I know that lately, I have been posting like two entries in one day, sometimes one after another. It’s not because I’m bored (a lie) or anything, but just because every now and then, random thoughts always pop out in my head. So, knowing all well that people at work won’t appreciate my jokes, let alone my random thoughts (seriously, about pregnant women?) and not to mention my sudden burst of laughter while reading other people’s blogs and trying to disguise it by fake coughing when I was supposed to be doing real work, I resort to blogging. If that makes me look like a pathetic loser, well, so be it. Because in my mind I know that I am not a loser (maybe) and I have a cool hair that I cut myself.
Yes, you read (heard?) it right, folks. I cut my own hair. Or I gave myself a haircut (???). I don’t know what to use here. I hope you’d understand. This action (haircut) was prompted (more like provoked) by the annoying too-short-to-tie-but-long-enough-that-it-becomes-super-irritating hair. But to be completely honest, I actually made a bet with someone (or something, depending on your definition) that if He (I’m just calling it a “He” here) promised that I could settle the problems that I had on that day, I’d cut my hair. With my own bare hands and a pair of scissors.
[I have always wanted to get a haircut but I have a trust issue. You see, I have a hair-stylist that I always go to since the past year whenever I want to get my hair cut. She is awesome and dare I say, when awesome (her) meets awesome (me), we become doubly awesome. And the result – equally awesome haircut. Since I got her treatment (not sexually related), I swear that I will never cheat on any hair stylist else ever again. Also, I am always promised with a happy ending (no pun intended). One day before leaving for Greece, I have made an appointment to get my hair cut. As what one wise man used to say to me, shit happens and shits really did happen on that day which prevented me from getting a haircut (I don’t want to talk about these shits). When I got here, I realise that I will have to let my hair grow long because there is no way I’m letting anyone else to do Edward Scissorhands on my hair. Or on any part of my body, and come to think of it, especially “down there’. I also realize that there is nothing funny about the last sentence at all and somewhat (read: a lot) creepy. I apologise]
Anyways, He actually got my problems settled and I, a man of my words, had to perform the never before ritual-like art of cutting my own hair without the ample aid of mirrors and professional know how. In fact, the closest thing I have come to actually cutting hair was when I cut my sister’s (and my) Barbie’s (let’s call her Stacy as I can’t recall what we actually named her) hair, resulting in my sister crying and promising that I will forever burn in hell because apparently cutting her (our) Stacy’s hair is a big sin. Whatever. I was just trying to help because truth be told, Stacy’s hair was a mess after a series of hair brushing and braiding by yours truly. Besides, I was at an age where imagination totally ruled and I was awesome (the latter still holds true. So does the former).
[Stop questioning. I was very close with my sister and still am so it’s totally fine to play Barbie with her. And cooking fake leaves pretending we were housewives (but sometimes I was the husband coming from work, tired). And skipping too]
I began the ritual by panicking. Not a good start. But I managed to put a plastic bag around my shoulders because that’s what you do when you go get a professional haircut in a real salon. Only the plastic bag is not literally plastic and it doesn’t smell like Spanish onions. After chanting some mantra (mostly consisted of “There is no way you’re going to f**k this up because you’re awesome” and “You’re ugly anyway so a s**tty haircut won’t make any difference”), I chopped my first batch of hair. I knew at that instant that it was going to be a hell lot worse because 1. I started with the hair on the back and 2. I totally didn’t/couldn’t see whatever the hell I was doing. So began the haircutting fiasco, which mostly included me crying like a girl, screaming profanity and asking NJM how badly I have messed up.
Ezie: Seriously, does that look okay?
NJM: Yes, owh, very nice. You did good!
Ezie: S**t, that bad? Is there any point to keep on living?
NJM: Quit whinging. It’s alright.
Ezie: I think the right is shorter than the left. OMG!!! I want to die.
NJM took scissors and stabbed Ezie straight into his liver.
NJM: That’ll teach you, you whinging b***h! Oh hey look at that. You got what you wished for.
Okay, so it didn’t actually go out like that but you get the gist.
I somehow calmed myself down and continued on. I mean, enough damage was already done and there’s no way that I could make it worse. Turned out, I was right. I applied the techniques used by Jane (my hairstylist) and got my fringe going on again. Thank god for being a quick learner and an excellent observer*. And I totally like my fringe now that I can’t stop flaunting it. The hair is not bad either. Sure, no one noticed (except a workmate who only commented on my getting a haircut 2 days after and wanted to slap me on the back of my neck) and sure I was paranoid at first, but after all that had been said and done, my hair is all good. And still shiny.
[*I swear that I first learnt how to swim by watching the Olympic Games. When I finally got into a pool one day, I decided to try it. Sure, I failed at the first gazzzilion times but succeeded soon after I learnt that my hands were like ET’s hands and that there was no lifeguard around in case I drowned. The only one around was only my sister who, until now, was as hopeless at swimming as I was at that time. My aunt apparently got sick of training her nephew and niece and decided that sipping cold coca-cola was a much better option]
To everyone who has ever doubted my awesomeness, this story is yet another proof of me being just that or perhaps (depending on your judgment), completely the opposite. Either way, I am both humbled and proud by what I have accomplished.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Bad Day
You ever had one of those days where you would wake up in the morning and know that it’s just going to be a bad day?
I have it today.
And I really hate it.
I woke up late (something not unusual) albeit promising myself that I will, by hook or by crook, be the first person ever to enter that faded white building, which coincidentally is also guarded by a gazzzilion of stray dogs wanting to bite your arse when you are not looking (i.e. my office). I did not take a shower because 1. I was late and 2. d’oh! If you know me, I always take shower before I leave the house, wherever I may be because my hair is like this giant furball that needs H2O to successfully tame it up, lest I’ll be going out with a hat/cap/beanie to cover my now eeeiw-oh-so-gross hair. But since I’m a professional (at least that’s what I’d like to think), I can’t wear a hat/cap/beanie to work. Also, I have a very cool-arse hair that I always like to parade around in, except when I’m having a bad hair day, of course. As my sisters used to say (Destiny’s Child) – if you got ‘em, flaunt ‘em. And I am a person with so little thing to flaunt about (do you flaunt ‘about’? Is this correct?). Also, Destiny’s Child has recently split (I don’t know what this has to do with my cool hair).
So first clue of a bad day – Not taking shower before going to work.
I put on my work clothes and all I can say is that within only one second, I was abducted by aliens who told me that I’m the real Kal-El, or whatever the name of the real Superman is, and that I must wear the stupidest outfit ever so that I will look like a total dork. Since I am the real Superman, I obliged. I mean, what else would you do if you were taken by aliens and told that you were the REAL Superman? So yeah, I am now wearing the stupidest outfit I have ever put on. And just as I was walking out of my room, I realised that my (okay, not really mine but I’ve had it for like ever (2 months) now that it’s technically mine) brown cardigan has oil stains on it. XXL size, I might add (the stains, not the cardigan). As you might already know, oil stains don’t come off pretty easily, especially when they are gotten by being an amateur cook who clumsily squirts squid oil all over him just because ooh, look at this, it’s fun and that he is a total b***h-cook. In fact, I don’t think that oil stains ever come off at all. But because I didn’t have the time to change or anything to change to, I just hurried myself to the bus stop. And hope that the stains will blend in with the brown colour. And that no one will notice. Stupid aliens.
Second clue – Stupid outfit with oil stains on cardigan.
While I was walking to the bus stop to take my first bus, I lost my nose to frostbite. And I was temporarily blind because the strong-arse winter wind is a b***h and decided that it’s funny to make fun of my eyes. I braved the cold winter wind because I still want to get paid and hey, I am Superman (I promise I’ll stop making this statement. It’s starting to annoy me as well). As I looked at my watch and listened to the radio DJ’s talking gibberish (Greek = Gibberish), I knew there was no way in hell I could catch that 8.30 bus. But I was wrong because the bus arrived just when I was about to cross the street, making me run like a homeless guy chasing after dog poops (don’t ask me. I don’t have time to explain) in an attempt to get on that bloody bus. Bear in mind that while I was attempting this heroic mission, the Wind B***h was still playing with me and now messing up my cool-arse hair. So I got on the bus, looking like a dork and everyone was staring at the dork with s**t hair. Awesome.
