Wow.

 By, ShadowMax76. (http://ShadowMax76.deviantart.com/art/Men-don-t-cry-sad-one-53594487)

Men don't cry. Though I am a boy, I am the son of a man. My father taught me things, infact everything I hold in my hands. When I fell over on the pathway, just when I was five. I started to cry, and I didn't know why. I couldn't help myself, the pain, the feeling, the anguish, the fear. Overwhelming me, till my dad picked me up on his shoulders, And said;        "Woah, you only fell down! Come now son,           if a tear were in your eyes everytime you fell,           what man would you be? Do you want to be a strong man           like daddy?" I didn't quite understand him, but I knew what I had to do. I learnt my first lesson, in becoming a man. I'm only a boy of 16. And I haven't cried since. Not when I fell off my bike at 7, Not when my parents were mad at me when I was 11, Not when bullies stabbed me with sticks, Not when I was yelled at by my favourite teacher, for crimes I did not commit. But...one time...when it happened, I cried...so hard...in the first time in many years... My sister died, at age 15, by a school beating. I did not weep, I only felt like choking on this feeling, tears streaming ear to ear. In bed I lied, in the soft pink pillow my sister loved when she was alive. I pursed my lips so hard, I gritted my teeth harder. With all my efforts I pushed this feeling back, but then my dad stepped in. He didn't say a word, he came sat me up and held me in his arms. And the feeling got worse, not only that, my dad started weeping. I....I didn't know what to do.... even if he cried...especially...cuz..- My eyes were wides, wider then ever before. I saw the man, lost, the one I've grown to hate and used to adore. I saw me crying. In the future. And that moment I finally saw, That man does cry, but men do not.

Smart or Smarter?

Which is it better to be, smart or hard working. Often, I've marveled at those who are able to simply finish their work or unwind spectacularly difficult pieces of math. We've seen how it all happens, they simply sit there with a pencil in their hands and in less than half an hour, they nearly set the paper aflame with their brilliant brilliance; while leaving us mere mortals in the ashes of their smoldering intelligence.

Geniuses. Pfft. 

Of course, if you belong to the same class as I am, the is the dude who marvels at the marvelous. You would probably understand where I'm coming from. Once, I took 45 minutes to finish an algebra question, finding it right, I decided to treat my self to a celebratory half hour television sit down. Upon inspecting my beautiful work, I found that it was wrong. I refused to do anymore mathematical equations for the rest of that horrid day. Needless to say, my brain's not too well suited to numbers. Or most other logical proportions, calculations or equations for that fact. 

Hoewever, i was reading today about Stanley Ho, one of the richest men in the world and the person whose ever paid the highest price every for a portobello mushroom. He is also known as the "King of Gambling" due to his monopoly over Macau gaming industry for 35 years.

"Ho studied in Queen's College, Hong Kong, in which he attended class D because his academic results were unsatisfactory. Having realised studying assiduously is the only way to improve his social status after his father's bankrupcy, Ho worked extremely hard in school. Eventually, His hard work paid off and earned him a scholarship to the University of Hong Kong.^[1] He became the first student studying in Class D to be granted a university scholarship.

While at the University of Hong Kong, he lived in Ricci Hall and was an active hall member. In addition to his major subject, he also became fluent in English, Japanese and Portuguese." (wikipedia)

and the next person I clicked on was Margaret Thatcher. British Prime Minister

"Thatcher was brought up a devout Methodist and has remained a Christian throughout her life.^[8] After attending Huntingtower Road Primary School, she won a scholarship to Kesteven and Grantham Girls' School.^[9] Her school reports show hard work and commitment, but not brilliance." (wikipedia)

Looks like its more about hard work then intelligence. 

New Years.

New years are dates that are momentous, wonderful days, mostly because of the word "new". It is marked by fire works, parties and kisses. Playstation parties and Pizza; cybercafe marathons and movies. Why? Because its the celebration to remember all that is good in the old year and to look forward to what is to come in the new year. 

Picking this date, the first of january, would be a tradition for most procrastinators, as most procrastinators often need a large celebration or event in order to give them a boost to change their ways. I am a huge procrastinator.

Now all of this is good and fine, except that, being a through and true procrastinator, I normally end up going back to my old ways of fine living and dining. 

Perhaps the secret is in not having New year's resolutions but instead, acting on resolutions before the year is up. 

So, as for this new year. I shall not have any new year's resolutions. And if people were to ask me for the sake of their pleasure what my new year's resolutions are; I shall merely make up a few entertaining ones for the company's enjoyment. 

After all, new year doesn't make people new, it just makes them older. So might as well get to the stuff I need to do right away. 

