Pen to Paper; Thoughts of Waiver.
I shall retire this blog. Yes, just like that.
Reasons? I think everybody agrees that this blog is pointless. I shall concentrate on more pressing matters, like hating myself for possibly getting into Athena.
Amen.
PS Thanks for all your support, people. The record skyrocketed from 13 to 67 readers per day. You have made a really insensitive blogger a happy teenager.
PPS I want to say sorry if the blog have ever offended you. I shall strive to be more mature.
Theron, for the last time, out.
Word.
(http://fc04.deviantart.net/ + The Wackness)
First off, congratulations Neytiri! I knew you could do it! Kate Winslet can NEVER surpass your beauty!
Okay, I’m not intending to spend long on this post because (a) the latest episode of House is just sitting on my desktop ready for viewing (and you know I can’t resist House the television series or House the doctor) and (b) I am not really in the zone right now, cause all the one-liners that I thought up for this post during orientation briefing or ISYF Nobel dialogue or <insert boring event here> seem to escape me when I want to write. But yknow, “what I intend” for does not usually translate into “what I get”, like that Indian chick. The only difference is that I can get over writing long posts the minute I stop writing them.
Let’s just get the obligatory updates done with first. ISYF. Was. FRIGGIN’. AWESOME. Not entirely the organizing team’s effort, as the AWESOMENESS came from meeting people. Of course the OT could have one-upped themselves by getting some piece of that Western ass and won over my undying love (Asia’s hardly my favourite place/congregation in the world) but hey, some of these, bless them, Asians are pretty cool themselves. So cool in fact I could overlook their sins of mistaking me a Singaporean/Japanese/Korean/PRC. Or for calling me American, cause you never know whether that’s a compliment or not. Facilitators, Group-One-nians, roomies, friend’s roomies, friend’s groupmates, there’s too many awesome people to count. So much so that the J1 orientation is feeling lacklustre, sigh. Anyway, the Nobel forums and dialogues were palatable, the games were weirdly engaging, the book circle was unrelenting, the sightseeing was a tad rehearsed, the dinner was superb, and did I mention that THE PEOPLE WERE AWESOME???
(Side note: Did two song excerpts fresh off the experience on Graduation Night during the dinner. I did not suck too bad 
)
What else what else? The days leading up to orientation? Sadly, ISYF broke my momentum. I have yet to return to gym. DRAMATIC FEMALE OPERA. We will see how it goes. Did, however, get to play with a friend’s shuttlecock. Also, I achieved a first: managed to run the whole six rounds around the track without stopping. All I need to do is to pick faster sustainable pace and I’ll (a) be made for NAPFA, (b) fulfill my one-half of 3rd new year’s resolution of NOT CHEATING AT NAPFA. Amen.
However The Conservation of Matter applies and I broke my 2nd resolution of not swearing n times over while playing bridge on the sixth floor (where n is a very,very, VERY large number). Forgive me Father, for I fucked up.
Swearing aside, appended is a list of marriage prospects I formulated in the past week. Subject to change with the right form of persuasion. May be deleted because of sensitive racial issues.
The list of course goes on but the information is secured in my brain (or my crotch) and the only password is my trust. I sure as shit don’t want to incite any form of wrath against me. Suffice to say Chinese Chicks is the second last on my list. I’m Chinese so that can’t be racism innit? Anyway, any Chinese gals reading this, it’s not you it’s me, everything’s about personal taste, and you look particularly beautiful today, by the way.
Moving onto more recent matters…
I met my orientation group only today because of a selection test and a prize ceremony. Apart from realizing the JC Council copied the Fujitsu logo as the orientation “theme” Ad Infinitum, this is the most exciting part of orientation yet (exciting is used very loosely here). Hohoho was I in for a surprise. After some mindless cheering, games finally started. OG 24 had “Catch” first, which basically is a dumbed-down, PG-13 threesome galore. Gals are supposed to sit on two guys’ interlocking hands and grab the opposing team’s hats. WTF?! So the first day I re-start COED education, I basically get to graze my forearm against a female’s nether end because the game master forced her to. I am so very amused. However, this simply cannot contend with the prospect of being gyrated by males while the game is underway.