Third clue – Running for the bus, getting frostbites that cause temporary blindness.
[For the record, I did not lose my nose to frostbite and I did not go blind. Thank you for your concern. And I hate running for the bus/train]
Everything changed when I got to work. I am not having a bad day anymore (or yet) and everything resumes to normal – i.e. blogging, reading blogs, checking facebook, and doing absolutely nothing while pretending to be busy writing reports.
It just goes to show that you might not know how your day will turn out to be. Things for certain, however, are death, taxes and that cold arse wind can cause blindness and frostbite. And that I am the real Kal-El.
Believe it or not. (Take my word and just believe it)
And let’s not talk about last Saturday night, okay?
I have it today.
And I really hate it.
I woke up late (something not unusual) albeit promising myself that I will, by hook or by crook, be the first person ever to enter that faded white building, which coincidentally is also guarded by a gazzzilion of stray dogs wanting to bite your arse when you are not looking (i.e. my office). I did not take a shower because 1. I was late and 2. d’oh! If you know me, I always take shower before I leave the house, wherever I may be because my hair is like this giant furball that needs H2O to successfully tame it up, lest I’ll be going out with a hat/cap/beanie to cover my now eeeiw-oh-so-gross hair. But since I’m a professional (at least that’s what I’d like to think), I can’t wear a hat/cap/beanie to work. Also, I have a very cool-arse hair that I always like to parade around in, except when I’m having a bad hair day, of course. As my sisters used to say (Destiny’s Child) – if you got ‘em, flaunt ‘em. And I am a person with so little thing to flaunt about (do you flaunt ‘about’? Is this correct?). Also, Destiny’s Child has recently split (I don’t know what this has to do with my cool hair).
So first clue of a bad day – Not taking shower before going to work.
I put on my work clothes and all I can say is that within only one second, I was abducted by aliens who told me that I’m the real Kal-El, or whatever the name of the real Superman is, and that I must wear the stupidest outfit ever so that I will look like a total dork. Since I am the real Superman, I obliged. I mean, what else would you do if you were taken by aliens and told that you were the REAL Superman? So yeah, I am now wearing the stupidest outfit I have ever put on. And just as I was walking out of my room, I realised that my (okay, not really mine but I’ve had it for like ever (2 months) now that it’s technically mine) brown cardigan has oil stains on it. XXL size, I might add (the stains, not the cardigan). As you might already know, oil stains don’t come off pretty easily, especially when they are gotten by being an amateur cook who clumsily squirts squid oil all over him just because ooh, look at this, it’s fun and that he is a total b***h-cook. In fact, I don’t think that oil stains ever come off at all. But because I didn’t have the time to change or anything to change to, I just hurried myself to the bus stop. And hope that the stains will blend in with the brown colour. And that no one will notice. Stupid aliens.
Second clue – Stupid outfit with oil stains on cardigan.
While I was walking to the bus stop to take my first bus, I lost my nose to frostbite. And I was temporarily blind because the strong-arse winter wind is a b***h and decided that it’s funny to make fun of my eyes. I braved the cold winter wind because I still want to get paid and hey, I am Superman (I promise I’ll stop making this statement. It’s starting to annoy me as well). As I looked at my watch and listened to the radio DJ’s talking gibberish (Greek = Gibberish), I knew there was no way in hell I could catch that 8.30 bus. But I was wrong because the bus arrived just when I was about to cross the street, making me run like a homeless guy chasing after dog poops (don’t ask me. I don’t have time to explain) in an attempt to get on that bloody bus. Bear in mind that while I was attempting this heroic mission, the Wind B***h was still playing with me and now messing up my cool-arse hair. So I got on the bus, looking like a dork and everyone was staring at the dork with s**t hair. Awesome.
Third clue – Running for the bus, getting frostbites that cause temporary blindness.
[For the record, I did not lose my nose to frostbite and I did not go blind. Thank you for your concern. And I hate running for the bus/train]
Everything changed when I got to work. I am not having a bad day anymore (or yet) and everything resumes to normal – i.e. blogging, reading blogs, checking facebook, and doing absolutely nothing while pretending to be busy writing reports.
It just goes to show that you might not know how your day will turn out to be. Things for certain, however, are death, taxes and that cold arse wind can cause blindness and frostbite. And that I am the real Kal-El.
Believe it or not. (Take my word and just believe it)
And let’s not talk about last Saturday night, okay?
Monday, January 28, 2008
Random baby!
Question: What does bughatsa and I have in common?
Answer: Both ended up in the toilet last Saturday night.
Answer: Both ended up in the toilet last Saturday night.
The things that make me really, really pissed
1. My not being able to call my family due to own stupidity. I scratched the NEW calling card too hard with a key that I can’t make out what the pin numbers are anymore.
2. Being really, really short on money. Gosh, so many things to buy, so little money.
3. Difficulties in enrolment for the new semester just because of one stupid elective. And for the record, I hate you Jurgen (I don’t know if that’s how you spell your name but still, I hate you and your European accent and your lousy-arse teaching method. By the way, I saw you walking around Newtown with your girlfriend. You both suck!).
4. Arcade Fire’s first time ever in Australia and I am going to miss them performing. As a matter of fact, this is the reason why I decided to post today and subsequently why I made the title like it is.
5. I am going to miss out on Big Day Out. I have nothing else to say about this.
Note on Arcade Fire and related ramblings:
Arcade Fire is perhaps, the greatest band alive. And to those who disagree, screw you and may God have mercy on your parents’ souls for having a child who doesn’t like Arcade Fire. I mean, I don’t know how/why you cannot like Arcade Fire. But coming from me who also likes Kylie and regards Last Christmas by Wham as the greatest Christmas song ever, I may be too quick to judge. Seriously though, Last Christmas? How can you not like that song? I’m telling you that it’s the best song to dance to while breaking mirrors. Trust me, I’ve done it before and it was awesome.
I became a fan of AF when my friend, L let me listen to some of their songs from their first album a couple years back. Speaking of L, I would like to take this opportunity to thank her so very much for introducing me to AF, going to concerts of bands you’ve never heard of including going to the university’s café during one hour break every Tuesday just to listen to some crappy, non-famous B-class singers because we all know that they’re so totally going to be famous one day, while watching me eat cereals sans lait for lunch, and also holding my hand during the Strokes’ concert as I was being gang-raped by pre-pubescent teens (mostly girls).
[The last reason can be very misleading because I have neither raped or being raped by anyone before. By “being gang-raped” I mean my soul being gang-raped by teenage girls who are not old enough to even keep a hamster as a pet let alone show any cleavage that, truth be told, many of them were trying show off (seriously, you do not have ample volume to do so, kids!).I’m glad I got that matter settled. But I still hate teenage kids]
[Reading back what I have written, I realise that I have successfully become the unfunny, creepy (hot) person who, in an attempt to be funny, used the word “gang-raped”. I, sincerely apologise for my effort]
I have both of AF’s albums. I listen to them when I am depressed, happy, lonely and/or all of the above. That is how big of an impact AF has on my life and my emotional+mental well being. And everytime “Wake Up” plays in my iPod on shuffle, I will listen to it over and over again until my iPod runs out of battery. Or until I run out of swear words. Let me explain.
My iPod and I have a game that we play so very often, especially during my commute to work. The perfect venue for this game is on the bus, preferably with a lot of staring people. 10 simple explanations of the game (which, by the way, is always won by the iPod):
1. Turn on iPod.
2. iPod displays “Not enough battery. Please charge your iPod now”.
3. Swear profusely which includes “You b***h. I charged you the whole night, you worthless piece of s**t!”.
4. Score = iPod-1, Owner-0.
5. Calm down and try again.
6. YES! It’s working now. Who’s the boss now, huh? Plead before your Master, sucka!
7. Score = iPod-1, Owner-1.
8. Skip 2 songs because well, one is by Peter Cetera and the other by Olivia Newton John with Cliff Richard. Spare me the question why, okay?
