Fuck you Biawak

Australia is fucking with me. Seriously. It is fucking with me.

Remember when I wrote in passing that a fucking giant lizard appeared at my feet? Well, it happened. Again. That son of a bitch was about 3 inches away from my right foot!! And if you’re thinking “Chill, it’s just a small lizard.” No you mofos, it ain’t a small lizard. Malaysians would know this as a “biawak”. Let me just translate that for you non-Malay reading/speaking readers. “Biawak” means motherfucking hugeass lizards. Okay it does not mean that. I made that up. You’re online. Google it.

So anyways, let me re-enact that faithful day in which I almost had a near brush death experience (ie: being bitten by a biawak). I was walking to class with the Malaysian girl I’ve mentioned before hereby will be known as Mini Skirts. Cause that’s what she wears all the time. Mini skirts, then she bitches about how cold the lecture hall is- much to my amusement. Anyways I was walking to the lecture hall with her. We’re not taking the same subjects but somehow both of our classes are in the same building so we just went there together.

See, the thing bout my campus is…is that it’s in a forest. Now imagine a preserved forest if you could. Think of the beauty of Mother Nature and the importance of preserving it. Now imagine, again if you could that they cleared a huge chunk of land in the middle of it and built a university. Like a little town of its own, in the middle of the fucking forest. That’s how my campus is now. It is all sort of creepy at night. My only consolation is that they don’t have pontianaks in Australia. I’m very sure of this cause I had an in depth discussion with a friend over MSN and by the end of it we came to the conclusion that Pontianaks cannot fly that far over the sea and find me in Aussie.

God, I hope that’s true.

Anyways back to the story, right so there are trees everywhere. Bushes, low hanging branches and little pathways in between buildings. FYI, there are exactly 81 buildings on campus. Having a lecture in Building 32 and then a tutorial in Building 68 right afterwards with only 10mins gap is a wwwwhole lot of fun. I’m still in the process of perfecting my speed walking skills. In the middle of walking towards the lecture, Mini Skirts suggested that we should take a shortcut. We could walk on the fully pavement way or we could cut across the little paths with the bushes. Cause I was too lazy to walk that much I decided that yeah, this was a good idea. And then the nightmare begun.

I was walking along the path, chatting about something or other, feeling the lovely autumn breeze on my skin and the rustle of my skirt against my knees and thinking to myself “Oh my, what a lovely weather. We never get it this lovely in Malaysia” when I sensed movement at my feet. I looked down and there it was. A fucking biawak by my feet. It was like 3 inches away and I was wearing these open toes gladiator sandals. Sonofabitch!!!! It was about 3 feet long, black skin with green stripes. Green stripes!!!!!!!!!! And it was by my feet!! Dude, I didn’t think long. I screamed and I fucking ran out of there. I remember pulling up my skirt and running cause I was wearing on of those knee lengths, 50s style skirt. Mini Skirts didn’t know what was happening. She heard me screamed so she screamed too and started running. Fuck man, we covered what was supposed to be a 15mins walk in under 5 mins. By the time got to a somewhat “safe” place we were huffing and puffing and at the same time, a security guard was around. He hurried to us and he was like

“Are you girls okay? Did someone attack you? Was it the flasher?”

FYI, apparently there was a flasher round campus area. Hiding in the bushes and jumping out at random intervals to flash girls. No dude, seriously. They sent out an email to everyone’s student email. Campus Security thingie. So I was like

“No no, biawak. Big fucking biawak. By my feet.”

He stared at me. Mini Skirts eyes were bulging out “A biawak attacked us?”

“Miss, what’s a biawak?”

“Ohhhh a lizard. Big fucking lizard. Black, with green stripes. Sharp teeth. OMG, so scary.”

“Ooohhh a Goanna. That’s allright. I thought it was the flasher. Oh lizards are fairly common round these parts. They’re allright. Won’t harm you one bit. Unless you have meat on you.”

