Boyzone, how I miss you.

I'm gonna be stoned for apostasy for these pictures.

But I'm trying out a new concept of:

Less words, more pictures!

Anyway, there are a few things I would like to address.

Numero uno:
Why music was created in the first place:



This song is called Layla by Eric Clapton. Granted, it might not fit everyone's taste of music. Some people adore the whole "boyband" phase thing that seemed to have fleeted away as quickly as their boyish good looks

Exhibit A

Becomes...

... And the cute little gay one is dead.

Also, given the fact that I grew up listening to a lot 70's and 80's rock, blues and RnB... oh, and Michael Jackson.

My mum loved MJ

She even had those ancient black frisbees of Off The Wall and Thriller. And yes, she even had the cassettes *Oh, how I loved to pull out the flimsy films out*

As I was saying, I grew up loving these kind of crap so naturally, Eric Clapton was THE man. We had the The Clapton Chronicles album that never left the car until I stole it and ripped it into my computer.

Man, that was an incredible album.

It was the first time I heard Layla, which I read from trusty ol' Wikipedia that he was talking about George Harrison's wife that he was madly in love with.

Pattie Boyd.

It's difficult to imagine that name with that face.

Maybe, cause another certain singer who has a similar name *hint* Susan BOYle *hint* has totally tarnished my association of that name with something remotely attractive. Heh.

In conclusion, take a listen, and be ready for an out of this world, cosmic journey of musical adventure. Remember to hold on to something before you embark on this mind blowing experience.

Adios.

Numero dos.

There's been some fire that's blazing about the whole Info Kini blog that had bash the whole GMMSC Dinner that we all thought was a good first try despite having no prior experience in conducting something so elaborate and grandiose. Congratulations to you guys.

I have only one thing to say to you disgusting cowardly author on Info Kini who's attempts at being funny just fails repeatedly.Enough said.

I'm not gonna waste my time posting comments/statuses on FB cause I know this is what you craved for in the first place.

Publicity.

Come out from the shadows and then we'll talk.

From a door preferably, cause I'm scared that you'll be turned on by my feminine voice that can cause you to commit unimaginable sins.

Oh, how you people are sick.

Numero Tres

Oh, Manchester United.

:(

Numero cuatro

We have possibly found a house. It's about 1000 square feet, 1400 a month. But no furniture.

Oh, the possibilities of crap I plan to buy are endless.

... this is the time where a certain superior power *cough* parent *cough* is suppose to offer me more money to buy more things to alleviate my poverty stricken life.

Thank you :)

P-P-Poker Face.

Today, so far... is not a good day.

I woke up this morning with the most overwhelming feeling of lethargy and malaise that just makes that little voice that lies deep in the core of your soul whisper...

Today is gonna be the first of the many days that you feel like you're gonna kill yourself but you can't cause

a) It contradicts with religion
b) You're the only child, so there's no substitute
c) You're just being melodramatic, so shut up and pull yourself together, woman!

Yes, even my inner voice is a bitch.

Anyway, due to my superb track record of updating my lblog, I probably did not mention anything about:
a) Exams
b) Talent Show
c) The embarrassing outcome of the aforementioned talent show.

Exams are around the corner, 12th of April to exact. Eleven more days and counting! I gotta pass this semester cause I seriously do not want to to stay for the summer. Why? Cause the longer I stay here, the more I'm reminded why I miss Malaysia, my family, my friends and yes, even the nosy relatives I have back home.

Note to nosy relative:
I'm sorry your son couldn't get into medical school with his 7A's and I got into one with 5A's, but hey, I can't depend on the government for everything.

So, if your son wanted a scholarship into medical school, didn't get one and so gave up his dream, suck it up and don't gripe about how I'm paying my way through.

Don't worry, the government gave up on me as well.

Talent Show!

Gah, pictures are popping out left and right from that ominous day, including infinite photos of me in now what's called "The Joker" lipstick, my Lady Gaga shades, and my big ass grin that took up the majority of the space on my face.

Oh, the shame, the absolute shame.

We got third by the way. The first was Timi's band, Rubu' Firah (literally means 1/4 Chicken), second was Jaja's band *who has an ah-may-zing voice btw* The Duo and coming in third, is me! Or my band, Malayzee Bas (means, Only Malaysians).

My friends, Hajar and Fatin were on keyboards and guitar respectively while Pika was the other vocalist. Oh, and like three bands shared the same drummer, Aniq. Seriously, you guys rock! And sorry for being overly bossy during practice sessions. I just wanted everyone to do their best :)

I sang a medley of Thinking of You, Poker Face and I Will Survive.