9. iPod displays “Not enough battery. Please charge your iPod now”.
10. Owner punches own stomach and dies. Also the score = iPod-100000, Owner-minus999999
Anyhoo, AF totally rocks my socks. I know I sound like most of the teenage girls when I wrote that sentence, but I don’t care. And again, screw you for judging. I have enough from my iPod alone.
I don’t want to ramble on why I heart AF sooo much so I won’t. Just get their albums already.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Things I Found Out
There are new things that I learnt recently. There are things that I have already known but recent incidents reaffirm those things. I’m sorry if the last sentence doesn’t make sense. At least it does to me. So, screw you for judging. There are also things that I only found out when I’m here.
1. One of the Greek’s New Year traditions is to cut up a cake that has the new year written on top of it (e.g. this year it’s 2008). In that cake there’s a hidden coin called “fluri” and if you get the piece (you will only get one little piece. You can’t cheat by taking the whole cake. It’s bad luck) with the “fluri” in it, you will get good luck. Or two days off from work. I got neither. I will plant my own “fluri” in a cake that I will bake myself. That way, I will always know where the coin is and I will forever be lucky.
2. I hate teenage kids. Specifically those who are in their pre-pubescent age (i.e. 12, 13, 14, 15 and maybe 16) and who commute by bus. They are obnoxious and think that they own the bus/world. They think running on the bus and talking so loudly that my eardrums bleed are funny. They even think “accidentally” hitting people with their pre-pubescent bodies when the bus stops is funny. Guess what? I don’t and God bless their teenage souls for if they don’t stop acting like d**kheads, I will literally cut their d**heads (for the males) and force the females to eat them.
3. I am, apparently racist. I was asked by Anonymous this question - “So you only hang out with Asians?”. Anonymous made the comment after seeing my photos on facebook. I’m like screw you, b***h! I can’t care less what you think because believe it or not, the world revolves around me and in my world you, you clearly do not exist. I respect any races that exist in this world like I respect the food that I eat. And that is a lot of respect. Also, if you know me, I eat like a horse.
4. I’m pretty sure the lady behind me is talking behind my back (totally a b***h if she is but I take it back if she isn’t). Also, I hate when I hear my name is uttered out but I can’t understand what they (my colleagues) are talking about (i.e. they are talking in Greek with the occasional “[name redacted]” word is included in the conversation).
5. I need money for my trip to Paris and London. Can anyone suggest a way for me to get rich without having to work hard? Getting a sugardaddy/sugarmumy is hard work and so is selling my body. Therefore, the two options are clearly out of the picture.
I apologise for being a bit tensed in this post. I don’t normally resort to using profanity but this is an exception. I usually eat if I’m feeling sh***y. I can’t eat while blogging, though I’m working on it.
1. One of the Greek’s New Year traditions is to cut up a cake that has the new year written on top of it (e.g. this year it’s 2008). In that cake there’s a hidden coin called “fluri” and if you get the piece (you will only get one little piece. You can’t cheat by taking the whole cake. It’s bad luck) with the “fluri” in it, you will get good luck. Or two days off from work. I got neither. I will plant my own “fluri” in a cake that I will bake myself. That way, I will always know where the coin is and I will forever be lucky.
2. I hate teenage kids. Specifically those who are in their pre-pubescent age (i.e. 12, 13, 14, 15 and maybe 16) and who commute by bus. They are obnoxious and think that they own the bus/world. They think running on the bus and talking so loudly that my eardrums bleed are funny. They even think “accidentally” hitting people with their pre-pubescent bodies when the bus stops is funny. Guess what? I don’t and God bless their teenage souls for if they don’t stop acting like d**kheads, I will literally cut their d**heads (for the males) and force the females to eat them.
3. I am, apparently racist. I was asked by Anonymous this question - “So you only hang out with Asians?”. Anonymous made the comment after seeing my photos on facebook. I’m like screw you, b***h! I can’t care less what you think because believe it or not, the world revolves around me and in my world you, you clearly do not exist. I respect any races that exist in this world like I respect the food that I eat. And that is a lot of respect. Also, if you know me, I eat like a horse.
4. I’m pretty sure the lady behind me is talking behind my back (totally a b***h if she is but I take it back if she isn’t). Also, I hate when I hear my name is uttered out but I can’t understand what they (my colleagues) are talking about (i.e. they are talking in Greek with the occasional “[name redacted]” word is included in the conversation).
5. I need money for my trip to Paris and London. Can anyone suggest a way for me to get rich without having to work hard? Getting a sugardaddy/sugarmumy is hard work and so is selling my body. Therefore, the two options are clearly out of the picture.
I apologise for being a bit tensed in this post. I don’t normally resort to using profanity but this is an exception. I usually eat if I’m feeling sh***y. I can’t eat while blogging, though I’m working on it.
What The Trip Meant To Me...
Okay, so I lied. I really thought at the time when I was writing the last post that I would commit. You know, to temporarily retire from blogging. Maybe I wasn’t being completely honest with you. One of the things that deter me from blogging is that I spend so much time reading other people’s blogs. Currently I’m stalking Okay Seriously. She’s damn funny and you can find the link in the link section of this page (seriously, do I need to provide you with this obvious information. What now? Do you want me to feed you with my feet? Huh?)
Anyhoo, all these bloggers kinda inspire me to keep on writing. I don’t normally write because 1. My English sucks big time 2. I’m not funny at all (but maybe in person I’m funnier) 3. I’m lazy. The third reason sums everything up. However, I do enjoy writing. More specifically I enjoy ranting and talking bulls**ts. I was born that way, I guess. As you can see (read?) I am now ranting and talking bulls**ts. I am also a self confessed psychic (totally unrelated).
So yeah, a couple of weeks ago I went to Athens. Was it a good trip? I would grade it as B+. Why B+? Let me explain.
I have never been to Athens before and was literally godsmacked when I first saw the ruins of the Acropolis city/Parthenon temple. Judging by the number of times I said “Wow, Look at that!” and “Oh, Wow!” and “Holy s**t, how much further do we have to walk!” and “I didn’t know that Athens’ main population is made of African people?”, I can say I was like a … in a Barbie-land. I didn’t know how to react, because I was so overwhelmed. Coming from somebody who was also overwhelmed (read: freaked out) when a Gypsy girl gave him a flower in exchange for money (she lied. She said it was for free), I think “overwhelm” does not cut it. But since I have poor vocabulary, I’m just going to stay with the word. I also went out a lot and walked a lot. It was fun because I like going out and walking about. I am surprised that my feet still remain intact to my body.
[Did you know that my entire bone structure is lop-sided? I found out a couple of months ago when I went to see a GP. He revealed that my right leg is shorter than the left one, after I questioned the “bent” I saw on the x-ray of my spine. After finding that out, I somehow feel like there’s more that I don’t know about myself. I have a strong feeling that I am a mutant. Also, I regularly have dreams that I am Harry Potter. I checked the mirror for a scar on my forehead. Nada. I conclude that I am still amutant but not Harry Potter]
As much as I like visiting another place/city/country/planet, I also like to travel with at least one companion because I hate travelling alone. I persuaded my friend, NSS to come with me (actually it was the other way around). He agreed because he wanted to spend time in Athens before he joins the army. And since he’s been there before, I was confident that the trip was going to be smooth and fun. Being a self-proclaimed psychic, I know not to trust my instinct because most of the time, I will either end up being in trouble or dead. Luckily, I’m still breathing.
