Redux.
Posted on: December 28, 2008
Next month, this place will be revamped. Why? Because 2008 was a horrible year and I need to believe that 2009 will be better.
I have something to say.
If you’re going to get offended by anything I write on my blogs – this one or the other more private one – really, piss off. And my old entries, especially ones I wrote before we even knew each other? That’s just creepy, and it doesn’t make you know me any more than you do by just seeing my face every day. That was me then. Me now is a completely different entity.
As for getting upset over things I write in my Facebook status… WTF? I’m sorry that I don’t go through life being a seemingly emotionless automaton, I’m sorry that you read into things too much (but you don’t even try to do anything about those things, do you?), I’m sorry for optimistically thinking and hoping that my friends give a damn…
…no, wait, you know what? Not sorry.
If you don’t get what this is all about, you’re not the person this was aimed at (or you could just be quite insufferably stupid).
Oh, well.
Posted on: September 22, 2008
I never check my blogstats, but this time something caught my eye.
Apparently the top search that leads to here is “sarawak plaza prostitutes”.
Which reminds me that I haven’t done Whore Watch in a while.
Anyway, parents are back (bleeeargh). They made an inordinate amount of noise for two people doing NOTHING in the kitchen – seriously, I make less noise when I bake or cook spontaneously, and I’m one of the noisiest people I know.
The Mother told me to make cookies for Raya. Screw that. She never believed in my ability to do anything before, never really cared for anything I was very proud about (trombone, writing, being absolutely hilarious… things I don’t care about anymore because no one else cared) and now suddenly just because I can do something she can talk about during bloody Raya and peddle my wares to her horrendous aunty cronies, she’s asking for favours.
I know I make huge deals out of things that are practically nothing, but seriously? This whole disintegration of our relationship really hurts, no matter how much I try to act like I don’t care.
I’m only wanted when I’m useful.
I should be wanted because I’m theirs.
Sigh
Posted on: September 21, 2008
- In: Parentals | Suckage
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When you’re going away, let the person you live with know well in advance… especially if you want her boyfriend to send you to the airport.
When you’re going away, let people you’ve been recently doing business with know, or at the very least leave them a number that they can contact you at (which will obviously not be your house number since you will not be at home)… especially if you have pending orders that you specifically told them to send to the house, and especially if those orders include perishables.
When you come in from doing stuff in the yard, bring the cat that you let out in with you… especially if you know that expensive cats left outside unsupervised tend to mysteriously go missing in the Godawful neighbourhood.
When your adult daughter who loves the cat with all her heart tells you to secure the fence and gate with chicken wire to stop the cat from going out of the compound, do it… especially if the cat is the sort to escape at even the slimmest chance.
When your adult daughter tells you to install an alarm system in the house, do it… especially if there have been a spate of armed robberies near your area.
When your adult daughter asks you if your nurse friend can arrange for her to get a certain very expensive immunisation at a Government clinic for a Government subsidised price… don’t blow her off to talk to your sister about the price of your bloody airfare, only to come back to her and ask her why she doesn’t just go get it done at a private clinic and pay the full price when you bloody well know your husband’s retired and we can’t just boody well spend money like we used to.
When you’re getting retired, let the only child left in your house know well in advance… especially when you know she relied on the healthcare perks and that she relies on you for the prospect of her independent future.
If you had done all these simple things, the cat would still be here. We wouldn’t have been robbed, or at least it wouldn’t have been as easy for them to rob us.
If you had done all this, if you had just treated me like your daughter instead of some random person living with you, if you had just smiled a little more, frowned a little less, showed you cared, respected the fact that I am just not into piety and religion at this point in my life, acknowledged the fact that I’m not like you, accepted that I have very different ambitions from those you have for me, talked to me about whatever problems you thought I had instead of assuming things and talking to other people about them, treated me and my friends with more respect instead of writing us off as useless if we so much as made a dirty joke or drank too much Sundrop at Raya or mingled regardless of gender and race and religion…
…maybe I wouldn’t be so angry and upset all the time at home.
…maybe I’d be home for Raya.
…maybe I’d have kissed your hand or at least said goodbye at the airport.
Maybe I’d still love and respect you.
Pretty!
Posted on: September 7, 2008
The only reason I’m really writing anything here (let’s just forget that “vow to blog once a day” thing, okay? Aku gagal!) is because there’s a new template and it’s pretty and I like it.
Which sort of brings me to the whole thing about being a girl.
I was in KL recently for a school trip that involved a whole lot of grumbling about “educational visits” and a whole lot of joy about shopping. Biasalah, I mean, who cares about a national museum that is half-closed for renovations and had a special exhibition on – I kid you not – COCONUT GRATERS THROUGH THE AGES (apparently a “symbol of the bond between mother and child” and “a national heritage that should be safeguarded”)? Anyway, joy of shopping.
One of the days we went shopping, we split up and went our own ways. When it was time to go, we met up and went to Starbucks. Sleepy’s brother – whom I first met about a year ago – asked whether I got stuff I wanted and whether I felt a sense of accomplishment at the amount of money I saved (it being sale season).
