The One Where She Is Hungry

Listening to: Imogen Heap
“You won’t catch me around here.”

Thanks to yesterday’s McDonald’s escapade where my brother and I swore just last week that we wouldn’t have any more fast food till next month before promptly blowing 40 bucks at the drive thru last night (double cheeseburger medium McValue meal with fries and a Coke, spicy Chicken McNuggets and a damn Mudpie McFlurry), I barely had ten ringgit for lunch and now here I sit, tummy grumbling, angry and bitter over having stuffed myself with the Evil Meal last night and blowing so much money on it that not only am I guilty and bloated today, I didn’t even have enough cash to buy myself a decent lunch. I mean at the end last night, I was so full I was just lazily spooning the Mudpie into my mouth as a matter of principle. And that is so not how you treat fast food. It is meant to be savored in gluttony and greed, not just for the heck of it. Therefore I put my arteries through a lot last night and I couldn’t even enjoy the ride.

What a waste.

So I tortured myself with chamomile tea at 4.30pm and two measly bits of chocolate and opened Cheryl’s blog only to see huuuge pictures of mouth watering damn prawn mee. Sorry for the obscenities Cheryl, but when I get hungry I get moody.

I’m supposed to be collecting evidence for my lit review but here I sit sunk in the depths of my hunger.
Whattoeat?Whattoeat?Whattoeat?
Sorry but I can’t function when I’m hungry/greedy/sleepy/angry.

Okay, I need to distract myself!

I came across TheList I made sometime last year and I’m still wondering how Bryan Greenberg made it in at fifth place? It is still the most read post on my blog and here I am daily embarassing myself as to how I managed to bump Jared Padalacki in favor for Bryan Greenberg. That movie must have made some impact on me.

He is dishy though.
Mmm ‘dish’ just makes me think of food again.

Okay, brain sectioning can’t possibly make me think of food.
I sectioned two more brains today and there were no mishaps, my hands were numbed all the way through however from working in -15°C for two hours.
Shit, that C in Celcius just flashed a red KFC sign in my head.

Is it just me or is KFC chicken (Iwantchickennow) really rancidly oily these days?

This is too much.
What can a person eat when she has 60 cents in her wallet and the cafeteria is stupidly expensive?
I have a bone to pick with them, I mean we’re just students for goodness sakes.

Bone. Buffalo wing. Hot and spicy.

Omg.

Kill me now.

Amazing Race Asia 3

I tell you what, I have always been a fan of the American syndication of Amazing Race but since the Asian one began, to be honest I only watched season 1, even scarcely at that. I completely missed the second season because I was still abroad. So it was with great skepticism that I watched the second episode of the third season of Amazing Race Asia. And as usual, got hooked on to it. If anything it’s even more fun to watch because we can relate to a lot of their mannerisms and accents, being Asian ourselves. And this is where the definition ‘Asian’ is made clear – Asia does not only mean Oriental. It includes the entire continent. As is covered by most of the contestants.

Ten teams are part of this installment and already I have a favourite team.

The sibling team from Malaysia, Henry and Bernie Chan.

I didn’t know this, but apparently Bernie Chan is rather famous, her biodata pegs her as both model and the face of the Malaysian Project Runway last year. Henry, her older brother, is a chef and restaurant owner. Now, I’m not being biased when I say that I like them just because their Malaysians. I like them because they are both so down to earth, funny and lovable. Seriously, when Henry burst out crying last night because he got all choked up when they got to that church in Vietnam, I almost died laughing not because it was funny (although it sort of was) but really because it was genuine. I mean, how many people would be as honest about their feelings on TV like that? It just made me love them even more. And that scene where Bernie and Hen were arguing back and forth while they were carrying the chickens, just reminded me of the way me and my own brother squabble. In short, I like them because they are so typically Malaysian, and proud of it too. I will be rooting for them all the way.

Another favourite – Ida and Tania (Actor and Heiress). The terms make them appear pretty flimsy (come on, heiress? Paris Hilton anyone?) but these chicks are quick to dispel the stereotype, very passionate, agile and quirky women, quickly zooming through their challenges held back slightly only because they misjudged the opening time of the flower shop they were supposed to get to as early as possible. Surprise, surprise, another Malaysian team with a bit of a colorful past.

It’s an interesting mix of teams to watch, as usual their dynamics play off each other. I’ll hold further comment till I watch a bit more of the show but it’s pretty easy to see which ones are beginning to annoy me the most but which are crucial to the show for ratings. All I have to say is that it’s still early days but seriously, Geoff, you don’t have to blow your whistle to get people to help you, it is so rude.

Following from that, it was disappointing that Miss Universe 2005 (yes she is also a contestant) refused to sleep in the airport when they had to wait for a flight and did not have money for a hotel and simply did not want to get dirty or participate in challenges if she did not see the need for it.