“Why was it by my feet?”

“He probably wanted to get to class too.” Then he laughed at his stupid little joke, pats me on the back and told me that it’s all allright.

Sonofabitch.

It was safe to say that I was traumatized by it all. Had nightmares that the biawak was eating my feet for 2 nights afterwards. Then over the weekend, Mini Skirts and I went to the museum. Yeah, the museum. Hey man, I have only been here for 2 weeks. I’m doing the whole tourist thing. And then there it was on the wall, a display of the same damn lizard that attacked me. Okay...maybe "attacked" is a strong word. Let's go with "ambushed". A display of a lizard that ambushed me. Much better. I found a person who works there and she actually went through some books to find some information for us. And here it is, it’s a Lace Monitor. And for your viewing pleasure this is how a lace monitor looks like:

Now tell me if you wouldn’t run screaming into the night if you saw that thing by your feet too. I mean fucking A Scott, I already have lizard issues as it is. And this mofo….according to the wiki page is venomous.

I am scarred for life now.

My tangled web of lies

So uuuhh….I think I might have fucked up BIGtime this time around.

 

Before anything else I think y’all should know that I am majoring in Journalism. So that’s what I am studying over here. I wasn’t going to actually give out that piece of information on my blog but it is crucial to the story I am about to tell.

 

Now I bet you’re wondering why I am doing Journalism, no it is not because I want to be a journalist. I think journalism and print media is a dying art what’s with the coming of the internet. No one buys the paper anymore. No, I am merely using this as my stepping stone to become a screenwriter one day. I already have 2 scripts in the process. I have good ideas, it’s the character building that I am having issues with. However Journalism is fine by me. I know that whatever I ended up as in life, it would have something to do with writing. Other people go out clubbing for fun. I write. For fun.

 

So today was my compulsory Orientation for commencing Journalism students. It was sort of like a meet and greet with the members of the Journalism faculty. So I arrived late because I couldn’t find the room that it was held in. My campus is fucking huge; I need a map to get around. So when I stepped in, like 5 mins late there were already 30 something students in there. And I noted right at that moment, I was the only one who wasn’t Australian.

 

Interesting.

 

So I smiled at everyone and sat down, second row from front. Now see when you are the only one who isn’t Australian in the whole room, arrived 5 mins late and was wearing a bright red shirt with a huge ass Victoria’s Secret in diamante spelled across your…ahem, ample bosoms….you tend to attract attention. I’m just sayin. I noticed that a couple of lectures were already eyeing me. This does not bode well.

 

So we went through the program structure and then it came to the session where they randomly select students to say why they choose Journalism. So a couple of students were “Ooouuuu I wanna do journalism cause I wanna write scripts. Bla bla bla”, a bunch of surfer dudes who went “Yeah I want to take journalism cause I wanna write music reviews…yeah”, and then this bimbo who sat behind me said, out loud, to all the lectures that she wanna do Journalism cause she loves Sex and the City and she wanna be a columnist just like Carrie Bradshaw. Cause the fictional Carrie Bradshaw, is her idol.

 

 

Bish. Are you kidding me?

 

 

I don’t care if she is your idol. But the hell, you don’t say that in front of the whole faculty. The hell. And I thought the bimbos in Malaysia were bad. Then one of the lecturers looked at me. I knew what was coming.

 

“What about the young lady in the red Victoria’s Secret shirt?” She totally said that. “Whereabouts are you from?”

 

“I’m CD and I’m from Malaysia.”

“Oouuu that’s exciting. We rarely get international students in Journalism. Why don’t you come up here and tell us why you are doing Journalism.”

 

Please note that when all the other students were saying their bit, they were sitting down and not standing in front of the class. However, luckily unlike most people I know, I have no problems with public speaking. I actually kick ass at public speaking. So I went in front of the room, smiled and

 

 

“Well, once again, I’m CD and I’m from Malaysia.”