We drew the game with Group 4, i.e. Alexander’s Warriors.
The rest of the day wasn’t as sexually charged, but irrelevant all the same. “Quidditch” we drew, “Dodgeball” we won (wasn’t hard considering BoHan the Big was the target), in the “Balloon Throwing Thingy From Hoisted Bucket into Crumpled Aluminum Plate” we lost (by “a very close margin of ONE POINT!” with a non-existent points system), and in the “Balloon In Between Two Same Sex Participants While Traversing Obstacle Course” we won, technically, but the other team got a point to draw the game for “enthusiastic cheering”. I posit that the game master got pretty sick of our rehashed/recycled Willow Willow cheer, which we basically subbed “Hwachong” with “24″. OG24 you’re the best!
Okay, although I seem cynical, I admit I derived some mutated form of fun from the games. That, however, does not absolve them from being really pointless and un-thought-over-ish.
Then we had SODACHE which I must say sounds quite cool: SOng, DAnce, CHEer. I shall not comment further, except that I surprised myself by being psychedelic (read: HIGH) during cheering. Now I can’t open my mouth without hurting my throat.
I best stop my notations right now because this post feels a little too much like a journal entry, i.e. reports of event after boring event. Leaving on a hopeful note — Monday may be great. Tuesday may get freaky. Wednesday may perk up. Thursday may rock. Friday may own. After the orientation that may get awesome, looking forward to meeting the girls enrolling in Biology.
Hope is such a wonderful thing.
P.S. Revelation of the Week: Found out that I broke the record of Most Number of Views per Month and Most Number of Views per Day this January (within my own blog, d’oh)! There are two days left so I see if I can squeeze you readers of all you are worth. Shall post this on Facebook. Also will add some key terms here, after all they got me some views from random dudes:
NEYTIRI NUDE PENIS MICROPHONE PORN FREE FUNNY SHIT MOFO TIGER WOODS WORTHINGTON SUCKS EXPLOSION BOOBS HOUSE MD SCANDALS IPAD I-PAD BLEACH NARUTO ONE PIECE NEW CHAPTER FREE GOOD DIVORCE LAWYERS
(disclaimer: “penis microphone” is actually a search term that brought someone to this site)
Theron, out.
In the words of Joseph Walter Kovacs aka Rorshach after failing to find sufficient reason to kill a man, I declare I am “slightly depressed”. Maybe it’s because the JC Choir Auditions wasn’t pitch perfect. Or because I could hardly fit into my uniform pants. Or that the movie I’m downloading is taking 42 hours to complete (that’s just one, and I have 8 more in queue). Or maybe because I was that close to OSA. Heck it may even be that blasted pimple on my bum, which hurts every time I try to sit down. Point is, I have convinced myself I’m depressed so there’s some serious cheering up to do.
And nothing like a good ol’ Neytiri to cheer folks up.
Yes I admit, I’m obsessed with James Cameron’s Avatar. No wait, I’m obsessed with Neytiri — Jake Sully and RDA and that Colonel what-his-name are just collateral damage. Seeing that I had some research done for this post, I conclude that I hate everything about Avatar except for Pandora’s fauna and Neytiri. Why? Jake Sully is portrayed by a forgettable actor, and doesn’t deserve Neytiri (yeah I’m jealous, so?). James Cameron sucks major directing ass, and really lacks storytelling credence. The auxiliary characters are extremely one-dimensional (read: that Hardcore Mexican chick). So you see why Neytiri’s the only one on my plate.
And no, I don’t have some weird blue-cat-tail fetish — I just think Neytiri’s really beautiful, inside and out. Evidence?
I trust nobody disagrees that Neytiri is BLOODY BEAUTIFUL.
(I really cannot get over that “hair down” look. Ooooh beautiful!)
Yes, some people would go lesbian for a piece of that. There’s evidence on the Avatar Forums. Speaking of which, James Cameron sure let some pretty unstable characters fester there. Not counting those that invented Avatar smiley icons (Avatar avatars, I call ‘em), there’s “Jake Sully I WANT UR ASS”, “Colonel Something U KIX ASS” and “PANDORA ROX ASS I FEEL DEPRESS TO BE ON HERE EARTH I WANNA JUST KILL MYSELF AND LET MY SOUL FIND PANDORA”-esque accounts. Yeah, the last one’s very true indeed. It’s called “Avatar Blues” (hahaha). I think CNN did a report on them. Anyway, I’m missing my point here, because my mission here is not to diss the Avatar movie. James Cameron did good enough in that department. I am, however, HERE TO DECLARE MY LOVE FOR NEYTIRI! And hopefully you see the error in your ways and start showing the love too.
