Close encounter of the creepy kind

We shall begin today, with where Creepy-Ass Gym Dude (as he will hereby be known) left off. So he came by last Sunday and wanted to hang out and I told him no, like all in his face y'all. It should have been noted that when I said that...his face changed. Not scary changed, he just look utterly surprised. That was all, and after that he didn't come around (that I know of) which gave me a relatively creepy-assholes-free existence for an approximately 3 days until Thursday rolled in.

I was at the shopping mall library when I saw someone I recognise vaguely as one of his housemates. Here in Aussie, they have libraries in the shopping malls and the libraries are pretty kickass. You can borrow DVDs, CDs, audio books, magazines, foreign language media, video games (PC, XBOX, PS 1,2,3 and Wii) on top of the usual books and they're all free. You don't even need to pay to get a library card, you just need a valid Queensland address. That's all. Malaysia should get on to this- stat.

So I was in the library at the fiction books section when I saw the guy whom I recognised vaguely as his housemate. I certainly have seen the dude coming in and out of the house by the gym before. So me being me, completely panicked cause I assume Creepy-Ass Gym Dude would be there and I was not wrong. In like another second he appeared and they were making their way to the DVD section. And I was like “He didn't see you, be cool. Be cool.” Of course I was telling myself this while I was also trying to hide behind the bookshelves and sort of walk run to the furthest bookshelf from the DVD section. Once I got there I just crouched down on the floor and stared intently at the books that were in front of me. The thing is, the titles didn't made sense at all and I cannot figure out why they were not making any sense. But that's beside the point.

The point was, there I was, a grown woman, crouched on the floor, trying to hide from some guy. The fuck? Come on! I am better than this. I am woman. And as a woman, I can take whatever that life throws at me, throw some glitter on that shit and sell it over eBay for 5 times the cost. Cause I am woman. So I stood up, grabbed a random book of the shelf and just started thumbing it. So what if he sees me? I will not be cowed...despite him knowing where I live and all that. I know where he lives too! So there! So what if he's creepy?! I'm bitchy. I can handle this. I am badass. I am woman. All these shit was goin on in my head as I furiously thumbed the book like it owed me money or something. Then a voice asked me;

“You're not Japanese...”

It was some kid in school uniform.

“No I'm not. Why?

“But you can read Japanese...

“Huh?

“Isn't that a Japanese book you're holding...I just assume could read Japanese. Cause that would be cool.

Oh....that's why it was not making any sense....

“I'm Malaysian. Everyone from Malaysia can read Japanese. It's in our learning syllabus.”

The kid looked thoroughly impressed.

“Yeah...I need to go now anyway. Konichiwa.”

Totally pulled that out of my ass man. So what if I was not totally un-frazzled? I am woman. I will rise above this. I did however...stayed in the library for another hour after I made sure the coast is clear...so that I won't bump into him in any other part of the shopping mall.

You bitches can stop sniggering now.

Things were fine until Leigh* asked me to go the gym with her. Up to this point, I have been avoiding the gym like a plague. Leigh is my 23-year-old Australia housemate. She is, by far, the sweetest person I have ever met in my entire life. She is also, the nerdiest. I kid you not. The woman has been on the Dean's List since her first sem and she studies Biomedical Science. That shit is not easy, and to be on the Dean's List every damn sem is quite a feat. Fuck, I study Journalism which is chicken shit compared to what she is doing and I'm not even close to the Dean's List man. She's very clever, but also very shy and timid. It took me about 10 days to coax her into talking to me when she first moved in. At first I thought she was an arrogant bitch cause she won't talk to me but then whenever I talked to her, said hello or whatever, in the early days,she would smiled shyly at me before scurrying into her room. Like a mouse. Bitches don't smile and scurried, they give you dirty looks, ignore you and model strut into their room. I have now managed to get to talk to me...and now, she doesn't want to shut up. I swear to God. Sometimes my brain hurts from her chatter, but I don't mind.

“Leigh, I don't wanna go to the gym...Creepy gym asshole would be able to see me.

“But I'll be there. You won't be alone. Plus, what about that whole “I am Woman” thing you spewed when you came home just now?”

Ah for fuck's sake...

