Because The World DOES Revolve Around ME

Yes, the world revolves around me and Oprah Winfrey speaks Greek.

Why you might ask? Here's why:

The day started same as always - Waking up feeling sorry for myself knowing that if I had put the heater on full blast last night, I wouldn't feel this ridiculous amount of cramp pain in my right foot. Snoozing the phone alarm for 45 minutes thinking it's too bloody cold to wake up just yet, not with the late night watching some big ass christmas tree being lit up at the Aristotleous (i somehow I doubt my spelling competency) Square followed by a glass of bloody BITTER frappe (I mean seriously, what part of "Can I get a lot of milk in it" don't you understand?) and more drinks (coke = caffeine = drug keeping you up all night) in a cool bar till 3 bloody o'clock in the morning, only to find out that it IS already 3 o'clock in the morning and you need to get home but couldn't find a cab and finally resorted to CLIMBING up the HILLS (yes, plural) to get home. Contemplating whether or not it's a good decision to have a shower because it takes bloody 15 minutes for the heater to actually work but eventually giving in to getting wet in a dirty old bathtub that smells like piss because somebody, somehow forgets that urinating is only to be performed when you can physically see the toilet bowl and not just randomly spray on anything that MIGHT look like a toilet bowl (While this is only an assumption, I am still adamant that the bathroom smells like urine and don't get me started about that smell that smells like something weird all around the house). Freaking out just a lil bit when it's already 8.15 am knowing that I have to get to work by 9 and the fact that I have to take 2 buses that are usually cramped wth STARING people, but decided that I was gonna be late anyway so why bother and predictedly arrived 30 minutes late. Did anyone care? No. Perhaps Mum.

At work, I received this comment from the supervisor: "Excellent. You can proceed to develop further chapter 2 & 2.1". Only the thing is, I have NO clue what Chapter 2 and 2.1 are. Bah.

I have taken pride from the sole fact that I'm adapting nicely to the new environment here. Well, minus the fear of going into the office pantry to eat the home made lunch which consists of canned sardines in tomato sauce, burnt omellette and well cooked rice (I can proudly admit that I make the best plain rice ever) in case anyone asks what I'm having for lunch to which I would answer by raising the question "Do I know you?" which not only would make them stop asking (or looking and repeatedly eeewing at my food) but might also imply that I am not a people-person. I am so totally a people-person, by the way. You see, I grew up with these staple food. Having working parents meant that us kids have to survive on eating/making the quickest and cheapest food namely eggs (you can do wonders with eggs) and rice. Owh, and who can forget the good old soy sauce. If I get lucky, maybe some fried shallots to add to the finishing touch. So it is in my nature as a good, responsible child to continue the tradition - the tradition that has kept me alive (and fragile on several occasions) all these while. But not today. Today I thought to myself that it will be a bun day. BUN day for a FUN day (I am so getting the expression copyrighted). This, I feel would stop any of my workmates from potentially judging my food, and ultimately me (I mean, c'mon...they wouln't do that would they? I mean, if anybody was to be judged, it would be because of their camel toes, right? ...more to come...). So lay off and let me enjoy my food. Huh, talk about being insecure!

Anyways, to my point. I personally believe (relieving the moment Miss South Carolina tried to convince the world that she knows what a map looks like...and that she has a brain to kinda imagine how a map would look like. She had fooled us all. That blonde hair - totally extension) that the world revolves around me. I mean on the bus...OMG, where do I start? if I could blog about my life on the bus from home to work minus the 10 minute walk to the bus stop, I would totally do it. I mean, seriously. Owh, okay, I would totally blog about it. Being on bus no 10 and 66 is like being at home (not smelly toilet home, but home home). I TOTALLY feel welcomed. I mean, look at those staring, glazing eyes. So perfect that they deserve to get MULTIPLE STABS, resulting in permanent blindness. I know that I'm hot, but people, all the attention is creeping me out! Some people told me it's because I look Asian. I'm like, d'oh I AM Asian. Not that I'm saying that there is a cloud of racism filling the sky of everyone's mind that as a direct consequence, it has invaded the whole population of this area and that as yet another direct consequence the area is now filled with THAT cloud of racism, because if it was true, this place would be called "Cloud of Racism State of Thessaloniki" in which is totally false. My point being the people are NOT racist. I have come to realise that because there is only a small number of people like me (this is in fact another false statement because just recently I was told that there is somekind of Chinatown somewhere west), the locals are intrigued. I mean, with THIS (making loops with the finger around the face in the y-axis plane) bone structure, how could they not be intrigued? I am therefore taking this newly found self-appreciating assurance as a ticket for a greater and less insecure future.