 

 

Now at this point I realise that I can say like so many others that the reason why I’m doing journalism is cause I wanna be a scriptwriter. But then that would be boring. They called me out in front of the class for a reason. They wanted a show. So I gave them a show.

 

“The reason why I want to be a journalist is because; personally I believe that journalists are the people who hold society together. They are the ones who bring the news to the people, the public and without them no one would know of world affairs. It’s more of a calling to me, then an actual career path. Especially from where I come from, there is no such thing as media democracy. It comes to the point that every media outlet are controlled by the government and every news and information are spinned the way they want it to be spinned. So when I become a journalist, I would make it my sole purpose to bring truth to the people and help end this subjugation by the government and hopefully make media democracy a reality in my country.”

 

 

Yeah. Top that Carrie-Bradshaw-wannabe-bimbo.

 

 

When I stopped talking, everyone looked impressed. And it occurred to me that bullshitting my way through in front of the whole faculty is a bad idea. But the hell, I’ve already said all that shit. Then one of the lectures went “Aren’t you afraid of being jailed?” The answer to that is of course I am. Whose not afraid of being jailed? But what I said was

 

“I’m not gonna say that it does not scare me. It does. However the way I look at it, change cannot come just like that. It has to be fought for. Sacrifices have to be made. And if that means being jailed then yes, I am willing to face that….if brings change that is for the better.”

 

That my friend, was bullshit at its very best.

 

Then one of the lecturer looked at me and she said “I like your passion. We rarely see that in young people anymore these days. And good for you for wanting to do that for your country.”

 

I am soooo fucked.

 

 

So now, they all know me as the passionate Malaysian girl and I don’t even want to be a journalist. This is soo bullshit. Why do I keep on doing shit like this to myself? Why? God, why? Why do I always get myself into these tangled web lies. Can't I just say the real reason. No I can't cause I just have to be dramatic. Just haaaave too. Goddamnit.

 

But on the plus side, the students that were in that class thinks I’m cool now. That's right. Me. Cool. I don't think there was ever a time that people associate me with "cool".....but they are now. Yeah...... I could live with that. 

 

The Universe is teaching me a lesson by making me homeless

You guys….I think I’m gonna be homeless when I reach Australia. No, I’m completely serious. Homeless bitches, homeless! That’s why I can’t blog for the past few days cause I’ve been worried sick of my impending hobo status.

The university that I’m going to is supposed to provide accommodation for me. I put in the application late October, they emailed me mid-Nov saying that my form has been received and ever since then I haven’t heard a thing. Bitches, I’m flying off early February….and today is already January 19^th. 19!!!!! I’m worried sick okay. I mean, I don’t have a plan B. It’s not like if I don’t live on-campus, I can get something off-campus just like that. What the fuck? The flight tickets been paid for, my things are almost sorted (I’m still debating the shoes thing), my parents is throwing a kenduri doa selamat for me next week and I don’t have a room!!!!

What bullshit is this?

You know I’ve emailed them twice in regards of the room. I don’t mind if they don’t give me a fucking room but for the love of all that is pure and true, just tell already whether or not I get it therefore if I don’t- I can start looking in for off-campus accommodation. What if I find an off-campus place and pay the deposit and those assholes over at the uni mailed me saying that I do get a room. Like wtf? Isn’t that a waste of money? Paid deposit for both places but I can only live at one. I am not made of money people. I do not shit diamonds okay. I don’t make 50k a month that I can throw money around just like that. I’m unemployed!

Them assholes are screwing with me.You know….I don’t mind if they just come out straight and send me an email somewhere along these lines:

Dear Ms. Drama,

Though we are glad that you have chosen our university to further your education and we dooooo love getting your father’s hard-earned money, we are afraid we won’t be able to let you live on-campus. Now we don’t want you to misunderstood that this means we like your money any less, it’s just that our rooms are small and we can’t find one that can fit your humongous ass.....shapely behind. The thing is Ms. Drama, we’re sure that somehow your…..shapely behind will not be able to fit through the door frame. We here hope that you do not take this personally.

