The Impossible

I never thought the day would come. The day where I would voluntarily get into a dress.

It was for Interact Installation. Anyway, my friend made a good point. She said if I didn't go, I would be the only one who has never attended a formal event. Which kinda sucks. I so don't want to be left out. It's not cool.

Maybe years later, my friends would be all,

'Hey, remember the time we were in formal wear?'

And the others would be like,

'Oh, yeah, yeah! That was fun!'

And I would be like,

'No...' =(

So came the impulsive decision. The first step was to tell my mum. Which I thought would be kinda tricky. I'm like unofficially grounded or something. Mana tau...in the end she so happy sampai drag me all over Taiping to find the dress. What a waste of time fretting about it. I guess she was just glad that I finally wore a dress.

I know this because she said,

'Finally, you wear a dress.' 

And my dad too. Though he didn't really know what was up. He just saw my status on facebook and over-hyped himself. I should really use this to my advantage. I see a car in the near future. Heh Heh.

(Click here to see the drama queen in action.)

So my mum took me to go dress hunting. I was cringing internally through the whole process. Even now, every time I time I type the word 'dress', I shiver. Seriously. Look.

Dress.

*shivers*

See?

Since I have virtually zero experience in this, I had no choice but to have faith in my mum's taste. Yes, that's how inexperienced I am. The event was at night and I was buying the dress *shivers* in the afternoon. The only other person I had contact with on such short notice was my younger brother. It would be highly illogical to ask him instead of my mum. Highly, highly, illogical.

So basically, my mum dragged me to all these shops or boutiques and picked out dresses for me. I just stood at the corner waiting, intimidated by all the clothes. Then, my mum would throw a pile of dresses at me and told me to go try them on.

This is the part that made me blurr. BLURR.

So I went into the fitting room, (DUH). Changing outside for the world to see would be so degrading...and in Malaysia, possibly illegal. But the fitting rooms aren't that great either. They basically just consist of 3 very unstable wall-like things and a flimsy curtain. I have never felt more insecure.
What if a huge gust of wind suddenly blew the curtains apart?

Damn the tiny boutiques.

So next I look at the pile of clothes. I don't know which one to try on first. This is such a bad idea. I sigh and get on with it anyway. I closed my eyes and pulled one out at random.

And I pulled out a purple dress.

And I thought to myself, 'Right. I'll just put this on and get it over with.'

And then I realised...I didn't know how to put in on. Lame, I know! But these things are actually very complicated! I was searching everywhere for zippers and buttons...in vain I must add. There were none. Zero. Nil. Zilch.

Without the very vital zippers/buttons, how was I supposed to put the damn thing on?! See...this is what happens when all you wear all T-shirts and jeans.

In the end, I concluded that the only way to put it on was to pull it over my head. I simply could not find any other alternate way of wearing it. So I pulled it on...and I couldn't go any further. I only got my neck through.

So, slowly, I tried putting the right arm through first. That failed. Then I tried with my left arm, which failed too. Then I tried it with both arms simultaneously. I don't know why I did that. If I couldn't get ONE arm through, what makes me think that I can get BOTH arms through?

I must have been in there for at least 5 minutes trying to put in on. In the end, I managed to force my way into it. Thank God.

It was then that I saw myself in the mirror. IT WAS HORRIFYING! I looked like a freaking transsexual. Well, maybe not to the untrained eye, but I don't remember ever seeing myself wearing a dress and suddenly...formal wear? Whoa! Baby steps!

Then my mum impatiently said,

'Quickly come out and let me see how you look.'


'Uhh...I'd rather not. I look weird. I'l just try on the next one.'

'What! Let me see first lah!'


And then she yanked open the curtain. And then she laughed. Erghhh.

'I told you I looked weird!'


Insulted, I pulled back the curtains with more force than necessary. This is so SO out of my comfort zone. Outside, I heard my mum telling me to try on the next one. And then I groaned. Oh God...I forgot there were more.

