Another year wrapped up

I refuse to write anything to do with "The Year That Was". I'll put up pictures soon, the text must be monotonous, you poor but loyal farts. The fact that Weng's busy preparing for his GMAT means that my hitrate's embarrassingly low.

The dark clouds are rolling quickly across the valley pregnant with the promise of another torrential downpour. My dog is having an anxiety attack as she looks to get as high up as possible on the furniture (she's sitting on the dining table), despite the fact that we're about 20 stories above ground. I imagine she's worried about the water.

While I write this I'm looking through suckball and they've linked this. I took a moment to read it as I'm sure you'll do too. I want to laugh at the sheer ludricousness. Some of the article is still applicable I suppose, yes, it would be nice if your partner came home to a dinner that's been prepared in time or if the house is in some semblance of order, but the rest is just crap.

The content of magzines over the last 50 years has changed dramatically. That one asks you to never question your partner's judgement or integrity, hang on every single word of his more important topics of conversation, and roll over and beg for a scratch. The magazines of today tell you to take control of your life, to put yourself forward, that you have selfworth, and that life begins at 40. All because the pants happened somewhere in that half a century.

There was another article I came across about how much your degree is worth in terms of payback on your investment. Engineering came up tops in everything but then I wonder where those guys live because engineers aren't usually paid great here. Being an American article, I imagine it's not like Asia where every other person is an engineer of some kind. You only need to look at the ethnic and national proportions over at Imperial to get an idea of the lack of distinction you go back to Asia with. That and the fact that whenever I do something stupid at home, my mum uses it against me. I do a lot of stupid things at home - all sense of independence and improvisation gets switched off, so I get "So you're an engineer, huh?" a lot as well.

I don't really know where I'm going with this, but it's New Year's Eve and I hope you have a good, safe time later. I was supposed to spend New Year's Eve with my family, but they all suddenly got really popular, so Bry and I are going to church for Watchnight.

I can't believe it's the 1st tomorrow, back to England in five days! So fast!

And it's out of the park

Sometimes you wonder why the other countries don't take Malaysia all too seriously. Aside from their alleged government-funded VCD factories, Malaysia has one again stepped into the international spotlight with another announcement worthy of a place in the book of stupid things to do.

They want to drape the Jalur Gemilang and 56 other flags over a pyramid. No, not Sunway Pyramid in all its tacky, polystyrene-painted glory, but the pyramid, the big one at Giza.

The Egyptian government said no.

Would you believe it? The Egyptians said no. No to the Malaysian Peace Mission team, no to the RM200,000 effort, and no to the exploitation of one of the world's most iconic pieces of architecture that has aboslutely nothing to do with them in the first place.

What complete and utter morons.

Nevermind, the Statue of Liberty would probably look good in a baju kebaya. Let's ask the Americans.

Run for your lives

The Zara sale started today. I thought we were early getting into 1U at 11am but apparently not because by the time we'd got there, the line for the changing rooms was snaking its way between the clothes-strewn tables and racks, across the crowded spaces between the tables and racks, and generally looking so daunting that I resorted to pulling tops on over what I was wearing and asking Weng.

Weng managed to find a nice shirt in his size after we ditched the ladies' wear section. I was suffocating on the mix of body odors, about thirty different designer perfumes, and the whole range of Impulse sprays. In fact, I was so overwhelmed I had to drag Weng out of the carnage twenty minutes later.

I'm going back tomorrow, only tomorrow, I'll be more prepared. I'm going at 10am and I'm going with my mum. Hah.

Distractions

Things have more or less settled down after the flurry of activity that surrounded Christmas. Last night's football was a welcome treat with plenty of goals, and I'm once again hooked on those massive crosswords that lurk in the back of Australian women's magazines. My mum has a stack of about six or so on the coffee table and they've been scoured through three or four times just to be sure I haven't missed one. I haven't.

I've been ransacking Cher's shelves for Patterson books to stave off my crossword addiction. I average a novel every two days and they're starting to run out too.

I guess it's back to composites research and writing.

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and that you're really enjoying this holiday.

One to remember

What a weekend it's been. The last 72 hours have passed in a blur of activity. There was the last minute Christmas shopping for Cheryl's presents with Cheryl, then extorting our brother for the gifts he helped buy to his cries of "but you guys spent a whole month's allowance in two hours!".

Then there was the CBC Christmas Cantata, which was all cosiness and warmth. Saturday was spent preparing our first every Christmas Eve dinner with turkey. It was a small turkey so everything turned out perfectly, and I found out Mum makes amazing mushroom soup. The apple pie was good although I had to really coax my stomach into stretching just a little bit more. In true Chinese tradition where the eve of an important holiday is the most celebrated, we opened our Christmas presents early, with many faked gasps of surprise, seeing as we chose most of the gifts ourselves - we're sarcastically connected like that, but the feeling was real, of the sort you only see on TV.