It’s not us; it’s your giant ass.

Yours sincerely,

Dipshit McGee

Manager of Accommodations, UNIVERSITY OF FUCKERY

Although if they do send me this email, I will sue them bastards. Discrimination against people with giant asses is not openly talk about but it exists. Trust me, I know. But really, I’m for real here. I’m worried as fuck. I dunno about you guys but I am accustomed to having a roof over my head. What if I go there and I have to live by a dumpster or something? I’m taking my golden hamster with me. What if he meet the rats at the dumpster, join their gang and become wild? What then?!!! I will fail as a mother then cause my baby join a gang! I cannot have that. I will not let society judge my motherly skills. I will not.

But back to this homeless issue. I’m worried. Now I know there’s that saying…. “Worry will not add another minute to your life.” Yes, I know that. But the point is you’re not the one that’s going to be homeless. I am. Or have your precious golden hamster joining a gang of rats and terrorizing the whole neighbourhood while you sit by the dumpster worrying sick that your baby ain’t home yet while trying to write a 10,000 word paper due tomorrow at 8am. Stop smirking. This is a possible case scenario.

I also believe this-not-getting-a-room fuckery is karma. The universe is screwing with me cause I haven’t been pulling my weight at home. I’m such a bitch these days. Like I don’t make up my own bed or clean the table after dinner anymore and when my mom yells at me I go “Why are you yelling at me? I’m leaving soon and still you’re yelling at me?” and then I make this super sad face, like I-can’t-believe-you’re-yelling-at-me-when-I-am-leaving-soon-Don’t-you-love-me? Then she let me slide and I don’t have to do chores. After that I run into my room and laugh my evil Mojo Jojo laugh cause I don’t have to do the dishes. Reverse psychology is your friend…or so I thought. Until this room thing come about and everything makes sense. Karma.

Reverse psychology your parents + get out of washing the dishes = Homeless in Australia.

It makes total sense when you can get your head around it.....

The Constantly Dramatic One in a couple of months time...

So very punk rock...but was it worth it?

I was watching some lameass True Hollywood Story on E! when my mom, oh so nonchalantly, mentioned that she and my dad would be going to a wedding this weekend. I can’t help but groaned as loudly as I can. I hate being forced to attend weddings.

“Siapa lak nak kahwin ni? Adik kena ikut ke? Malas lah mak….”
Who is getting married? Must I go? I’m soooo lazy to go….

“Hakim*, anak Kak Ina*.”
Hakim*, Kak Ina’s son.

“………………………..Bukan Hakim baru SPM ke hari tu?”
…………………………Didn’t Hakim sat for SPM this year?

“Uh huh”

“Mak. Kalau dia SPM tahun ni…bukan budak tu 17 ke?”
Mom, if he sat for SPM this year…wouldn’t that makes him 17?

“Uh huh.”

“Maaaaak!! Mak serious ke ni? Jangan main-main Mak. Adik dah macam nak pengsan dah ni. Giler ah. Budak tu 17 kan?”
Moooom! Are you serious? Don’t toy with me. I feel like I’m gonna faint now. This is crazy! The kid is 17!

“Eh, buat apa lak Mak nak tipu kau?”
Why would I want to lie to you?