Neytiri, neytiri. She exudes irresistible grace and charm that leaves people enamoured. Of course, I know the alluring performance is made possible by the Zoe gal behind Neytiri, but Neytiri’s beauty really shines when placed within the lush stage of Pandora and the context of imminent destitution. She’s coy with Jake, she’s protective with her tribe, she’s loving with her father. Coupled with immaculate voice acting, especially how the voice dipped and soared as she mourned her father’s passing, that accurately depicts her passion, it’s hard not to view Neytiri as the ultimate romantic ideal. Her presence and personality is not only commanding, it transcends the boundaries of the screen. And oh god, she’s so pure, innocent. Her steeled exterior belying the almost fragile and tender and dainty heart she possesses. Almost needing holding, needing care, needing embrace. My embrace. GOD.
HOW CUTE IS THAT??!!
(I am breaking my one-post-one-picture rule, only for Neytiri. NEYTIRI!!!!!!)
And don’t even get me started on her superficial beauty (used as positively as can be). FUCK, THOSE EYES! I guess that’s the closest statement that could do justice to her god-beautiful eyes. HER SMILE! HER GAZE! HER FACE! DAMN! (Although I am not so hot for her body despite it being exposed every minute of the movie.) NEY! TI! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII! (Did I mention that she looks *HOT* wearing war paint?)
I just died happy.
(HIT ME WITH THAT BOW!)
I had better finish this post before I start hyperventilating. Remember Avatar Forums? There are infidels on there who DARE SAY THEY HAVE MOVE ON FROM NEYTIRI! THIS IS BLASPHEMY! NOBODY MOVES ON FROM NEYTIRI, DAMMIT! She will always have that special place in our hearts, right guys? Also, there are polls on how hot Neytiri is. Please, everybody, just vote infinity percent.
There we go, I’m happy already. Could have gone to “ecstatic” but because of James Cameron (again), I couldn’t. You will see why : http://filmdrunk.uproxx.com/2010/01/read-this-now-avatars-deleted-sex-scene.(Link is completely under-18 safe.) So here’s a little payback, Jimmy:
Plagiarism is baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad.
You’re are lucky you have a wife that I respect, Jimmy. The Hurt Locker mellowed me down.
P.S. Game of the Week: Seeing that I am a tad bit nervous leaving conservative Asians to decipher the post’s sexual undertones, I am hoping you guys are able to spot sarcasm when you see them. Winner gets my collection of Neytiri memorabilia. (<– example of sarcasm)
Theron, out, but always with Neytiri in heart and soul. (<– there, another instance of sarcasm)
Let it be known that today, my 9th visible post on this site, is being written on my brand new VAIOOOOOOOOO! (With 9 Os, it doesn’t get more symbolic than this.) And with that, I usher in the next post, the 10th one, which we all know represents the 10th year of the second millenia! 2010! Yeah, my mind exploded too.
Wait, there’s more!
Fellow Proud Owner of VAIO: http://stre55ed.deviantart.com/
Notice that the “V” and the “A” forms a sinusoidal wave? Notice that the “I” and the “O” gives us the binary system’s 1 and 0? By now any shred of brain matter of mine is effectively disintegrated. Now you see why I love my VAIO CW so. It’s sleek design versus the similarly priced HP DV4’s clumsy package helped too.
Which brings me to my next point — I broke my first Resolution of the year: “4) Laptop/internet usage : 3h* at a stretch.” Lightning! Thunder! Chaos! Yeap, I waste no time. From 9 to 5 I couldn’t get enough of it. Aiming to take full advantage of the specs, I tweaked, downloadeding games and fired up Abode Elements. 10 hours no less. “No Theron!” You cry! You weep! You wallow in denial! But fear not, for every one of the Resolutions broken, one is kept. Though it’s not newfound love, it’s a relationship willing of therapy — I went to work out. “No way!” You gasp! You cringe! You writhe in agony!
