London Baby!

Holy mother of SpongeBob.

I'm actually gonna go to London.

Yes, it dawned upon me after years of whining to my mum about how we never go anywhere except balik kampung and "merapatkan silaturahim" with the Pilah folks, she finally budged from her mingy ways and we're final-damn-ly going on a holiday.

Yipee!

Miracles do come true.

I'm currently listening to Free Fallin' from John Mayer, staring at a McVitie's biscuit package, staring at the soon-to-break-down heater, counting the number of clothes hangers I have, wondering why chocolate tastes so good and yet it kills your chances of ever getting a man

... generally procrastinating from packing.

But me being me, I always have a solid, concrete reason why I have not progressed onto the next step of travelling:

a) It's too damn cold
b) It's too bloody cold
c) It's too mindblowingly cold
d) It's just extremely hot cold.

So, here I am, blogging.

I have a plethora of things I wanna do when I reach there. So many, just simply too many.

England To Do List '10

One

Souvenirs, souvenirs, souvenirs: The cheaper, the better. I'm still half Chinese after all

Two
Old Trafford: Glory glory biatch!

Three
Stamford Bridge or Emirates Stadium: Just to catch a glimpse of John Terry/Theo Walcott. Football rivalry or not, I'll take them on, anytime.

Four
Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum: I've been there actually, I want to relive the execution by guillotine exhibition again. Gore is beauty.

Five
Harrods: Sushi, sushi, sushi... and Princess Diana's memorial

Six
Err... kabobs?

Seven

Paris: We're just doing the French government a favour by using their Eurostar services. The phrase "let's not shop" shall not escape the dance of our lips. And mummy... nak beg baru :)

Eight
British food: I wanna see what's all the rage about a full English breakfast. If I get food poisoning, await my lawyer's letter, Gordon Brown.

Nine
Stereophonic's Greatest Hits: It will be like raising a toast with the Holy Grail. This elusive CD had me chasing it from Kuala Lumpur to Cairo. It was a transcontinental search that will end with victory and valor in London, when I see the white cover staring me in the face at Virgin, insyaAllah.

Ten
Friends inhabiting the island: I actually made some minor plans with a friend to meet up in London. I haven't seen him in about 3 years and I'm pretty excited about it. Abscence makes the heart grow fonder and way more expectant of gifts when she reaches there. Hint hint.

I'm growing sleepy and restless. An hour or two of sleep, breakfast, and then off to Cairo for a 9.30 am flight the next morning.

Pray for my safety and God bless.
Au revoir Mansoura.

M.Y.O.F.B

I've written exactly two posts in January. Compared to a certain housemate who has written over 40+ posts in those 31 days.

Shame on you, Nazeera.

I really need some diligence to write sustain this still on life support blog before it fades into oblivion.

Anyway, onto more pressing matters. Tomorrow is the OSCE exam. Last year, it was about the Upper Limb and Lower Limb, identifying muscles on the exam sheet, with this one very frivolous looking 50-something, Egyptian who couldn't keep his wandering eyes and toothless grin to himself.

I remember being so nervous, that to a point, I even got confused between a sperm and an ovum *hint* they're not from the same , genitalia *hint*. Oh, of course, how I wanted to jump off a building after that exam. But knowing this place, I'll probably fall onto a heap of donkey crap and survive.

Oh, damn.

*Again, just a joke, I do not condone suicide :)*

And on the 6th, I'm flying to London, insyaAllah. I'm rather excited to see my parents again after almost 4 months and visiting London again. The first time was when I was 12, during the Golden Jubilee. I remember ransacking Tesco for having prepackaged frosted cakes, paying 5 pounds for a plate of friend noodles, having sushi in Harrods and getting deliberately ignored at a bloody kabob stall for not having an English accent by a South Asian man.

I would like to say Mr. Person-Who-Came-From-The-Same-Continent-As-Me selling dry to the bone shawarmas at the kabob stall

...screw you

Your shawarma tasted like crap and you look like you should be stopped at the airport.

Anyway, in a not-as-productive-as-I-wanted-day, I had a very annoying encounter with a rather grotesque person who shall be named Pak Geham (Pak Cik Geli Macam Haram). I was studying with my friend in her room and while on a break, we were fooling around with the webcam. Suddenly, Pak Geham acquired about me, like I was some mail order bride, vulgarity in it's full glory.

" What is her height and weight?"

He asked my housemate. I was trying to be a sport and ignore the obvious cyber harassment but he continued with...

" Obese la tu"

Stop, right there, asshole.

Pak Geham went on further of insinuating I was this dumbass that didn't have an ounce of intelligence in my brain, unqualified to speak of religion and social indecencies and was incapable of conversing in English *the dumbass said he got a 97 for his English SPM, which tells us how old this revolting piece of turd really is*

I'm sorry for not entertaining your pathetic attempt at impressing me,Pak Geham but I only bat an eyelash for people who do not come from scum of the earth. You probably got a scholarship, learned fcking English from a browning, second hand Oxford dictionary, made a small fortune from kissing government officers asses and for that, you think you have the world at the palm of your hand and that you are God's gift to women.

Thanks but not thanks Pak Geham. I like men who are not complete brainless charity cases of the government and you sir unfortunately fall into that category. Instead of wishing you death, I'm just gonna go for the subtle...

I hope you get anally raped by a gang of homosexual hobos who share needles and have a fetish of gluing their victim's scrotum during intercourse

I'm sorry my obese self has polluted your spectrum of beautiful women that seem to be undeniably attracted to you *your mother and your insufferable wife do not count*. Please, snap out of your self centered fantasy and understand that you are nothing but dirt under my shoes. Worthless, shameless, brainless, disgusting and utterly wretched.

You don't know who you're dealing with.

Not a bad post for a girl who didn't get 97 in her English SPM eh?