Work's can almost be a joy but me being too tired to do anything afterward brings my euphoria down a little. :) I've been a casual employee for a catering company these past 2 days as well as tomorrow. It's a pretty simple job, really. I mean, the only difficulties I've come across is the coffee machine running out of coffee and insufficient bread for hot dogs. Nope, not difficult at all. But the crowd almost never stops once it hits lunch hour until I get off. And everyone picked the carrot cake so I couldn't have one as my little reward. :( Ah well. The hot dogs look yummy and I've yet to try them. Mmmm!

I don't really like asking the male customers if they'd like sauce on their hot dogs. Or worse, sausages.

As I was waiting for Joanne to get off work at the bus-stop this afternoon, a rather aged man holding what looked like a dead cigarette stopped in his tracks and demanded to know why I wasn't smiling. Stupid me didn't sense trouble and I thought I heard the wrong thing so I asked, "What?" He invited himself to sit next to me on the bench.

Then I smelled the alcohol.

Shit.

He continued rambling on and on about how people never smile, even ugly women, I should smile, I'm a beautiful lady, I must have a 'better half' waiting at home for me. Whilst my head was screaming, WTF WTF, I just replied that I was tired, yes, I will smile more often, and no, I don't have a 'better half'. I tried sending SOS to the people walking along the street but all of them just didn't give a crap. Argh, fine, don't help me! Grrr... He pointed to a woman and said, "See, she's not smiling either!" I just forced a smile in reply. He invited me to have a drink, and I said that I'm not 18. He then asked me to have tea with him. What, he thinks he's English?! I declined, saying I had to go home.

Finally, Joanne rang me. I told him that I have to leave and he replied, "No, you just stay here, I'll go." He touched my leg a bit as he got up to leave and I winced. Thanks for copping a feel, basket. :P I saw Joanne across the street and told her all about it. After a good laugh, she told me that I can't just sit anywhere in the Valley (otherwise known as Chinatown). I had already known that the Valley is full of shady characters but I didn't know that today was my lucky day. :P

Tomorrow, I'm hiding out at the cafe. I don't care if I spend unnecessary money, I'm not sitting at the bus-stop!

Blah blah I know everything blah.
OMGShutTheHellUp, thanks.
All raving on about Looney. Looney. Looney.
I don't careee! Ergh.
Boring people talking. No one really cares what they have to say.
Why would you pay an ounce of attention to them?

Blue, white, red.
Sheesh, it's weird to see Gerrard and Beckham training side by side.

.... Why are you still bitching?!
Okay, why the hell did you just wish England fans luck?
=.=

Oh look, the cute kids = teams are out.
Shhh.. they're singing.
Glad I can't hear Beckham's voice. It makes me wince.
Neville looks like he's praying. Awww.
I can't still get over Gerrard's hotness. *STEAMMMM*
Or Crouch's height.
Alright, it's starting.

Yes, I do have to get up at 8 tomorrow. Just maybe England will finish it off in the first half and I can visit Dreamland for longer. ;)

WTF I practically can't see shit. =.= This is what happens when you don't have damn cable TV.

GOALL!L!LL!L!L!LL!L!L!
Lol, own goals are so annoying and satisfying at the same time.
Heh, they keep replaying it.

I feel sorry for Villar. :(
His sub looks quite similar to him.
Actually, half the team does.
Okay, maybe it's just me.

Haha, my housemate, Ryan, just asked me, where's Crouch?
Ya know, I ask myself that all the time.
MIA. =P

Argh, Owen, why'd you leave Liverpoollllllll?
Bitch.

Ryan: Now I want to play soccer
Me: It's not soccer; it's football, if you don't mind.

Argh, fricking referee with a metal helmet for a head.
Riveros the drama queen.
Stew-pittttttt!

Hayden (my other housemate): Is Beckham the captain for England?
Me: Yes.
Few seconds later
Me: Man, I need to educate you guys! No guy should ask that!

SHIT!!
RED CARD!!!
Bitch..
Someone shoot that idiot who happily crashed into Gerrard.

Still. cannot. get. over. Crouch's. height.

