polygraph, not now!

Last night I made the funniest discovery. Actually, those two words shouldn't go together but that's the more accurate phrase albeit slightly off beam.
Jon is back here in Malaysia, just a stopover for a couple of days while he and his band tour South East Asia. So Jon, Khai Lee and I were telling stories of concerts and gigs we've been to or heard of around the world and then Khai Lee goes "Hey, there's this music festival, and the whole gig is on an island!" and Jon replies "What? Zoukfest? On Sentosa?", trying not to laugh.
I looked over at Khai Lee and he had confused plastered over his forehead.
I couldn't help but burst out in laughter.

Okay. You had to be there la.

The thing is, I realized at that moment, how I really do have each leg in separate worlds. No wonder I'm not walking a straight road.

Counter-productive.

I think I might be suffering from ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) the past 3 days. I simply cannot sit still and concentrate on the abundance of work I have on my plate.
On Monday I had my advertising presentation which came off much better than expected so that's one burden of my shoulders and when I got home to my apartment, Hee Jung suggested we watch "A moment to remember" which was supposed to be a definite tearjerker but heartless ol me didn't shed a tear; I was probably trying too hard.
I can't remember much after this as Jane and Adil got home while I was watching Herbie Fully Loaded (thank goodness) and all I do remember now is, cooking 'ginger mi suah' with Jane and eating it Tuesday night, Wednesday evening, Wednesday late evening, Wednesday night, Wednesday late night and Wednesday dawn; those meals made me feel extremely Asian and grown-up. C'mon, we recycled the soup over and over, adding more water, pepper, salt and soya sauce. We'd left the chicken bones in there for flavor but the previous ingredients have mostly disintegrated: a display of our survival instincts. I remember watching "A moment to remember" again and fell asleep halfway, I woke up at 4am and Jane and I watched some Stephen Chow movie while eating sandwiches with luncheon meat, sausages and cheese and then fell asleep at dawn, next thing I knew I woke up a few hours later having a panic attack for missing my deadlines.

Actually, I'm still panicking. But I just can't concentrate. It's pointless. I hate being behind, it demotivates me. My week here has been fruitless so far and I still want to continue to be unproductive. Though I've just made sandwiches with sausages and luncheon meat. Habis-la I'm gonna die of high cholestrol and lung cancer.
I currently have 2 laptops switched on and the one which I am using to write my essay is idle. I should really prioritize better, or at all.

Just a number.

So, I had a good weekend despite coming down with the blues on Friday. I had wrenched myself in an obscure position between paralysis and misery but come the am, the gang tried to suprise me with a cake and beers but the tables were turned. 20 minutes before they arrived, I stuck a sign on my front door which said “You are horrible liars.” Their moans and groans were pure joy.




The weekend was scattered with trips around town, lunch at Bon Ton’s, a dinner at La Bodega where we binged followed by a whole lot of liquor at Poppy Garden Saturday night, and unusually good company Sunday night. I’m pretty sure I got more than I deserved.




Lo and behold the weekend is over and I’m back to reality in Camp Boredom where I have 3 presentations scheduled this week. *whimpers.

Pharmacia&Upjohn.

I'm not sure if I'm secretly a guinea pig for P&U, linked to some intricate Russian top-secret mental research. I've switched 3 different types of benzodiazepines. Today I was prescribed Somese, a diazepam. Up to date, I have a small collection of teesy pills. I had stopped taking them though I do go for the "check-ups", to humor my parents.
Before, these pills were fused to me. The first pill was hook line and sinker and from there on we shared one long symbiotic breath, but this is no longer the case. With the pills in my bag, I feel like a kid who has been given too much candy for her own good.

I can't wait to watch Melinda&Melinda. It's a film by Woody Allen. But the DVD is with Khai Lee. What if he swallows it?! Or eats off the CD?? Really, these days I'm feeling more at home. When Rachel gets home, it'll be Christmas time in hell again.

Marvelous Things.

That's the title of a song by a band I discovered recently. The joy of resting facedown on a thin pillow while songs of theirs saunters through the atmosphere is dark and magical; much like the woods of The little red riding hood. The best yet ever since The Spill Canvas.
My latest addiction: Eisley. Highly recommended.
Room Noises, the only album so far. But they've got a couple of EPs out as well.



My dad and I were in the car and he piped up "You know what I did to Joyce this morning?" he snickers "I opened the door and asked 'Joyce are you sleeping?' and she said 'yes', so I said "then how come you can answer me". Apparently, he then quickly closed the door and laughed all the way downstairs. I think we can see how I got to become the way I am today.
Joyce, my sister, told me that the family was at a dinner thingy and the adults were discussing the 2nd PHD of one of my moms' friends and the "initials" she could have on her name card next. The uncle next to Joyce nudged her and went, "Don't worry, your mother has one too. It's CSSKLKK." "What does that stand for? Why so long one?!"

