Saturday, February 26, 2011

Sports Day Week = Longest Week On Earth And In The Whole Effing Universe


This week was Sports Day Week.

Probably the longest week I've ever experienced.

Apart from juggling between memorising crap for my interview next Tuesday, and writing the debate scripts with my debate kids for the competition next Thursday, I HAD to be at the sports complex for the whole four days, from morning to evening.

'Coz you know, I had the most important job ever that requires me to sit my sorry ass at the grand stand the WHOLE TIME.

I'm the medicine person, remember?  I was on call the WHOLE TIME.  And I couldn't even tell what can of sprays do what.

Luckily there were some nice, willing colleagues who'd take my job for a couple of hours as I needed to rush to school to manage my debate team.   And go back to the sports complex again later on.

And when night falls, after I spread tubes of acne gel on my newly formed acnes due to the nasty mixture of sweat, oil and foundation from the blazing heat, I had to sit down (or more precisely, lay down) to study my notes on NKRA, PIPP, MBMMBI, till I passed out, dreaming in acronyms.

So yeah, longest. week. ever.

The only thing great about this week was probably having the opportunity to realise how some teenagers and children live for sports, and they'd die for it.  To see victory in their eyes as they crossed the finishing lines and to see the despair when they didn't.  To see their peers cheer their fucking lungs out for them, albeit repeating the same damn song/ stealing other schools' song and inserting their school's name in it, and of course, to see  parents and grandparents (yes, awesome grandparents!) who came to support their child and pointing towards their child running on the track telling everyone in the grand stand, "That's my boy!"

I'm not a sportsperson, nor I never get the hype of sports day, but now I saw it.  It was honestly beautiful.

So the first wave of responsibilities is over.

Goodbye sports day.
Hello interview, debate competition, camping and ethnic dance competition.

Second wave, here I come.

*P/s: I hate February and March now too.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Shit My Dogs Drag In


Don't get me started with shit they destroyed.

1. Ripped plastic bag. 
  
 Obviously.

 2. Cordial bottle. 


Emptied.

3. Flattened box.

 
Flattened by them I would bet.

4. Bamboo stick. 


Presumably cut for cooking stuff.  Or exploding stuff.

5. Carpentering carcass.  But what they would love more is...


6. ...Bird carcass.

 
 I really can't tell if it's a bird, one of my mom's escaped chicks, or the neighbours' wandering chick.

7. Cement bucket. 


The carpenter's living nearby.

8. Torn sock.


Definitely the neighbours'.

 9. Clefairy. 


Definitely the other neighbours on the other end's kids' favourite Pokemon.

10. Plastic jar.


Again, definitely not ours.

Look at them enjoying their haul. 


Sometimes I wish I could just be a dog.

Carefree.  Not a care in the whole world.  With the exception of the occasional strangers dropping by.
 
No need to crack my head for my debate team.  No need to hunt down student athletes for theirs photos to complete their registration forms for the district championship.  No need to prepare for my SPP interview.  No need to prepare test papers.  No need to work.  Not a care in the whole world.

But then again, I do not want my head to be stuck in jar like Sookie.  Gosh, she's just like a mischievious little kid.


**P/S: My mom managed to cut the jar open.  She's safe and breathing happily.  No need to get SPCA on my ass now.

What does your dogs drag in? (Or cat, horse, dragon, whatever pet you keep)

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Valentine's Day: I Broke My Virginity


Happy Valentine's Day people!

Except for you Malaysian Muslim readers.  I don't want to be held responsible for inviting you to join us Christian's, sinful ways and tradition.  But still, a whole lot of love to you!

Ok, so you usually, I'd be all cynical about Valentine's Day.  It's overrated, a waste of money yada yada yada.

You know those kids who hate Christmas not because they are spawns of the devil, but rather, they never got any presents?  Every year, they dread Christmas.  Because every tiny of hope of receiving a present is crushed when they see nothing's in the stocking.

Yeah, I was like those kids.  When it comes to Valentine's Day.

See I'm in a long distance relationship.  So when your boyfriend is not around, the only thing next to being less pathetic than wallowing in your room purging on Air Supply, is to go out on a Single Ladies Night Out, or better known as Yeah-I-Guess-Hanging-Out-With-My-Girlfriends-Is-Less-Sad-Than-Stuffing-Myself-with-Chocolates-That-I-Pretend-He-Bought-For-Me Night Out.

But of course, I held no grudge against The Boyfriend as we were seas apart (just a sea actually) and for the past six years, there was never a holiday where both of us were back home.  Yeah we'd celebrate a pre and post Vday and gave each other stuff, but it didn't seem that special when it is not on that stupid date.  Which to think so is equally stupid too.

Plus, I have long accepted that he is not the most romantic guy on earth.  Not the type who'd serenade for you, write poems, publically displaying his affection or give you pleasant surprises on a daily basis.  Just your average Joe. Which I'd take any day.

So when I bumped into a guy in school carrying this:


...and looking for a certain Miss Amanda, I was flabbergasted. For real?! Just like in those fucking movies?!

And really flustered as I walked past teachers who gave cheeky smiles and oohs and ah.  It was even embarrasing to open the card that was stucked in the bouquet.

 

'Coz it's the type of card that plays that annoying high-pitched tune when you open it.