Offside, Owen, darl.
I see the flags.
Heh, such familiarity.

Oh. My. God.
I just had to explain this funny comment about Eriksson to Ryan.
Cause he didn't know who he was.
Eeks.

Ryan: Skills, Beckham, skills..
Me: The only skills Beckham has is with his hair.
Yah, I just don't like him...
Okay, he is playing well. Fine.

Ryan: Who's that dude? He looks like he's got fake hair!
Me: Ferdinand!

Me: Have you noticed someone's missing?
Silence.
Me: Forget it.
I meant Looney, of course.

Me: Yes, the most expensive player when he transferred to Man U.
My bad, it's defender.
Ryan: What? I've never heard of him.
=.= X 10000
Ryan: Or maybe I have.
=.= X 100

4 minutes stoppage!!
Okay, fine, so a few of them got injured.
Ish.

Is it me or is England just not playing very well?
They look so... disconnected.

Holy shit.
That was close...
Really good effort on Valdez's (correct me if I got the wrong name, guys!) part.
Man, if he had gotten that one in...
Looks like Lady Luck's with England tonight.

Half-time now.
Yay, more replays.
Hehe.

Reading Hantu Bola.
Ahh Bex, I've just finished your post. I'm stuck in between. How would you classify me? I love watching the sport whenever I can (Australia still thinks it's soccer and their Australian Football League has nothing to do with football), not interested in the history, tactics, etc., the guys are drool-worthy, read Hantu Bola and Soccernet quite a bit and I'm quite decent with the rules.
Vincent just said I'm a group 2 woman. I think I agree.
I sure as hell am not group 1 or 3. :P

Yah, Australia and their Soccerbooboos.
Don't likeeee.
Met a Singaporean last night and we laughed about how Japan is gonna trash Australia.
Go Japan! :P

Half-time's ended.
I miss watching the Nevilles play together. :(

Still. talking. about. Looney.
Shut. Up. Shut. Up.

Nooooooo!
Owen's going out.
Sheesh.
And I dunno his sub.
Aiks.
He'd better be good!

Neville's throw-ins always look so skillful.
Makes it look so effortless.
*jealous*

Awwww, close, Joe Cole!

I'm beginning to like Robinson. A lot, a lot. :)
Yay for good goalkeepers.
His yellow-ness makes him look like a happy lark too.

I really, REALLY don't like this ref.
Someone give HIM a red card. =P
Looks like an anal basket.
(Okay, now I'm just being horrid)

Whoa, stadium looks so congested...
Yes, I just noticed. :P
And who picked red for the refs and assistants' uniforms?!
What was he/she thinking??
Is it some official thing? 'Cause I reckon it's the worst colour possible.

Sleepy. Can England just score so I can go to sleep? :P
And I do acknowledge that Paraguay isn't too bad.
England seems more in possesssion, but only slightly.

Awww!! Lampard almost scored!
Sheesh.

Anal ref at work.

Can the commentators please get over the fact that Looney's not playing?
Jeez.

75 minutes.
Ooh yes.

Some of the buses I catch have an ad supporting England for the World Cup. It says '1966, and 2006?' as well as 'C'mon England!'
Yeahhhh, c'mon!

Trinity asked me where I'm watching at.
No, I didn't sneak into a pub in the city and bring my laptop with me. No Russian guys buying me Stella Artois. No one else sitting here watching this with me since my housemates have all gone to visit Dreamland. I did feel like having junk food and finishing off my Hoegaarden though at the start of the match. But the mood just left. Maybe cause I know it's not cold. Gotta wait till Clare leaves for France before I use her fridge. Heh.

**Mexican wave!**
Wish I could be there in Germany. :(
But noooo, I'm stuck here with exams.
Dumb.

Neville and his throw-ins again.
So amazing. :(

GET OVER LOONEY ALREADY, CAMERAMAN!
Shit.

Paraguay players look tired.
Crouch has an infatuation with being offside.
It might as well be over.
Moveeee.

Full-time.
1-0 to England.
What's with the uncooperativeness, guys!
Well, Trinidad & Tobago's next.
Hopefully they'll have changed for the better then.