Then today was just awesome. I finally got baptized and now I feel so much lighter, having finally taken a step that I should've got up the courage to do a long time ago. We had to do a reprise of our songs from Friday night and my narration stuck in a few places because there were just so many more people this morning.

My family, Weng, CBC, this glorious Christmas holiday...God has blessed me with so much more than I deserve. It's good to be back.

Tis the season

Last night was awesome. I didn't realise how stressed out I was or that I've been running on nothing but high levels of tension for the last four days, that when our choir presentation was finally over, I sat down and almost nodded off during the sermon after. Then I was told that we have to do it all again on Sunday morning, but it's all for the Lord so we're more than willing workers, and Christmas only comes once a year anyhow.

Everyone's ill - bad throats, tickly coughs, and a couple of fevers running everywhere, but the choir put it in an admirable performance and the soloists were incredible. I barely knew the words, so my eyes kept sliding down to the telemonitor at our feet, and I didn't really know the alto part, so I just picked a note wherever I could hear it and gave it my best shot.

I'm getting baptized tomorrow. It being Christmas day as well makes it even more special. CBC have been nothing but fully supportive, patient, and absolutely wonderful in helping me get to this point. Especially our Pastor for his encouragement and teaching, and Jon, for all of his support and excitement.

We're even having a Christmas Eve dinner with turkey and all that. This is a first for my family I think.

This festive season has truly been an inspired one! Happy Christmas!

Holiday crowding

I've spent the last five days completely off balance so I apologise for the lack of updates. It's like that when you're home for the holidays, short Christmas holidays in particular.

I was volunteered to provide narration at the Christmas Cantata, CBC (do come), and should've looked at the text before I said okay. Now I have to learn my parts and the most random script ever.

Driving's always worth a paragraph or two after we get back. I've been listening to Weng's complaints of how they drive too close, don't follow (or know) the right-of-way rules, cut without signalling first, turn without signalling first, stop without signalling first. It seems most Malaysians have forgotten that they even possess indicators, or maybe the vibration from their stripped-down exhausts has shaken their brains to mush.

This time round, I've adapted more quickly to local driving and I'm largely unfazed, or was largely unfazed, until Weng complained that I cut him off at a junction. I swear, there were no cars. I don't get to drive all that much now because Cheryl's so insistent on driving anywhere. I have to wrestle the keys off her.

But no, Weng hasn't spent his holidays so far only complaining. The guy was so happy to be back that he spent the first sunday handing out handfuls of chocolates absolutely reeking of happiness. It was like Christmas come early for him.

I finally watched Harry Potter yesterday. We spent fortyfive minutes in line, having reached the counter the first time and finding out that the tickets were sold out, then rejoining the line and waiting for the telephone reservations to be released. The smell was terrible. Six lines of anxious, mildly sweaty bodies standing way too close as tickets seemed to sell out faster than the lines were moving. Then there was that stupid woman who 'made friends' with someone two people infront of us and then proceeded to talk to them until they hit the front of the queue (they were three people away, I think she wanted to be slightly less obvious about it). She cut line. I wanted to smack her, feeling quite distraught at the prospect that I might be the very very last person on earth to watch Harry Potter. But we got in, and I didn't have to resort to violence.

I haven't been Christmas shopping yet because I haven't been able to get into MidValley. You need persistency and lots and lots of time, which I don't have. The jam to get into the carparks wraps around the mall three cars deep. So that's why we're leaving at 10am to try and get into the mall early. I gotta go.

I am bored and fluey

It's that time of the term again in that last week when you're chomping at the bit in anticipation of a holiday, regardless of whether or not you spend it relaxing or doing more work every day then you have been for the last eleven weeks.

I spent most of my afternoon curled up in bed against the draft and the harsh winter sun, trying to sleep out the woolly-headedness of my flu. Yes, it's also that time of the term when the cummulated beatings of the last ten weeks leave you so tired and yearning to be on holiday that your immune system is completely useless.

I actually have plenty of work to do. The end of the Italian exam seemed to make me switch off, which means I have not picked up a pen since 1.00pm, Tuesday, even though I have a feeling I was already in the motions of switching off long before this week. Either way, I am not doing anything at the moment and no one actually wants to talk to me. Given that I'm not good at waiting, I might consider doing some work, at which point when everyone will want to talk to me. It's twisted like that.

I have to go chocolate shopping. I hate going chocolate shopping because I never know how much to buy. With my family, you can't buy too much otherwise you deprive them of the part where they're all looking at the last piece and deciding on who gets it (at which point my brother swipes it to the wails of my sister and with a complete disregard for anyone else). It's tricky business. Too much and it's left untouched. I'm sure there's an economic model for this.