I

Rap in Boo

I've never actually liked classical music; mostly because the genre pushed me to think of how the song made me feel in order to enjoy it. Not just that, I always had to try to figure out what the wrtier was expressing, reading with my ears, my eyes seeing nothing. Often, i relax listening to mainstream. What's there to decipher with "my humps, my humps, my lovely lady bumps! Check em out!"?* 

Classical music and jazz, not very interesting music to me. I always thought of it as the music rhythm and rhyme uncles and aunties admit to liking after being conversationally pushed away from the Beatles and Bee-Gees. However, while I was watching the recording of the Grammy awards 2008, the Awards came to an introduction of Classical and Jazz. The mustached actor then spoke of the beauty of the two genres and then said "Gershwin". His name meant nothing to me, I merely thought he was one of those grizzled classical writers who have been blessed with more than their fair share of facial hair. However, the man then introduced, Rhapsody in Blue. 

Wow. 

*I don't actually listen to Humps. 

Sweet

"OI!!! GO AGGRO LA YOU!!"

"no way I can keep shooting already lorr"

"smack down! Smack down! SMACK HIM DOWN!!"

"CAN YOU STOP RUSHING!?"

"faster go and rush! That's the only way were going to do it okay!"

"you see! That's why! You always rush, then afterwards I have to go clean up."

"Can you stop saying go aggro? Its a verb. Say aggroing!

"wah liao, I'm down man." "again!?"

"Ok ok, I have aggro now!"

"Woo! Overkill suckers!!"

"stupid la you."

*to those who know what this post is about, come tell me if I left out any other quotes.

TAG! Heuer.

I have been gracefully tagged!

1. What bothers you most?

People who look down on me. And celery. 

2. What is your most favorite thing to do? 

Having a good time going crazy with friends or listening to music in a comforting place. 

3 What kind of news do you read. 

Buisness and the SPM help section. New Straits Times. (Star, second section, comics)

4 What is your ultimate wish. 

To be a boy. Wait!! I am a boy!! See, wishes do come through! No. I want to be all that I can be. Maybe become iron man? Seriously, if batman were to go head to head against Iron man; I think Iron Man would smear I-use-high-pitch-screams-to-know-where-I'm-going-my-worst-enemy-wears-lipstick-and-my -best-friend-is-Morgan-Freeman man all over the floor. While Rat-with-wings man would be still wondering whether or not to blast Iron Man in his un-blastable titanium armour, Iron Man would have smashed him to bits with his luminous light intensifier. Or something like that. 

5 Is there someone in your heart right now?

That someone took my heart. (sad music plays)

6 Can you survive without money?

No.

7 Are you afraid of pain?

I'm allergic to pain.

8 What do you feel like doing right now?

Sing "fly me to the moon" at the top of my lungs.

9 If there's someone you love, would you confess to him/her?

Mommy I looooovee youuuu!!!!

10 What do you want to do right now but you can't?

Sing "fly me to the moon" at the top of my lungs. Its 1am.

11 What is your six most passionate thing at the moment? (What sort of english.)

God

Finding something to be passionate about.

Finding out what I'm good at and what God has in store for me.

Getting more organized.

Slimming down. (its a matter of health now.)

A good time.

12 What is the thing that will make you think he or she is bad?

I don't know. Bad at what? Bad at doing stuff? Bad at turning pink rhinoceroses into yellow polka dotted warlocks?

13 If you had to eat one thing for the rest of your life what would you choose?

You. Raar.

14 If you had a choice to be rich or happy, which would you pick?

Thing is, if you were to be happy 24/7, its just plain boring. Also, if you don't know sadness , how can you truly know happiness? I'd rather be rich and experience all emotions. Money can't buy happiness, but then again, happiness IS free, private jets and Darth Vader suits aren't.

15 How do you see yourself in five years time?

Please refer to one of my older posts and divide the amount of years into half. 

17 What do you dislike about yourself?

Like I'm going to tell you. 

18 How long did it take you to get over your first love?

Still going strong, me and her deciding to get married soon. 

19 Tell a secret you've never told anyone before.

I like the smell of my dirty socks. Only mine though.

Pasar Malam!!! or Night Market.

I am from Malaysia, born in Malaysia, raised in Zimbabwe and the furthest I've ever been out of this country would be Australia, and that was this year. In fact, the only thing I've known about other countries, cuisine and hang out spots would be on Astro's Travel and Living with the Wright dude. Born and bred Malaysian. 

However, today was fascinating. I headed off to Matthias' house to be invited(I invited myself) over to the pasar malam. Since I was hungry, like I always am, I was excited with the notion f filling up my belly with the usual dry and friend stuff. 