We arrived late at night after 6+ hours of commute. By train. Do you know how tiring it is to sit on your arse for 6+ hours? I do and I’m telling you that it’s really, really tiring. So tiring in fact, I thought I had lost any of the last remaining fat/tissue of my skinny arse. Not that I have an arse to start with, but that’s not the point. Point is, my lovely bum was tired. I was tired. Then we had to walk around Ommonia Square (OS) for around 2 hours (but felt like eternity) looking for a cheap hotel/motel. I was warned by NSS that OS is a very dodgy place – full with junkies and drug dealers. I was prepared. In fact, I was more than prepared with some money in case I needed some pills (Just kidding. I will never do pills). What I didn’t know was that the place is also full with pimps. So we were walking around, and NSS was freaking out (seriously, blaming yourself and worrying all the time don’t make things any better, you know! More on this later) when suddenly this fat dude came out of nowhere offering us some guy/girl (our preference) pleasures. My immediate thought was “I have found MY city!”. NSS was still freaking out, though. I tried to calm him down (which never worked) and finally we found a cheap hotel. We retired to our beds and had our beauty sleeps for another brand new day in a brand new city.
The next day we did all the touristy stuff. I won’t go into details because I feel that there are too many to share. I will however, share with you my emotional well being the whole time I was there. Most of the time, Mr. Brain was filled with all the following thoughts:
1. Stop whinging about your bloody nose all the freaking time. I know you’re sick and I understand your pain. Actually I don’t but whatever. Go take a pill or something (may I suggest a CHILL pill?). Seriously, this is going on far too much. And stop worrying that something will go wrong. Just worry about that arse because there’s a chance I’m going to rape them with a stick if you continue to whinge.
2. Why is it that we have to go to where you want to go every time we want to get something to eat? I don’t mind even one bit if you want to get that bloody pizza from the same bloody place every.single.time even though we are like a million miles away from it, but when I want to go to McDonald’s you said “Don’t tell me you need to go to McDonald’s!”. I don’t see the logic here. I seriously don’t.
3. Stop following hot (???) guys (I cannot comprehend your taste) in the hope that they will fall madly in love with you and immediately ask your hand in marriage. You choose that café and that table so that you can lust over a man who’s sitting at the front table and you’ve seen him in MySpace before? What’s that? You think you know him and he’s hot? Sorry to burst the bubble, but he clearly doesn’t notice you. And stop pouting those lips. He doesn’t see you! Gosh, I go to a café because I’m hungry and want something to eat. Not to degrade myself and become a ho.
4. The world does not revolve around you. I know that because, as a matter of fact, the world revolves around ME! And stop pretending that you’re smarter than me (maybe you are, but I refuse to believe it).
5. You are sick (physically and mentally) and need some rest. You don’t want to listen to my advice and insist on going out anyway. While we’re out, you complain that you’re sick and that you feel shitty. Well, listen here, sistah! You are sick and s**t. Get over it. And stop whinging. I’m here because I want to have a good time so don’t you dare ruin my mood! (you did anyway).
So, as you can see, it was a bittersweet trip. I enjoyed it because I had fun. I even fell asleep in the subway waiting for the metro to start operating. No, I did not feel like a dog or a homeless person doing that – just so we’re clear. I might post the pictures here but the Internet connection at work sucks big time so we’ll see. Maybe I just post them somewhere else. I’ll let you know if that’s ever going to happen. Okay?
Now, I can’t wait for my next trip to MY other cities (Paris and London).
P/S: I don’t blame NSS entirely because I understand how it feels like being sick and at the same time forced to have fun. I would like to thank NSS for being such a lovely companion throughout the whole trip.
Anyhoo, all these bloggers kinda inspire me to keep on writing. I don’t normally write because 1. My English sucks big time 2. I’m not funny at all (but maybe in person I’m funnier) 3. I’m lazy. The third reason sums everything up. However, I do enjoy writing. More specifically I enjoy ranting and talking bulls**ts. I was born that way, I guess. As you can see (read?) I am now ranting and talking bulls**ts. I am also a self confessed psychic (totally unrelated).
So yeah, a couple of weeks ago I went to Athens. Was it a good trip? I would grade it as B+. Why B+? Let me explain.
I have never been to Athens before and was literally godsmacked when I first saw the ruins of the Acropolis city/Parthenon temple. Judging by the number of times I said “Wow, Look at that!” and “Oh, Wow!” and “Holy s**t, how much further do we have to walk!” and “I didn’t know that Athens’ main population is made of African people?”, I can say I was like a … in a Barbie-land. I didn’t know how to react, because I was so overwhelmed. Coming from somebody who was also overwhelmed (read: freaked out) when a Gypsy girl gave him a flower in exchange for money (she lied. She said it was for free), I think “overwhelm” does not cut it. But since I have poor vocabulary, I’m just going to stay with the word. I also went out a lot and walked a lot. It was fun because I like going out and walking about. I am surprised that my feet still remain intact to my body.
[Did you know that my entire bone structure is lop-sided? I found out a couple of months ago when I went to see a GP. He revealed that my right leg is shorter than the left one, after I questioned the “bent” I saw on the x-ray of my spine. After finding that out, I somehow feel like there’s more that I don’t know about myself. I have a strong feeling that I am a mutant. Also, I regularly have dreams that I am Harry Potter. I checked the mirror for a scar on my forehead. Nada. I conclude that I am still amutant but not Harry Potter]
As much as I like visiting another place/city/country/planet, I also like to travel with at least one companion because I hate travelling alone. I persuaded my friend, NSS to come with me (actually it was the other way around). He agreed because he wanted to spend time in Athens before he joins the army. And since he’s been there before, I was confident that the trip was going to be smooth and fun. Being a self-proclaimed psychic, I know not to trust my instinct because most of the time, I will either end up being in trouble or dead. Luckily, I’m still breathing.
We arrived late at night after 6+ hours of commute. By train. Do you know how tiring it is to sit on your arse for 6+ hours? I do and I’m telling you that it’s really, really tiring. So tiring in fact, I thought I had lost any of the last remaining fat/tissue of my skinny arse. Not that I have an arse to start with, but that’s not the point. Point is, my lovely bum was tired. I was tired. Then we had to walk around Ommonia Square (OS) for around 2 hours (but felt like eternity) looking for a cheap hotel/motel. I was warned by NSS that OS is a very dodgy place – full with junkies and drug dealers. I was prepared. In fact, I was more than prepared with some money in case I needed some pills (Just kidding. I will never do pills). What I didn’t know was that the place is also full with pimps. So we were walking around, and NSS was freaking out (seriously, blaming yourself and worrying all the time don’t make things any better, you know! More on this later) when suddenly this fat dude came out of nowhere offering us some guy/girl (our preference) pleasures. My immediate thought was “I have found MY city!”. NSS was still freaking out, though. I tried to calm him down (which never worked) and finally we found a cheap hotel. We retired to our beds and had our beauty sleeps for another brand new day in a brand new city.
The next day we did all the touristy stuff. I won’t go into details because I feel that there are too many to share. I will however, share with you my emotional well being the whole time I was there. Most of the time, Mr. Brain was filled with all the following thoughts:
1. Stop whinging about your bloody nose all the freaking time. I know you’re sick and I understand your pain. Actually I don’t but whatever. Go take a pill or something (may I suggest a CHILL pill?). Seriously, this is going on far too much. And stop worrying that something will go wrong. Just worry about that arse because there’s a chance I’m going to rape them with a stick if you continue to whinge.
2. Why is it that we have to go to where you want to go every time we want to get something to eat? I don’t mind even one bit if you want to get that bloody pizza from the same bloody place every.single.time even though we are like a million miles away from it, but when I want to go to McDonald’s you said “Don’t tell me you need to go to McDonald’s!”. I don’t see the logic here. I seriously don’t.
3. Stop following hot (???) guys (I cannot comprehend your taste) in the hope that they will fall madly in love with you and immediately ask your hand in marriage. You choose that café and that table so that you can lust over a man who’s sitting at the front table and you’ve seen him in MySpace before? What’s that? You think you know him and he’s hot? Sorry to burst the bubble, but he clearly doesn’t notice you. And stop pouting those lips. He doesn’t see you! Gosh, I go to a café because I’m hungry and want something to eat. Not to degrade myself and become a ho.
4. The world does not revolve around you. I know that because, as a matter of fact, the world revolves around ME! And stop pretending that you’re smarter than me (maybe you are, but I refuse to believe it).