Man, that last song really got the crowd going. I'm not surprised after this, I'll be on PCM's watch list for committing "maksiat" of the highest degree. Even Dr. Dalia came up to me and said she wanted to dance along but couldn't for obvious reasons. So yeah, I made our Head Tutor want to dance, I should be given a Grammy... or at least money. I like money

Pika on the other hand sang Down by Jay Sean. The crowd even sang along with her, which was incredible. And all that weird dancing was caught on tape! Oh, I smell blackmail material in the air.

So it's official baby, we were born for the stage.

... And the operating room of course.
I keep forgetting we're gonna be doctors.

But at the end of the day, I made new friends and definitely some confidence even if my face was hidden behind the a stretch of red paint. I'd do it again next year, definitely.

Anyway, I gotta get going. Shower, then I'm gonna hit the books. See you when I see you.

Diet.

I'm going on a diet.

... A SERIOUS ONE THIS TIME.

What made me realize this was the fact...."dude, it's already 2010. I'm 20 this year" Suddenly I'm reminded of wedding bells and lifelong commitment.

I want a man, damnit!

This goes against every feminist principle I have ever. Forgive me fighters for women's liberation.

Everybody in this house has a boyfriend. Every-damn-one.

... About 10-11 pm at night, when I'm studying like a nutjob, they're on the phone with their respective loved ones.

... Before an exam, they get encouragement from their boys while all I get is a phone call from my parents telling me not to screw up or to the streets I'll go.

... If they have problems, they have someone to tell them to. Any minuscule little detail that goes in their mind. I on the other hand have a friends who are too far away for me to burden my problems on them.

Dude, I want all that too!

Valentines gifts...
Handholding when I'm in a crowd *even if I'm like a foot taller than most people*...
Those"Blair and Chuck" moments that all those moronic couples are chasing after *it's a bloody TV show,people!*...
Someone to actually makes an effort when chatting.

Damn, I want all of that.

Gah, enough soul spilling already. Daddy, don't EVER bring this up. I'm your only daughter child and your happiness depends on my happiness. Thank you.

And to anyone who reads this, if you see me snacking or having a heavy lunch/dinner.

Tell me to drop the meal and stop!

It's time I change my life for the better.

*edit*
I'm in the FINALS people.
For the Talent Show and the GMNSC Photography competition.
Go see the final photos at the GMNSC blog

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?

Habis Madu, Sepah Dibuang.

I think every Malay-speaking, hormone filled teenage girl was warned repeatedly about dating, with this saying naturally taking its place in the most overused phrase *other than "jangan pula perigi mencari timba", another annoying saying that seemed to plague our pride laden society*

To those who know me, I used to be rather Malay impaired *Yes, I have this weird pseudo American accent, blame MTV* but coming here, being surrounded by people who take pride in speaking Malay, I have indulged and embraced further speaking my mother tongue and have been immersed one of the many things that make Malay so rich in culture: Peribahasa.

This particular one strikes a chord in all our hearts doesn't it?

The ultimate fear that if one lead a social life wild enough, the repercussions will great enough to leave us unwanted by the opposite sex.

As crude as any saying might go, we can paraphrase this "peribahasa" into something simpler;

Nobody wants used goods.

... or in society, this means girls who have been with other boys *may it be physically or emotionally.

Ah, I have such an enormous bone to pick with society on this one.

I don't condone sexual freedom, just keep your debauchery to yourself...

But, I really have to ask to all those men out there:

What is your problem?

Is it not bad enough that you've been with a girl and not taken responsibility over her current stigmatized status, escaping scot free when in fact it takes two to tango? Need you label the promiscuous, punish the lewd, verbally whip the unchaste while sitting on your high horse?

Why is it so easy to forget the immorality you've shared and be so quick to judge and snicker at those crestfallen harlots you now call them?

Why is it so easy for you to move on?

We shed tears for you.

We put our trust in you

We gave ourselves to you, mind, body and soul

We promised our hearts to you

We held your hand when you are at your weakest

... And you expect us to just accept it when you toss us aside and move on to your next wide eyed victim?

And you, this is why religion preaches abstinence and boundaries, the same religion you were brought up in and now have abandoned, it's to protect us women from bastards like you, from slander, from being hurt and from being another notch on your bedpost.

But you know what, I have one more thing to offer you: my sympathies and gratitude.

I'm sorry that you've chosen this path.

I'm sorry that you think down south more than you do north

I'm sorry that you've discarded a chance to escape your depraved past

I'm sorry that you've turned your back on a stipulation-free friendship.

.... and I'm glad that I've saved my friend from such a disgusting animal like you.

P.S

To you,

You're hanging on a very delicate thread.... and Mansoura's been very windy lately, don't you think?

The Hiatus is Over.

I hear grumbling.

Yes, yes.
Sorry, but I was strucked by a two month long condition of lazyitis and notgivingadamnoma.

