Saturday, November 20, 2004

SBSP survival guide II.

IF YOU DON'T HAVE EMPTY TARTAR SAUCE PACKETS WITH YOU
1) You're doomed.


2) Don't bother moving on to Step Two(fr previous post), because you are doomed. And no, little paper cups won't work.


3) Look, I said you're doomed. Aren't you listening?


4) Okay, you're right- there's always another way. But i'm not telling.


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haha. i love the SBSP Survival Guide. cracks me up each time i read it. the recent repair of the casette tape player(yes, you haven't read wrongly. the casette tape. the black rectangular thingies that require you to rewind the whole thing after you've finished watching the movie) has started the recent trend among my siblings and my parents to watch old movies over and over again. but it's cool. i just love watching Matilda, To Sir with Love, Thumberlina, Anastacia, Congo, Malcolm X and don't know what other thrash again. heh.


Tapi biarlah kau cari yang lain, kan kau buat sebagai korban. CINTA PALSU HAMPA.. Nanti di suatu masa, kau juga akan merasa, bertapa pedihnya hati kecewa kerana cinta.. uncle zainal sent me that via sms at 9.23 am. but i read it only at 11.38 am. anyways, i don't understand why he suddenly sent me that message. okay, for those who don't understand the malay language, i'll be a darl and translate it to you okay.. "let yourself find another one, the one that you'll sacrifice. Fake love is disappointing.. Later, one day, you shall also feel how the heart aches because of love..".. or something like that. that was direct translation but you'll get the idea. it's as if uncle zainal knows what's been happening between me and him. bleah. when i asked him how come he sent me that sms, he just replied "HAHA". SOMEONE GIVE ME A SIGN WILL YA?!


maybe he knows la. cos i told aunt mah what happened and maybe she mentioned it to him. well maybe he saw some similarity between what is happening right now and his past of which i shall not mention. i don't know. i just don't want to think about it. but my uncle does seem to have his own mysterious ways at times to make realise stuff. well, i've got the chalet to look forward to, and maybe i shall talk to him then. or tomorrow. which reminds me..


marble cheese brownies to be made, grocery shopping to be done, plates to be rinsed and wiped clean, cookies to be replenished, house to be mopped. room NOT to be cleaned. ahaha. my room is clean, my room is clean, MY ROOM IS CLEAN!! and it has been clean for more than a week! an achievement or what?!?!?!?!?!?!?!


back to phy/chem mcq section mania. tirra for now.

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died-ed at 1:02 pm
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Friday, November 19, 2004

SBSP survival guide.

How to Escape from a Pool of Tartar Sauce


1) When walking in tartar sauce country, always carry empty tartar sauce packets. They just might save your life.


2) As you start to sink into the tartar sauce, slowly pull the empty packets out of your pockets. If you pull them out too fast, tartar sauce will pour into your pockets, and you'll sink even faster.


3) Hold the empty packets open and yell,"Get in there, tartar sauce!" You may have to ell this several times. Don't worry- just keep yelling, and eventually the tartar sauce will get the idea.


4) As the tartar sauce climbs into the packets and fills them, toss them away, one by one.


5) Once all the tartar sauce is in packets, walk away from the packets, taking the shortest route possible. Be careful not to step on the packets. The tartar sauce could squish out. Plus, you'll slip and bonk your head.


Be Aware:

If you can gather all the pickle chunks, the pool won't be tartar sauce- it'll just be a harmless pool of mayonnaise.




Next post: What to do if you don't have any empty tartar sauce packets with you.


died-ed at 10:53 am
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Thursday, November 18, 2004

-dead-

a maths was easy. how do we know? cos Prathap managed to re-do the paper. so how come i feel that i am going to fail it? cos i was busy muttering vulgarities under my breath because i can't do the bloody remainder theorem question and biting on to my pen. i felt like a bloody target on a shooting range with nowhere to hide. i almost wanted to crush my paper and run out of the exam hall slashing my wrists but that would be too... exaggerating. whatever. let's just put aside that dreadful time of my life and move on.






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you know, the reason i can't really concentrate is you. the reason for my constant restlessness and boredom is you. because i know i have you but i can't have you. because i know we have each other but we can't be together. but we can be together if we try. i don't mind spending everyday waiting for you as long as i know that you are mine. that you are securely mine. that we are together. tied by an invisible string that is as strong as ever and not on a losing thread. i know we can get through this together but i guess i'm too chicken to tell you. i'm too chicken to tell you becuase this will just add on to that mass of problems that you currently have in your head. and if that mess you up even more, i can't forgive myself. everyday i think of you; you're never out of my head. when i see things, things that remind me of you, your name echoes in my mind. and i just can't help muttering the three words over and over again even though i know that you can't hear it. even though i know you're too far away to know. absence makes the heart goes fonder; but your absence is too long. minutes turn to hours, hours turn to days. and i'm still missing you. we both know that we want it, but we both know that we have no choice.


and everytime you ask me how i am, i have to pretend that i'm alright. and i know you know that i'm not. i hope everything's going to be alright soon. cos i miss you too damn much. i miss you too damn much.

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died-ed at 6:48 pm
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Monday, November 15, 2004

tears in my eyes, but i do not cry.

so it's eid. whatever.


i didn't have a good time yesterday because my family was late as usual to nenek's. so all of my cousins have already gone visiting elsewhere. so i was left there to eat good food on my own with my sisters and then tried studying geography in front of the huge tv. meer fell asleep with dad and the brother in one of the rooms, mams was busy doing don't know what with my aunt and uncle and my gram, loolah was sleeping so i can't play with him and fiqi.. well, who wants to play with fiqi? her eyes was glued to the tv. so i was left reading my geography text without comprehending a single word. then when we went to hazmi's house cos nyanyi was there, that idiot had to make fun of me having have to mug for o levels on such an occasion. ugh. dude, at least i have graduated. WHAT ABOUT YOU? next year? pelan-pelan kayuh ya..


i'm done with everything for art except for one more colour scheme which i am going to do like after this post. and then go to my uncle's place. on my own. hoorah hoorah. i hate going to his place on my own. his flat is so far away from civilisation. i hate to walk like a gazillion miles before i reach his place. kay, that's a little bit exaggerating but the main point it, I HATE WALKING.


auntie zizah's going back to brunei on monday. sad. i miss her and uncle bob and iman like loads. they are like the funkiest pair of uncle and aunt out of the twenty pairs that i have. geez. i can't wait to go there. i can't wait to be treated like a princess at the empire. i can't wait to meet prince martin. he was an ex-rosythian too, by the way. throws parties and hangs out with hollywood celebrities. not those typical melayu star karats. goes to london like i go to ntuc. cool stuff aye? haiz. i want o levels to be over. just one more week. four more papers. and i'm a free woman. free to travel, free to roam. go to brunei, FREE TO DRIVE.


anyhows, auntie zizah read my personal message and my interpretation of my visual information and stuffs for my paper 2 coursework and then she said something that i feel i should take pride of. "i have to tell you that you write better than some of the journalists i work with at my firm.." huahuahua. that was such an ego booster for me. lol. well, she's one of my role models. yearps. my dad says i'm like her. the only difference is that my dad is a journalist and her dad was a taxi driver and she went to rgs and i went to ST. BOWEN. haha.


whatever. i hear hoobastank. back to art.


died-ed at 5:21 pm
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