5. You are sick (physically and mentally) and need some rest. You don’t want to listen to my advice and insist on going out anyway. While we’re out, you complain that you’re sick and that you feel shitty. Well, listen here, sistah! You are sick and s**t. Get over it. And stop whinging. I’m here because I want to have a good time so don’t you dare ruin my mood! (you did anyway).
So, as you can see, it was a bittersweet trip. I enjoyed it because I had fun. I even fell asleep in the subway waiting for the metro to start operating. No, I did not feel like a dog or a homeless person doing that – just so we’re clear. I might post the pictures here but the Internet connection at work sucks big time so we’ll see. Maybe I just post them somewhere else. I’ll let you know if that’s ever going to happen. Okay?
Now, I can’t wait for my next trip to MY other cities (Paris and London).
P/S: I don’t blame NSS entirely because I understand how it feels like being sick and at the same time forced to have fun. I would like to thank NSS for being such a lovely companion throughout the whole trip.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
My Last Words
Hi peeps (I don’t really know what peeps mean, but I just like the word and I hear it all the time so I’m just using it. Stop judging me).
Anyhoo, so sorry for being such a lame-a** blogger. When I started this blog, I promised myself to regularly update it with exciting words and oh-so-cool pictures so that my family and friends can get at least a glimpse of how I am doing here. Unbeknownst to me that “I” is such a lazy bastard. I mean, I know that I’m lazy -- what with getting up at 2 p.m. and staring blankly at the ceiling for 5 minutes and then deciding that getting up to eat is simply a worthless thing to do and I’ll be damned if I ever get up at all because this bed is surprisingly too comfortable especially in a cold weather like today – but it never occurred to me that I am THAT lazy.
To be honest, I had a really, really bad day when I got back from Athens and that’s when I decided that my blog doesn’t interest me anymore. It’s more like marriage, really. But since I’m not married, I only made this assumption based purely on observations. I took heaps of beautiful pictures (because I’m so beautiful) but it is in my (maybe your) best interest that I don’t post them here. The reasons for this are:
1.I am lazy (I’m soo lazy that I don’t feel like finishing this sentence. Yes, I am THAT lazy).
2.The Internet connection at my workplace sucks big time.
3.I don’t have anything funny to talk about (in general – doesn’t have anything to do with posting pictures).
But don’t distress. I will continue writing and blogging till death do us part (see, it’s all about making a commitment here – just like marriage). However, I will not write for a while because I’m currently venturing into another project. If you have read one of my previous posts about my New Year resolutions, you’d find that one of my resolutions (or more like the things that I want to do but will never accomplish due to laziness, poverty and lack of intelligence) is to start sketching fashion designs. Also, if you did read my posts, you:
1.are my friends
2.have no life that you start reading my equally life-less (read: lame) blog
3.are just plain insane/retarded/whacky-o
Because I’m such a dumb ass when it comes to computer, or technology in general (till this day I still can’t figure out how to post my pictures exactly where I want them to be. Blogger does everything for me and due to my stupidity and laziness, I don’t care how Blogger does it, even though I don’t want my pictures to be in the order that Blogger chooses. I hereby named Blogger BtB which stands for Blogger the Bitch), I don’t know how to sketch on the computer. I don’t even now how to use Paint. The last time I used Paint was when I was 12 making tree pictures for my computer class.
I then decided it’s best to just buy a sketch book and start sketching and writing anything I want on that book. This is a wonderful idea and coming from me who is not as bright as I want to be, that is really the biggest compliment I can give to myself.
So, in conclusion (I’m surprised that I have made it this far – even writing this post alone), I will retire temporarily from the blogging industry and concentrate on another, more exciting business - sketching. In the mean time, I will write/scribble/jot down some notes about interesting things that have happened while I’m here, including the trip to Athens so that I will always have something to write about later. In fact, I have been doing this all these while – making notes in my mobile, jotting down gibberish on my diary, even writing short sentences in the word document for my potential blog posts.
I do this for the best. I hate making promises that I won’t be able to keep due to my own laziness, poverty and lack of intelligence (last post I said “I promise”). And since there’s no one reading this blog besides me anyway, I’ll finish this post without apologizing.
I’m lazy and funny. One of them is completely true and the other is half true, depending on your IQ. I’m just rambling so peeps, I’m signing off now.
Kind regards
Anyhoo, so sorry for being such a lame-a** blogger. When I started this blog, I promised myself to regularly update it with exciting words and oh-so-cool pictures so that my family and friends can get at least a glimpse of how I am doing here. Unbeknownst to me that “I” is such a lazy bastard. I mean, I know that I’m lazy -- what with getting up at 2 p.m. and staring blankly at the ceiling for 5 minutes and then deciding that getting up to eat is simply a worthless thing to do and I’ll be damned if I ever get up at all because this bed is surprisingly too comfortable especially in a cold weather like today – but it never occurred to me that I am THAT lazy.
To be honest, I had a really, really bad day when I got back from Athens and that’s when I decided that my blog doesn’t interest me anymore. It’s more like marriage, really. But since I’m not married, I only made this assumption based purely on observations. I took heaps of beautiful pictures (because I’m so beautiful) but it is in my (maybe your) best interest that I don’t post them here. The reasons for this are:
1.I am lazy (I’m soo lazy that I don’t feel like finishing this sentence. Yes, I am THAT lazy).
2.The Internet connection at my workplace sucks big time.
3.I don’t have anything funny to talk about (in general – doesn’t have anything to do with posting pictures).
But don’t distress. I will continue writing and blogging till death do us part (see, it’s all about making a commitment here – just like marriage). However, I will not write for a while because I’m currently venturing into another project. If you have read one of my previous posts about my New Year resolutions, you’d find that one of my resolutions (or more like the things that I want to do but will never accomplish due to laziness, poverty and lack of intelligence) is to start sketching fashion designs. Also, if you did read my posts, you:
1.are my friends
2.have no life that you start reading my equally life-less (read: lame) blog
3.are just plain insane/retarded/whacky-o
Because I’m such a dumb ass when it comes to computer, or technology in general (till this day I still can’t figure out how to post my pictures exactly where I want them to be. Blogger does everything for me and due to my stupidity and laziness, I don’t care how Blogger does it, even though I don’t want my pictures to be in the order that Blogger chooses. I hereby named Blogger BtB which stands for Blogger the Bitch), I don’t know how to sketch on the computer. I don’t even now how to use Paint. The last time I used Paint was when I was 12 making tree pictures for my computer class.
I then decided it’s best to just buy a sketch book and start sketching and writing anything I want on that book. This is a wonderful idea and coming from me who is not as bright as I want to be, that is really the biggest compliment I can give to myself.
So, in conclusion (I’m surprised that I have made it this far – even writing this post alone), I will retire temporarily from the blogging industry and concentrate on another, more exciting business - sketching. In the mean time, I will write/scribble/jot down some notes about interesting things that have happened while I’m here, including the trip to Athens so that I will always have something to write about later. In fact, I have been doing this all these while – making notes in my mobile, jotting down gibberish on my diary, even writing short sentences in the word document for my potential blog posts.
I do this for the best. I hate making promises that I won’t be able to keep due to my own laziness, poverty and lack of intelligence (last post I said “I promise”). And since there’s no one reading this blog besides me anyway, I’ll finish this post without apologizing.
I’m lazy and funny. One of them is completely true and the other is half true, depending on your IQ. I’m just rambling so peeps, I’m signing off now.
Kind regards
Friday, January 11, 2008
I Will Post Something...I Promise
It has been a long time since I last posted anything here. I am such a procastinator, for which I apologise to myself for being one.
I'm going to Athens today and will be back on Monday, so expect something really good on Tuesday (if I'm not too tired / call in sick because I can't wake up).
Also, my bitchy camera just decided to re-function, so more pictures coming your way, people!
I'll have fun.
And call mum before I leave (cos you know, I'm such a good boy that I forget o tell them that I'm going).
