Sunday = FUNDAY!!!

I seem to be a little torn between both sides of... myself. Part of me assures me that I can handle it well, the other part is convinced that it's spiraling out of control.

I'm talking about being a PC potato.


Now, I don't want to be Ms Obvious by telling you the definition of the term 'PC potato'. You can tell so well that the term was lazily ripped off from the famous-er 'couch potato'.

I've been practically rotting in front of the computer throughout the holidays. Not that I'm doing anything productive. Nope, not penning a novel here. Polishing my Photoshop skills? Nah. Oh no, haven't been trying to add my aunts on Facebook.

Sheesh, what have I been doing on the internet?

Slacking off, chatting, watching useless videos, downloading even more useless things, fussing over this thing and half-heartedly researching Gold Coast for my upcoming vacation.

YES, AT LAST A CHANCE TO LIFT MY BUTT OFF THE CHAIR!!!

Only to end up plonking it down again on the plane seat. But hey, nothing beats a vacay. And there ain't no internet in the wild ol' Australian outback. Just can't wait to get my ass there!!! Weeeeee!!!!!!!

Will I meet Hugh Jackman there? Or spot Nicole Kidman strolling on one of those golden Australian beaches on a beautiful Sunday with her beloved Sunday?


Oops...pardon me. And my sister is flying back on a Sunday too!!! I miss her so sooooo much. And she better put on some weight, cuz I'm gonna hug her SO MIND-BLOWINGLY TIGHT!!! (Ouch!)

Uncle uncle...

There was a time when my mum monopolised the internet. That I didn't mind, but what horrified me was she actually took to chatting with my friends on MSN Messenger! But my friends generally have been okay with having her around the chatting scene.

And it wasn't until the other day when I sat down and had a nice chat with Amira's dad, that I realised that adults too, can make quite engaging chat buddies.

Me: okay okay i shall slow down my frenetic pace
Me: and accomodate you...but u have to admit, i'm challenging you in a way, no?
Me: im pushing you just a little bit to type a little but faster
Me: to think a little bit quicker
Me: to cope with the unforgiving speed of today's cyber world
Me: okay im crapping
Me: u sure do take a long time to give a reply
Me: you're amusing!
Me: it's like im engaging in a monologue here
amira's dad: of course you do... cos y never gave me chances to reply... bz reading ur messages

The charming man even attempted a stab at sarcasm.

Me: what do you work as?
amira's dad: I m self employed... running a small bsnes
Me: oooh...
Me: in what field?
Me: sumtimes i wonder if you're there or not
amira's dad: not football field...
amira's dad: you really do talk a lot... i wonder how everybdy keeps up wt u...

Then he tried to throw back my line at me.

amira's dad: alo... wher r u?
Me: im here
Me: i said i was slowing down
Me: so dat u cud keep up

Of course, adults should teach the young a thing or two.

Me: i guess all kids find it amusing when they chat with someone much much older than they are
amira's dad: of course... one thing for sure... older people can always act like a kid... n no kid can ever act like an adult... that is the fun part...

He even taught me how to speak like an adult, then advised me against it.

amira's dad: u sounded so superficial... ther is no way that you can sound like an adult..
amira's dad: u really sounded like a model acting for an advertisment...
amira's dad: u sounded like selling smthng and reading frm a pretyped text...
amira's dad: you just need to be yourself... thats is the important thing...


Okay uncle...

LOL... he's fun lah. But I had to be so mean to him by telling him that "i endure such an arduous wait for your prized replies" because he was struggling to keep up with my babbling. Sorry!

Amira, your dad and I are so chatting again!

Olenjes!!!

I HATE ORANGES.


Despise them. Abhor them. Aggravated by them.

And I can't believe I just swallowed three pieces of them. Blueck. Blerh. Brrr. GULPS!

They're much better off becoming the next muse for a creative mind, instead of being consumed hesitantly thanks to dear mummy's coercion.

And what wonderful art pieces they make!









And with the touch of Photoshop, you get this:



So cute hor? So spare a thought for the creative community out there. As you have seen here, many many brilliant works of art can be produced from oranges. And compared to the REPULSIVE MUCKY crap that ends up in your toilet?

Tsk tsk tsk... not cool. Not cool at all.

Estrella

Alright people, this is an album review of Estrella's self-titled album released in December 2007.



At first I intended to give it a 2 out of 5. I wasn't happy with what I heard - shaky vocals, almost tuneless melodies, similar-sounding songs. I even fell asleep towards the end of the tracklist. I was close to dismissing it, until I gave it one more try (and made sure I had enough zzz the night before) and doi, magic happened.

I started to like the album. Now I LOVE it.

And now I'm hooked. Who can ever give the mesmerising Stay a pass? Or not relate to the lovesick lyrics in Ternyata? Once you've gotten to know the songs, it's sing-along time. And the lyrics are pretty easy to come off the tip of the tongue without much thinking. I can sing "My Morning" while memorising physics formulas! Maybe that's why I did so badly in the first place.

Just beware of the urge to throw away the CD after 2 plays. Play it 2 more times, and you'll find that the material here is not as bland as you initially thought. The thin, shaky vocals can throw you off too, but once you get over the fact that the lead singer might have snorted too much crack into her nostrils, it's all good from there.

PS: Right, I know I'll be thrown some flak for that crack thing I said, but really she sounds so... frail. Perhaps voice training would do some good.

Nailing the habit

The best way to stop biting nails is to put on some nail polish, right?

WRONG.

It doesn't work. I tried it, and those nice dainty pink colours never stopped me from putting my fingertips to my mouth. I think I've ingested some nail polish during my trying-to-stop-biting-nails-but-failed-pathetically period.