C'MON ENGLAND!! :D

Nah, it's not something wicked. ;) But wicked as in cool applies here.

I remember first reading a review on Kanye West's 'Late Registration' album on some website, possibly The Star's, and it wrote something along the lines of 'here's a guy who's arrogant and makes good music; a real rarity'. I actually know such a person in real life (no, don't swarm me with requests for Kanye's autographs). Thankfully, EmceeDavid doesn't just own that quality, he's also a really honest and lovely guy.



EmceeDavid is the emcee (duh) of a hip-hop/rock band Vespertine that I'm a big fan of. 'Wen Ying' seems like ages ago, but it remains a classic on my playlist. This solo effort of his, entitled Just Listen LP is about to be released in the stores mid-July, and the tracks I've heard are really good. Think hip-hop with threads of R & B.

Here, I'm doing my bit as a friend and a fan to let you guys know that you can listen to a sampler of the album HERE. It'll give you a good feel of the album, and you can decide for yourself if you'd like to get it when it's out. If you're like me and love dancing (skills not required in the privacy of your bedroom), then turn on 'The Get Down'. Really loud. I remember how excited David was when he first got me to listen to it. 'Smoothhhhhhhh'. Lol. Alternatively, if you prefer R & B fused with your hip-hop, go with Streetlights.

I think David can go far with his music, but not without people buying his album. Don't judge the music before you hear it, alright? Give it a listen!

(Links to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

And so you decide, after much thought and consideration, to let him know. You execute it perfectly, time and place, just as you had mentally rehearsed those thousand times before. She is mumbling something or other about him again, and your frustrations gets the better of you. You blurt out your feelings for her, release the dam that you could no longer restrain. He looks at you apprehensively, as if seeing you in a completely different light. She stops in mid-sentence, and quickly looks away into the distance. The sky somehow looks darker than before.

It's become deadly silent. And frightening cold. The sound of your noisy surroundings has melted away to nothing.

You grip your coffee mug tighter, hoping to derive some warmth from the porcelain. He opens his mouth to speak, but then nothing comes out, and so he shuts it again. The wind blows her hair as she appears lost in thought. You pray silently that you have not done the wrong thing. He's gone back to staring at the table legs, as if they held the answers to everything. She puts down her coffee mug and pulls her sweater tighter around her.

"Please, say something... anything."

"I..."

(I've split the story here, for the guy and girl)

She reaches across the table and takes your hand. You stare at her delicate fingers and then reluctantly look up into her eyes. You could almost fall into those black whirlwind of circles. Just as you always have, you wish you could tell what was going on in that pretty head of hers. It's so hard to sit there without noticing how beautiful she is. It hit you then that you finally comprehend what fantasy writers mean by ethereal beauty.

She runs her thumb over your palm and smiles at you sadly. And you realise that this is the closest you'll ever get to her, physically or mentally. Only one touch, and the little that you can transmit to each other in the short seconds. Before she even speaks, you know what she's going to say.

'I still...'

'Yes, I know. You still have feelings for him..."

She shifts about in her seat, eyes fixed on the ground, like a child being interrogated by the principal. But you both knows she has done nothing wrong. You lift up her chin to silently let her know it's okay to speak her mind. You've come so far; you just want to know. And so she finally looks back at you, a streak of determination in her eyes.

"Yes, I do..."

You've always known; you just needed to hear it from her. And now that you've heard it, you wonder if it was worth it, whether you ought to have silently held on or taken the path you just did, even if it was by accident. You both slump back in your seat, and she's gone a little pale.

The thoughts running through your head don't really make any sense; it seems like there are twenty trains on disaster track, about to collide and crash into some unrecognisable jumble of metal and fire. You tug at your shirt collar. The biting cold has given way to stifling heat that eats away at you. You look at her. She's covered her pretty face with her hands, resting her forehead on the table, resorting to mumbling incoherently.

"Hey, it's okay... It's not your fault."