Peace out!
I hate teenage kids.
I'm going to Athens today and will be back on Monday, so expect something really good on Tuesday (if I'm not too tired / call in sick because I can't wake up).
Also, my bitchy camera just decided to re-function, so more pictures coming your way, people!
I'll have fun.
And call mum before I leave (cos you know, I'm such a good boy that I forget o tell them that I'm going).
Peace out!
I hate teenage kids.
Friday, January 4, 2008
NY Pictures.
Here are some of the NY pictures that I took with my crappy phone camera. So don't judge!
*I apologise for the sudden influx of blog entries. Don't ask why because i am in no mood to explain. Suffice to say that it's because of no Internet connection in the last few days. I've been saving and editing the entries in my laptop for a while now and am now glad that everything is finally out there. Ta-daah!
.jpg)
The scenery from above. You can't really see but I asure you that it was amzing..jpg)
Nat, Moi & Jenny (I actually forgot Jenny's name and when Mak said to me "Jenny will come too", I (almost too quickly) replied "Who the hell is Jenny!". Jenny was standing just beside me, I think, trying to pretend that she didn't hear any of that. I'm sorry Jenny.).jpg)
The original trio (I really don't know if I'm actually in) .jpg)
Nat & Mak being super kawaii. Random Things About Today...Today Is Pretty Random, I Must Say
Today I:
1. Find out the name of the lady sitting behind me – Anastasia. A pretty name. Wish I could say the same about the person herself. My workmate makes a comment about the fact that I don’t talk to her, to which I told him that while I feel the warmth in her voice and believe that she’s a great person, I do not understand a single word she says and she creeps me out (well I didn’t actually say that she’s creepy or anything like that). Both of my workmates reckon it’ll be great if I started a conversation with Anastasia and I personally concur. The problem is none of us knows for sure if she speaks English. O well, we’ll see tomorrow (I have to start thinking about what I’m going to say to her -- “ermm, I heard you’re trying to kill me and feed me to the dogs? Nice to finally know that you actually care. So, it sure is cold today, huh?”). I’ll let you know if she really is trying to kidnap me.
2. Walk in the cold (-1 degree) praying that I won’t lose my nose to frostbite. The stagnant water in the drain turns to ice.
3. Find out that there are still 2 pineapple tarts remaining in the box. See, nobody wants them. I think nobody even knows that they are there, which again proves my eating the other pineapple tart was done out of kindness and compassion.
4. Wake up feeling like a zombie because I slept at 2 o’clock last night. I hate it when I think about my problems (and subsequently more potential problems through excessive thinking) too much that I’m unable to sleep.
5. Get through work without Internet. I am close to dying, if not throwing up in the bathroom. Dying I can understand, even sleeping. But throwing up? Have you ever heard of anyone wanting to throw up because there’s no Internet? That’s one expression that you don’t hear everyday (I’m sooo coining that expression – just like I coined the expression “This is so great, let’s get naked!” every time I was feeling good. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. Using the same expression in front of old customers who dined in the café while you were taking their orders was not a very pleasant way to start up a conversation). Bloody Internet! I can’t even read my emails today.
6. Contemplate of taking a nap in the toilet. My love towards sleeping in the toilet dates back when I was the head prefect in my high school. Being a very powerful figure who was loved by both the teachers (the art of sucking up) and fellow students (well, some of the juniors hated me guts but hatred is only one of the many forms of love, you know), I had a reputation to uphold. I couldn’t possibly fall asleep in the class during lessons, could I? So what I did was to go to the toilet, sat on it and dozed off. I am still quite surprised why I wasn’t bothered by the foul smell of the toilet. I was also quite good in the art of ‘sleeping while you’re walking” in high school. It’s different from sleep walking because you are completely aware of what’s happening around you, only that your eyes are closed. And there’s a trustworthy friend holding your hand, guiding you to the destination that you want to go. As you can see, having a trustworthy friend is essential. You don’t want to wake up drenched in oil waste in a large drain, do you? Huh, do you, Paolo? Do you?
7. Contemplate eating the last two remaining pineapple tarts, now that everyone has left the office (See, I’m actually doing work instead of just writing/reading blogs). I think they have magically transformed into strawberry tarts. O well, tarts are tarts, I suppose. Later I found that the whole box is gone. Magic? I don’t think so!
1. Find out the name of the lady sitting behind me – Anastasia. A pretty name. Wish I could say the same about the person herself. My workmate makes a comment about the fact that I don’t talk to her, to which I told him that while I feel the warmth in her voice and believe that she’s a great person, I do not understand a single word she says and she creeps me out (well I didn’t actually say that she’s creepy or anything like that). Both of my workmates reckon it’ll be great if I started a conversation with Anastasia and I personally concur. The problem is none of us knows for sure if she speaks English. O well, we’ll see tomorrow (I have to start thinking about what I’m going to say to her -- “ermm, I heard you’re trying to kill me and feed me to the dogs? Nice to finally know that you actually care. So, it sure is cold today, huh?”). I’ll let you know if she really is trying to kidnap me.
2. Walk in the cold (-1 degree) praying that I won’t lose my nose to frostbite. The stagnant water in the drain turns to ice.
3. Find out that there are still 2 pineapple tarts remaining in the box. See, nobody wants them. I think nobody even knows that they are there, which again proves my eating the other pineapple tart was done out of kindness and compassion.
4. Wake up feeling like a zombie because I slept at 2 o’clock last night. I hate it when I think about my problems (and subsequently more potential problems through excessive thinking) too much that I’m unable to sleep.
5. Get through work without Internet. I am close to dying, if not throwing up in the bathroom. Dying I can understand, even sleeping. But throwing up? Have you ever heard of anyone wanting to throw up because there’s no Internet? That’s one expression that you don’t hear everyday (I’m sooo coining that expression – just like I coined the expression “This is so great, let’s get naked!” every time I was feeling good. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. Using the same expression in front of old customers who dined in the café while you were taking their orders was not a very pleasant way to start up a conversation). Bloody Internet! I can’t even read my emails today.
6. Contemplate of taking a nap in the toilet. My love towards sleeping in the toilet dates back when I was the head prefect in my high school. Being a very powerful figure who was loved by both the teachers (the art of sucking up) and fellow students (well, some of the juniors hated me guts but hatred is only one of the many forms of love, you know), I had a reputation to uphold. I couldn’t possibly fall asleep in the class during lessons, could I? So what I did was to go to the toilet, sat on it and dozed off. I am still quite surprised why I wasn’t bothered by the foul smell of the toilet. I was also quite good in the art of ‘sleeping while you’re walking” in high school. It’s different from sleep walking because you are completely aware of what’s happening around you, only that your eyes are closed. And there’s a trustworthy friend holding your hand, guiding you to the destination that you want to go. As you can see, having a trustworthy friend is essential. You don’t want to wake up drenched in oil waste in a large drain, do you? Huh, do you, Paolo? Do you?
7. Contemplate eating the last two remaining pineapple tarts, now that everyone has left the office (See, I’m actually doing work instead of just writing/reading blogs). I think they have magically transformed into strawberry tarts. O well, tarts are tarts, I suppose. Later I found that the whole box is gone. Magic? I don’t think so!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
New Year celebration was really, really fun. I was enjoying it so much I nearly cried. Happy 2008, everyone!
I was under the impression that I’d be spending New Year alone and miserable. Boy, was I wrong. It started with my calling everyone back home, greeting and wishing them. Having to hear everyone’s voices again was such a wonderful feeling. I almost cried but the bloody cold weather (I was using a public phone) prevented me from doing so. Had I cried, coupled with the fact that my nose was running all the bloody time, I would have looked like I was suffering from some kind of deadly disease or something. Perhaps, rabies. Just a thought.
Then there was a small gathering in my friend’s house. VFP was there and a couple of other friends from Russia and Turkey. We did the countdown (not really. When we turned on the radio it was already 12) and chatted around. Then it was time for me to leave. You see, I called Nat asking her if she and Mak had any plans for that night. She said yes and you bet your arse that I wasn’t going to miss it! It was a dance party in a warehouse at the port. It’s really confusing but you weren’t there so stop complaining. All you need to know that it was a pretty and large warehouse.