When I got there, it was all so exciting! This was the first time  had ever been to the OUG Pasar Malam, even if it was only a mile away from my house. The movie sellers where the best. They had Blu-ray tech on their wooden tables as well as; I kid you not, Kungfu Panda 2. In my righteous anger, I overturned their tables and trampled over their pirated merchandise. The scum. Wandering away after the chaos, my eyes caught sight of an extremely inviting wan tan stall that sold wan tan alone! Who sells that!? I gleefully ordered eight of those things and shoved them into my mouth. That was the beginning of my gluttony.  

There were so many people, and enough hair dye to pollute the Nile river. In the more popular areas one could seriously wind up being compressed. Thank God the whole place actually smelt pleasant with fried, steamed, baked and goodness knows what else wafting through the air and molesting my nose. People actually smelt good too! No, I didn't stick my nose into the first armpit I saw. The lalas and the rockers actually showered before coming, it all smelt like fragrance and shokobutsu whenever I had to push past people. 

I often wondered where the teenage female population of Oug was. I found them. Finally. Yes. I was awesome. 

Food was lovely. Seriously, I had this mega wierded out sausage like thingy was smashingly delicious! Forget the Germans and their Bratwurst, or the British and their British sausages, the Italians and their Italian sausage or the Siberians and their Siberian sausage. Meet THE garlic sausage. I didn't taste any form of garlic in it; however, it was sort of sweet and salty! With that magical bite to it. I was in love. 

The next would be steamboat. Only, I didn't pay much attention to the goodies that had to be steamed before eating. One of the things on that sushi king wannabe lorry would be this metal bowl that had bits of decapitated animal in black sauce. It was roughly duck or pork liver, tied with an edible chord to what looked like a piece of fat. Intruiged and hungry, I looked over to aunty Mag for assurance before trying it. Taking small bites; the first nibble caught on to a piece of salty, bitter "liver". The second went straight for the deliciously sweet fat. Then I realized, you had to put both in your mouth at the same time! Explains why both pieces were tied up together. Following the implied directions. I tried both at the same time and the pieces exploded in my mouth! My face looked enraptured and I couldn't stop saying how good it was! It was so fantastic; I nearly took another, before wondering what it really was and how exactly it was cooked. 

Of course, that was nearing the end of the night. However, with good often comes the bad, and I was definitely treated to the bad as well. Sugar Cane juice. More like slightly sugared water with too much ice in it. That completely washed away any sense of goodness I still had in my mouth and left me high and dry; in a gastronomical sense.

Having done that, a dear friend had the generosity to share his _______ with me. That was delicious. Yes it was, reminded me so much of roti canai though. Aunty Mag then gave me a lift home to a night of blasting Zombies with Matthew.

Woo2

    Everything was pretty much a blur to me. Time ran quickly, and as time flew past, the pressure and stress started to mount. I wonder how jaryl felt, we had just finished the powerpoint in the morning. 

   The skit started. The skit was divided into three small skits, each skit having three scenes. the first skit went well, how do I know? The thunderous applause that froze the right side of my cheek. The second, I messed up my lines here and there but my fellow actors held me on, even improvising as we went along. It went very well as well. The crowd laughed at what was meant to be laughed even! Phew. 

  On the third skit. What can I say? It went well! However, on the final scene, what happened was as the actors went on, they started to giggle! And I noticed Aunty Rina's eyes sway from the buisness end of the stage to the not so buisness end of the stage. Ergh. However, as me and Josh got into our lines. We won the crowds attention back again. 

  The skit ended well with a good amount of applause. Yes I was happy. After that skit, I felt hungry. 

   

Woo

   Wow, my last awards night. I didn't feel at all saddened by the event however, I just felt a certain sense of relief and happiness that all has been finished. As the night drew to a close, I sunk in the back seat of dad's car and thanked God for everything that had happened. I finally finished my work, the skit was done, and somehow or other, the entire award night didn't collapse on itslelf Emcee's first, due to my inability to handle the bodyguard-esque walkie talkie. From where I was sitting, or panicking for that matter, everything went very well. 

   The night started off in a blur of suits and tie's thrown in with some guys who thought it would be cooler for them to strut in with their shorts and T-shirts. The ladies were running about checking their hair and this and that. Mostly crowding around the receptacles of feminine beauty, shermayne and del. I was trying to retain my veneer of coolness and imperturbability by slouching around in a shirt and shorts. When questioned about the skit, my first reply would be... "no worries" when in truth my brain would be...OHMYGOSHYOUWANNAASKMEABOUTTHEBUTTOCKSKITIRIPYOUREYEBALLSOUT

OFYOURHEADTHENYOUASKMEABOUTTHERETARDEDCARLA!!