Miss Natalie Glebova, has obviously not seen some of the previous Amazing Asia episodes. Props to her partner beauty queen, Pailin for being so patient with her and stoicly carrying on with the challenges because I would have died of stress and pent rage.

Hmm, so turns out I could not reserve further comment as previously hoped. Oh well.

In short, I can’t really say how I would handle half the stuff the contestants are subjected to in this race in addition to the pressure of being eliminated if they didn’t get to a pitstop in time ahead of the other teams (barring a pre-determined non-elimination round). My brother swore he would misdirect a lot of teams if they were to ask him for directions. I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same.

So props to them; it looks like it’s going to be a good season. For information on racers and the show itself, here you go, knock yourself out.

By the way, to the host Allan Wu if you’re reading (if ever!) : your dimples are ever so dreamy.

Good luck to the teams

Beam me up, Scotty.

Listening to: Sheryl Crow
“And maybe I’m not your perfect kind…maybe we’re just killing time.”
Currently reading: Watermelon - Marian Keys

Very well folks, let’s be serious. I am so not a gentle person.

I’m not the football throwing type obviously, but I’m not what they would first describe as genteel. (Yes, correct spelling.)

Affectionate maybe; empathetic, sure.
Tender might be stretching it.

But all airy fairy, wispy, delicate, I am not.

I do things either with hearty passion or ignore them with utter laziness. Hearty being the operative word.
I laugh heartily, yawn passionately, slouch, tell dirty jokes and swear. Now as unappealing as this is making me out to be, sorry to say, this is who I am. I know how to behave in public, as in when I wear a dress I know how to close my legs and not to slurp my soup or chew with my mouth open (when I remember). But that’s mostly because my mother has practically told me she would be the first person to die of embarrassment if I did not make an attempt at behaving my age. So I behave in public, but that’s about it.

I would say that I am probably the clumsiest, klutz this side of Asia. And no, I am not being dramatic when I say that.

So imagine throwing me in a situation where I have to handle delicate brain tissue with nothing but forceps and a blade, all the while precariously avoiding the sharp end of the cryostat and then meticulously cut out milimeter inch sections and gently place it in solution using said forceps. Seems easy to you right, that’s because you’re probably those delicate finger types, deft and dexterous.

Me? I lost the first section (it just disappeared into thin air – seriously!), crumpled the second and ruined the third. I was supposed to collect ten sections and I had lost/ruined/damaged almost one third of my target – is it any wonder my supervisor gave me a test brain before I jump straight into my experimental ones. My one saving grace is as klutzy as I am, I am a quick learner. So after the first few hundred mini-freak outs, my fingers started behaving themselves and coordinated with the blade and forceps in a graceful manner.

This lack of dexterity is why I’m not a surgeon. I’ll probably have the highest statistic of sewing up the rag during triple bypasses.

Eff.

Okay I am officially ffffreaking out. I have so much work left to do, supervisor will be away, need to pass her the thesis draft before that, finish all the work in the meantime (of which there is LOTS), prepare for presentation, prepare for thesis submission, prepare prepare prepare and I am nowhere near finishing.

Pardon me while I say this but fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

The Jackson Line

Listening to: 3 Doors Down
“You love me but you don’t know who I am.”

So you know how honours can really kick the living s**t out of you and you crawl out of bed and come to work in crumpled pants and a Calvin and Hobbes t-shirt and you feel like an all around fugly drag?

And then you read Go Fug Yourself, and you see something like this:

And suddenly you don’t feel so bad anymore.
Thanks to the Fug Girls.

Podium elephant

Listening to: Jason Mraz
Love for a Child

I must MUST simply MUST start writing a credible well-thought clearly laid out introduction to my thesis. I was supposed to start at 2.30pm. In that time I’ve read Perez Hilton’s updates, messed around with some data analysis, scratched at some dry skin and now I’m staring at the clock and it says 3.25 p.m. almost one hour past my original start time. So leceh la.

I’m normally like this though, I roll around doing everything but what I’m supposed to and if I were at home I would have rummaged the fridge about 9 times by now. But I’m at work so I have to sit straight backed and frown at my computer screen like I’m trying to figure out how the science works when in actual fact I’m inwardly absorbed in reading what Matt Damon said about Sarah Palin. Is it just me or did this woman conservative governor (and her pregnant daughter) just emerge from out of nowhere?

Politics is so very hypocritical. One person decides they are the best candidate to represent the party and lead a nation and they get up there and do their rounds and make their campaigns and voices their opinions and stays politically correct and kisses the babies and shakes the senior citizen’s hands and frowns at corruption – until they win the election. And then it’s like, nation who, ethics what? There are so very few rare individuals that actually made a difference and stood up to their campaign promises; potential ones often find themselves silenced, defeated or imprisoned.