I left the gathering a little late than I intended to. I hurried back home to change and that took like forever. If you know me (fortunately you don’t), it’ll take me forever to find the right outfit every single time I’m going out considering the fact that I don’t have that many cool clothes to wear. Also, I buy a lot of my clothes in 2nd hand shops because 1) they are dead cheap 2) I convinced myself that every piece I buy is vintage to make me feel better. This makes it harder to find something wearable without feeling cheap, and I am NOT cheap! Sure, people laugh at me and question my financial situation (is he really that poor? The answer is yes), but I only have one thing to say to those people: You ain’t got style, sistah!
So I put on my skinny jeans, a white Polo (borrowed) shirt and a vintage reversible vest. I looked hot (so I thought at that time. The lighting in my room can be very, very misleading) and I was ready to go. Unfortunately I forgot that my workmate had told me about the horrible traffic condition on New Year. I waited for the bus and I hailed for a cab. No such luck. I ended up walking/skipping/running (I still can’t believe I skipped! I must have looked like a retard) for 30 minutes to the place where I was supposed to be 30 minutes earlier. When I got there, I was already a mess. My armpits were sweating, albeit the cold weather and my hair were all over the place. A complete mess, I tell you. And I was wearing these black flat shoes made of cotton, which aren’t meant for evening wear at all. So there I was, looking like a pathetic loser when everyone else was dressed up in suits and cocktail dresses. “So, this is an EVENING WEAR function. Right, now I get it”. I experienced one of my most major-low-self-esteem moments there.
When I got in, I was so immersed in the mood of celebration that I forgot about my un-cool-ness. Nat and Mak looked at their best (hot, hot, hot!!!) and a couple of their friends showed up as well (Jenny & Eleni, who both looked hot. In fact I actually said to Eleni that she reminded me of a Greek friend I have who is equally tall and beautiful. I don’t know for sure why I said that – I mean, I wasn’t hitting on her or anything. The words just slurred out of my mouth. Then I made an awkward smiling face. She thanked me). We danced the night away and lo and behold, guess what I found. Snacks in the form of pineapple tarts!!! Pineapple tarts I tell you. Anyways, we danced to the music and I thanked Nat and Mak for making me feel happy that night.
That wasn’t the end of it. After we left the warehouse around 5, Nat, Mak, Jenny and I walked along the waterfront. Jenny made her own way and the remaining three of us went to this really Greek restaurant cum bar where they only played Greek music. Somehow I thought I was Greek (minus the look and body). We then had our brekkie at 7 a.m., eating Bughatsa. I love Bughatsa, with cream but no cinnamon because I hate cinnamon (just in case you out there want to take me out).
So that was it - my New Year celebration. I was thrilled that I didn’t have to spend NY alone. I got pictures to prove it, just in case you don’t believe me. And a red ornament that I stole from the Bughatsa place. Shit, I really am a thief!
p/s: Thanks Nat and Mak for making it a wonderful night for me. Love you both for that.
I was under the impression that I’d be spending New Year alone and miserable. Boy, was I wrong. It started with my calling everyone back home, greeting and wishing them. Having to hear everyone’s voices again was such a wonderful feeling. I almost cried but the bloody cold weather (I was using a public phone) prevented me from doing so. Had I cried, coupled with the fact that my nose was running all the bloody time, I would have looked like I was suffering from some kind of deadly disease or something. Perhaps, rabies. Just a thought.
Then there was a small gathering in my friend’s house. VFP was there and a couple of other friends from Russia and Turkey. We did the countdown (not really. When we turned on the radio it was already 12) and chatted around. Then it was time for me to leave. You see, I called Nat asking her if she and Mak had any plans for that night. She said yes and you bet your arse that I wasn’t going to miss it! It was a dance party in a warehouse at the port. It’s really confusing but you weren’t there so stop complaining. All you need to know that it was a pretty and large warehouse.
I left the gathering a little late than I intended to. I hurried back home to change and that took like forever. If you know me (fortunately you don’t), it’ll take me forever to find the right outfit every single time I’m going out considering the fact that I don’t have that many cool clothes to wear. Also, I buy a lot of my clothes in 2nd hand shops because 1) they are dead cheap 2) I convinced myself that every piece I buy is vintage to make me feel better. This makes it harder to find something wearable without feeling cheap, and I am NOT cheap! Sure, people laugh at me and question my financial situation (is he really that poor? The answer is yes), but I only have one thing to say to those people: You ain’t got style, sistah!
So I put on my skinny jeans, a white Polo (borrowed) shirt and a vintage reversible vest. I looked hot (so I thought at that time. The lighting in my room can be very, very misleading) and I was ready to go. Unfortunately I forgot that my workmate had told me about the horrible traffic condition on New Year. I waited for the bus and I hailed for a cab. No such luck. I ended up walking/skipping/running (I still can’t believe I skipped! I must have looked like a retard) for 30 minutes to the place where I was supposed to be 30 minutes earlier. When I got there, I was already a mess. My armpits were sweating, albeit the cold weather and my hair were all over the place. A complete mess, I tell you. And I was wearing these black flat shoes made of cotton, which aren’t meant for evening wear at all. So there I was, looking like a pathetic loser when everyone else was dressed up in suits and cocktail dresses. “So, this is an EVENING WEAR function. Right, now I get it”. I experienced one of my most major-low-self-esteem moments there.
When I got in, I was so immersed in the mood of celebration that I forgot about my un-cool-ness. Nat and Mak looked at their best (hot, hot, hot!!!) and a couple of their friends showed up as well (Jenny & Eleni, who both looked hot. In fact I actually said to Eleni that she reminded me of a Greek friend I have who is equally tall and beautiful. I don’t know for sure why I said that – I mean, I wasn’t hitting on her or anything. The words just slurred out of my mouth. Then I made an awkward smiling face. She thanked me). We danced the night away and lo and behold, guess what I found. Snacks in the form of pineapple tarts!!! Pineapple tarts I tell you. Anyways, we danced to the music and I thanked Nat and Mak for making me feel happy that night.
That wasn’t the end of it. After we left the warehouse around 5, Nat, Mak, Jenny and I walked along the waterfront. Jenny made her own way and the remaining three of us went to this really Greek restaurant cum bar where they only played Greek music. Somehow I thought I was Greek (minus the look and body). We then had our brekkie at 7 a.m., eating Bughatsa. I love Bughatsa, with cream but no cinnamon because I hate cinnamon (just in case you out there want to take me out).
So that was it - my New Year celebration. I was thrilled that I didn’t have to spend NY alone. I got pictures to prove it, just in case you don’t believe me. And a red ornament that I stole from the Bughatsa place. Shit, I really am a thief!
p/s: Thanks Nat and Mak for making it a wonderful night for me. Love you both for that.
Lord Forgiv Me For I Am Becoming A Thief
Looking back on the list that I made in the last post, I am finally convinced that there is no way in hell that I can fulfill 60% of the whole list. Especially the “coming early to work” part. I know for a fact that’s one thing that I will NEVER be able to do. But really, who knows. God works in a mysterious way, usually where my life is concerned.
I have a feeling that I am slowly turning into a thief. Well, still an awesomely cool thief but a thief nonetheless. I have mentioned in great detail about my breaking into next door’s toilet in one of the previous posts. I’m here to tell you that ooops, I did it again! I played with your heart, gonna lose in…sorry, I got carried away there. Anyways, yes, I broke into the next door’s toilet again. Only this time I had an uneasy feeling about it. I somehow sensed that the landlord was going to come into the house and catch me naked. And that, my friend, will not be a pretty sight. Trust me, I know. I’m the one who has to look in the mirror after all. I remembered to lock the door this time for safety precautions and guess who’s on my side this time – God. I didn’t get caught and Mrs. Spidey didn’t even care to visit. How rude! I made it out alive and live to tell the tale and plan for another next time. Perhaps not. The landlord is coming back in a couple of days. Bummer!