And this is where the weird part comes in. Taking it off was actually ten times harder than putting it on.

I pulled and I yanked and I squirmed and I squeezed but to no avail. It just refused to come off. At the same time, I was afraid the dress would be ripped apart from the force or something. But in the end, I decided to just pull it off with one swift motion. If it refused to come off, I'll just continue pulling it until it does. That was my strategy.

Poorly planned, terribly executed. 

The motion of pulling was what nobody would ever relate to as 'swift'. It was more towards 'klutzy'. And the time when I said I was going to continue pulling until it came off? Yeah, I petty much stopped that when I heard a noise which sounded alarmingly ripp-y-ish.

In the end, I got stuck with one arm out around my head, permanently fixated at that angle. The other was still inside squashed awkwardly, bent like a chicken wing. It looked so much like a chicken wing that it made me want to cry. Why was I looking like a crippled chicken? I was supposed to be miraculously awesome-looking. No...I wanted the opposite of this. =(

Moving on, because of the arm that stuck out, there wasn't much place left for my neck. The result, it got bent at this weird, painful angle. Perpendicularly 90 degrees to my arm. Ouch. I looked like a yoga master...a yogi if you will.

So all in all, yes people. I got stuck.

After accepting the fact that I couldn't move even ONE more centimeter, I decided the only thing left to do was to call for help. Which was so embarrassing. I'm freaking 17 years old and I can't take off a dress. Well, Kudos to me. Trying not to let the sales girl hear (humiliating much), I whispered to my mum telling her I couldn't take it off.

And my mum was so clueless! I was like,

'Mummy...mummy..!'


'What?'


'I have a problem...'


'Huh? I can't hear you. What did you say again?'


'I can't take it off...'


'You what? 


'Shhh! Not so loud! I said..I can't...take it...off!'


'Eh? Wear finish already is it? Then come out and let me see!'


And then she freaking pulls open the curtain.

I gasped. I was like, half-naked trying to take off the damn thing. My semi-nakedness was opened for the world to see. And the fitting room was so small, there were only so many places to hide. I was fervently trying to hop out of view. Yes, hop. Remember, my pose at that time wasn't optimum for escaping.

Boy was I mad.

'Whey! Close the curtain!'


'I thought you said you finished changing already.'


'NOOO. I said I couldn't take it off! How does that even remotely sound like: 


I'm done and not semi-naked! You may now open the curtains and reveal my fully-clothed body for the world to see?!' 


'How would I know what you were mumbling about? And why are you taking so long?'


'I'm stuck.'


'Stuck? How did you manage to do that?'


'I don't know okay. Will you please help me take it off now?'


'You didn't unzip or unbutton is it?'


'NO. I searched through the whole dress. There ARE no zips or buttons.'


And so with our combined efforts, we pulled and yanked and squirmed and squeezed again. It took so long, even my mum was starting to get worried. The time taken definitely passed the five-minute mark. And finally, just when we were both at our wits end, the dress came off. PHEW.

I chased my mum out and gratefully put my own clothes back on. Ahh. The comfort of T-shirts and jeans. I decided not to try any more dresses there. Partly because I was traumatized, but mostly I was so embarrassed. The whole shop heard the whole commotion. Just as I was about to come out, I noticed something on the dress.

It was a zip.

I could not believe my eyes. How did I miss that?! Upon further investigation,I realized it was one of those hidden zippers that cannot be seen from the outside. Now who would go and invent something stupid like that?! Stupid advanced zipper technology.

Designers these days. Now if I were a designer, my designs would be chic, simple, sexy, yet elegant at the same time. Something that designers all over the world have failed to produce in recent years. I would be rich and famous with the likes of Beyonce ordering a gown months in advance and burn money for fun. Oh, and it would have millions of zippers all over the place.