It was with heavy trepidation that I followed Leigh to the gym that night. Things were okay for the first 10 mins, I felt semi-relaxed....until Creepy-Ass Gym Dude showed up. I am fucken with you not. The dude showed up. I am woman...but I freaked out like shit. Inwardly, of course. I was controlling my facial features but I was screaming bloody murder inside. He came in, looked at Leigh who was on the elliptical and completely avoided my eyes. I was like “Okay, okay...it will not be awkward if you don't make it awkward. Be cool CD. Be cool.”

So I continued running while Leigh continued with her one sided chatter, oblivious to my drama. And the whole time, he continued being in my view but avoiding my eyes and I was avoiding looking at him. It was fucken stupid. High school never ends people. He was doing all kinds of push-ups and abs curls and bla bla bla. I don't want to say that whole show was for my benefit but um......

1. There are so many weight training equipments in the gym, why are you not using that asshole?
2. Why are you doing push-ups and abs curls, shit you can do on your bedroom floor but you chose to come to the gym, and in my full view?

Sometimes my life is so stupid, I just wanna give up.

Then he moved to the back of the gym where he was actually using the equipments, and considering the fact that I was running on the treadmill and all the equipments are facing the treadmill, I'm just gonna make the assumption that he was also looking at my ass. Do you know how fucked up it is to be running and to have someone creepily stare at your ass? It is fucked up. Then the whole time I was on the treadmill, I keep on telling myself to go faster than usual cause I wanna show him that if he ever chase me as prelude to killing me and then mutilating my body and then burying me in concrete at a construction site, he will however, need to chase me first. Which is tricky, cause he's an athlete...and he runs track.

See, I know there are bunch of young athletes living in the complex. I seen them train and I have spoken to some of the girls who's on the team and they told me that they been placed here for their training. They don't work, they don't study, they just train. I seen them around with their coach sometimes and I know they go to some high tech gym over the other side of the town. The girl that I spoke with have been to 2 Olympics and 3 Commonwealths I think. I'm not sure. But they're athletes and they do track. Creepy-Ass Gym Dude is one of them.

So that's why when he showed up last night, I was all spooked. Why do you come to this stupid apartment gym when your government is paying for you to go to some state-of-the-art gym? Amirite, amirite? Ah creepy. But yes, I can't run as fast you but I still run asshole. I can still run. Also I don't get it, I'm not even hot. If I am totally hot, I would get this but I'm not which brings me to my other theory:

Have you guys heard of this well jock thing, that when their team is in a bad state, one of the jocks would find a fat chick and have sex with her so that they could get out of their losing track or something. I never heard of it, until I come here. But yes, its like sports superstition. Take one for the team aka have sex with a fat chick and then your losing streak would be over. Seriously! Have you not heard of this?

I'm fat. I wear a size 14 AU/UK. He's a jock. Think about it...cause I reckon this is what it is all about.

I left the gym without looking at him and as soon as we got home Leigh went;

“That was the guy right?

“How could you tell?

“There was a seriously weird vibe when he came in.”

I wish he would just find another fat chick for him to get over his sports funk or whatever cause this is irritating me. It's not fair. He has his fancy athlete gym, I only have this one. I should have custody of this one.

Asshole.

So...umm....FML

He’s gay!!!'

He’s gay!!!

Remember Geek Boy, who played me like the fool that I was…..and then he wanted to meet me and then I stood him up? He’s gay!!

He’s gay!!!

The guy that I was smitten with and picked over a military man, who is hot and who wanted to fuck me 7 ways till Wednesday, is gay. He’s gay!! I was so into this guy. I was so messed up when he played me. I didn’t cry though, thank God. The moment you cry over a man, huney, you lose. But still, I was really messed up. And now I found out. He’s gay.

Oh my god!!

No wonder I was rejected!! I don’t have a dick. You guys know what this means right? It’s not me he rejected. It’s my lack of dick!

Okay, okay…let me just take it from the top.

I have a MSN. And even though I deleted him off my list, the dude is still on my network. My MSN network. And I was looking at my MSN network and I saw his new updates and it went something like this

“Woo hoo! Having a great time in San Francisco!”

First of, the fuck is doing in San Francisco? Right. So I buzzed a mutual friend of ours…who did not delete his Facebook page as I did. A bit of pleading, a bit of bribing and then I got my friend’s Facebook password so that I can go snoop around Geek Boy’s page, under my friend’s account.

So he is in San Francisco. He transferred his final year credit and doing it there. Fine. Whatever. Not that I am jealous or anything like that. Cause I never been to San Francisco and always wanted to and now he’s there. Fine, whatever. Then I look at his photos. And there are a lot of photos of him with one guy. Hugging. Sitting together. Partying. Just that one guy. Okay, say bromance or whatever…but it looks more then platonic okay. It looks more like Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee "platonic" bromance. It looks………………..different.