Also, not only am I practicing the art of breaking in, I did something terrible the other day. I borrowed a pineapple tart from the office’s communal fridge. Before you accused me of stealing, you need to understand the situation I was in first. I was super hungry. When I said super that means major. “That still doesn’t give you the right to take a pineapple tart that doesn’t belong to you”, you might say. You’re absolutely correct, it doesn’t and I am fully aware of it. However, on the box there was a post-it, you know the little yellow thingy that you write on and stick it wherever. Yeah, that. Obviously somebody had written some kind of a note regarding the content of the box. There could only be two possibilities of what could have been written (I did not have the ability to comprehend since it was written completely in Greek and asking a fellow workmate to translate it would make me feel like a total loser as everyone would then know I secretly wanted to take what was inside the box and they would know who to blame should the content or even the whole box went missing).
Possibility A:
I am so kind and generous that I’m offering my gift in the form of pineapple tarts that are yours to keep (more like eat). Come on, don’t be shy. I know you want it. Dig in and find out for yourself their true beauty. Behold my divine pineapple tarts!
Possibility B:
If you ever think that you can eat these pineapple tarts, you are sooo wrong, sistah! (Perhaps writing in a ghetto style will make it more dramatic, you know). Get your hands of the box. Better yet, get that thought of your mind. This is not a charity box and you, sistah are a homeless bugger who deserves no charity from me. No, not even pineapple tarts!
I’m going with possibility A. Therefore, it is safe to say that I wasn’t stealing. In fact, I was helping the owner of the box containing oh so yummy pineapple tarts. You see, these pineapple tarts don’t last forever. They will expire and can no longer be consumed. Before this tragedy occurs, I am taking the initiative to finish everything up (I only took one. There were two other tarts left in the box. Initially there were three). I was doing this out of human kindness. What if somebody ate the tarts after their expiry date? There will be adverse consequences and I, the cool & kind person that I am, was making sure that this will never happen. Again, I wish to reiterate the fact that I did not, I repeat, DID NOT steal any pineapple tarts. It sure was tasty though!
When I was about to leave the pantry with my pineapple tart (yes, only one), something caught my eye. It was there, a blinking red light cleverly placed in the corner of the ceiling. “Is it really what I think it is? Is it a CCTV? ”. Damn, I was so scared that I just stood there for about 5 minutes or so (or maybe just 1 minute) with my left hand holding the door knob. What if they caught me? Will I get sacked? What’s going to happen to my credibility, or worse, dignity (if I have any)? All these thoughts were running in my head until I decided to do the unthinkable. I took my pineapple tart to the toilet and ate it there. Surely, there’s no CCTV in the toilet, right? (God, I ate IN the toilet! How degrading, even for me) I kept it to myself (of course, d’oh!) and when I was about to leave the office, I saw the blinking red light again only this time above the main entrance’s door. I asked my workmate (he’s a very hardworking man. He usually stays later than I do) what it was and he said it’s just a sensor for the security door. He later confirmed that there’s another one in the pantry. He also confirmed that I won’t get sacked anytime soon…
Well, so I hope.
I also took a roll of toilet paper from work. I realized that this is considered stealing. However, to my defense, I ran out of toilet paper at home and was desperate. I also notice that a lot of people are doing this. One example is my friend who once took half a dozen rolls (in one go) from his workplace (a juice bar). Another example is a teacher who takes toilet paper rolls from his school (refer blog iamgettingfat in the link section). I therefore come to the conclusion that if everyone is doing it, I might as well join in. A wise man once said, if you can’t beat them, join them. I don’t want to be a loser, you know.
I have a feeling that I am slowly turning into a thief. Well, still an awesomely cool thief but a thief nonetheless. I have mentioned in great detail about my breaking into next door’s toilet in one of the previous posts. I’m here to tell you that ooops, I did it again! I played with your heart, gonna lose in…sorry, I got carried away there. Anyways, yes, I broke into the next door’s toilet again. Only this time I had an uneasy feeling about it. I somehow sensed that the landlord was going to come into the house and catch me naked. And that, my friend, will not be a pretty sight. Trust me, I know. I’m the one who has to look in the mirror after all. I remembered to lock the door this time for safety precautions and guess who’s on my side this time – God. I didn’t get caught and Mrs. Spidey didn’t even care to visit. How rude! I made it out alive and live to tell the tale and plan for another next time. Perhaps not. The landlord is coming back in a couple of days. Bummer!
Also, not only am I practicing the art of breaking in, I did something terrible the other day. I borrowed a pineapple tart from the office’s communal fridge. Before you accused me of stealing, you need to understand the situation I was in first. I was super hungry. When I said super that means major. “That still doesn’t give you the right to take a pineapple tart that doesn’t belong to you”, you might say. You’re absolutely correct, it doesn’t and I am fully aware of it. However, on the box there was a post-it, you know the little yellow thingy that you write on and stick it wherever. Yeah, that. Obviously somebody had written some kind of a note regarding the content of the box. There could only be two possibilities of what could have been written (I did not have the ability to comprehend since it was written completely in Greek and asking a fellow workmate to translate it would make me feel like a total loser as everyone would then know I secretly wanted to take what was inside the box and they would know who to blame should the content or even the whole box went missing).
Possibility A:
I am so kind and generous that I’m offering my gift in the form of pineapple tarts that are yours to keep (more like eat). Come on, don’t be shy. I know you want it. Dig in and find out for yourself their true beauty. Behold my divine pineapple tarts!
Possibility B:
If you ever think that you can eat these pineapple tarts, you are sooo wrong, sistah! (Perhaps writing in a ghetto style will make it more dramatic, you know). Get your hands of the box. Better yet, get that thought of your mind. This is not a charity box and you, sistah are a homeless bugger who deserves no charity from me. No, not even pineapple tarts!
I’m going with possibility A. Therefore, it is safe to say that I wasn’t stealing. In fact, I was helping the owner of the box containing oh so yummy pineapple tarts. You see, these pineapple tarts don’t last forever. They will expire and can no longer be consumed. Before this tragedy occurs, I am taking the initiative to finish everything up (I only took one. There were two other tarts left in the box. Initially there were three). I was doing this out of human kindness. What if somebody ate the tarts after their expiry date? There will be adverse consequences and I, the cool & kind person that I am, was making sure that this will never happen. Again, I wish to reiterate the fact that I did not, I repeat, DID NOT steal any pineapple tarts. It sure was tasty though!
When I was about to leave the pantry with my pineapple tart (yes, only one), something caught my eye. It was there, a blinking red light cleverly placed in the corner of the ceiling. “Is it really what I think it is? Is it a CCTV? ”. Damn, I was so scared that I just stood there for about 5 minutes or so (or maybe just 1 minute) with my left hand holding the door knob. What if they caught me? Will I get sacked? What’s going to happen to my credibility, or worse, dignity (if I have any)? All these thoughts were running in my head until I decided to do the unthinkable. I took my pineapple tart to the toilet and ate it there. Surely, there’s no CCTV in the toilet, right? (God, I ate IN the toilet! How degrading, even for me) I kept it to myself (of course, d’oh!) and when I was about to leave the office, I saw the blinking red light again only this time above the main entrance’s door. I asked my workmate (he’s a very hardworking man. He usually stays later than I do) what it was and he said it’s just a sensor for the security door. He later confirmed that there’s another one in the pantry. He also confirmed that I won’t get sacked anytime soon…
Well, so I hope.
I also took a roll of toilet paper from work. I realized that this is considered stealing. However, to my defense, I ran out of toilet paper at home and was desperate. I also notice that a lot of people are doing this. One example is my friend who once took half a dozen rolls (in one go) from his workplace (a juice bar). Another example is a teacher who takes toilet paper rolls from his school (refer blog iamgettingfat in the link section). I therefore come to the conclusion that if everyone is doing it, I might as well join in. A wise man once said, if you can’t beat them, join them. I don’t want to be a loser, you know.
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