"No worries." Haha, that was a good one. 

  Finally, when it when the appointed time showed up to be announced, I made a quick slip behind and suited up in my big boy suit. Stepped out dapper and debonair with lady in arm as well. Forget the slouch, forget the usual false drawl trying to mask nervousness, I was Wong, Joseph Wong. Perfect english, perfect posture and perfect manners. Gosh, I was nervous. 

  Then, the time rolled about the for the awards night to begin. 

Part 2 tomorrow! 

Woah.

Heh heh heh. 

 Banana Blini with regal salmon and maple syrup

An Update!

Yes, there has been a terribly long absence (choir...far too long!! far too long!!) And I am sorry. (too lo lo looonggg!!) I have a reason for it though. (heee dooooes NOT!) I was busy. (he was.. da da da da da da... ve ry bu sy... da da da da da... he was ve ry bu sy....) 

Yes I have been very busy, ever since I had a mount everest of work I had to deal with, however, with a pickaxe in hand, some very patient and now white haired or otherwise bald teachers and friends, I have managed to whittle down the very annoying mountain to what is now 6 books. 

Once those books are done, woo hoo! Once they're done what  intend to do would be to finally play three to four video games I have been putting off the entire year. I'm simply going to lock myself in my room with enough rations to last about five days and conquer the gigabytes out of every globe which has so far escaped me because of work. Then, well, the more important things I haven't thought yet. 

However, what's going on right now? At the moment, I still have six books to complete, one more book of Health and five more of Essentials of Communications. Then violin grade eight, I still don't know half the scales. (scales is something like algebra for music/for the uninitiated) Also, I'm currently half of the dynamic team thats heading this years school play. 

This years school play is admittedly more challenging then most to make interesting, however, if we have all the actors backing, its a shoo in. Its not just a shoo in. Its more like a one eye close, nine toes tied behind your back free throw from the centre line into the hoop without a sound shoo in. 

So hang in there! Six more books! Then the blogging shall begin. Ooh, I think I miss blogging. Maybe I'll tag myself. 

Written In Matt's

   Good friends are people you can fart in front of without caring.

A Decade.

   In school, a conversation broke loose from my friends around four tables. We should have a class reunion after ten years! I didn't really hear much except catches of Karl and Pheobe saying that the first one to get married had to buy the other a trip to New Zealand or Japan. After hearing that, I zoned out completely, returning myself to the land where logic makes no sense (science). 

  However, after seeing Karlyn's post, I wondered to myself, what would happen in about ten years. In ten years, I would be twenty seven, done with studies, working (hopefully) and maybe married. As I read Karl's blog, she predicted I might have a hot Ozie girlfriend. If only that were true. I wonder though, in ten years time, what would the class reunion be like? 

  Ten years is quite a long time, its the time it takes for a new born to reach the porch of teenager hood. Ten years, is the time t takes for a ten year old to run through puberty, and walk through the door of adult hood. Ten years is a lot of time. A lot of things can happen in ten years. 

  For me, I'd like to think I'll have nice lil car along with a very cozy house full of cushions and rugs. Plus a small plush room colored blue dedicated to gaming, movies, music and books. Hopefully, someone wonderful to share it with. 

  However, my life is in God's hands. In ten years, what will happen hopefully would be that God use me in whatever way He deems best. Ten years not used for God is ten years wasted. Its exciting to know that ten years will be in God's hands and plans, after all, He takes very good care of his stuff. The shallow things I can imagine at the moment, no doubt God can top them till overflowing. 

  See you guys in ten years. 

  

Star Wars Pick Up Lines.

You make my Hutt go Jabba-Jabba! 

Can I invade your republic? 

I'll be your Anakin if you'll be my Padme. 

Woo roo Wooo Woo!! (she'll ask what did you say?) That was wookie for "I love you"

Jedi aren't allowed girlfriends. Fortunately for you, I'm Sith.

Vader, Darth Vader. 

Me without you is like a lightsaber without a crystal. 

You must be Darth Sidious cause you electrify me!

I'm looking for force sensitive beings, what's your name? 

With a girl like you, who needs the galaxy? 

 

*thought of my jo. Feel the disturbance in the force females of the universe!

Heh.

  I quite unfeelingly made Shermayne and Karlyn stay back till four thirty just so I could finish my red faced Life Pac. I prayed that I'd pass while scribbling the answers as quickly as I could on the test sheet. Finally after 45 minutes, I finished. 