She looks up again, and you know that it wasn't wrong to tell her. You just needed her to know. Now that that was out of the way, it is up to her what she wants to do about it. She has a choice to make, whether she wants to let him go. You try your best to summon a reassuring smile, your heart struggling to manage an easy task turned arduous.

"I just wanted you to know. I know you still... had feelings for him, but I just couldn't keep it to myself any longer. Somehow, some part of me snapped and realised that if I kept waiting and waiting, the time would never come. I could be standing at a train station now for the train that is never going to come. And I... I just wanted to know if..."

She nods. You know that you didn't just say all that for yourself. It was for her as well. How much longer she could take it, you didn't know. But you do know she deserves better. You take a deep breath; you need to push on.

"You have to decide, girl. How much longer can you push yourself to take everything in your stride? I know it hurts pretending that it doesn't matter he's probably hooking up with someone else now. But it doesn't have to be this way..."

At first, there is shock and anger on her face. Then it all crumbles down to reveal all the hurt she had tried to store away in the dark. Slowly, she washes away the dark secrets written on her face with her tears. You reach out to give her a hug, and she continues crying on your shoulder. You hold her, wishing it would last forever, but you know this will have to do... for now. Wiping away her tears, you whisper in her ears that you're always going to be here for her, whether she decides to continue down the road with him, take a gamble with you, or just let everything go back to the way it was. You push back your chair. It's time to go. She needs time.

She lets go of your hand and kisses you on the cheek. Sadly, you think to yourself that you were wrong before to think that her touch was all you could take away with you from this night. You painfully walk away from her, hoping that maybe tomorrow when she calls with the bad news, you could still go back to being the friends you were a few hours ago...

Ya know, I must've written about this 5 billion times already, but by reading someone's blog, you don't KNOW them. All you know is the parts of them that they might blog about, or let you know. So just because sometimes I write about my family, you don't know my family. Don't pretend you do. I might write about my surrogate family in Brisbane but there's so much more you don't know. I can tell you that yes, I've done a bit of drinking, but that doesn't mean I'm an alcoholic.

See, the thing with this blog is it started as a bit of a joke, really. Back then, it wasn't even THE in thing. Right now, everyone and their babies and their babies' babies have blogs, especially with Friendster and MSN Spaces, so it's not as if blogs are French. I digress. :P Anyway, my friends urged me to start one because they had one, and we could write whatever we want. Liss was the funny one, always making me crack up in tears. Pris was the all-around nice person, inviting everyone to say something in her blog. Thanks for getting me started. :)

Then when I came to Brisbane, it became my way of letting the guys back in Malaysia know I was still alive. Never would I expect that one day, I'd be linked to any other blog that didn't belong to people I know or see in everyday life. I'm still honoured, guys! I didn't know I was link-worthy. :) And so maybe I've cut down on my 'I had pasta for dinner' or 'Pris, you should've seen the amount of Japanese hotties' posts and written about PPS noobs or Blogs Malaysia members plugging their own posts (Yes, I've said this 29 billion times already).

But I know that my friends know me best. They know that if there was anything that I needed to tell them, I'd let them know. MSN, blog, phone, whatever. I might talk a bit about stuff like that fainting episode in university (I still don't reckon it's a big deal, guys. Really. :P), or my encounters with strange people (the barista is one), but all I write about is what I don't mind a perfect stranger knowing. I don't care if he knows that I think Steven Gerrard is a right hottie. Or that the doctor at the hospital was a cutie. I don't care if he knows that I watched a football match in the city with my friends and their random Russian friends bought me one of the best beers ever.

Oh, but you can bet I'd be pissed if he thinks I'd drop my undies principles and just walk into Steven Gerrard's/that doctor's bedroom blindfolded. Or that I would just drink anything and everything this world has to offer if it was free. You don't know me. All you know is what I say and what you think it means. You may be right, but maybe it's nice that you ask instead of just shooting your mouth off, feeling damn proud of yourself. A blog's a blog. It's not my autobiography. I don't record every moment in my life that I consider a milestone, or highlight my every footstep.