Examples of gowns I would design:

The Deep 'V'.
Specialty: The deep 'V' cuts all the way down across your stomach and ends just an inch above your...you now where. So ladies, be sure to clean your belly button before wearing this beauty.

The Deep 'U'
Specialty: For the more daring ones who think that the deep 'V' is way too conservative, then the deep 'U' is the right dress for you! This dress boasts a plunging neckline...very plunging indeed. The best thing about this dress? No need for belly-button cleaning!

Infiniti.

More to come..the deep 'O's', the deep 'W's'...and many more dresses will be added to this exciting collection!

Well, there is an ending to the story. I got sidetracked. Finally at the seventh shop, my mum found a dress that didn't make me look like a gorilla. And the shoes! She kept insisting that I wear heels! I told her the dress was my limit and I couldn't take in anymore. It was too overwhelming. But my mum kept on saying that if I didn't wear heels, then I wouldn't look nice in the dress. And I said something along the lines of yeah right. Everyone looks at my shoes.

Fast forward a few hours later, and I'm getting ready for this thing. I really had no patience for this dress thing, and I stood in front of the mirror looking at myself impatiently. I had my hands on my hips and all that. My mum walked by and she gasped when she saw me.

'That is so unlady-like!'

And then she spent the next 30 minutes teaching me how to walk properly. LAME!

I'll continue this another day...possibly after SPM. I'm too damn lazy. Haha. Goodbye people!

Rat

I'm angry right now! Or sad. Or desperate. I don't know ok?!

Before you think that I'm going through a break up or something, please know that I'm talking about a rat. Yes, a rat. And no, I'm not dating this rat. It's just a rat that suddenly appeared in our house a month ago. And it just pops in and out as it pleases.

My mum is like, freaking terrified of rats. Like, seriously. She'll just scream and scream and scream when she sees a rat. Any rat, anywhere. Even at hawker centres, when a rat runs by like ten tables away, she'll start screaming. And then I'll look away and pretend I don't know what's happening.

Yes, it's the real deal my mum's fear of rats. Apparently, the fear of rats is known as Musophobia. Nice word, no? It suits the fear.

So anyway, my mum went on and on and on about this rat. Every single day since the rat appeared she has to talk about it at least once.

Everyday she'd be like, 'Yorr, girl ah, what to do?'


Then I'll be like, 'What? Catch it lah. I say so many times already.'


And she'll be like, 'I dare not catch it! I dare not take away the cage!'


And then I'll be like, 'I take lah. I said SO many times already.'


And she'll be all, 'Really? You say one har?'


And I'll be like, 'YES. I said SO MANY TIMES ALREADY!!!'


And then she'll say, 'Aiyah, don't want lah, don't want lah. So disgusting.'


And then I'll be all, 'Suak. After the rat reproduce and give birth to a million baby rats don't come and find me.'


And she'll be like, 'Yerr..girl ah! Why you like that one!'


But the next day, when she finds out the rat ate her potato/bread/banana or whatever, the whole conversation would be repeated all over again.

And I have no idea why people can be so afraid of rats. Like my mum, she's not afraid of cats but she's afraid of rats. I mean, why? If you're afraid of animals in general then I understand. But this is just so weird.

If you think about it, cats are actually bigger than rats. And cats don't run when they see you. In fact, they come closer if they think there's a chance for free food.

Rats on the other hand, run even when they hear a remotely human-like sounding activity. And they take your food quietly in the middle of the night. It doesn't kacau you at all.

Yes, yes. I know rats are dirty. They carry diseases and stuff. They bite through your electricity cables. And they bite through your rubbish bag. And they steal your food. And cats clean themselves. And they don't carry diseases. And at least they don't steal food, they beg for food. And they kill rats.

Anyway, my mum finally gave in one day. She bought a rat trap...and rat poison to go with it. I've never seen rat poison before. I thought rat poison was a liquid or soultion. And then you put it on the food that the rat is supposed to eat. But it's not like that at all!