Don't try this at home

"I'd hate to die by drowning..." says Lester.
"But you can swim." Interjects Godwin.

"Do you know which is the longest hair on your body? The ones in your eyebrow, because if you pluck your butt hair, your eyebrow twitches."

Out of the blue comes a post

It's been a while. Haven't had the time or inspiration to put anything down that's worth mentioning. *sigh* However I've decided to cut "The Experiment" short. (It's the 23rd of Nov entry.)

First things first. I bring to you the much awaited answer to,

Question: Does Ash draw more (A) 'friend requests' and (B) 'random "hello/hey" messages' on Skype because she's female?

IMPORTANT information prior to testing
1) I get on average, if I'm lucky, one hit every 2 months.
2) I believe myself to be the average male Skype user and thus be an ideal guinea pig.
3) I was bored.

THE TEST

Changed my online gender to female for about a total of 2 weeks. With the first week gone I got two hits *woohoo, with regards to the test mind you...* and then...nothing. Ash concluded after a week and a bit "I don't think there are many sexy females who call themselves Weng".

*slap forehead* small oversight =p

Decided to go with a more, and I quote, "sexy" name. Samantha was coined. Ash suggested it cos she thinks Samantha from "Bewitched" is sexy. And hey, who's to argue with the one that gets on average 3 hits a day? WIthin the first week, I got 8 hits! Amazing stuff. Which promptly brings me here.

*drum roll*

I conclude after 3 weeks of extensive *ahem* albeit crude testing, that Ash does indeed garner more hits than me because she's female. However, that alone does not guarantee 3 hits a day, the female MUST and i stress, MUST have a sexy name. lol. I guess guys think that Ashley is a sexy name.

Something additional that was considered was that my email was weng####@gmail.com. Perhaps that was noted prior to chat-time. Didn't bother to check that angle out. Too much work.

Implications and follow-ups to this experiment. None. Boredom satisfied.

Note: This test will not divulge the online identity of male Skype users that inadvertently fell foul of my experiment. =)

On a side note, 3 days to home! =D WOOHOO!

Second side note, good to hear Rudy's back on his feet =)

Hamster lovin' and fajitas

I think we're having a Christmas dinner this year because some family will actually be in town. This is the first Christmas dinner at home that I can remember, and Cheryl's warned me far in advance not to arrange anything for that night. She also introduced me to the place where I adopted Frederick. Cheryl feels that her blue porcupine King Steven (named after Liverpool captain, Stevie G) is a better pet because if you click on him several times, he jumps higher and higher before curling into a blue spikey ball and rolling off the edge of his square. I am extremely happy with Frederick, he runs on his wheel whenever you click on him, which I completely feel for, and as I was saying, thank goodness he fits perfectly into my margin because otherwise I wouldn't've known how to resize him.

Weng and I tried making fajitas today and it was amazing. It was amazingly good and amazingly a lot, so I think it's going to be wraps for the rest of the week until I shift the 700g of minced beef and similarly sized portions of chilli and cheese. I've already advertised my fajitas to my housemates so much so that they seem almost reluctant to try it. I can't imagine why. Any volunteers?

Friendster came good

I think Wooby's idea of setting up a Class of 2001 circle on Friendster is pretty cool. Weng showed it to me this afternoon, and I must say, I look forward to seeing who else joins. It definitely satisfies all those people out there who spend lazy afternoons thinking back to highschool and wondering what became of everyone else. Call me a busybody, but it's good to know that so many people are doing so well, and that they look happy, and as we start to move out of university and onto the rest of our lives, I think it'll get even more interesting.

On the subject of friends, it seems that my group of college mates from HELP have formed so many ties with people from GIS over the last two years. I'm continuously surprised by how tightly crosslinked everyone is, especially since there is this thing called Friendster that was an absolute must to join a few years ago. It's wonderful how it seems to bring so many lives together, like a huge tangle of brightly coloured string, with genuine delight in realising that everybody really knows everybody else.

It makes the whole world a little smaller, a little closer to home, and not quite so scary anymore.

Updates from the home front

About the set up, Cheryl, I put your initial to retain some degree of annonymity, but seeing as you've admitted it, I hold no responsibility over who might come across this page and scold you. Lol.

My most treasured sister has also scratched the car. Maybe now Dad'll get the other scratches on the undercarriage fixed as well.

The CBC choir is performing at Times Square, Kuala Lumpur, on the 18th, which means, after touching down on the 17th night, I have one evening to learn the songs, and I'm dragging Weng in with me. They've been practising for ages, I'm sure they sound amazing! We'll just stand in to make up numbers and "make like watermelons" or something. I can't remember the exact phrase, but it's something to do with watermelons...mouthing them maybe?