I mean I’m not asking for a perfect leader, humans in nature are flawed. But if you make a mistake, obviously eyes are going to be trained on you until you react to their response, step up to the plate and take responsibility. If you make a mistake, open your big mouth and apologize. People might respect you even more than if you paraded around claiming there is no mistake or worse, if you walked around silent, head high, pretending there isn’t an issue. If there is a white elephant in the room, other people can see it even if you close your eyes.

Omg, parents tak ajar ke, you politicians?

Now this isn’t focused on any particular politicking agent, it’s a general observation of how things are like nowadays. So stupidly focused on the mini microparticles of details rather than on the gigantic tusked beast that is sitting in the corner wondering what you’re going to do about it.

Equality, poverty, education opportunities, freedom, food, quality of life, peace, unity.

And you people focus on who is what colour, has what accent and is terrorizing whom.

Hey, mister nice guy

Tell me how it is possible that I can spend one day lovingly redesigning my blog theme and yet it takes me that long to decide I have to start writing the introduction to my thesis?

Because I had more fun with the former that’s why.

And then I had a long lunch and a few bands performed a few covers at the cafeteria in lieu of voting week, apparently they decided showcasing their musical talent was the best way to woo potential voters, although I don’t quite see what campus issues and the ability to keep in key had to do with each other. Some of them quite stunk, in my opinion the worst kinds of reunions occurs between a person who loves the sound of his own voice and a microphone.

I had to do an MC gig once with this guy who decided that we didn’t need a script to divide up the lines, we could just wing it. Do you know what happened? He got his hands on his microphone and quite literally took off after the joint introduction and introduced everything himself, told all the jokes, laughed at them, made all the points and just left me standing there gaping, trying frantically to shove in a few words of my own to no avail. It was a one man show that night and I was just standing there like some sidekick who didn’t quite get to do anything substantial except maybe hold Batman’s cape when he was tired of standing (he made me announce when dinner was ready to be served). Halfway through I just quit going on stage to speak with him and let him take the show on the road solo – which he quite happily did.

You know the type, all these guys who do their hair and talk on their phones all day long and who never really notice anyone else unless its some long leggy thing in a short skirt. Who don’t remember your name even though they’ve met you a thousand times and who only notice you if you decide to dress up one day and say all the right things and flash all the right smiles.

Seriously, you chicks may know the type I’m talking about. Unless you’re the long leggy thing in the short skirt in which case, I don’t really have a comeback for that one

ANYWAY, that was weird because this post wasn’t meant to come off like a rant but somehow it did. Despite that, because Cheryl keeps telling me this font is much easier on the eyes, I will assume this time, the rant may make a better impact.

My brother and his friends are convinced that Nice Guys Finish Last and for some reason use themselves as an example. Apparently, pretty girls always go for the jerks and get treated badly, all the time never noticing the nice reliable guy friends until the last moment.

To which I pose the question:

Why do nice guys always go for the pretty girls?
What about the reverse? What about all the not so pretty but nice chicks out there whom nice guys, in their quest to impress the pretty girls (and this is an assumption since the hot ones are the ones the nice guys always talk about) fail to notice?

So if all the nice guys are always waiting for the hot girls to wake up and pay attention and the hot guys never look at the nice girls, then, do nice girls finish the latest?

But why should it be about the finishing? Isn’t it the journey itself that matters the most? That you’re with the one that you’re meant to be with and not just with the person who just settled for you?

Mm, I should have taken philosophy instead.

newbie

Listening to: Amy Winehouse
“Me and my head high and my tears dry, get on without my guy”

See how fickle I am.

I woke up this morning and decided I was tired of my old blog design.
So I switched themes. Less Charles Manson, more Betty Suarez.
I went from dark and moody to what apparently had swirly balloon-like figures.
So not me so I switched it to this.
But I don’t quite like the BRIGHT BLUE headers. Can I change that?

Is there any way I can customize this?
I do think the font is easier on the eyes though.

Well since, it appears that I am more interested in talking to myself than actually writing maybe I’ll just go now.
The change is a work in progress though. I was going to unveil it when it was completely ready but I decided I’m really not that artistic to bother with the suspense.

Oh and
test-test.

Sigh I miss taking pictures like these.
I should really quit being so lazy and charge my batteries.

je suis mort

Someone please tell me why I am here attempting

to do work at 2pm on a public-freaking-holiday

when I am still so obviously sick?

and its not because i’m kiasu or anything like it.

it’s because my honours will be over in two FREAKING months and i am nowhere near completion, my thesis is a strangly little thing with an incomplete materials and methods section and a barely written introduction.
i mean i have it all in my head i just need to sit down and write it but i can’t while i’m coughing so violently i could be PG rated.

envision little pieces of lung coming back to say hello.