One thing but. I haven't got cool clothes. What's that you say? "Cool is totally subjective. To some, Donald Trump and Britney Spears are cool". Yeah, totally - if you're either Paris Hilton or Miss South Carolina! Let me clarify. Cool clothes to me are the clothes that make you feel that you're you but at the same time look attractive and that they totally match your personality and all that bull and that won't make other civilians who are not visually impaired feel like you're making a fool of yourself. Or in my own definition:

Cool: Clothes matching personality, Vintage, Feel good about yourself
Uncool: Camel toes, Tramp-ish (unless you happen to be one in which case the clothes totally match your personality), camel toes, Age inappropriate (refer the mid thirties in the last post), BLOODY CAMEL TOES

But I totally know what you mean. Cool is subjective. So I won't judge, although being somebody who is analytical (judgmental) when it comes to fashion (wannabe trend setters), I have to say fashion faux pas (camel toe) is something that I can't comprehend. Yeah, okay, so you're artistic, or you smoke cigars, or you're a punk/goth/emo and you wanna wear clothes that reflect who you are. I totally get it. But if you're tittering over the line of fashionable and craziness/overly-insanely quirkiness, you are most likely to be in the UNCOOL side. So, being very conscious about the clothes I wear (or more like how to pull off the clothes that only I can afford..think, 2nd hand shops, reject shops and the like..and convince myself that they're all vintage pieces), imagine my terror when I, myself feel that my clothes are not cool anymore. Thanks to the, o yes, STARING EYES.

I mean I know that my shoes have holes and they are dirty. But not like you have never got your shoes dirty or wear out. Besides I like to think that these kind of things give me the right amount of edginess that I always think I have. And I'm a student. I can't afford D&G shoes. You can say whatever you want cos I'm not the one with a freaking CAMEL TOE. (To the ignorant, camel toe refers to the shape of a camel toe that you get when you wear your pants especially jeans too high. Moderation is key here). Yes, my clothes look old. At least they're vintage. Sure you won't wear them. Who cares, at least they look cool on me. You know what, I'm done with this. Not because I am so pissed off that I can't talk about it anymore, nor that I am unable to find something amusing to say (for which the latter is true by the way). It's just that I suddenly remember that I haven't talked about Oprah yet and my bun is calling for me.

So now Oprah. Let me tell you something girl! (it's funny how I suddenly morphed into this african american lady character with a ghetto accent to further elaborate the story related to Oprah). Oprah speaks Greek. Ima tellin ya sista. That girl can speak Greek, ya know! (ok, so I suck...so what, suck is totally subjective!). In fact almost everybody in every american tv shows can speak Greek, minus the Simpsons and ANTM. And the tv stations are totally obsessed with 1980s movies (Hello, Police Academy?). I can't recall how many scrunchies or big spectacles or even that disgusting big, bushy thing on top of the upper lip, just below the nose - I think it's called a moustache, or more fondly a porn-star moustache I have seen on the tv since I got here. While i am not denying that ANTM is not produced in the 80s (although Tyra became a model in the 80s which technically means ANTM is actually 80s related), I can't see why they can't get newer movies on tv. And, for the love of humanity, please stop dubbing/voice-overing the Oprah Winfrey show. Seriously, I can still hear her REAL voice in ENGLISH, though really faintly. I mean, if you really want to do it, you might as well do it correctly.

My brain is dead. Will continue shortly after replenishing the stomach with bun - BUN day for a FUN day!