Curious.

So I went to his info page.

Interested in: Relationships with men and women. And then like 5 groups about being bisexual.

Ladies, just like Carrie Bradshaw said- being bisexual just means you’re not ready to come out fully out of the closet yet. And the clincher, he’s on Level 4 of the Supermodel game. No self respecting straight man plays that game. Even I don’t play that game.

Am I reaching here?

And then all his little quirks and the conversation came back. The overtly neat things, the interest in theatre, and the fucking tight pants and oh this one time he told me:

“Oh I’m kinda weird. I like a lot of things that women like. I guess that’s why we can get along so well.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Yeah, take your time. It took me half a year to figure it out. And henceforth, I shall rename myself. I will no longer be the Constantly Dramatic One. I will be “the Dumb Beyatch who Dates Gay Guys”.

Jesus fucking Christ, how could I not see this? Why was I so blinded? Am I reaching here?

I had a thing for a gay dude…or at least a sexually-confused dude AND THEN at-least-sexually-confused-dude played me and now, he’s in motherfucking San Francisco having butt sex with some American and waving the gay pride flag during Mardi Gras!

This is bullshit. My life is bullshit. It’s a whole lot of bullshit that been thrown together and labelled as my life.

But hey, at least it’s not me. I mean, it’s not my fault I’m not a gay man. And have awesome tits and a working vagina instead of a dick. If I ever meet him again…I will let him know that what happened was okay and give him a hug….and then we can go shopping together.

After all….every fag needs a hag.

Time management. I haz it.

So what you guys do over the weekend? Me? Oh dude, I did some crazy shit. Let me break it down for you.

 

 

As you guys might have known; I have moved out of my previous place away from the crazy fucker that I used to live with. Yes, yes I am aware that I have not blogged about the fuckery that went on there that led to my departure. Reason is I can’t. Not cause I cannot…but because I get really pissed off whenever I tell the story. My loathing for him will never end even till my final breath. Worthless piece of shit. I now live in an off-campus student accommodation. Incidentally I now have 2 Malaysian girls as housemates. One is 25, postgrad student and this is her last sem in uni. Graduating beginning of next year. I am so jealous. The other one is a total stoner. Her room reeks of chronic. I could get high just walking past her door. But other then that, they are awesome. Postgrad likes to cook. A lot. I have only cooked twice ever since I moved in here in June. Woman print stuff off the net and cook everything. Stoner, other then being stoned half the time, have single handedly provided ample drama for me in this house. Woman have an equally stoner boyfriend with a temper. You can hear them fight almost every night cause they throw things around and then there will be silence cause they would be making out while smoking some of that shit and then later….well later you’ll hear her screams again. But different kind of screams…..If you get what I’m sayin. It’s always the same routine.

 

 

Fight. Smoke. Fuck.

I’ve gotten used to it.

 

 

So it was last Friday night and we decided that we’ll have a Scary Movie marathon in the living room. Scary Movie as in the stupid Scary Movies franchise with the stupid boob jokes and disgusting toilet scenes, not actual scary movies, mind you. By the time we finished watching the whole thing it was about 3 in the morning so I went to sleep and woke up at 7am cause I have a Career seminar at 8am Saturday morning. Fucking thing was 8 hours long from 8am to 4pm. Fucker. But I went for it cause it was free and they gave tips for resume writing, cover letters, interview tips, etc. Bla bla bla. It was boring as fuck. I went alone too cause none of my friends could be bothered to wake up that early on a Saturday morning.

 

 

Did I learn anything out of it? Barely.

Was it a total waste of time? Good God yes.

Did my ass went flat after 8 hours of sitting down? Unfortunately.

 

 

Last fucking seminar I ever went to. Came home round 4.30 and I was like “Okay, I’m gonna sleep. Fuck this shit.” Around 9pm my friend called and she’s like “We’re going clubbing tonight.” And I was like “Dude, I’m tired.” And she was like “I just broke up with-the-asshole-that-was-formerly-my-boyfriend. We’re going clubbing. I need to get drunk. I need you.” What do you say to that? Fuck man. So 11pm, Saturday night, tired and hungry I stood in line outside a club in the city. Felt like shit but at least I looked awesome in a purple dress and my 4 inch heels. Got in and forgot all about how tired I was. Just as I was going to score some free drinks from random horny dudes my phone rang and it was my other friend.