Yes way.
Well getting going is hardest, but the rest is pie, relatively. 1 hour, just the gym and me. If there was a biological switch for masochism, it would be smooth sailing, but I took it in stride anyway. There’s a tip I read that preaches the right way of breathing while jogging is to breathe in three steps forward, breathe out two steps forward. But your throat gets so hoarse and dry it collapses on you while taking in air, which consequently induces sputtering, which throws the rhythm off altogether. Crap. Or maybe it’s just me. Have to get leaner and healthier. My mother says I have high cholesterol because of a blood test (of which the tangible results I have never read). Also, she says I have a cold, sweat scars, “H. pylori” (sic), and other made up stuff to get me to eat Spirulina, fish oil pills and some floral tablet. You can see why I’m doubtful, but no harm in consuming health supplements and getting healthier so I keep quiet.
So, in a bid to lower my “high cholesterol”, here’s Theron’s Exercise Plan: One day gym, one day off. Sessions aren’t too close to exacerbate the muscle burn, nor too far apart to inspire the sin of sloth. Hopefully this helps maintain the consistency of my work-outs. After all, in order to instigate new habits, step one is to publicly announce it as blatantly as possible. Seeing that I have an aversion for public humiliation, I don’t see why I can’t get this to work out (pun unintended).
In summary: New Year, new room, new lappy, new habits and a spanking new MOI.
P.S.Drama of the Week: My oral aptitude for Mandarin was insulted by the new Cluster Mentor last night, Han-something the PE Guy [read: mesomorph(read: meathead)]. Tomorrow’s the release of Higher Chinese Results, so this better not be some kind of omen.
P.P.S Guess I have to replace the failed Resolution, so here goes: “4) Be nicer to people.” That should appease some energy-saving terraphiles. And if it doesn’t it would pay to know that VAIO passed the ENERGY STAR guidelines.
Theron, out, as in blacked out from exhaustion.
After quite a few days pondering the content of this next post (a character post on “Kenric the Proness” as he calls himself), I have decided to be relevant. In the true spirit of New Years, I am only writing my resolution a week after the actual New Year. Haven’t, however, quite decided when to routinely break them.
I wonder if there is any rookie advice for the first-timers. I’m a first timer. And I’m the only person I know making New Year Resolutions. Which of course tells you the state the world is in now — utter shock bordering on surrealism. Walking down the street, I couldn’t believe that the day before is a year gone. Another year and I’ll be joy-riding down the same street. Like, that tree I grew up with my whole life, is now n+1 years old. YOU DON’T SAY. Anyway, back to my point — rookie advice. Knowing me, I would disregard them with my (very) sexy trademark nonchalance.
And, ladies and gentlemen, here’s my (very) sexy trademark nonchalance:
Mikey didn't think Resolutions would be this hard.
1) Start crediting these pictures that I use.
Wouldn’t want to get myself in any kind of deep legal shit, would I? This, for instance, is a one-paint-wonder by http://sheeyo.deviantart.com/.
2) Curse that bit less.
Yup, that…. Yeah.
Oh and I found a kindred spirit in xoxchristineee from twitter : ew. taylor swift. best new female artist. due to my new years resolution, i won’t say anything more.
Tell me nobody agrees with this gal!
3) Work out thrice twice once a week.
I think this explains itself quite nicely. Never did feel good cheating at NAPFA.
4) Laptop/internet usage : 3h* at a stretch.
This isn’t particularly hard because I have basically exhausted every internet resource the past two years, which incidentally is just in time for crazy studying in JC. Foresight heh.
*Hours subject to change.
5) Actually do my homework.
Nothing like a year seated next to the gods (read: 朱荐凯) to inspire academic fantasies.
6) Actually study a week before block tests.
My fantasies burn bright.
7) Kickstart my reading habit again.
Had quite a good momentum going last year. The first book to conquer this year: The Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie. Also, please reread A Fraction of the Whole by Steve Toltz. Explore bookstores. Use unused coupons.
My my, is that all? I kinda was expecting more when I started this post. Oh well.