Dude, how fucking insane is that? As scandalous and glamorous Keanu Reeves life was according to E!, it is nothing compared to finding out that your 17 year old nephew is getting married okay. Wait, his mom is my cousin…so that makes him my nephew right? Or is that second cousin? Whatevs. In any event it is still fucking insane. I followed my mom around the house for like half a day before she told me the story. However I feel like she is not telling me the whole thing, she just gave me the condense version. As if I’m a child whose innocence still needs to be protected. Oh God Mom, the age of innocence for me has ceased to exist a loooong time ago. Anyways, this is the story I managed to coax out of her:

So apparently my 17 year old nephew has a girlfriend. Apparently, they were also horny as fuck. Being horny as fuck and also stupid as fuck- in my opinion; they decided to uhhh….consummated their “love” in her bedroom. So apparently, the girl’s father caught them and held him at the point of a parang saying that if he doesn’t marry her, he’s gonna report it as rape. So that’s why they’re having a shotgun wedding (nikah bidan terjun) this weekend.

Dude, I told you it’s the condensed version. I kept on asking my mom for details. I was like “Uuhhh so were they like…uh doing it when the father walked in?” When the father threatened him with a parang, was he naked and running around the house?” “Was she naked?” “Was the Dad naked?” I mean seriously, I need details here to draw out the visual re-enactments in my head okay. But my Mom was all offended by the questions. I mean I have this image in my head, I can describe it to you but I rather write it out like a bad script from a trashy telenovela…






Guy: Mi amore! How I have yearned for your kisses, your caress, your luuuuurrvve….
Girl: Oh si si, I too have thirst for you. My luuurve, my moon and stars. Your flesh on mine. Your luuuurve in me.
Guy: Such sweet words my luurve. You are like a vision in a dream. A Goddess among mortals. I’m sooo damn horny I cannot even walk straight right now.
Girl: I cannot tahan anymore. I’m soo horny, I’m slurring my words. I am sooo drunk for your love. Now mi amore!! NOW!!”

***Please use your imagination for this part. I know you can. Pervs.***

Guy: Was that as good for you as it was for me? *lights a cigarette*
Girl: Better baby, better…I dunno why we waited for so long. Let’s go for another round…
Guy: Si mi amore, si………wait! What’s that? Do I hear footsteps…….”


***Bedroom door flew opens***


Father: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!!!
Guy: Oh crap.
Father: YOU!!! SCUM OF EARTH!! SPAWN OF SATAN!!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY DAUGTHER?
Guy:…..Uh well…she did things to me too you know….
Father: SILENCE!!! *grabbed a parang that just so happens to be lying around in the doorway* YOU SHALL PAY FOR DEFILING MY DAUGHTER! DIE FIEND!!!
Girl: No Papa!! I love him!
Father: SILENCE WENCH! *backhands daughter* I SHALL DEAL WITH YOU ONCE I’M DONE CUTTING OFF HIS PENIS WITH MY SHINY PARANG.
Guy: Oh noes! Not my penis!

***Boy tries to run away but his feet got caught up in the sheet***
***Father caught him by the hair and held his parang up to Boy’s neck***

Father: YOUR LIFE FOR HER VIRTUE
Guy: Dude…..a tad melodramatic aren’t we?
Father: YOU DARE MOCK ME? DO YOU WANT ME TO CUT OFF YOUR PENIS?
Guy: Anything! Anything but my penis. It has only been properly used once…
Father: FINE I WON’T CUT IT OFF. BUT YOU SHALL MARRY HER OR I WILL CUT YOUR PENIS OFF AND TELL EVERYONE THAT YOU RAPE HER. MWAHAHAHA!

***lightning and thunder outside***



…..Okay…so maybe it did not went like that. Maybe they were in the throes of passion when the father walked in. Maybe she was screaming “Yes Daddy! YES!” and then the father walked in going “Yes to what Princess?.....SWEET BABY JESUS!! WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!!!” Or maybe…you know what…..I should stop telling you people of all the scenarios in my head. Every one of them sounds like a bad porno shot in someone’ basement.