 

“I’m picking you up at 9.30 at your place tomorrow ya?”

“What?”

“Tomorrow CD. We’re going to a water park remember? We made plans about a week ago?”

“Oh shit.”

“Where are you? Are you clubbing? But we made plans. You promised….”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there.

 

 

Fuck. Completely forgotten about the waterpark. Completely. Motherfucker. And then instead of doing the prudent thing and you know…go home. I ended up dancing in my 4 inch heels till they on the lights at 4 something in the morning. Talk about fucking your own self. We stumbled outside the club and we’re like okay “We need a cab. My feet hurt. Jesus!” and then someone shouted my friend’s name and it turn out it was her friend. They talked and I stood there with the rest of the group, barefooted cause my feet hurt too much and the guy was like hey “I can give you guys a ride. There’s only 4 of you. No big.” So there I was, barefooted on the sidewalk, mascara running down my face as it started drizziling a bit and I made a new friend- with a car- at daybreak. Could have been worst. He dropped me off at my place round 5 and I stumbled out of the car, into my room, into the shower and at the first blast of the shower, I tought I was going to crumpled onto the floor. I remember thinking “OMG!! I’m gonna drown! In my own shower! The irony.” But I didn’t. Did more stumbling into bed and I thought that was it.

 

Could have been minutes really when the phone rang. And my friend on the other line was going “Are you awake? We’re on our way to your place. Be there in 15 minutes!” Woman sounded too damn cheerful for a damn Sunday morning. I rolled out of bed, fell onto the floor- hurt like a mofo- and got dressed. Of course I could not find my swimsuit. Of course. When I need to hurry that’s when all kinds of shit go missing. But found it I did, wore it and put on a cover up and then just started throwing shit into my bag. Towel. Sunblock. Shampoo. DVD. Eh wait the fuck do I need a DVD? Honestly do not know. The next time my phone rang I was already out of front door.

 

 

Most intense Sunday morning I ever had. But I made it. I made it yo. That alone was a feat on its own. There was fucking kids everywhere at the water park. I wanted to kick them all. Fucking kids. I hate kids. At least it turn out to be fun that day. I think I might have like lost 4 kilos as well. You try climbing 8 flights of stairs carrying a big ass tube. Those things look light but they’re not bitches. They’re not. The whole day was full of standing in line, climbing flight of stairs and then hurling myself down huge ass slides and then screaming my ass off. A bit of tips ladies: When going to a water park DO NOT, under any circumstance wear a halter neck bikini top/swimsuit cause your boob will pop out coming down the slides. That’s all I have to say on that. That’s all. Fuck y’all if I’m going to say anything more on that.

We left the water park when it closes at 5pm and would you know it. I forgot to bring a change of clothes. Fabulous. So I had to wear the semi-wet cover up and instead of going home straight away, my friends just have to go for dinner. So we went and we chatted and the next thing I know it was 10ish at night. My entire body ached. I was so exhausted I wanted to die. Got home round 11pm and I didn’t even showered the second time. Got into bed still wearing my swimsuit and my hair drenched with chlorine. I never understand the saying “Tired to my bones”. After that weekend, I do. Oh good God, I do.

 

 

The on Monday…..on Monday I went to court.

 

 

Chill. It was for my Media Law class. Case study for a paper regarding defamation and libel in journalism. Fucking court case was at 8am. I had to wake up at 5ish cause I have to take 2 buses to court. What a bitch. I would love to talk more bout the case but I am not at liberty to divulge the information pertaining the case. Some ethical fuckery. What do I care. I just need the stuff for my paper. And that was the end of my crazy ass weekend.

 

 

And no, I dunno how I did it either. All I know is that my body still aches, my feet still hurts and I’m going clubbing again tomorrow night. This is indeed, the party phase of my life.

Too old for peer pressure

You know….I am a motherfucking 20-something years old.


20-something years old!


I am no longer a child questioning everything yet knowing nothing at all. I am no longer an adolescent lovestruck by some pretty boy in a boyband that would probably be defunct within a year’s time. I am no longer a teenager filling out my training bra. Nor am I that 18-year-old fresh out of highschool, wide eyed with possibilities that would probably never be realized. I am a motherfucking 20-something years old. I am seasoned. I live alone on a motherfucking continent away from the land of my birth. Okay. Just get that shit straight. I am a fucking adult and as an adult I should not even be blogging about this fuckery. But then here I am, doing just that.