Yes, I care more about my CafeWorld, than blogging.
*speaking of CafeWorld, I lost about 20,000 CafeCoins worth of food because FB malfunctiioned and cleaned all the food on the counter AND the stove. Screw you Facebook!*

How selfish eh?

The year 2010 is here, finally.

The big two-o for me.

That marks a good 20 years of not having a proper boyfriend and never getting straight A's *I was always one or two subjects off, yes, the classic dumbass syndrome*

I lead a very pathetic life, please don't judge :)

Anyway, I just realized that in all those years, I've made some of the best friends, best memories and eye opening experiences I will never trade in for anything.

I can honestly say I've learned firsthand some of the lessons in life you only hear old people moaning about.

Lesson #1
First impressions always lie.

Always, without a doubt, with the first glance of a person, you cannot judge the content of their character.
I have a friend named Nik Shazarina.
Other names people might call her: Princess, Bitch, Snob etc.
And honestly, that's what I called her as well, the first time we met in Form 1.
She went on and on about her last school, Convent Bukit Nenas, about how awesome the cheerleading team was, how her last school was so much cooler.
...and naturally, most of us almost got a stick out and beat the living crap out of her.
But as time went on, I found out Nik likes animals as much as I do, she does charity work, she respects her heritage *I don't hate you for being Kelantanese Nik :)* and she is willing to sacrifice her time and money for our ailing Model United Nations club.
And I love her loads for that.
Thus, lesson learned as a teenager, never ever judge a book by its cover, especially if the book will hit your hard, inflicting borderline paralysis each time you insult her.
So, don't.

Lesson #2
Popularity doesn't buy friendship

There was this girl in my school, let's just call her Miss. A.
Miss A was okay-looking, not hideous but not exactly runway material.

But she had one thing going for her: Manipulation

She would make friends with only the coolest people
You either had to be rich or gorgeous or be in with the "it" crowd to be friends with her

Not that it bothered many of us but it was fun watching this small, minuscule little girl trying to create borders of elitism during a time where most of us were too immersed in personal angst to actually give a crap.

And how she got into that crowd in the first place?

She gossiped about everyone and supplied everyone with the juiciest and darkest of secrets people told her in private, without a flinch of guilt.

...Then tragedy struck.

She got into a fight *guess about what? hint: she let someone's secret out* with one of the Queen Bees of the popular crew and was ostracized shortly after.

No one, I repeat.... no one wanted to be friends with her.

And I'm sorry to say, even I was one of the "smile, wave and quickly look away" friends that she had after her dethronement *well, not because she was stripped off her nobility but she pissed me off so many times that I could've torn her flesh off without any remorse*.

She eventually changed schools.

Lesson number 2, popularity doesn't go a long way, when the means of getting there will probably send you straight to hell.

Lesson number #3
Always be there for someone, even if they have wronged you

This is a vital one.

The place: School and every where else
The time: 2006, 16 years old
The problem: when boys become bitches.

My friend and her boyfriend were inseparable.
They went everywhere together, and she adored him so because he was rich, good looking and in her words... a good kisser.
But I had a problem with this boyfriend of hers, he only liked his girlfriend's pretty friends.
... and obviously that didn't include me.

So, being the belligerent little wench that she was, she adhered to what he said.

If there was an outing that included her boyfriend, she would exclude me.

Oh, in my mind, I had laid out a torture plan for each person, a repeated circumcision by rabid dogs for the boyfriend and for my insolent friend, I would push her off a cliff and watch with a wide, depraved smile.

But of course, happily ever after only existed in books and in states of denial.

They eventually broke up, because she said he treated her badly, not returning her phone calls and ultimately ignored her public, and she couldn't take it anymore
*I chuckled a bit, to be honest*
And guess who she came to?
I don't know if she felt guilty or regretful...

But I sure felt fantastic.
:)

Lesson #4

Respect yourself

I know this one girl, a senior.
She gained a notorious reputation for being a whore.

Why?

Cause she was one of those risque girls that seemed to lead a life of sexual liberation.
She was bisexual, so she did everything, tried everyone, literally the epitome of free and easy.
She had her own wild crowd that seemed to have celebrated their debauchery.

But one day, she got pregnant and that's how all her dirty little secrets spilled over.
People were disgusted by her, people even thought twice before touching her.

... Just because she wanted to have a little fun before growing up.
There's no harm leading a life of merriment while we're young, but limits are important.
There's no such thing as living in the moment and not suffer the repercussions later.

From my teenage experience, I can say that it was one whirlwind that have fed me with some of the best stories I can tell to the future generation. The good and the bad things of growing up should be experienced by everyone, even if it's in varying degrees of intensity. We should learn to make our own mistakes in order to create our own life story.
Living large starts here...

Cause growing up is one hell of an adventure.