But really, how fucking stupid are these kids? Yes, yes…I understand that you have raging teenage hormones. Yes, yes you’re horny. Yes, yes the desire to...copulate is unbearable. Yes, I understand. I understand how it feels like to be perpetually horny but yet sexually repressed due to the boundaries set by religion and culture. Yes. I know. Trust me. No one knows it better then I do. Just take my word for it. But really guys, I understand how punk rock it is to….fornicate in her room but the risk is not worth it now is it? I mean, if you guys are so hard up- save some money, I bet there are some cheapass motels by the roadside. The backseat of a car. An abandon shack. Under the pier. On the beach…though I won’t recommend that cause I have it on good authority that the vagina itches like hell when mixed with sand. I mean, kalau desperate sangat, semak belakang rumah tu pun ok gak kan?


Stupid fuckers. Literally.


Now, in no way am I condoning underage sex but man, married at 17? They’re nothing more than kids man. I’m older then that and I’m still a kid. Seriously, they’re both waiting to be accepted to the universities of their choice. What happens then? When they go, they gonna meet other people. Oh God, sooo messy. And if they’re stupid enough to get caught by her own father no less, I bet they’re too stupid to think of birth control as well. So…a baby within a year….Parents at the age of 18. My head is reeling from this.

Man, I feel sad for that kid. A stupid mistake. One lousy mistake but one that he have to carry for the rest of his life. I hope for his sake, the sex was spectacular cause marriage at 17, before you life even get the chance to begin properly is just not worth it.

That car was a ninja and it totally did ambushed me.....

I was involved in an accident last week. A vehicular accident. Actually "accident" is such a big word. It was more like....there was this car. And I uhhhh..kinda.....hit it. The worst part of it was that the car was stationary. How fucking sad is that? I drove into a stationary car and calling it a vehicular accident? Really, honestly. It is not my fucking fault okay. That car was a bitch.





It was around 8ish in the morning and I was leaving for class. I parked my car round the corner from my house on this abandon piece of land. That land can fit up to 3 cars and since we live near that spot, it is very convenient for me to park my car there. There was this other car that always park behind my car. Not exactly behind my car but damn near that whenever he parked his car behind mine, it is damn difficult to just reverse out. In fact I have to do that annoying go forward, reverse a bit, turn a bit, and then repeat 3 times before I can get out of the spot. Bastard.





So that morning I was more than a little bit preoccupied. I have Spanish quiz at 10am and basically my head was filled with Spanish verbs and future/past tenses. I barely acknowledged that car as I walked past it. I got in my car, put the gear into reverse, looked into the rear view mirror, smiled smugly at my perfectly groomed eyebrows, backed the car out and BANG!! All my smugness and my Spanish verbs went out of the window.





I remember screaming "Where the fuck did that car come from?!!" I got out of my car and there was this huge motherfucking dent at the backdoor of the car. Thankfully mine was all okay except for some paint transfer.








The first thought that came to my mind was "Oh fuck."


The second was "Oh fuck."


The third was "Run bitch! Run while you can!"








But alas by the time I could do anything my mom was already out the house. She looked at the car then she looked me standing there between my car and the victimized car then she looked at me straight in the eyes...... I mean fuck this happened near my house okay. If it happened like I dunno somewhere else, like 3897 meters away from my house I can just tell my mom "OMG Mom, it is soooo totally not my fault. Like I was driving according to the speed limit -being the law abiding citizen I am- then all of a sudden this raccoon jumped out of nowhere. I swear to God, a raccoon! On Federal Highway. I think it was nesting on one of the billboard...and I think it was rabid too....but it jumped on my car. It landed on my windshield and I screamed. I was so shocked that I lost control of my car but at the same time there was this parked car by the roadside...yes Mom a parked car on Federal Highway, I'm not making this up and I hit into that car. But don't worry that car is only dented. And I managed to deliver that raccoon to the nearest vet for psychiatrist evaluation. Poor baby. So you see Mom, it is totally not my fault. It's the raccoon's but we shouldn't blame it seeing that it's insane....." But of course I can't say that. Shit son...she saw the whole thing.





"And you expect me to let you drive my car?"