“CD, you don’t smoke? Wow, what a loser.”


The. Fuck.


Let’s all take a moment here and examine this. The worthless piece of shit who said this to me was

a) 20-something as well
b) a fellow university student
c) supposedly, an “adult”


So again: The. Fuck.


I stared at him. Flabbergasted. And I asked “What did you say?” Cause he couldn’t possibly said that to me, did he now? And he repeated the same thing. But this time he added “All the cool people smoke.” I searched his face for a trace of humour and could find none. Seriously. What are we, a bunch of 16 years old over at the school yard trying to act cool? What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Is he special?


So I said;


“Oh I’m sorry. I’m a loser now because I opted not to burn and poison my lugs day in and day out just so that assholes like you would think of me as “cool”. You know what, I am comfortable with myself. I don’t have to smoke and waste my money by buying a goddamn box of cigarettes that cost like what? 12 fucking bucks so that assholes like you would think I’m cool. So yes, I am a loser. I am loser because I am comfortable with myself and proud of myself that I do not spend thinking of what people think of me and try to “be cool” and “fit in” the way you do during every waking moment of your insignificant little life.”


I sat there and waited for a comeback cause I was geared up for a fight. He looked embarrassed and kinda shuffled away and did not make eye contact with me the whole night. Which was a disappointment cause fucker really pissed me off. I did however, told him off in front of like 4 people. If he meant that as a joke then it was stupid fucking joke cause that shit pissed me off so much.


I mean what kind of statement is that?!! I still cannot get over it. We are adults. This kind of fuckery should not even happen. What the fuck happen to freedom of choice and respecting people? What about non-conformity and individualism? I should not be dealing with this kind of mentality when in uni man. A place of higher education, my giant ass.


Don’t get me wrong. I have no issues against smoking or smokers. Almost all my friends here smoke, I live in a smoking house- both of my housemates smoke and I dated smokers. I have no issues with them. The reason why I don’t smoke is not for health reasons. Fuck that. I’m stingy. Fucking cigarettes are expensive and I like to shop for pretty dresses. It’s either cigarettes or pretty dresses. I have priorities bitches. But that’s not the issue here.


The issue here is that I’m just fucking pissed off that someone would say that shit to me. I’m too old for this fuckery man.

This is an anticlimax. My bad.

There’s a possibility that my asshole housemate is an evil genius.

 

So picking up from where I left last, I was all gearing up for an argument with Le Fucktard- I was just waiting for Tanya to leave the house. I gave it an hour so round 10pm I left my room to go knock on Le Fucktard’s door so that we can have our “talk” and guess what, fucker wasn’t home. No dude, seriously. His bedroom’s door was open and so was Tanya’s. I wasn’t satisfied so I went downstairs to check the laundry room just in case he was cowering behind the washing machine or something….but nothing. I was home alone.

 

 

Fucker ditched me.

 

 

Dude, I was even more pissed at that point. The fuck. You do not leave the house when I wanna yell at you. You just don’t. Period. I was so pissed I took out the frozen chocolate cake from the freezer and started eating. Emotional eating yo. Do you know how frustrating it is to look forward to yelling at someone and finding out the fucker wasn’t home? Wah, damn frustrating okay. I went to bed angry that night.

 

 

But I didn’t get a real good sleep cause my throat have been sore for the last few days. I think the frozen chocolate cake was the last straw cause I was pretty much coughing and clearing my throat all night long. Then at about 2am there was a knock on my bedroom’s door. I know it was 2am cause I go to sleep with my mobile phone okay. At first I thought I was hallucinating and then I heard it again. The knock.

 

 

On my bedroom’s door.

 

At 2 in the morning.

 

 

At first I thought “Oh, NOW he wanna have the talk? Fucker.” Then it occurred to me that people don’t talk at 2 in the morning. Which bring me to the next logical explanation in my still drugged with sleep mind- he’s outside my door. With a knife. And the moment I open the door he gonna stab me cause he is a psycho and he is pissed with me. Dude, I totally woke up at that point. I was like “Shit! Shit! I have no exit strategy! Ohmygod ohmygod! The window has bars on it…..maybe if I kick it really hard I can still get away.” And then he knocked again.