8 ) Watch Shutter Island, Sherlock Holmes, Men who Stare at Goats, Inception, Iron Man 2
A man has his needs.
9) Stop killing so many ants.
Live and let live.
But of course!
10) Blog more often.
P.S.
Epiphany of the Week:
I had always thought that lawyers have a parallel version of the Hippocratic Oath, something along the lines of : “Don’t break the law or you’re fucked as a lawyer.” But seeing my dad’s reaction to my honest confessions of downloading free music and movies doing some stuff, I am forced to reevaluate this concept (and somehow felt underwhelmed). Then it dawned on me, the golden rule of litigation: Lawyers actually actively seek out loopholes in the law to win cases. So much for “protector of the people”.
Theron out, with a Good Year to all you folks.
Dedicated to Dear Friend, Loh Chong Jiat, who is not dead, just leaving the country, in the process breaking all contacts, which makes people think he is dead really
Am back with a vengeance, and the vengeance weighs exactly 6.2 kilos. God-cheap seafood and the oxymoron of a chilly summer in New Zealand has not been kind to me. Not that I completely hated the experience. Family and random hot Caucasians on the street is a pretty good trade off from 30 odd hours of traveling to and fro. Much of the time there is spent laughing at my grandma’s (a) reaction to nudity/sluttiness on national telly, (b) adroitness with English vocabulary (eg. Kenric=Care-lick, Toilet=Doil) and (c) imitation of my 11-year old cousin’s lisp. Here’s a list of what I got out of this trip: 20+ gigs of telly shows and movies (thank you internet god of nz), Bioshock and The Sims 3 (kindly donated by my cousin), an understanding that nude beaches don’t really serve a purpose in such a cold country, and a newfound love of toy dogs.
And then some.
Got to tell you readers, “New Zealand” has cropped up quite a few times in my life. A childhood friend, an aunt, and now, a good pal. Even my dad’s considering migrating there. What’s so appealing about New Zealand anyway? It’s just like Norway or Greenland or Canada — nobody ever talks about it. Maybe it’s obscurity meant lifestyles people could afford, unlike in the UK and US. The only rewarding thing is the possibility of picking an accent vaguely similar to the Aussie’s, but why not just cross over the ditch to Australia? Sweeter theme parks, hotter women and better universities await.
Couldn't find one with a handkerchief
Yes, the good pal, Chong Jiat, owing to his “alternative intelligence”, is escaping Hwa Chong to New Zealand. Let it be known it’s a sad day for me. Sigh, Chong Jiat, Chong Jiat. Of all my life quirks, I happen to have a dream about him barely a month ago, two actually, on the same night, back to back. Not the wet kind though, because I neither have (a) long fingernails and (b) small stature (INSIDE JOKE!). Dreams and me, me and Chong Jiat. Funny relationships.
(WARNING: Veering off-topic. Move to next paragraph if unable to stomach weirdness and/or you don’t want your impression of me changed.) Dreams and moi. I have been raring to write a segment dedicated to my dreams. Suffice to say, weird doesn’t even begin to describe them. A part of me wishes that I could just have wet dreams like any other normal teenager, but part of me is amused. VERY amused. Try this : Amazonian jungle, anthropomorphic tiger, swords of the Round Table, dueling. Jumble them up, and these are the kind I get on normal nights. Off nights? Lemme describe one I had not too long ago. I was in this 18th century prison, lying in the hay, and I distinctly remember the slivers of sunlight streaming through the barred windows. BAM, next thing I know, I appear in a bestiary or aviary and this old man in a funny suit tells me to “hold on, very tightly, and don’t let go. Don’t let go and don’t open your eyes.” For some reason (yknow the kind of dreams that you can control and the kind you can only watch? well this is a mixture of both) , I jump out of the window, and land perfectly to mount a giant seagull, which started to weave through the (suddenly) midnight air with a suspiciously roller-coaster-like movement. (Went to a theme park the other day.) Heeding the geezer’s warning, I shut my eyes, but then decided it couldn’t get much weirder so I open them anyway. Weirder it got. Found myself at some military exercise in front of an obscured parliament house. Think North Korea. Somehow I remember moonlight glistening on the rainswept tarmac and an eerie blue hue. Maybe the bird swooped too low. And then I saw penguin sentries standing next to the silhouettes of soldiers. And then they did some NPCC rifle-fondling. And then I felt compelled to base a movie on this scene. And then I woke up, thinking “My dreams ROCK!”