“No!” I said, rather maniacally. “I get a sense of accomplishment from knowing I have pretty things!”
“You weren’t this happy when I first met you at school,” he said.
“Of course not! At school, there is no shopping joy!!!” Seriously, you could hear the exclamation marks.
I only realised when he left the table to go play Magic: The Gathering with someone else that what I said made absolutely no sense.
Which makes me think: I’ve never really liked shopping, particularly the whole girly-girly thing of buying clothes and shoes and bags and pretty things. But lately I’ve been going a bit mad about it. I mean, sure, in KL most of my money went to books and Benefit and underwear. Admittedly the Benefit was kinda girly and the underwear was very pretty-pretty, but it’s not like I got any clothes.
Then I came back, went around online because I was bored, found blogshops and started buying things I would never buy in a regular shop. Girly things. Bags. Earrings. Girly tops. Pink stuff. Oh, and I went to Nose and Vincci yesterday and had to drag myself away from things like black-and-hot-pink ballet pumps. Then I ended up buying earrings, a pair of jeans and a couple of t-shirts (which I needed anyway, since some of my casuals are literally falling apart) and PINK BANGLES. Why did I buy pink bangles? Because I thought they’d go with my new PINK SHOES.
If I knew that turning twenty-mumble would turn me into such a girl, I would’ve done it much sooner. Being bitchy has better effect when you dress girlier. If you’re bitchy and wearing jeans and a t-shirt, you’re just being mean.
That is your dose of Rin Logic for the day.
And in case any of my male friends are reading this – no, I have not been abducted by aliens (or Ah Lians). I still have an unhealthy love for Winter Soldier and Football Manager.
Every day? Hah!
Posted on: August 22, 2008
I missed blogging yesterday.
If I was in a more emo mood I would go on and on about “Oh this is terrible! I can’t even commit to blogging one piece of crap per day! How will I commit to my studies/a relationship/my future job? Woe! Woe! Doom!”
As it is I have a very strong urge to sing Bamboleo as I clean the bathroom, or La Bamba. Damned if I know what any of the lyrics mean, but they’re cheery songs that bring me back to my childhood, which is far too long ago.
Bits and pieces
Posted on: August 19, 2008
- In: Daily
- 3 Comments
It’s been a while.
I keep telling myself I’ll write here every day, even when I have nothing to say, because it’s a good bit of exercise. Writing exercise. Not the other kind, because though I really need it if I want to lose my horrendous bloaty gut and thunder thighs it’s not exactly the most fun thing to do alone.
I exercise my fingers a lot by writing and typing, so I have looovely hands. Other bits of me, not so lovely, hence the need to accentuate what little I have with what Happy describes as “slutty tops”. Boy thinks I’m hot regardless of what I wear, but he is very biased.
Anyway, here’s what’s been happening since the last post:
- Words Worth 2! I had absolutely NOTHING prepared for this, which sort of makes me worry because to be completely honest I haven’t written anything since the day I stopped seeing a psychiatrist. It’s horrible that I can only seem to write well when I’ve got doom, gloom and depression up the wazoo, and it’s terribly ironic that when I feel that way I write things that make people smile.
- That point was getting a bit long, so here’s a new one. What I ended up doing for Words Worth 2 was an impromptu thing where I stood there and told stories from my teen years (THE HORROR OF TEEN CRUSHES!) and drunken early twenties. I hesitate to call it stand-up comedy, but it did get quite a few laughs.
- Fundraisers. I have no idea how I managed to make at least 200 cupcakes that people liked. It was pretty stress-inducing, and it didn’t help that A CERTAIN TEACHER who shares a name with a gorgeous friend of mine (that should be hint enough) first made a last minute personal order which took up the only free time I had that week and then had the gall to complain to Bashful about how my cupcakes had gotten smaller. THEY DID NOT GET SMALLER, BITCH, I used different cups so they were shorter but they were wider than the last batch so it evened out. And next time you want to complain about the results of my fucking hard work, tell me to my face. Otherwise, just bake your own fucking cupcakes.
- Buying clothes. I need to bloody well stop going to online blogshops. I was supposed to go shopping in KL at the end of the month – at the rate I’m going buying clothes online I won’t have any cash for KL. I blame this new-found obsession on the gorgeous one (though “blame” is not entirely negative since clothes in Kuching for people my size tend to suxx0rz).
That is all until tomorrow.
If things get really boring, I’ll review things like movies, books and condoms.
Shah
Posted on: July 28, 2008
I promised Shah I’d write him something on birthday, buuuut this is late because I broke my wireless thingymajigger and couldn’t get online for a few days (I could’ve used my mother’s EEE but I hate typing on that thing, it makes me feel like a chimpanzee).
I think that there are very few people in life I would confidently say I can count on through thick and thin. I go through situations in my head, worst case scenarios, like – who would stay by my side when I do really stupid dumbfuck things, like get knocked up or catch an STD or get drunk and kill a child or get busted selling hard drugs to teenagers? And by “stay by my side” I don’t mean coming by just to spout platitudes, give unwanted advice and then fuck off in the hopes that I’ll feel cared for – I mean actually being there, whether it’s to actually hold my hand or give me a hug or to just listen to me and tell me the truth.