 

 

There’s nothing else I could do but to open the door. I opened it slowly and he was standing there, but instead of holding a knife to stab me with….he was holding a bottle of cough medicine. I stared at him.

 

 

“Hey, I was downstairs watching the TV. I can hear you from down there. You sound pretty bad.”

 

I just stared at him.

 

“I got this cough syrup. It could make you feel better.”

 

Even in my paranoia induced mind I realize something: "This fucker is goooood." Oh man, he gonna be one smooth ass lawyer.

 

So I was like “No, I’m okay. My mom gave me like a whole bag of medicine before she left. So yeah, I got it covered.”

 

“You sure? Do you need Strepsils or something? Cause I think 7/11 is still open. I can go get it for you.”

 

Oh yeah….he is goooooood.

 

“No, I’m good.”

 

So we just stood there, staring at each other. Me still dry coughing, he in all his evil mastermind glory. And I did the only thing I could. I gave him his chocolate bunny. You see, it’s Easter now and there are chocolate bunnies all over the place. About a week ago I bought 2 chocolate bunnies for him and Tanya, as a gesture of goodwill. This was before the whole not-cleaning-after-himself-fuckery. I already gave Tanya hers but because I was pissed with Chris, I decided that I am not gonna give him his bunny. I’m gonna eat it myself. Fucker won’t be getting any bunny from me. But the hell, he was standing there at 2am with cough medicine okay.

So I gave him his bunny.

 

“Oh thanks CD. Do you celebrate Easter though?”

 

“No, but you do. Enjoy your bunny. I’m gonna try go to sleep now. Nites.”

 

So I went to sleep again, not knowing whether I should be happy that I am still alive and not stabbed to death….or be wary cause my asshole housemate is an evil mastermind.

 

 

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. 

 

My mama always say, stupid is as stupid does....

When you were young, I'm sure you've done your fair share of stupid shit. I mean, it's only natural for us to experiment with stupidity before we embark on a life of pseudo-intellectualism. This is not the case with the Constantly Dramatic One because sadly, I am still stuck at that stupid level.

 

Anyways, today I want to take a trip down stupidity lane. I think this should be a like a new section in Dramatic Musings. It should be a section in which I highlight my adventures into stupidity. Which is really often. Half the damn time I found myself caught in something so ridiculously absurd and stupid, that there are no words to even explain it. One of my aunts, who sadly have passed away due to leukaemia, once told me that stupid things only happen to stupid people because smart people are too smart to get caught in stupid things. I wonder if she tells this to all her nieces and nephews or just to me cause she knows what was coming. Guess I will never get the chance to ask her that.

 

 

Let me tell you of the really stupid shit I have done. Back in school I had this really close friend, let’s call her Nessa*. Anyways Nessa and I was really close, the type that still call to talk on the phone after school, private nicknames for each other…that type you know. So one day Nessa gave me a gift, just out of the blue. Turns out it was a book, I can’t remember what the title was, but it had two teenage girls dancing on the beach on the cover. The Constantly Dramatic One, being the Constantly Dramatic One, decided that somehow those two girls represented Nessa and I. The book was about these two bestfriends who were really tight and then one of them got cancer and this is the story of how the friends stayed together through everything. Eventually the other girl dies and the one that survives realise that she could never have another friend as good as her.

 

I remember finishing the book at round 2.30ish in the morning and crying my eyes out. I was like “OMG, Nessa has cancer! This is why she gave this book! She couldn’t tell me the truth cause she’s scared so she gave me this instead!!" Now, please bear in mind that this was the era before every Tom, Dick and Harry had a mobile phone so I couldn’t actually call her house phone at 2am now can’t I? Her mom would kick my ass. So the next day in school, the moment I saw Nessa, I gave her like a really tight hug and I said:

 

“It’s okay Nessa, it’s okay. I love you and I understand and I will be there with you every step of the way. If you need to go to chemo, I will go with you. Every step of the way.”

 

“CD, what the hell are you talking about?”

 

“The book Nessa! The book! You have cancer.”

 

“What?!!”

 

“Well….you gave me the book remember? About the bestfriends and then one of them have cancer and….I know this is your way of telling me.”

 

“Woman! I don’t have cancer!”

“Well I don’t have cancer either. Why did you give me the book then if not to tell me something?”