Wow, sarcasm is not appreciated at moments of life and death like this, okay Mom?





"How did you managed to drive into this car? It wasn't moving."


"It wasn't my fault! I did not see it there!"


"Constant Drama* (insert full name), it is a car. A car. A huge car. It is not a toy car....Do we need to get new prescription for your glasses?"


"The sarcasm is really not appreciated at times like this. This stupid car should not be parking so near to me. It's not my fault........."


*dirty looks* "Constant Drama, you backed your car into a parked car. As in the car is not moving. Nooooottt moooooooving. How is that not your fault?"





I learned at a young age that upon fucking up big time, one must keep one's mouth shut so that's what I did.





"You have a quiz today? Go to class. I'll deal with this. And your father will know about this too."





Fuck.





I'm telling you, I was on the verge of dying of a heart attack that whole day in college. All I could think was how my Dad was gonna kick my ass. Figuratively speaking of course. Wah, it was damn scary. It was like being an inmate on death row. Then I decided that instead of running away from my problems, I should confront it....so I called my Dad. I was all matured and shit.








"Dad.... I wanna talk to you about what happened this morning."


"I'm busy. We talk about it when I come home."


Then he hung up. On me. His last born!! I'm telling you...the inmates on death row got it easy compared to me. When he got home, we did have a talk about it. Actually....it was more of him yelling and me keeping quite and trying to shrink into a corner. However this is impossible seeing that my fat ass cannot fit into any corners.



"Ayah...Adik serious tak nampak kereta tu kat situ."

*Dad, I seriously did not saw that car there.



"Oh kau kena ambush lah ni? Apa keter tu macam ninja? Ambush ko dari belakang?"

*Oh so you were ambushed? Was that car a ninja? Did it ambush you from the back?


No, seriously. He said "ninja". I swear, one day when my parents are not at home I am gonna fake a burglary in my house. Disarm the alarm system, brake the windows, thrashed the whole place to make it look like a burglary and the only thing be missing is his damn ninja movies collection. Especially the Akira Kurosawa samurai movies. And if the cops asked how come the burglars didn't steal the plasma TV or the laptop or whatever I'm gonna say...."Well perhaps the burglars were ninjas and they don't want mere mortals, such as my father, to learn their secret ways." In any event, his ninja movies collection have got to go.


And then there were more yelling, numerous versions of his monologue of "money don't grow on trees" and then "you been driving for 3 years now, you should know better"- maybe 4 versions of that ending with my Dad taking away my car keys. That's right. He took my car keys.






Oh my heart! My heart cannot take it!


With that I conclude this story on a sad note. Friends, comrades, bitches: I will not be able to hang out with you guys cause my Dad is PMSing and took away my car keys therefore I ain't got no wheels. I can hang out with you if the place in which you want to hang out is within walking distance from my house. Like the mamak round the corner. Or if you are able to drop me off at the train station so I can get home. If this is not possible then you have to deal with the fact that I cannot grace your life with my presence. I know....I know what a bleak and sad existence your life would be, to be without me....I know it is going to be difficult for you. But you have to be strong okay? Be strong.



Ahem.



I ain't got no wheels and it sucks donkey balls.

Crap.

OMG you guys. Oh no. I lost my roadtax. My roadtax died like 2 days ago and my dad got me a new one. But I lost it. I put it on top of pile of assignments on the floor and now I cannot find it. I cannot find it!!!!

Shit.

Do you guys know if you can buy/purchase/whatever it is roadtax for the same car/vehicle twice? I rather not my parents know. If I cannot find it, I'll have to get a new one. Is there like a penalty? How much is it? Shit. I should go to JPJ right? Right? Shit. Where the hell is that?

OMG. I'm so scared. Does anyone know how much the penalty is and I just show up there right? Shit. I am so dead if my dad find out. Shit.