All I'm saying is people who haven't known me in real life long enough, or funnily enough, haven't even spoken to me, don't know me. Nope. Not at all. I don't see why you think yourself qualified to speak about my life. Just because I think that Stella Artois is one of the best beers you can have here (I consider it on par with Hoegaarden, actually) doesn't make me an expert. Or an alcoholic. So yes, those of you who dislike the way I am because of what I say, maybe you just don't know me. But I'm not gonna bother myself finding out and whining about why the hell you don't like me. I've been told life's too fucking short for that. You can tell me if you're so inclined to do so.

But don't assume you know me, hide behind nicknames. Anyone older than 8 knows that nicknames are reserved for playgrounds. By being derogatory or insulting me, you're only telling others that you sink that low because you can't find any substance for what you have to say. I'm only telling you this because I feel sorry for people who cannot for the life of them hide their level of intellect.

Blogs are not meant to tread on people's toes, but whoever said you can tread on mine?

Fuck. Okay, I took this tiny amount of text I had written after the picture on the 'Temptation.' post cause I thought it diverted the attention from the message. Because the message is obviously what's important to me. Here's the deal: The vodka bottle is sym-fucking-bolic. I'm not an alcoholic.

Shit, I like the taste of water and latte better than tequila and tequila is my favourite drink. It's not a fucking crime to have a favourite drink. I take pride in the fact that I do not walk into walls after one beer, because I was always told, by my parents, no less, that it's good that girls know how to drink. So they won't get cheated. But I'm a self-confessed coffee-holic, what the hell does that say to you?

Then again, I do not need to fucking defend myself, shit.

For fuck's sakes. I'd appreciate it if the commentary is not on how much I drink but the message. THE FUCKING MESSAGE. I took the time with Macromedia Fireworks only 'cause I wanted it not to look like a random chunk of text I regurgitated because people obviously wouldn't be interested in that, and all I'm after is constructive criticism of my work. Yes, it's MY WORK. I did not just paste some lyrics I heard in a song. I actually devote time to what I write.

I'm not after another mom or dad who'll tell me whether I can drink or can't drink or how much I should drink. Fuck.

I love writing. I like that sometimes words is all I have because I know I have the ability to put anything I want down in words. It's not me being cocky; it's knowing that I can actually do it that makes me feel like I can do something right, even if it's the only thing I can do right. So when I do it, if I'm doing it wrong, I want people to let me
know. That's the point of me making it look like the most readable thing in this blog. So that you guys would actually speak up. It's not like one of my normal 'I'm bitching to you about my day' posts.

I'm done. You done? Okay. Now if you want to say something, please don't say that I drink too much, or any shit like that. You wanna say it, let it be a joke. It's not funny when you're being fucking serious. Please let it be about the message.

P/S: I'm sorry about the amount of swear words in this one, but I really am mad over this. This is my breaking point.

A whole bunch of us went over to Leonard's yesterday for steamboat. Whoever had the idea of steamboat on the 3rd day of winter is completely genius. :) Mahjong and cards last night were really fun. I've learnt new games to play now, yay! Maybe next time, we'll remember to bring sleeping bags. Four people cramped on a double bed is a certified bad idea, especially with a running quilt! :P

Funny how when you're having such a good time, you conveniently forget all about exams. Heh! I just need to get my head around to revising my work before exams. 15th-20th June. And then I'll be free for a month! I'll be deciding my subjects for next semester soon, and it looks like it's all gonna be psych subjects. No more smart and interesting electives that I'll do badly in. Awww... maybe I ought to be happy. :)

Honestly, Political Science and International Relations were my interesting subjects. They kept me alive, made me feel a bit more aware and much less stupid. I mean, to be able to give constructive opinions about the Cold War or Liberal ideas may not be the best thing to be armed with when studying about Freud's development theory, but who says it's gotta all be about my field of study?

Trust me, it isn't easy to analyse one of Bush's speeches. Especially when you know the ending to the story: he was lying through his tiny teeth.

But I've decided that I'd better get my compulsory subjects over and done with, and then leave the electives for another semester when I will crack with too many intense subjects. And the CGPA needs to look just a bit stunning till the end of this year. ;)