  After praying for huge amounts of mercy and confessing every wrong thing I could remember since 1994, I passed it up for scoring. As I walked away, I heard Shermayne say," Aih! He always does this!" Or something like that. 

  When I turned around, I saw her face creased and her green pen flicking furiously. I was afraid, more pen movement means more mistakes. Pastor Jackie's face looked sympathetically at my test paper. Pastor Jackie knew that I had in fact failed the same math test before, after tearing out massive amounts of precious cranial fur. She also knew that I had done the alternative test, failed it and redone the life pac. (4 tests and a section) 

  I headed sullenly with mock nonchalance to the ping pong table. I could not concentrate on the orange ball darting across blue table. My head was on the green pen slashing away at my marks. I spent more time walking to collect the ball than actually playing. Finally I screamed. "ARGGHH!! FAIL, THEN FAIL LARH!! FAIL SEVEN TIMES ALSO I'LL STILL PASS SOMEDAY!!!!" I seriously hoped I wouldn't have to. 

  "Jo." 

  The signal to approach was given the executioner's desk. I stopped mid swing and placed my bat on the table as the ball fell to the carpet. I saw Pastor Jackie's and Shermayne's face and I immediately knew. I had failed. 

  "So?" I quietly asked. 

  "Oh well," she said sympathetically as she closed my book. Do corrections, the same procedure lorr...

  "You say fail seven times also nevermind what," Pastor Jackie graciously gave. 

 "So I failed?" 

  "Yeah, you did." Sher placed the book in my hands. 

  Oh wells, shake of the dust fight again I guess. What else is there to do? I opened my book. Expecting a failure, my eyes immediately rested on the mark that said 61 percent. (80 percent and above is a pass) Then I realised, the numbers weren't in the right pen color and neither were they in the right place! I looked exactly where I was supposed to look. Then I saw it. 80.15 percent. I exploded. 

  The next few moment, I blubbered in delirious joy! I had no control over what I was doing as I ran behind and started smashing the lockers with my math book while still blubbering maniacally. Karl, Mishie and Jon congratulated me as I walked out beaming. 

   I PASSED! 

  

 Thank God! Phew, now on to math 1108. 

The War

    My boots are tied, my belt is girded and my armor donned. My helmet tight, my pencil close, my calculator near. Now the only thing I need are pants.

   Yes, tomorrow the war against math will begin. Endless hordes of merciless numbers ruled by the tyrannical command of laws will be marched at me. Mind numbing equations with their weapons of lies and falsehoods protecting savagely the logical truth behind themselves. Numerous words pledging that their sections are simple to do will reveal their horrendous fangs. I will be slapped, stabbed, tortured and forced into a corner. 

  

Like a crazed lion, I shall fight.   

  

     

  Two self tests, one section, and one lifepac. Its not that hard. 

I've been Tagged

  Sounds as if i'm some wild animal whose been shot, stapled by the ear and let out into the wild again. Kays! Six boring yet quirky details about ME!

 

1) My mom used to call me cutiepie. I was also called "guy" because my mom got tired of other moms calling their male children "boy boy". RIght now, "seph" is her favorite nickname for me whenever I need to be lovingly reminded(nagged) on my studies or whatnot. Its also used by my friends since they found out my mom nagged me with that name. Yes, I am always in complete terror when the word "seph seph!" Is yelled out uncountable times in every directions. 

2) I'm very very very very sexy. Tsh.... feel the heat radiate from my tushy. 

3) You know the part in Disney's movie Mulan when Mulan's dad get's called to serve for the army? After that, he gets out his sword and practices with it as though he's some big shot warrior dude. Then he immediately gets a sprained back! Anti-climax! I find that so endlessly funny to the point i annoyed my friends who were watching it with me. Hard to be emo when I'm hysterical laughs reach decibles of Jumbo Jetical proportions. 

4) Once I fell asleep after drinking a starbucks Venti coffee. I felt so cool. I could sleep even though I'v drunk insane amounts of caffeine! 

   

I found out on sunday it was actually chocolate. Not coffee.

5) I'm a ninja. 

 

 *secret, super powerful, internet super corridor shuriken throw! Foo KaCheaow! (pretend you're dying) 

6) I'm nervous around girls. Shiver. 

    My first tag. Wow. I'm good at this!   

Cod FOre.

   The game of beauty. Appreciated by both professionals and newbs alike. The wonderful piece of art work in motion satisfying some of the most carnal male hungers. The digitized arena that is so completely alive with roars of gunfire and the hushed silence of death. Where we can strike down the most annoying of our friends without harmful retribution. 

  The beautiful cyber cafe game. 