So now you figured out that this is actually a brag post. You might wanna tell me to shove my flowers and cheesy card up my ass, especially if you had the worst Valentine's Day ever.


But pray my friend, as sad as it is going to sound, I never received these cheesy, unreasonably priced gifts for Valentine's before! Hence the need to shout it out the whole world.  Now you can go wonder in the little corner of your head on whether I was really an ugly teenager growing up.

I was a Valentine's Day celebration virgin. And yesterday, I broke it.  Even if he's miles away.

Only after 25 years (wadafak), I am able to comprehend what the big fuss Vday is about.

Despite all those cheesy cards, ridiculously priced flowers and off the wall booking dinner reservations, it's just simply about love.

Now, who'd like to join me for some orgies, disco and dating in secluded areas?

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Jane of All Trades


Some people grow up wanting to be a teacher.  All they want to do is teach.

But nobody told them that they also have to be a/an:

coach, facilitator, writer, editor, artist, model, singer, dancer, actor, producer, police, engineer, janitor, referee, emcee, accountant, secretary, manager, caretaker, judge, jury, driver, president, paramedic, clerk, auditor, director, consultant, administrator, analyst, assistant, designer, lecturer, architect, receptionist, technician, electrician, programmer, supervisor, social worker, estimator, researcher, chairperson, counsellor, shrink, therapist and trainer.

It was in the agreement when they signed their soul away.  It was in the finest print, only the devil can read with super power charged glasses.

Last year, I became the emcee for the school's annual dinner.

I only emceed once in my lifetime - which was for my course's theater night in university.  It was to be done in an informal style, attended by my juniors and students and in English (duh).

The dinner was to be done in a formal style, attended by big guns of the education people and in the Malay Language.  The people who assigned me really didn't what they got themselves into.

 Apart from my false eyelash kept falling off like a nuisance that night, I had invited the guests to eat when there were no food served yet as I read my script blindly, and pronounced the name of our VVIP guest, the big boss of all the big bosses of all schools in Keningau, Encik Raisin, as a certain name of a dried fruit.  It was indeed a face palm moment.  I would've wrecked the whole event into smithereens had not my partner covered most of my lines. 

So yeah, you really don't want me to be your host for any event.  Unless a mess is what your aiming for.

Then recently I was assigned to become the emcee for the district level football match.  What I felt at that moment was a tiny heart attack, I believe.  Was I supposed to speak like a football commentator, running my words in half a breath and shouting "Goooal!" in the end? Are you fucking kidding me?

Good thing I had a meeting in SMK Sook about the debate competition (will go to that in a moment).  I was then reduced to become just a registrant.  Thank you SMK Sook.

But now I'm a debate team manager and trainer. I have to manage my debate team and train them as well.  FYI, as highly opinionated as I am, I never joined debate as debate competitions scare the bejezuz out of me.  I would've snap and break down and cry, or snap and slap the mouthy, stubborn bitch debater. 

So it's the blind leading the blind.  You might as hand us our consolation prize already.

And next week (or was it the week after next?), I'm the 'physiotherapist' for the district level sports competition.

A physiotherapist.  For real?

Like seriously.  Being a teacher - Jack of all trades much?

So youngsters out there, if your ambition is to be a teacher, think again.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Retarded Pictures Gallery. Hope You're Not In It. Kinda.


Remember the time when people take photos, they do a simple action called smiling?

I guess our younger generation just don't know shit about smiling.

Or they'd rather take photos looking like retards.

I am in no way demeaning mentally disabled people.  I think you guys are true rockstars who will definitely have a place in heaven.

I'm just demeaning those who like to pose like one.

If your photo is listed, I'm sorry.

Sorry for the people who have to endure horridness everytime they see your photo.

I present to you, The House of Distorted Face Horror:



















Wow, bleeds my eyes everytime!  And yep, that's my retarded brother.  He was warned.

But no, like seriously, what happened to smiling like this? 


Did that 'trend' got wiped out when the pigs started sneezing ?  Or did they actually looked up my tutorial on how to look cute in social networking profile pictures? If they did, I'm partly blame for this jaw muscle spasm trend.

Let me know if you agree with me.  Or am I just being a prick for scouting actually-cute photos that I biasly think are ugly to put on this post for my evil sadistic satisfaction because I was an ugly child growing up unlike these pretty teenagers.

'Coz I really don't see how this photo could be appealing to the eyes.


Sorry you had to see that.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Celebrating Chinese New Year like an adult y'all.


This year, I'm having a very adult Chinese New Year celebration.

No, not that kind of adult.

But as in, a real life, matured working adult.

I don't have to be angry with AirAsia every time Chinese New Year comes.

And like a classy adult, there will be no senseless drinking and money throwing.

It's just gonna be a quiet reunion dinner with the family and my grandpa.

And instead of purring at his feet for extra bills in my angpow (like I used to), I'm going to be that filial granddaughter who gives him money instead.  Not that my parents told me to do so though.

But maybe my dad would be happy to spare his Swing...and we'll sit by the balcony watching other people blast their hundreds dollars worth fireworks into colourful nothingness in the cold, dark night.

And once we're done making fun on people's expenses, I'll retire to bed early so I'd feel wonderful on the first day of the Chinese year.  Baru ada ong maa...

So here's to my baby steps into becoming an adult.

Happy Chinese New Year people.

So cute