Chong Jiat and moi. Pair of buddies sharing a healthy relationship of “Fuck you”s and “Thank you”s. Didn’t, however, share an amicable first encounter. 2008, Paul Ho’s Egyptian History class. Darren Choo whisked himself to a two-seater with one seat already occupied and I’m left with a desk at the back of the room, which wasn’t half bad considering, when coupled with mind-numbing boredom, it could equate to twenty, thirty minutes of beauty sleep and/or doodling. (Teacher likes to take his time to get to class.) Chong Jiat bounced his way towards me, the little tuft of his hair that juts out bobbing up and down. NOT cute at all. Of course, he took the seat next to me. I nod my head. He does his odd little lip-biting-head-back-eyes-wide-palm-up greeting. First impression: fair. And then he started taking my things, and after I politely reminded him not too, continued. ANNOYING. Haha, I remember after two or three consecutive sessions of sitting together, the tension got so high that, one day, when he drew his gay cute pictures of wide-eye furballs, I took out my sketchbook and drew a dracula furball, and a silent drawing competition commenced. Chong Jiat 0 : Theron 1. Fond memories. Chong Jiat and I continued this tradition, though we set themes to our competition entries, like “human faces” or whatnot. I beat him in the most recent one, themed “Penis”. Chong Jiat 0 : Theron n (where n is a very large number). Also the sarcasm competitions during lunch, the pokemon designing thingum he’s drawn me into, the walks back to boarding school. Gosh great times. Sad it couldn’t be brought forward to next year. Was really looking forward to meeting him in KI classes. And did I mention I loathed the term “Chomz”? Didn’t know how one could make the leap from “Chong Jiat” to “Chomz”. Mother of god, he’s sixteen and people are still calling him using a nickname with a “z” in it. Might as well call him Dora the Explorer.
Well, there you go. Two aspects in a nutshell. Bring them together and you have these:
Dream 1
It was after Commencement dinner. I entered a plastic dollhouse (yes, the reasons escape me too). There Chong Jiat sits with Sandra Tan and her husband, with some admin staff, if I remembered correctly. There we talked about some stuff, can’t really remember, then he announces (as the staff commends Sandra on organizing such a successful event) he will be in New Zealand from October 20something to November 20something. Then I bid my farewell. “Goodbye Mister Sandra Tan”. Black out.
Dream 2
Chong Jiat and I are now in a train station. There are glass windows everywhere, but beyond its panes there is grey gloom. We take the escalator. Chong Jiat explains we are in New Zealand. We reached the landing. A women in a pink blouse and a man in a suit and a construction helmet walks past. Purportedly Chong Jiat’s parents. We took another escalator up to the second floor and talked about the future or something. Fade out.
Considering the dreams were about a month old, I say Congrats Me for remembering this much. Have to remember to dedicate this post to Chong Jiat. Must be a real trauma for me to elicit such a response. I mean, two tamed dreams in a row? A complete blog post? Sometimes I don’t even blog for myself. Anyway, an open message to Chong Jiat : Farewell, and good luck to all you endeavours. If you think you betrayed us, don’t, because you most certainly, positively, definitely did nothing of that sort, really, really really. And you can forget about your fantasy about getting some “Caucasian Milkshake”, the Kiwis could care less about the Asians. One last piece of advice, one last goodbye.
P.S. New Zealand’s abundant with avocados, and avocados are GROSS. I guess it’s cantonese term 牛油果 must be made in the same context as “butterface” (http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=butterface) — it’s got an hourglass figure but it tastes friggin’ ugly.
Theron, and after a full 2 hours, finally out. Hope this rates high on the Kevin Scale
I realized I have newfound love for Blogging. Mainly because Fast Connection Speed and Streaming TV Series have eloped off to somewhere NOT MALAYSIA. It’s a little like how you settle for the nottie after you blown it with the hottie (FILM REFERENCE BABY!). But rejoice not, my fans. This infatuation would most likely end as quickly as the fetish for latex.