And Weng's computer just "shutted down/shut downed"- in his words, he's still trying to get it right. I really should on the lights. It's getting dark. Anyhow, there's a direct dependency between the time left to the holidays and the frequency of Weng's computer dying. It pretty much sits there and acts like an air filter/heater. But that means we're flying back next Friday!
Yay!

Injustices

1. South Kensington charges extortionate prices for everything.
2. I walked into a shop this morning and saw a woman clutching a fox fur stole complete with petrified head. She should buy it a shoebox and have it buried. Stop killing the foxes.
3. Being female, I have been rendered useless by moon cycles.
4. The Ritz are heightist. I think every bellboy, butler, doorman, and waiter was at least 6ft.
5. I have to waste a good 5kg of baggage weight hauling books and papers back and forth across the world because I have that lit. report due January. I should really explain to my supervisor the sheer inefficiency of the task - engineers loathe inefficiencies.
6. It's really late, I need the sleep badly, but the worry of lugging 5kg of deadweight back and forth when I could use it for things that would actually bring me joy (like 5kg of Milo) is keeping me awake.
   

The Ritz

With the gentle swoosh of the revolving doors, I walked into 19th Century decadence, the colours and sounds so rich and velvety welcomed me like a warm silk duvet, shutting out the grey, damp, struggling world outside.

Elaborately carved cornices gilded in gold curled around the ceiling and down the walls, supported by a heavy floral theme of plush carpets and ornate arrangements, reflected in the panels of mirrors in a confusion of pinks, whites, and golds. People talked in hushed voices or through their expensive fur wraps, while a pianist carefully wove his music into the air thickened with the scent of luxury and designer parfums. Men in tails bowed slightly as I passed offering crisp directions when asked.

I chose a seat at a table, soaking in the beautifully-laid tea before me: the sugar cubes and thongs, the delicately arranged plates of scones, pastries, and sandwiches, the long delicate knives and forks that lay beside the red and gold china. Then there were the waiters, bending over to offer you a drink with a gentle, French-accented murmur, Tea, with milk? Water? Still or sparkling, Madam. Some juice perhaps? And they would disappear on silent feet to fulfill your request.

Sheer magic.

Stalking 101

C: My college mate is trying to hook me up with his "best homie". He ambushed me once with his friend in tow. Embarrassing much.

How many times have you asked your friend for a hook up, to put in a good word for you in strategic places, for a phone number so you can call and hang up again straight after his (or her) 'hello?' with your heart in your mouth? It takes a rare person to find the guts to ask someone out face to face without first engaging in a covert op.

Therefore most of us are left scrabbling for bits of information from sympathetic and obliging friends, who let us pump them for every single time the object of your affections so much as breathed and what they breathed about, especially since you go out of your way to avoid him.

What did you tell him? What did he say? What does he think of me? Does he like me? Does he like like me?

And once the interrogation finishes, they then have to put up with a barrage of

Does he like me? What do you think? What should i do? Omg, I don't know if he even likes me!

And as the desperation mounts, you start arranging completely accidental meetings based on the "Where he goes for lunch" section of your inch thick dossier that is the quintessence of completeness, you'd put the CIA to shame.

Oh, wow, you go here too? I had no idea! Of course I go here (yea, since like last week).

As you start to get used to forming audible sentences in the presence of your heart's desire, you call him using the number you've committed to memory, engraved onto the back of your notepad, and into your heart, right next to your name and his surname, in a bubble of happy flowers and floating clouds.

He doesn't stand a chance.

Onion soup

This is the third New Covent Garden soup we've tried and all I can say is that they should pay their marketing department more.

Our Best Chicken tastes like Wild Mushroom which tastes like Smoked Haddock Chowder, which isn't any of the above flavours, but is infact onion and potato. The entire New Covent Garden soup line is based on a sort of potato and milk mush infused with essence of onion that's then tinted accordingly, and if there's any sort of meat mentioned in the title, a nondescript fibre is added, not unlike chicken that's been boiled to death and then kept for several months. This is all then packaged in cheery cardboard containers that have most of the English completely and utterly fooled, including Weng, who swears they all taste different.

Happy Birthday Mum!

My mummy gets a year older but looks a year younger each time I go back I tell you (I know, I haven't got her a present yet). I hope she has a great day and that Bry doesn't stress her out. I wish I could be there to celebrate with everyone - the urge to go home has suddenly kicked in.

Oh, and happy 23rd anniversary to my parents too. What a day for celebrations!

Cheryl reported back that she was the only one, aside from Dad who got the cake, who bought Mum anything, anything being a bouquet of flowers, designer cups, and a Dave Pelzer book, so we owe her 80 each. Dad's says he's not golfing tomorrow because it is their wedding anniversary, but the real reason, Cheryl says, is that the guy who arranges their weekly golf session is away in Ipoh this weekend. Rofl. I miss my family.