  Now, I'd love that game way more if I didn't always get knifed by a guy six years younger than me. 

Beauty and the Beast.

   Me and a couple of friends were having an informal opinion poll on the many females of both school and church. Through heated debates, some withering glares and a good dose of male testosterone, we rated them. Eventually, after each passionate male not willing to budge an inch from who was the most aesthetically pleasing female, we called it quits by unspoken consent and kept proceeded to launch into another tense debate on whether the RPG-7 is for noobs or not.

  

  It brought me back to many other times when I sat around with another group of guys picking girls and choosing who deserved to be the queen of the moment. It was often during these moments that most boys ended up revealing quite an astonishing lot about themselves and their ideals. It was also during these moments that unpopular opinions where often lambasted by exaggeratedly disapproving stares or immense "whatever la's' from the youthful panel of judges. Occasionally, a female would sit in and give her opinion of who was the most attractive girl of the selection we would be talking about. I always found myself slightly surprise whenever I heard whom the others chose. 

  These debates often had many different females thrown in, sometimes polar opposites would clash, other times, every  guy chose a different girl each. 

  Though the more shallow of adolescent male pursuits, it lead me to question, is there really such a thing as an ugly female? After all, since ugly to some may be very attractive to others, it may all actually be a matter of preference. And if its a matter of preference, how can the definition of what is beautiful and the polling of who is beautiful possibly be accurate? 

  Even in beauty pageants, when a panel of judges select the most beautiful woman in the universe, some of their decisions have left me wondering if the tiara-ed lady really is the most beautiful. Some of we extremely professional judges have participated informally participated in casting our well respected criticism on who should win... and have been very publicly disappointed as our selected lady's name isn't called. These then often result into slam quite passionate comments on how sharp noses could pierce walls and how barbies are monstrous creatures. 

  Perhaps, maybe beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder. The most "attractive' female often being the closest match to the stereotypical image of what beauty is at the moment. However, to head even deeper, the Bible did say that everyone is wonderfully and fearfully made. How then can a person be ugly? 

  In my opinion. I think the ladies in Vineyard are all very beautiful. Each in their own way. Each brightens up the school with their own uniqueness and personalities. Pathetically compare as I may, I don't see how another girl is more beautiful than another. Maybe every female is very beautiful. Each in her own special way.  

  

 

Yes I'm Sorry

   I have come to the realization that my blog is rather empty. I apologize sincerely. From my heart, right down to the bottom right ventricle. 

   What normally happens when I want to write up a post on my blog should be a psychological study on actions that tear human focus. In my case, I am extremely susceptible to numerous forms of distractions such as Clone Wars, BMW advertisements and the Boom De Ah Dah discovery channel commercial on youtube. 

  Before logging on, i decide to read something about the jedi on wikipedia, perhaps to get some inspiration. Then suddenly, the big black words ARC TROOPERS catch my eye and I simply cannot resist clicking on the link. Its as if some inexplicable Force controls my limbs and forces me to veer further of my predetermined path through cyber space! 

   I promise myself that I'll get started on a post right after I finish one paragraph on the guilty article, however, the author often posts more seductive information on ARC troopers! Did you know that they were actually clones personally trained by Jango Fett, the most decorated and feared bounty hunter in all the known galaxy? Did you know that they are also known as the special ops of  Star Wars galaxy? And that ARC stands for Advanced Reconnaissance Clones? 

   You get what I mean. 

I Deeply Enjoy Math

   Mathematics, arithmetics of anything in that glorious vein is the love of my life. For which without it my living would be nothing but an exquisite equation within an equation within an X of a quadnomial. Yes, I live breathe and eat digits. Mathematics with its dizzying near brutal amounts of mentally condemning rules set me free. Able to soar like an eagle, with add, subtract, multiply and division as the winds beneath my wings.

  Haha. 

  Well, I can honestly say that i do indeed have a problem with math. Somehow or other the answer simply avoids my already limited intellect through some devious numerical play. I am often irked by how an often simple equation would often blow itself out of my human capabilities of comprehension. For instance: 5 divided by goodness knows what, equals 5.213415122132135213124. After the time taken for the coast Africa to smash Cuba into Mexico; I find out that my answer was actually wrong and the number was 0 or one. If that wasn't enough, I realize that the  number would have been achieved in an Andy Ong pace if I had placed a digit next to some other. Mathematics then often smacks me into a corner and spends its time violently brutalizing any sense of an ego built up by my imagination of personal intellect. 