So c’mon, let’s mate Blogging. After I finish writing this post, 15 long minutes of publishing is all we need.
Hmmm, here’s another edition of “The Significant Insignificants in the Life of Theron”. And of course, what is more significantly insignificant than a performance on graduating night? Aptly titled “Pokemon Love”? Well, not exactly — I still think PokePorn would hold better with the teenage audience.
Should I walk you guys through the thought process? Well, the strategy is this:
Step 1 ) Walk unto stage. Flash winning smile. (Note: This would win over the female half of the audience.)
Step 2 ) Dramatic opening lines. (Note: This would lend impact to the starting note of the Pokemon theme song.)
Step 3 ) “I wanna be the very best”. (Note: This would win over the childish half of the audience, ie. everybody.)
Step 4 ) Finish first song. Do an English bow. (Note: Feed off the audience energy. Prep up for second song.)
Step 5 ) Second speech. State that song is old. State that teachers know the song. Insinuation? (Note: Get the teachers involved in the self-deprecation.)
Step 6 ) “Gotta take a little time” (Note: Now comes the “real singing” part)
Step 7 ) Wrap up. English bow. Flash Satan horns hand signal while strutting/jumping off stage. (Note: Milk the crowd for what they are worth.)
Step 8 ) High 5 everybody. Appear super-cool. (Note: Make sure Koh-Oon is within sight.)
Seems like a flawless plan. However in reality, 2 hours of practice 3 hours before the actual performance will only get you this far:
)Happy times, innit? Still, I did not expect such a rousing reaction. So a genuine statement here: Thanks guys! It was surprisingly fun on stage, after you ignore the nerves. Simply loved the experience (Maybe enough for a Powerpuff Girls performance sometime next year?) Proof? My new G2000 $33.00 Silk Shirt was drenched in mansweat. That has to mean something. Oh and I just watched the video of my performance. Have to say it sounded better when I was singing it. Hopefully this would mean an opportunity to improve. After all, I am considering a career as The Guy That Performs At Every Function (Tan Yu Song I HEART YOU 4EVA!!!!!).
ps. Would like to end off with a quote just made by the Almighty Kenric, Brother Blood Relative Distant Blood Relativeof Theron.
“Nonono, gays wear polos. Only cool guys wear tight, see-through shirts.”
Gotta love the IQ magic number of 15. So here’s my reply :
How cool is that?
Pardon the Camel-Tail ( Camel-toe, Camel-tail, geddit, geddit? HAHAHAHAHAHA) and have a great holiday, folks. Theron, out. (Possibly for another month. Don’t wait up.)
Disclaimer: If you are looking to read some sort of female sexcapade, sorry brother (or sister, I’m not judging), you have come to the wrong place have to come back some other time.
High time for me to post something about the significant insignificants of my life, considering how comatose my blog is, or my other blogs were (RIP). GAD how I can tell you that blogging is the last thing I want to do, but I’m getting really sick of incessantly watching TV shows, films and facebooking. Heck, there’s this episode of Fringe, and this man got his brains liquefied from having too much computer time (of course, I paraphrased the actual occurrences to fit this post). I wouldn’t want that, would I?
Okay so, the theme today is “showerhead”. Suffice to say, I have quite a history with them.
But let’s start with the present shall we. Every day, I enter the cubicle, hang the clothes, lay the towel, peel off sensuously the clothing off my skin, slowly allow it to fall to my ankles, and lift, ever so slightly, my foot, then playfully nudge the pile of used clothes away, lean forward, finger the tap,and gently twist the knobs, embrace the streams of liquid to my face, let them water droplets trail my chest, then my hip, then my knee and guide me to damp heavenly bliss. Yknow the usual (pardon my grammar, I’m getting too hot and bothered for comfort).
BUT! But I always take care to turn the heater off. Not even low heat. Strictly off. Why? 让我逐一说明。
I think it can be attributed to my warped perception of the things around me. Fancy that. (From here on out, this paragraph will be referring to the way I *USED* to think) People who turn on the heater are wussies. They can’t stand the cold. What’s more they willingly conform to societal norms. Pfft pathetic. Therefore I have to prove that I am more of a man. But shit there’s nobody watching. Hmmm. Aha, I know, leave the heater off so the next person can see that the previous person is more of a man than he is! And that person is me! YESH!