It's a little pink roundish thing, and the rat is supposed to eat it. After eating it, the rat is supposed to feel like, super thirsty or something and go drink water. When it drinks the water, the water is supposed to have a chemical reaction of some sort with the rat poison, and the rat dies.

You know what the weird thing is? My mum does not even dare to touch the rat trap. Sweat, right? I had to put that smelly dried sotong on the hook of the cage.







Something like that. When it bites the sotong, which is hooked on to a wire, the spring will be activated and the door will close.

My mum went on full offence. She set the trap and put rat poison everywhere.

The first few nights the rat didn't bite the bait. My mum started thinking that maybe my neighbour's crazy theory was true. This 'theory', so called, is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Look at it.

Crazy theory: Rats understand human language and therefore knows of your plan to catch it. Hence, it does not fall for traps.

Chinese superstitions are weirddddd.

Anyway, this morning on the 4th day of Operation: Rat Trap, I was rudely awaken by my mum yelling,

'Girl! Girl! The rat! The rat! It's in the trap! It's just sitting there! Faster come and take it awayyyyy!'


I rolled out of bed and went to the trap. Oh and poor rat. It was trying so hard to escape! Biting the walls, sniffing everywhere. It didn't even finish the sotong. It was too scared to eat maybe?

So I went and pick it up. And he/she/it was so pitiful. It looked at me with those eyes.

And that's when something occured to me. I asked my mum,

'What are you going to do with the rat?'


'Kill it, of course!!'


'How?'


'By pouring hot water on it.'


'WHAT?! NO! That's so cruel!!'


'Got what other ways? It's better than leaving it under the sun to be scorched to death.'


'Don't like that lah! It's so inhumane! It didn't even do anything wrong!'


'What? It ate our food!'


'Of course lah, it eats to survive ma! Not its fault!'


'Then what do you suggest we do to it?'


'Take it to a dumpster far away or something?'


'No! It will run back to our house!'


'Oh yeah. Right. I leave it in a dumpster full of food and the first thing it thinks of is to run right back to our house. Even Chihuahua's aren't that stupid'


'And how are we supposed to take it to this 'far away dumpster'? Put in in MY car? NO!'


'Then at least poison it or something lah. Don't use hot water. That's just so wrong. I caught the rat! I get to decide how it dies!'


'Fine. Take it outside. If within one day it doesn't die, I'm using the hot water.'


So I took it outside. Poor rat. I popped in a few of those rat poison things. After half an hour, I went out to check if it ate the poison. It didn't touch any of them! It was still trying to escape. Poor thing. I'm beginning to worry for the rat.

I had no other choice. I gave crazy neighbour's theory a chance and I talked to the rat.

'Uhm hello? Hi there, rat. Listen, you have to eat these pretty pink things. It's good for you. You'd die peacefully like that. It's better than dying by hot water. I've heard that's quiet painful. Don't believe me? Ask your dead ancestors.'


'Don't kill me! I have 40 children to feed! I won't ever come to your house again, please! Is there no other method that does not end in my death?'


'I am sorry, rat.'


No, the rat did not actually reply me. But I think that was what it was saying. I hope it understood what I said.  I'm doubtful though. Just to be on the safe side, I googled:

HOW TO KILL A RAT HUMANELY 

This was what I found.

Cervical dislocation: Place the rat on its belly. Get a slim object to put pressure on the rats neck. Hold it by the tail, and pull back. You should here a ripping/breaking noise. 

(What the hell? This is not humane AT ALL!)

Projectile: Shoot the rat. (Ideally with a bb gun.) However there will be blood. So clean well. 

(Ewwww!)

Asphyxiation: Get an airtight plastic container. Get a small cup with baking soda and vinegar. Place the rat in the container. Pour the baking soda and vinegar into the cup and put that in the container. Close the lid. The rat should eventually pass out and painlessly die. this is the single most humane way to kill the rat. 