   Then there are friends who can play with numbers like they would play a violin. Incredible and almost without thinking; it would often seem as if einstein himself, descended from heaven and possessed the body of a mere human being. What results are often spectacular, if  Yehudi Menuhin left his audience spell bound through playing his violin, so often I would be in complete disbelief as a demon of an equation is performed right before my eyes. "Its actually quite simple," my math maestro of a friend would say, before proceeding to rip his eyeballs out of his sockets trying to teach me how a monkeys can be added to kittens to produce coconuts. Yes indeed, I am always left in awe by a person whose view on math parallels the adidas motto. 

   Perhaps someday when I can plus perfectly, subtract simply, multiply magnificently and divide definitely, will I be lesser repulsed from numbers with symbols pared up with lines awaiting my nervous answers. However, that day of complete victory and boundless bliss is not today.

   I'm having trouble with 1103 math.  

  

Po

  Sorry for the person who got me Po. This is an extremely long overdue post. However, I'd like to thank you! For that one day I was like, hey! Someone likes me! 

   When was chauffered  to school in the morning(my mom). I had every reason to believe it would be another of those normal days. I walked in, placed my bag on the table and I saw this tiny fur ball on my desk in the shape of a panda. Then I realized that it had that distinctive tattered brown pants on and a ridiculously friendly grin plastered on its face. Then I realized that it was, Po! 

  I was happy! Well, currently Po is lying in a place of honor, sharing my pillow. We fight the dastardly monkey's of the Dark Shangtu Fortress on wednesday nights in my very realistic dreams. Yeap he's happy too.

                                                           THANKS! 

Not Very Sure.

   Honestly, I'd say that I don't have a great deal of confidence walking into rooms full of people. Its great when I'm with friends and I have nothing but the sole purpose of having fun; however, when there's some people I need to impress and I have no idea who they are. Problem.

  The feeling of self  consciousness sweeps over me. All of I sudden, I feel aware of how my arms are swinging, how I'm walking and how I'm breathing. I am immensely more aware of my more feminine upper features(man boobs) and religious bump(buddha belly) pushing through my shirt. Yeah, I become very self conscious. And very nervous. 

  I wonder, what will thing think of me? What are they thinking of me? Do they like what they see? What if they don't!? 

  Matters are made much worse when a person so much as looks at me with a bored look. The killing blow would be a finger pointed in my direction followed by a quiet snicker. It kills me, after catching a glimpse of myself being used as a subject of humor. Having no idea what to do; the only thought that enters my mind would be to run away. After the ordeal would be over, I'd  be sadly looking down on myself, finding all sorts of reasons as to why another person would look or behave that way towards me. 

  One day, God just said. "I'm with you." 

 You know. There are times when I've headed to a place I don't know to mix with a bunch of people I don't recognize. Most times, I would probably start panicking as all my knowledge of the english language disappears. At the end, I'd probably be sitting down chatting to someone who was as quiet and scared as I am. Then, an immensely popular friend of mine who happens to be in charge would come striding into the room. "Hey Jo! Sorry to keep you waiting! How are you!" He'd warmly greet me. 

  I'd feel the warmth of being accepted and the comfort of confidence seeping back into me. Just my friend was with me. 

   Months after I heard God, I panicked again. I was once again afraid to plunge into a room, just like I was wearing a really bright pink bra. God!? What am I supposed to do!!! My Friend whispered, "if I'm with you, that means when you enter that room, I'll enter too." At that point, I realized that there was no need to be afraid. As I walked quietly into the room, God entered with me. 

My Nipple.

   I have a mysterious allergy to a certain mystery food. My skin reacts, swells and turn annoyingly itchy when I scratch any area of my body. That tiny itchy spot then starts to begin its extremely agitating growth period. It being so itchy, I'll have this insatiable urge to scratch and scratch and scratch some more, and the diseased looking blob will grow bigger and bigger. My largest looked like and entire continent riding on an ocean of muscle(my back). 

  Well, sometime during the day, I felt a small itch on a peculiar part of me. So I absent mindedly gave it a little scratch. After about half an hour, there was this exquisite itch in my chest! To make matters worse when I checked felt around, it was right there on my nipple! Now guys, especially to the ones who are normally victims of nipple crunchers; the nipple is probably one of the the more sensitive and humorous bits of the male anatomy. Goodness me, it was beginning to itch quite a lot. 

   I scratched. Even though I shouldn't have, the insatiable annoying-ness just kept growing! 

  I wanted to run straight into my mothers arms for regfuge in her many ointments and safeguards amassed from experiences with a sickness prone child. However, being the manly He man/bad boy that I am, I simply refused to take my shirt off and show her my mutated, bloody red nipple. It looked like this giant bulls-eye! 