What an idiot I was. Moving on.
The next reason is my upbringing. Now this pertains to my history with showering, in general. (Naughty naughty!) From up till ten, my house didn’t have a showerhead. Heck, it didn’t have a bathtub (except in the master bed room where my brother would constantly sneak in to use). All it had was this toilet seat situated northwest, a sink at west, some hoses east and a large pail? tub? pail-tub-like thingy northeast. So we had two options: a) shower with the hose connected to the tap or b) shower with the water from the pail-tub-like thingy, using a mini-pail to scoop up the water after you let the tap run. The commonality? No heater. I grew up loving cold showers, and can’t stand the slightest of heat. So I guess I always had a distaste for heaters.
There’s a few other aspects of upbringing that may have influence me too. My brother likes to use the heater because “his friends also use the heater”. (which strengthens my point about conforming to societal norms) Those scenes when my mother found him playing with the heater in the middle of the night and beating him while he was naked: priceless. Maybe to be more intellectual and individualistic I sought to be less like him, thus the cold showers.
Also because of my family’s financial concerns. My mother never liked to waste electricity, or anything for that matter. Call it miserly, but it was pivotal in our diluted version of the rags to riches story. “The heaters consume ridiculous amounts of energy. Better off using the tap. It’s the same thing anyway: streaming water. The discomfort can build your character too.” (Again, paraphrasing.) So this is it. THE ULTIMATE REASON. The virtue of “Thrift”. (Why else would I use the word “shower” instead of “taking a bath”? Showering is a one-off thing, while a bath takes time and water to fill up and all.) In using the heater, I am betraying my ideals, my mother’s trust, and the planet. Damn you heater.
Nevertheless, the hot-cold debate has gone to pass now. As I mentioned in a previous post, my distance from home has change my perceptions of things. CHANGE, YES I CAN. Although it isn’t drastic (LOW HEAT FTW!), it has to symbolize something in my highly symbolic, metaphorical, macrocosmic life right? So thank you heater, for getting me through the midnights with lukewarm showers, for allowing me to think instead of shivering in the shower and for guiding me into the light. I could never have done it without you. But also thank you cold showers, for perking me up in those mornings with the imminent examinations one hour away, for keeping my individualism and keeping Earth safe. I could never have done it without you too.
God bless showerheads. And heaters (no I haven’t forgotten about you). They are more important than you think.
Don’t you just love it when after an apt reunion dinner, your mother starts bickering with your father (who is suspiciously silent throughout) about the shitty food and the various one-liners your uncle blurted out in his drunken stupor and the reluctance to pay for the bill of your aunt on the car back home? At least now I am able to say, “Aah, those were the times” in my friggin’ cubicle doing some white-collar job eating out of a polystyrene packet. Or maybe not since I am too intelligent for that.
Hmm…
First up it seems exceedingly inapropriate to pen the proverbial dealing-with-teen-sexuality post right after the morbid one before, but hell, teenage angst seems just as much grim as the next murder or rape case.
Hormones. Today, boys and girls, we’ll be discussing hormones.
Which pretty much is the god-forsaken horned devil (pun intended) constantly CONSTANTLY bugging me to objectify every single decent-looking female in the boarding school. Okay, only one. But still, WHY ME? WHY NOW? Alpha Males do not fall vulnerable to the slightest charms of the shes. DIE.
There seems to be a spunky JC chick around, I must say quite attractive for an Asian actually. Mostly likely because of her resemblance to a hot British model. Hmmm… EXAMPLE:
The goddess I mentioned
Anybody knows who I’m talking about? Recalls her name? At least the Christian one? If so tell me so I can Google her. A stalker needs his information.
And that’s just the surface of it. She is perpetually around a not-so-hot male, which is what makes this forbidden fruit all the more sultry and luscious and addictive and tempting. From the series of crushes last year, I must say I think someone high up is toying with my emotions and hinting to me to get a girl? Not that it is on my mind now, or ever. Just seems hilarious for me to join the ranks of …. you know which lovelorn poseur I’m talking about.
Bye-bye Alpha Male image. And hi pussy-whipped Theron.
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