(This actually seems okay. I hope we have vinegar and baking soda in the house!)

I really wish there was some other way that involves not killing the rat. But it seems like there aren't. So say goodbye to your friends and family, rat. =(


Any ideas?!

TomYam YeeMee

Recently, there was some new type of food at our canteen. It's called Tom Yam Yee Mee. Maybe it's been there all the while, I have no idea, but that day was the first time I ate it. I don't recall seeing anybody else eating it though. I would remember.

I have this weird habit of looking at other people's food in the canteen. Not just canteen lah, anywhere. Hawker centre, restaurant, McD's, you name it. I like checking out people's food. Quite often I'll get into this awkward situation where the person catches me looking at his food. Then I'll pretend to look away. When the person continues eating, I'll look again, because I didn't get a good look before.

So anyway, Pei Ting and MooMoo were going to the canteen to order that TomYam YeeMee thing. They asked,

'Eh, you want anot? TomYam YeeMee. Now we are going to order.'


'What's that? Why never hear before one? Nice anot?'


'Oh, nice! But it's very spicy one. Can you take it?'


And then Christine who was just beside me said,

'Oh spicy arh? She cannot one.'


'What what? Who say I cannot! I can! I can! I CAN!'


'Okay, Fine! Fine! Order, ORDER! Eeesh!' 


Which is actually kind of true. I really can't take spicy food.

During recess, I promised myself I was not going to drink a single drop of water. I promised myself, I would battle through the spicy-ness...and come out alive! Anyway, how hot could it be? Bring it on!

We found a place to sit down, and then we started eating. The first few bites were okay. But see, that is what TomYam does to you. It lures you into a false sense of confidence. It makes sure that the food is all over your tongue. And just when you thought that, hey...it's actually not that spicy, that's when it strikes. BAM! And your whole tongue is on FAI-YAH!

The pain started around the sixth spoonful.

I looked around at my friends, they were all chatting happily away, laughing even. And all of them, I am sure, had already surpassed their sixth spoonful. I couldn't stop...yet. I needed to protect my dignity.

I continued eating in silence. The spicy-ness took away my ability to talk. A while later, my friends noticed something was off.

'Hmm..something's not right.'


'Yeah...I feel it too. What is it I wonder?'


'Oh! I know! What happened to April's voice?'


Then they all turned to look at me. I tried to hide my face. It was not a pretty sight.

My mouth was wide opened with my tongue stuck out, trying to reduce the spicy-ness. I was producing alot of saliva to cool down my tongue. I'm a saliva producing factory when I eat hot stuff. Also, I was sweating. The sweat dripped all the way down my face. Down, down, down. To make matters worse, my nose started running. The snot flowed down from my nose like a freaky waterfall. It flowed all the way down to my mouth and mixed with the saliva. And then the sweat flowed down too and mixed with the snot AND saliva. So I had saliva+snot+sweat. The 3 S's.

My eyes were wide opened. And my chopsticks were hanging limply in my hands. I did not have the strength to hold it up. And to make things even more disgusting, I think I saw the 3S solution drip down into my bowl. I seriously hope I was wrong.

And my friends were like, Whoa! Are you okay? 


And being the good friends they are, they went off to get water for me. But that didn't exactly help. The only difference was this:

Anyway, I battled through. I was determined to finish it up. I was actually crying and eating at the same time.

I was all


'Sobs...so hot...I don't want to eat already...'


But anyway, I finished it. Boy, was I proud of myself. What a beautiful moment! But by then, the prefects were all hovering around me. I was supposed to be in class 10 minutes ago. They were killing my buzz.

On the way back to class, I interviewed Christine. She was the only one who didn't find the TomYam spicy. The rest found it a bit spicy. I found it @#%$&* spicy. So I asked her,


'Hey, I'm wondering how you Chilli people can stand the hot-ness?'


'Eat only lah'


'No lah. I mean do you find it hot but you can still take it, or do you not find it hot at all?' 