This is God's way of telling me not to curse and pray more often. Crap lah. Malaysians get back to me. And oh I can get stopped on the road for driving around without a roadtax right? And then I'm gonna get a ticket for that right? I never ever been summoned before!! Not even a parking ticket to my name!! Okay that was that one time for speeding but how the hell would I have know they set up a speedtrap?

Shit. And please nobody leave a comment that goes "It's in the last place you'll check." Obviously, asshole. If I have already found it why the hell do I need to search some more?

Okay, shit. I'm scared. Get back to me. Get back to me. Get back to me. Get back to me. Get back to me. Get back to me. Please.

Random bitching of things...

No post today. I'm stuck creating a newsletter for a fucking group project. Its due on Monday but have to send to printing on Friday. Have to pass the file to another group member for the printing tomorrow though. It's 30% of the overall marks. Looks like there will be no sleep tonight.

Meh, will make 2 pots of coffee in a while.




Microsoft Publisher 2003 is giving me a fucking headache. I am so stressed. My shoulders hurt. Arrrggggghhhhhh!! Editing is a bitch too. Also finals week is the week after next. The pressure is on like a motherfucker.





So no, no post today. Will be back on Friday to bitch bout the fucking newsletter. You bet your ass on it.

**********************

(11:37pm)

Wah. Cannot tahan. Have to bitch about this.

Now please observe this picture. Please. I beg of you.

I found this picture on one of those artsy photography blog that I always frequent. First of, what the fuck is up with this pic? This bimbo gets on my nerves so much, you have no idea.

Who the fuck sits in a corner, wear a fugly grandma dress and get all orgasmic over whatever-the-hell she is eating. Who?!! Whooo!? This bimbo apparently. The first 3 is not so bad but the last one. Oh Good God the last one. "Omigawd-look-at-me-making-my-cutesy-face. Look at me! Look at me! I'm so cute!!"

Bish plz. Don't make me hurt you.

You are not cute. Stop trying too hard. The fact that you made a seemingly cute face in the end does not make you cute. It just make you become one of the ridiculously annoying cutesy-Harajuku-wannabes that overpopulated my college. The ones that every time I look at them, I have to remind myself that murder borne of hate crime (for cutesy bitches wannabes) is a federal crime. Okay? I don't need this shit. I go to fffound.com to destress and look at pretty photos not at your constipated face.

If you are cute, you don't have to try be cute or make faces to show that you're cute. I'm cute. I don't even try to be cute. I am cute 24/7 and when I'm not that means I look smokin hot. Okay, that's a lie. But fact of the matter is that I don't sit in corners while wearing fugly dresses and making some orgasmic cutesy faces. When the fuck have anyone eaten anything in real life and reacted with that expression? Never I tell you. Only annoying bimbos like you.

One day I will end you and all of your kind.

Okay, back to newsletter.

Shit.

I'm sick. I can't speak. I lost my voice completely yesterday and today I can only whisper instead of actually speaking. I have flu. I'm running a fever. My head is spinning thanks to a huge headache. I'm generally feeling like shit. Than seeing where I've been, I checked the symptoms for HIV.


"Some people who contract HIV experience very strong symptoms, but others experience none at all. Those who do have symptoms generally experience fever, fatigue, and, often, rash. Other common symptoms can include headache, swollen lymph nodes, and sore throat. These symptoms can occur within days or weeks of the initial exposure to the virus during a period called primary or acute HIV infection." ***Taken from HIV Insite.com


I'm going for a HIV check up tomorrow. I'm scared.

Facebook & Family MUST NOT mix

Ok, sooo.....my brother's girfriend wants to add me as a friend on Facebook. This is not good. I have....incriminating photos in there that must never be seen by any of my family member's eyes.

She adds me --> she knows what I do --> she tells my brother =

The Constantly Dramatic One is screwed.

I cannot not add her coz I know her and get along well with her but if I add her...Oh God. Limited profile is no good either.

Ooooohhh.....so this is how screwed feels like...