The only person I can think of who’d stickwitme (*snort!*) through those four situations – as well as a whole bunch of others that I’ve thought of – is Shah.
Shah is just that sort of person. He’s loyal, but he’s not a pushover either – he only gives what he believes is deserved. He’s also brutally honest and not afraid to tell me when I’m being a complete idiot, which is something I prize very highly among my friends. Also, regardless of his own opinion, Shah is not stupid or ugly or clumsy or uncouth or tactless or mean. He is smart, intuitive, lovely, dignified (a very rare thing these days, I think), graceful, well-mannered, kind and really the best person to talk to about anything. I never feel judged when I talk to Shah, even when I tell him things that make me feel like utter trash.
The irony of Shah being the best friend that any girl could have is that he was formally introduced to me by someone I now consider to be a total asshat (I’m only using the word “asshat” because I’ve already used “dumbfuck”).
So, to Shah: first of all, sorry this post is kinda crap (it’s 4.30am, after all), but Happy Birthday! Really, I hope you had a good one – don’t let anyone take the prospects of a good time away from you. You deserve every bit of good that happens to you, and as for the bad things… you know I’ll always listen, even if I can’t actually help to fix them.
Love you lots 🙂
Fee-ass-ko
Posted on: July 14, 2008
So we had Sports Day at school recently and there are only two words to describe it.
Bloody. Annoying.
There’s this thing that happens at school where people just sort of ignore my class and forget that we exist, only to remember that we exist when they need us to participate in things we bloody well shouldn’t be participating in, such as sports. I mean, what is the point? They say it’s for the spirit of participation, make your contribution to the school, introduce you to students who might not know you…
…I participate in school by STUDYING and doing Chem experiments on Open Day so parents can ooh and aah. The bloody exorbitant fees my parents pay is contribution enough (not to mention all the stuff I contributed to fundraisers and didn’t claim money for). Enough students know me by sight, at least a dozen kids in school are probably related to me and some students I just don’t want to get to know better as they are very annoying.
At my old school – which I am so much more fond of than the current one – we only participated in sports if we wanted to. Sure, the sports house I was in was so fucking crap that they made everyone in the house come for the initial try-outs in the vain hopes of finding some kind of miracle athlete (this never happened, as evidenced by the fact that we never did lose that “Melor = Telur” taunt). And despite the fact that no one was forced to do anything – or maybe because of that fact – we participated. Prefects, athletes, Red Crescent, magazine committee, even Puteri Islam and Joyful Vanguard (no, I can’t remember what they did – pray for the healing of injuries, perhaps?), not to mention the lunatics in the marching band who’d clang about playing random fanfares for no reason other than being in high spirits.
Tangent: many ex-band members I know are still in high spirits, except this time the spirits tend to be in lovely glass bottles. Mmm, vodka.
Anyway, the highlight of the fiasco was making us sports captains. Laugh, please. I was never really into sports to begin with – watching football doesn’t count, nor does using hockey and softball PE sessions as an excuse to bludgeon classmates I wasn’t too fond of. I’m fat, for God’s sake. I’m not one for being girly, either, but if I was given a choice between wearing dresses every day and participating in organised sports, I’d pick the dresses. At least I’ll be pretty and leery men in bars will buy me drinks.
So, yes, Sports Day was very AAAARGH. But at least the primary schoolers in my sports house were nice and there were no really obvious weirdos. But still, AAAARGH.
I will AAAARGH about something else later, and SQUEEE about a bunch of really lovely men.
Back off.
Posted on: May 5, 2008
- In: Parentals | School | Whore Watch
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Last night we saw 13 whores – 5 at Haji Taha (one waved at us), an unprecedented 6 behind Riverside/Hilton (probably because the cops were at Haji Taha) and two at whatever-that-inn-is-called near Longhouse.
There’s really nothing like coming home.
Goodbye idyllic holiday, hello unwarranted harrassment and stress.
To certain people I know, I’d like to just point out a couple of (well, three) things:
- I have never been religious, and forcing me into a corner religion-wise is not going to win you any points.
- I set the alarm at an appropriate time. I woke up when the alarm rang and told you to pack. You didn’t. You went back to sleep and had to rush things when you woke up almost an hour later, causing you to leave your phone behind. So don’t snap at me if you had to wait for me to let you in at lunchtime because I didn’t know you were outside. It’s your own damn fault.
- Screw that competition this weekend. I have exams in two weeks, my beloved cat got kidnapped (yeah, laugh all you want) and I am being rushed into things I just can’t handle at the moment. So, yeah. Get me suspended from school. Give me detention. Whatever. I am seriously beyond caring at this point.
God, this week is setting out to be completely full of suckage.
AFK
Posted on: April 30, 2008
- In: Boy | Holidays
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Am of for a weekend at the beach with Boy. I wanted to rant about sex and how women can be soooo incredibly stupid sometimes and really encourage the bad treatment that they get from men, but that’ll have to wait ’til I come back.
Have not seen whores in a while. Boo.
May be seeing James. Yay!
Blether. Mince. Repeat. 