'Uhm...I don't find it hot at all.'


'Wow...and how do you do that? Could you do that all this while or do you need to train?'


'It's natural...I started eating Chili Padi since I was three.'


'WHAT?!?! You're joking, RIGHT?'


'I'm serious. My mum told me.'


'Oh My-----You're such a freak! Oh I cannot believe this. Age of three, seriously? Seriously?!' 


'Yes, and now stop shouting in my ear! What's wrong with you?!'


Unbelievable! At least now I can take a bit of Chilli and the occasional sambal. When I was small, I could not even take in  a bit. So Christine is really the Chilli goddess. (How do you spell Chilli anyways? Why are there squiggly red lines underneath all my chillis?)


When I was younger, yonks ago, my family would get me to try all these chilli-filled stuff, but I'd always end up drinking more water than eating food. My stomach would be so full of water that most of the time, I only ate like one-tenth of the food.

So they made up this hot-ness scale. Something like the peri-o-meter scale at Nando's.

If you've never eaten at Nando's before (why would you not?!), whenever you order a chicken, you get to choose how spicy it is. See? Lemon & Herb is the least spicy. Followed by Mild Peri-Peri, Hot Peri-Peri and Extra Hot Peri-Peri. And then when your chicken came, it has a little flag stuck on it.

see the flag?

Once, being over ambitious, I decided to step out of my Lemon & Herb comfort zone to try out Mild Peri-Peri. Halfway through the chicken, I was sniffing and tears were rolling down my eyes and snot was running down my nose. It was horrible. I even finished everybody's drinks. My friends with their stupid Extra Hot Peri-Peris were looking at me pitifully.

They were like, 'You should have gone with the Lemon and Herb dude.' 


And I was like, 'I don't need your pity! I can finish this on my own! NO, I DO NOT NEED ANYMORE WATER, thank you very much!


(5seconds later) 


Waiter! One more ice-lemon tea! NOWWWW!!'


After that, I went back to Lemon and Herb and swore never to try anything like that again. Since then, whenever I went to Nando's, I was a lone Lemon and Herb among the sea of Extra Hot Peri-Peris.

yeah yeah, whatever.

My parent's hot-ness scale was not quite so creative. It just contained numbers ranging from 1 to 10. And then they would be like

'Here, try this. It's only a 2.'


(chomp)

(chew)

(pause)

'Aah! Hot! Hot! It's not a 2! It's a 10!!!' 


What an inaccurate scale that was. If my 10 was only their 2, then their 10 would be my 100. There should be a scale with pictures. Something like this that I got off another blog! Such an awesome blog! http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com poeple should really check this out.

1. This food is Chilli-free. I shouldn't be on the scale at all!

2. I am completely unsure if this is spicy or over-salty. Maybe I'm just looking for chopsticks.

3. Oh wow. Okay. It's spreading all over my tongue.

4. Whoa, this is spicy. I thought I ordered no chilli in my food! Water!


5. Why was Chilli ever invented?!


6. Ow. Okay, HOT HOT HOT!! hee-hah! hee-hah!


7. Why would anyone ever torture themselves like this?!

8. OMG. I'm dying. Goodbye friends. Goodbye family.

9. Stand back. Chilli is about to explode out of my face at any moment!

TOO HOT FOR NUMBERS: I see Jesus coming for me!


So I guess I'll spend the rest of my life forever being Pwned by Chilli. =(

THE END

PS: I added a dictionary by the side. I'm all for improving people's English. Haha.
PSS: I took it down. It was so ugly.

Of Dresses and Heels

I have a crisis people! There are lots of farewell parties going on lately. I actually have to attend 4, and 2 of it requires formal wear. Gasp! Dresses!

Obviously, I'm more of a T-shirt and jeans kinda person. And I used to be a tomboy growing up. Maybe I still am...I dunno. What I DO know is that I STILL don't like wearing:

dresses...
or skirts...
or 'blouses'...
or 'tops'...