-_- "Ching Sui Sui, Kia Lai Kia Kh-e"
direct translation : "Wear nice nice, walk here walk there."

Oh, he with the beautiful mind, unfortunately can't read minds (*uh-hyuk), otherwise he wouldn't end up:

Buffy the Heartstrings Player.

Really now, I walked outside to get something to drink and caught a glimspe of my JD Salinger's Franny and Zoey on the floor drenched in sticky yellow liquid. Buffy.. -_-
My heart literally constricted. That dog-eared book is irreplacable. Many lessons were taught in those pages.

Evil gay-dog with a hidden agenda. You know, Jane bought him two shirts, that pink one he's wearing and an army tank top. He always chooses the pink one. Therefore, still being politically correct; he's a bitch. But somethings and some people, you can't help but love. Same goes for Buffy, and the bitch who broke my heart. Oops, my bitterness is beginning to seep into cyberspace.

Said love wasn't worth the pain, but then I hear it call my name.

A few months ago I wrote:
There are few things which are quite as beautiful as an inside joke; shared between two people who possibly are the only ones who truly understand the significance of a glance or a word which could trigger all sorts of pretty disasters. I still trip in nervousness when his arm reaches out to pull me closer, ending my miniature fairy-tale with a kiss on my head.But the true beauty would lie in the diffusion of such actions. Up till some friends had mentioned it, I thought I was the only one who recognized intimacy when he yanked on my hair.

Moments when I allow myself to have that sentimental leap in his memory, I want to tear my hair out. The irony. One line of "I can't do this to you anymore" left me flat-out fucked. I was what you'd call, a complete wreck.

This was my car the last night we were together. This was before my heart was ripped apart at the seams, soaked in gasoline and set on fire. Imagine how I felt after. Much worse than this. Even a picture, which couldusually beat a thousand words, wouldn't be able to give anyone much of an inkling.

A downer.

On the left, we have Hee Jung. That's me in the middle and on the other side, I give you, Jane. Currently, we live together, hence, we are housemates. That's for pointing out the obvious and for redundancy's sake because I can be a retard, ask anyone. Apart from bringing Buffy, Jane's dog, out for walks, cleaning our rooms and singing along to James Blunt (Jane and I anyway; as HJ is the hiphop queen), we also cook. And therefore, we are chefs in disguise!

This evening's masterpieces:

Minced Beef with onions and potatoes. Other than the customary salt and pepper, Jane added honey to her soon-to-be famous dish.

Chicken curry with potatoes, duh. The secret compenent here is, a teeny bit of my spit because Jane said something ridiculous while I was adding the coconut milk. But hey it turned out to be the highlight of the feast, no offence Jane. Err I love you? :P

And Hee Jung happened to be our celebrated washer-woman of the evening. She forgot to capture the images of the dishes after she was done with them. My my, as if diamonds lined them! And there you have it, with the presence of plate-licking delicacies, the evening was of course perfect.

Later in the night though, I discovered that in the midst of writing my journal article review this morning, I decided to transfer my files from Hee Jung’s thumb drive into mine. Being the clever girl I thought I was, I CUT and paste. I happened to be listening to a song on the thumb drive so the files didn’t transfer right. And soooo, being the bright bright girl that I am, I deleted the entire folder so I could transfer it all over again.
Help, thumb drives doesn’t come with Recycle Bins. 5 of my individual assignments, 2 of my group projects and 36 files of research (that’s to say the least), evaporated into digital atmosphere.
I didn’t figure this out up till 2 hours ago. I want to cry, 2 of those assignments are due tomorrow afternoon. I finished them 2 nights ago. That’s for coming home drunk at almost 5am and writing reviews till 8 in the am. I’m so upset I want to shave my head.

Ladies who lunch.

Yes, Rachel, Kim and Melanie has been the only bridges never burnt, always sturdy. And even if it takes all that I've got to preserve the harnass, I'd do it to my very last breath.
But I've made a few additions. It's recently built, but I'm pretty sure these ones will prove to be durable. There is one, however, where I played Pyro and burnt quite a few times but it bounced back. See Mun, you can be a real idiot at times but birds of a feather flock together.



See Mun and I at Mambo. She looks like a cat. I look like, yoh I dont even want to talk about it.








The HipHop Queen, watch her footwork when Eve's I got what you need comes on, highway to headache. My ghetto partner.









Debbie goes both ways. Really one.
I'm pissed. I don't have a picture with the new Rachel.
But here's a picture of all the new chicks in my life. 'Girlfriends!' (Shoot me please)

Like I said, birds of a feather..

Retardssssss, Unite!

They make me want to break out in church hymms, "Forever and ever, amen!"