's an unbelieveable high; and like all drugs, the ensuing low is completely rock bottom.

As I continue to flick through other people's sites, I think I can start generalising:

KL people who've gone to Melbourne to "study" fill their webspaces with pictures more often than not snapped at a club and definitely filled with cleavage/skin/drunkeness, framed with girly rants and hissy fits.

Singaporeans, or maybe just IC Singaporeans fill their spaces with a lot of text. I'm not saying everyone does, because there are some absolutely gorgeous photos out there, but the fun looks a lot 'cleaner' and the writing a lot more thought provoking, as if to fight off the...repression.

Actually, this is all relative and completely un-random so please don't take offence. I jump from page to page via the links on each page, so obviously my pool of study is somewhat limited and the subjects from which I've drawn my conclusions probably all hang out on the same scene anyway.

Exactly like not liking a lot of people: it only seems like you don't like a lot of people because you just happen to know more unlikeable people than likeable ones. It's all relative.

I wonder what the legal stance is on blogs. Do they belong to the international (i.e. American/European) right of free speech? Or are they shot down and shut up by the Governments that abhor free speech because that would be letting the sheep have opinions.

And is bitching on a blog really bitching? It's out there for the targeted person to read, then is it really behind their back? The only technicality is that they haven't come across it yet.

EEEeeEEEEeeeeaaaahhhh!!!1

Epic.

To hand a drowning man a glass of water

Amazon.co.uk, your account: "Items to be dispatched soon"

Soon? Soon?! Soon isn't good enough!

Wah, I'd make a good tyrant.

Which brings me to my next point. Do indecisive people unconciously seek out bossy personalities?

Taken out of context

Today i shall make a rare stand on this issue. Her conversation excerpt 'conveniently' left out my trailing comment...

weng says:
so did u learn alot in schl today?
ash says:
yes dear, i learnt about stress concentrations, safety factors, and stress distributions in cylindrical bores...
ash says:
what about you?
weng says:
hmm i learnt abt, agricuture, dual sector models comprising of the lewis model, as well as the arguments for and against free trade =)
ash says:
thought provoking =)
weng says:
it should have been
An economist +aah+
Engineeeer +pah+

There we go =)

No, she didn't...

Dating someone with a blog is probably the most nerve wracking thing anyone could possibly go through as Weng can attest to. I'm not sure that he checks it everyday for something to read or to be supportive so much as to make sure I haven't crossed the line in divulging any of our deepest darkest secrets (cue evil laugh). More recently, I keep getting asked, very tentatively, "Who inspired that post, dear?" followed by a "Phew".

Right now, this is what we're talking about:
weng says:
so did u learn alot in schl today?
ash says:
yes dear, i learnt about stress concentrations, safety factors, and stress distributions in cylindrical bores...
ash says:
what about you?
weng says:
hmm i learnt abt, agricuture, dual sector models comprising of the lewis model, as well as the arguments for and against free trade =)
ash says:
thought provoking =)

Otherwise, it's been an okay day. I found out how to print for free after spending three times as much on printing this year as I did last year. Oh look, it's almost the end of the year, and I think I've said too much! Oops.

And if anything's super cuddly or 'family', what's it doing in a jar?

A teaspoon of wisdom

There's a lot to say this morning.

On one handedness: It's not that I can't multitask, but it's a bit pointless multitasking when both hands are covered in butter and you're nursing a soggy bagel. So believe me Rudy, I was making up retorts way before and many more than the ones I managed to get across punching keys with my pinky.

On physical displays of affection: The guidelines are clear. If you're going out with someone, touch them for goodness sake. Sincerely of course, don't reach out for a handful of ass all the time. One of the reason's they're going out with you is because they enjoy your hugs and kisses, so make like you actually want to cuddle; don't leave her thinking she smells bad just because you can't find the energy to put an arm across her shoulders. For all the male dominance that pose might be likened to, I think it's great. If they keep shrugging you off though, you might want to reassess your relationship, she probably doesn't want to be seen with you.

On body language: It's a given you have to work your way up to that point. Although this is pretty frustrating, you better let the girl take the lead when it comes to the bases. She might blame you for being unromantic and lacking in initiative, but she'll probably be more comfortable with the whole thing. We always find reasons to blame guys.

Monday, May 02, 2005

I don't <3 bugs

Britain has no ants, creepily enough, or maybe it's just London, but for what they lack in earth-bound insects, they make up for in a myriad of wing-ed bugs.

Ever since the weather started warming up and it got too warm to leave the window closed, I've had a whole hoarde of visitations. There was the fly, noiser and bigger than anything I've come across in Malaysia, that buzzed around in an increasingly dizzy dance, clunking on the window pane several times before finding the exit. Then there was that angry bee - not very entertaining at all, that ran into the glass several times before seeming to collaspe on the upper sill before rolling off it and into the big blue. The fly visited several more times and tonight it's a very panicky moth that just gave up and is now sitting on the curtain rail (I think).

I don't like bugs at all. I'll freely admit to girlish tendencies bordering on hysterics when I'm confronted by one. Okay, I apologise for the political incorrectness, girlish is completely the wrong word, feel free to delete and reinsert a more appropriate metaphor in your own time.

I've had one too many stings, bites, and hair landings to be comfortable around bugs. I don't enjoy killing them either. I totally admire their resilience and determination in surviving in a highly "bug eat bug" world, but if they'd take their persistance at drowning in my food/drink, their single-mindedness in clinging onto anything they can get a foothold on, and their multi-faceted eyeballs and stay on the other side of the window, I'd be much happier for it.

Opposites attract

Weng

Me

Looks before he leaps (most of the time)

Looks and then leaps anyway

Loves a good debate

Would much rather hit whatever's not agreeing

Needs nine hours of sleep and two hours lag time before getting fun or even coherent

From the word go!

Does not, absolutely not ever dance

Dancing all the time.

Good with numbers

Miserably not.

An economist +pah+

Engineeeer +aah+

Reads in syllables, ev-e-ry sin-gle one.

"The End"

Slow on the uptake

Spends much time explaining the joke to Weng

True shopper

Skim shopper (just really really efficient)

Always brings handphone, wallet, and keys, and my handphone, wallet, and keys.

Unweighted by material possessions

Always folds in poker

All in, baby, bring it on

Sunday, May 01, 2005

Desperately lovin' it

I have just watched episodes 18 and 19 of Desperate Housewives, and it's totally +wow+. The characters' lives keep getting deliciously messier with each twist and turn taking you into subplot after subplot. This season's gonna end with a bang, I can just feel it.

EeeEEeeE! I can't hardly wait for episode 20!

Ladies and Gentlmen, it has hit the fan

I haven't updated with my usual fervour recently because I didn't have anything particularly interesting to say. I didn't think you wanted to know what line of my stats revision I'm on or how I spent the whole of yesterday looking forward to meals as an excuse to stop trying to study, and for once I didn't have anything to be angry about (no longer hormonal), defensive about, or sarcastic about.

So I wouldn't be blogging if I didn't have to apologise for the sparodity of my posts and announce the probable permanence of this ongoing trend. I'll post again when I have something of huge importance to share with you and not waste space making fun of Evan and his northern cousins. Besides, I think I really have to study.