And I STILL can't stand

puffs...
and lace...
and frills...
and ruffles.

So does that make me Tomboy still? No idea. This is an area best left unexplored. But what I do know is I've improved from the last time. When I was little, (little meaning 12 or so), my mum tried to get me out of my Tomboy ways. For some reason, she decided the best way to do so was to force me into skirts of various kinds.

One fateful dinner night, my mum brought in a skirt and said,

There, you will wear this for dinner. 


I looked at it,

NO.


And my mum said,

What do you mean 'NO'? You will wear WHAT I tell you to wear, WHEN I tell you to wear, WHERE I tell you to wear it to, WHO sees what you wear, and HOW you will wear it!

.yuck..skirt.

Obviously, she was expecting a hard time and had prepared a speech beforehand. But it was a freaking skirt for goodness sake. Generally, skirts and me don't go well together. And I made MY speech next.

NO.


I am quite the debater.

YES, you will. You WILL wear this skirt, you WILL wear it today, you WILL wear it to this dinner, all the aunties and uncles WILL realize that you are a girl, and you WILL wear it with this pink shirt!


Pink?! By the way, I STILL don't like Pink. Long story short, after alot of shouting and yelling and crying (out of anger!), I put on the damn thing and we went to that dinner thing 30minutes late. Imagine you are one of the aunties uncles sitting there, looking forward to a pleasant evening, and suddenly you see this:

Meh, the way I see it, it wasn't my fault at all. My mum should have just let me worn whatever the hell I wanted to wear.

Oh, back to the point! I need to wear formal for these farewells. The earliest being realllly soon. So really, I don't have time to go shopping for 'the right dress'...whatever that is. Anyway, it'd be irrasional to buy a dress that I'm only ever going to wear once. Or twice if I go to both farewells. Haha. So that leaves me with borrowing from somebody.

Which is a problem in itself. Most of the conversations go like this.

Me: Hey, do you have any formal dresses?


Person: Sure, why?


Me: Yeah, I need to go to this farewell thing, and I have to wear a dress. 


Person: Whoaaaaa! April wearing a dress! Hahahahhahahahahahhahahahahha!


Me: Hey, I'm insulted here. What's wrong with me wearing a dress?


Person: I..hahah..need to....hahahahaha..see this! Hahahahha!


Me: Hey hey...it's not that weird okay! What do you think I'm going to wear to my wedding? A tux?


Person: Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaa!! April getting married!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH!!!


Which is my cue to walk away insulted. But actually, I'm not. Heck, I can't even picture MYSELF in a dress and heels.

The second problem is, most people who owns dresses are skinny. They have the confidence to strut their stuff in that uncomfortable thing and make it look as if they have been wearing that since the day they were born. So, these people are mostly anorexic. And well...I'm not. I just can't fit into their size 23's! *looks down sadly at my 29* (This is really something I shouldn't be revealing as public information.)

People! If you have any suggestions or any solutions to my problem, or if you just wanna comfort this poor obese person, please! Leave me a comment or something! I NEED HELP!

#Updated:
I can't go now because I'm so grounded. Because some teacher complained bout me during hari ibu bapa. This spot used to be me ranting about that teacher. I just deleted it a second ago. I have changed my ways. I realized it's wrong even though it's totally their fault.

 YeeYing and Maegan inspired me. Haha. Read bout it here and here.

THE END

I hate my cousin

I was in Penang and jz out of boredom, We started a game of blackjack(inspired by the major motion picture 21). Simple game..jz get as close to 21 without going over. Before we could even start the game, our aunt came over and said: 'What!! Gambling at such a young age?!! I'm ashamed of you!! Reli..blablabla.."