What to do? I'm an avid nail-biter. I bite for no apparent reason. I bite while I'm waiting, texting, watching movie, reading books, revising, doing essays, bored like nuts, thinking, panicking...

...I even bite my nails in the toilet. (I know, EWWW!!)



So I improvised a bit. I tried slapping on some black nail polish, and hey it works!! Yeah, for a week.

Then I ingested some more nail polish. Sigh...

My mum told me to dip my fingers into minyak cap kapak every morning, so that I would refrain from the habit. A good method that one, but what if I rub my eyes?

Gee, did anyone suddenly point a pepper spray at my eyes or what?

But I HAVE decided that this habit has SERIOUSLY GOT TO STOP. Because I love nail polish. And it sucks only having those 10 toenails as canvas. And longer nails scratch better than anything else in the world.

Nostalgia

The other day I was rummaging through my old collection of soft toys, trying to single out some for donation. The familiar sight of these old soft toys I used to cherish so much just ... gutted me.

Like. Damn.

It made me hark back to that distant phase in my life when all was fair and rosy, when everything was taken care of, when everybody actually gave me a break, when I could spill Pepsi all over my dad's trousers and get away with it.

That not-so-near phase when I knew ZILCH about s*x. Birds and the bees were literally birds and the bees. In a park. Flying around pretty flowers. Buzz buzz. Twit twit.

Now? WHOA.

Birds and the wha...?!! You don't need to finish the whole sentence to see that grin on my face. What's with me anyway? Why do I instinctively "zoom" to that thought whenever something suggestive creeps up?


Honestly I don't know. Perhaps in two years' time I'll stumble upon the answer.

For now I just have to accept the fact that whatever I have picked up can't be erased off the mind like some camera memory card.

Self-pleasure? Delete. Positions? Delete. Techniques? Delete. Sex toys? Dele...oh wait, I'll keep this in case some psycho sends me one.

Back to SOFT toys.

I used to be a huge fan of soft toys. They make nice boyfriends when you're small. Too bad I've left the whole soft-toy scene a very long time ago (which is a pity; I have the cutest plushies in town), but if you're a teen and you still adore soft toys, I guess they'll still make pretty nice boyfriends too.

1. They're ALWAYS listening to you.
2. They're ALWAYS staring at you. (It's all about eye contact, people)
3. They're not gonna talk about cars and football.
4. They're not smelly, sweaty, grimy and horny.


Sounds boring to me.

It's DEAD!!!

Today has been... an interesting day. At least I was out of my house.

I didn't go to school on last Friday, so I skipped the announcement of Monday being the start of the school holidays and like the blur case that I am, I sidled coolly into school wearing SCHOOL UNIFORM whereas others were comfortably decked in their jeans and t-shirts.

At the back of my mind, something said "Oh..."

But anyways, had a fun time whistling to the tune of Coldplay's Strawberry Swing while carrying bakau logs to and fro without running out of breath. Then proceeded to clean up the scouts den!

Chi Cheng showed a nice cute little bottle souvenir with (horrified GASP!) a DEAD COCKROACH inside!


Eeargh...no wonder I was the only one not hungry after the cleaning up. After seeing that thing?!! That, that... tha...

But the whole process was fun. I proved to myself that I could sew quite decently when I mended the torn "underflap" (underwear?) of the sofa. I mean, I've gotta at least have something to redeem myself here. I can't cook, I can't bake, I can't brew good coffee, I hate washing, absolutely detest waking up early and dislike sweeping/mopping just as much.

So sewing's like... my only "housewife-liness" forte. Cool.

Then came back, rushed like a dude trying to get his very pregnant wife to the hospital before the baby slides out and bammm...landed myself in Sri Thai Restaurant for lunch with the District Governor (District 3300). It was fun, hanging out with the BOD and the others. Food wasn't anything to shout about. Wasn't even anything to talk about actually. But I was like sucking up to the District Governor, asking questions and stuff and man...he's got real bright eyes.



He can't be wearing contacts, can he?

Helpless Newbie!

Right, so I've bitten the bait and plunged myself into the blogging world.

It ain't so bad, is it?

Plus typing is much, much easier than writing. My fingers press so hard on the unfortunate pen, that (gasp!) the ink stops flowing. How that happened, only Faber-Castell knows.

Shouldn't blame the pen.

You can't scold the worker who couldn't get a word out thanks to having a ferocious boss.
You can't hate the apple for turning bad due to the onset of oxidation.

The same way why my parents shouldn't reprimand me for sleeping up to 11 in the morning. It's just as normal for teenagers to sleep in as it is for rabbits to sleep around.

Anyway, I have been checking out some really awesome (alternative) music. Elbow, Be Your Own Pet, Nina Nastasia, Sandi Thom, Laura Marling. They create some really beautiful music that's really worth the price of the CD (or in my case, internet bills) and yeah, I should introduce some of them to you.

So, here I have included a video of Be Your Own Pet's rather rad single, Becky (from Get Awkward). Behind the rather sweet voice of the lead singer lies a deep hatred for an unloyal friend. Violent times call for violent ways, some say, and the back-stabbing prick got murdered by the angry betrayee.



And I just love how the name "Becky" was repeatedly behind the chorus.

I heard you talked a lot of shit about me
to your new best friend
Doesn't matter anyway, cuz I've got a brand new friend, okay
Me and her, we'll kick your ass,
we'll wait with knives after class!

But you know, I gotta say
I really loved going to your slumber party
It's too bad you got so lame
You told my secrets and it caused me a lot of pain

Now I'm going to juvey for teenage homicide
It'll would've been cool if you stayed by my side
And you know that you wouldn't have had to die,
but now every single night I cry

If only what you wrote in my yearbook was true--
then I wouldn't be stuck in fucking cell block 2
But I don't regret what I've done,
'cuz in the end, it was fun!