 

“I just thought that the cover is pretty and I wanna buy you something pretty. I don’t have cancer.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Fucking stupid okay. Fucking, fucking stupid. Sometimes a book is just a book. Okay and then you guys remember when I was in Grease right? So there was this one dance rehearsal that we had to go to and for practicality’s sake I always make sure that I wear proper attire when I go to these rehearsals. The thing was….I forgot that it was in fact a dance rehearsal; I thought we were doing lines that day. So….I wasn’t dressed properly. When I say wasn’t dressed properly, I mean I was wearing this flimsy demi-cup bra instead of sports bra.

 

 

Dude, bad fucking mistake. Seriously.

 

 

The choreographer made us jumped up and reached as high up as we could. So that’s what I did, I jumped and reached as high as I could…and then my boob popped out. I really wish that I’m making this up…but no. I am not. Oh God. Okay to be fair I was wearing a shirt, that even when the boob popped out, said boob was still inside the shirt and not out for the whole world to see. Thank God for small miracles like that. But holy crap, I panicked okay. Wouldn’t you if your boob popped out? Dude, the rest of the rehearsal was like this haze of paranoid “Holy fuck! Is my boob popping out again?” and I kept on petting my girls to check if they’re in place. Until at one point one of the girls from the cast came up to me said “CD, can you please stop touching your breasts? The boys are watching.”

 

 

See, told you I do stupid shit.

 

 

I am one of those people who are not into gadgets and cars. I just don’t care. When anyone discuses one of these things, I listen but I don’t really care. It’s like white noise. Doesn’t concern me one bit, so yeah…whatevs. Over the years I came to learn that there is this super awesome vehicle called “Bimmer” and that it’s supposed to be really awesome with supreme horse power, very expensive, bla bla bla and that if you drive it then you are like totally cool. So in my mind, I equated it like this: Expensive + fast + supposedly “cool” = Bimmer. It never occurred to me to Google up Bimmer to see how it looks like or in fact, if it was the car’s actual name. I just don’t care.

 

Then last year, I invited my college friends for Aidilfitri. One of my friends took one look at our driveway and he said

 

“Wow CD! You have a Bimmer?”

 

“No dude, we don’t have a Bimmer.”

 

“But I saw one in the driveway. The silver one.”

 

“Oh…that’s not a Bimmer. That’s a BMW.”

 

Total, complete silence.

 

And then those creatures I call friends started laughing like the bitches that they are and I don’t understand why. I was like “Oh, did I say something funny?” Apparently, I did. Apparently, BMWs are Bimmers. It’s the same shit. How the fuck am I supposed to know that? No one ever told me that it’s the same shit. We don’t refer to my mom’s car as “Bimmer” or “BMW”- we always call it “Mom’s car”. Example:

 

 “No CD, you cannot drive Mom’s car.” OR

 “Mom’s car is much more expensive than your car so you cannot drive it CD” OR

 “There’s a reason why you can’t drive Mom’s car, cause its 'Mom’s car' and not 'your car'.”

 

See? My whole family never let me live this one down; they think it is the funniest shit ever. My sister phone home and goes “Hey CD! Have you seen a Bimmer today? It’s in our driveway! Haha!” Like…oooh, so fucking funny. Its like 2 bucks a minute to call from Finland to Malaysia and woman waste it on that. And she’s a lawyer. You would think a lawyer would not be as juvenile, right?

 

 

So why am I telling you all this? Simple. This is my New Year’s resolution:

 

 

the Constantly Dramatic One’s 2009 New Year Resolution

 

1)    Stop committing random acts of stupidity. Stop it. Just fucking stop it.

 

That’s it. Just one. If I can go though 2009 without any stupid shit, then 2009 would be a great success. Wait, you know what…I got more.

1. Stop committing random acts of stupidity.
   
2. Do not get my ass thrown in jail. (This is possible. I wholeheartedly believe that I am capable of committing big scale white collar crime. Seriously.) (I also believe that if I do get my ass thrown in jail...I'll be someone's bitch in 30 seconds, flat.)
   
3. Do not buy high powered, long range binoculars just to stake out a firehouse….with hot firemen in it. (Note to self: No matter what the voices in your head are saying, just don’t CD. Just don’t.)
4. Stop kicking doors open while shouting “This is Sparta!”…. and spraining toes in the process.
5. Have hot, kinky sex with Clive Owen.

 

 

Right, okay. Those are my resolutions for 2009. What’s yours?

 

*******

 

P/S: Comment moderation is off cause my internet is being a bitch. Friends, you know the drill: no names, no universities, no countries, no towns- no details. Haters, have a field day.