In the end, we couldn't bet more than 20sen per hand. Whoo i can't wait. (=.=!!)
After a few rounds my cousin suggested that we play 2 hands per person. Everybody agreed since our profit couldn't buy a bag of peanuts what with the economic crisis and all(yes, i read!). My cousin earn quite alot, so one thing led to another and u noe wat he did? The maniac played 5 hands. 5 HANDS!!

I noe I said that he had unlimited change..and made chicken noises when he wouldn't raise his bet..and called him a coward when he wouldn't draw a 17..and said he lacked feng-shui when he DID draw to a 17 and went Ka-Boom..and..and..and..oh wait, i lost my point.

Oh i remember now. Okay..so anyway..u noe wat he got?

He got 2 BLACKJACKS, ONE 'NGO-LENG 21', and the other 2 didn't go over.

The congker bust and thus he won every hand. Every hand.

And you noe wat? The congker was me!!!

Anyway..i expect you can see him blabbing about it in his blog rite now.

I bet you...20 cents!!!

The Fight

“I’m moving out and never coming back!” claimed grandma.

“Haiz...but where will you go?” My mum answered my grandma. This wasn’t the first time she wanted to ‘moved out and never come back’. My 3^rd aunt and my grandma were having one of their typical fights. But this one was fast becoming a family fued. They lived under the same roof for over 20 years! Bless me if one of them didn’t get a heart attack soon. Lately, it’s been getting worse, maybe it’s because of menopause or something. Lack of hormones or testorone or astro-whatever-you-call it. Anyway, my grandma had her bags all packed and ready to leave for good. (Rest assured she always came back). She decided to stay at my uncle’s house in Penang forever. Not that my uncle will allow it but as I said, she always came back.

“My last departing wish is..” she said dramatically, “...that you take care of my beautiful flourishing plants!”

I looked over to where she was pointing and saw a bunch of hideous looking wilted flowers.

“Especially this one!” She exclaimed, hobbling over towards a plant.

It was the most hideous of the lot.

“It’s the most beautiful of the lot!”

“What is that thing?”

“I have no idea..” She replied, eyes watering with pride. We stood there for a moment staring at the hideous thing before us. I’m not even sure if it’s a plant. Some unknown species fresh of Mars I expect. Ah well, I always said it was time my grandma needed glasses.

“You know what? You better take this plant back. Just in case. I don’t trust your aunt with it” My grandma said, not bothered enough to lower her voice. In fact, I think she even raised it a little so that my aunt could hear.

“ Yeah! I’ll probably poison it with my cooking, won’t I!” Oh no...

“I just said it needed a little salt! Why do you always have to-”

“Just needed a little salt?! That’s not what you said! Have you already forgotten you old woman?! Let me refresh your memory then! You said my cooking not only tasted disgusting and unedible, you also said it’d be good for rat poison! Now you know what? I have a brilliant idea! I’ll poison your precious plant! No wait, I think I’ll poison you instead! Oh yes..that’s a much better idea! And if there’s a little left over, then I’ll use it as rat poison and poison all those rats your plant attracted!” My 3^rd aunt finally stormed down the stairs.

“ Oh you have crossed the line!” My grandma picked up her bag and started walking down the road. As to where I’m not quite sure. She was seething anyway and probably blinded. As she was in the middle of the road, she tripped on the neighbours chicken. She felled down and yelled. And when her bags fell down on her, she yelled even louder. I think that’s what initiated the chicken to crow.

“COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOOO....!” Well, a sleeping baby sure didn’t appreciate that and started crying. And to add onto that, a car in the horizon started to blare it’s horn. Probably wondering why there was an old woman asleep in the middle of the road. The problem was...she wasn’t asleep. She passed out, thus making her pretty much defenseless. Crap. I think the car also realized that and swerved suddenly to avoid my grandma. It swerved just in time but the sad part was it hit the stupid crowing chicken, which didin’t bother to get out of the way . I watched all this in horror and saw the bloody chicken lying dead on the road. Hmm...Finger Licking Good.

Anyway...long story short..the hideous thing is now at our house.