   Okays, cancel all past tenses, actually, my nipple is really itchy... right this very moment. I had wanted to go post about how some violinist dude gave me a lesson in humility but; have you ever tried to concentrate on something serious when an irritating little fly is bugging you? I can't think of anything else aside from how great my thirst to gloriously pull my fingernails across a certain funny spot is. 

  2 mins... 

" I'm still suffering and its slightly subsiding" 

  10 mins... 

  "ARGGH!! JUST GO AWAY ALREADY YOU LOUSY LOUSY ITCH!!"

  

  11 mins... 

  "mom...." 

   

   12 mins. 

   "stop laughing la! Its not funny!!!" 

   13 mins. 

   phew. Much better.  

                                                                                                 oh wells, now to think of a serious post. 

Steamed Foods.

I headed off to midvalley the today to check out, Kung Fu Panda! Hey yah! Fu chou!! Ya Ha! Woo Hoo! www.Yahoo.com!
But before actually heading into the cinema, i realised that i had this sudden craving for mushroom burger from Burger King. Wow, it was a craving alright, that explosion of foodlust floundering willpower in its hungry embrace.

There I was in that Burger King line with this caucasian woman who was about my height. I was panickedly searching for my love on those pearly glimmering posters that showed glorious indulgences depicted in blown up and exagerated photo's! Mmm.. there were so many good things! But once a man decides he wants that burger, he gets that burger! So, the nice cashier lady smiled at me and asked what I wanted to eat. Whithout thinking, I blurted, mushroom burger!(which was really overpriced and I could have survived whithout it but I didn't)

So there it was, mm... that falsely exotic taste of mushroom rubbing themselves delectably against my tastebuds and that hearty meat just messaging away my lust! Then I remembered, I was supposed to be eating healthy.

Yeap. I know, though fast food restraurants often sell us the idea of their foods being oh so healthy and wholesome, we're often smart enough to know its not normally the case. Sure cabbages may be healthy, but not when its dipped in vats full of rhinocerous killing preservatives. Potatoes may be good, but lets face it, who's eaten a potato chip and said, mmm... "this is great! I feel so healthy eating this!" Not many.

By right, I'm supposed to be watching my weight and eating really healthy food like steamed carrots and all sorts of nauseatingly healthy foods, but I'm not! Its just so difficult! Sure, avoiding mcdonadls is easy, but when you're huuunggrry... Its just that fanatical need and daredevil impulsive behaviour that drives you to pull out your wallet and pay your education fund for that double cheeseburger.

I'll cut to the chase. I need help to slim down. My future literally depends on it. Help!

Colours

I was lying awake after quite a satisying slumber from a lifepac packed day, and I thought about: colours. Then I wondered, why are we all so different? We're just different colours, but were still called humans no matter how different we look. In fact, I wondered, we pretty much are like colours.

Colour are well, wonderful, coming in so many diffferent shades to colour our lives. Blank pieces of paper simply come to life when colours on a brush start to paint the shapes that are formed in the artists mind. Some colours play big roles, others, not so big but just as important. Imagine if you were looking at the mona lisa and a part of that beautiful painting wasn't colored, and instead, was left with a blank patch, you'd think something would most definitely be wrong. In whole, the picture would be ruined, because something didn't fit, that uncolored blank spot. Thats what we are I guess, different colours in a picture.

There are so many types of colours, but blue can't say to orange that he's more important because he colours the sky, because orange can retort that she painted the sun. In my opinion, saying another colour pencil is more important than another colour pencil would just sound silly because a colour is still a colour.

Thats what we are, we're different colours, different people, different's personalities, different cultures, but we're all colours. Though we're in some ways different, we're still human and equaly important; we bleed the same blood, were born the same way and hold on to things most important to us. What's so different? We're all colors in the large picture of the world.

On The Way

I was heading off to midvalley with my parents when a song came on the Light and Easy channel. The playful and slightly bombastic detached piano notes caught my attention. I thought it sounded relaxing and was happy from the break of the usual power notes strung by a guitar. Then came her voice,"head on to water, and its easy, to breathe for awhile."(or something like that) My ears perked up as the car headed down the tunnel into the parking lot, then came the chorus. I'm not gonna write you a love song la la la... That was it, the song was stuck in my head. Its tune and chorus playing again and again.

However, though most songs that get stuck in your head are annoying and extremely difficult to get rid off. (I sing them really loud to get them out of my brain, try doing that in Justin Tim's voice.) I really liked her song! It gave me this light and slightly happy feeling. Yeap, Love song from Sarah Bareilles.

I Have A Theory

"Do you love me because I am beautiful, or am I beautiful because you love me?"

That wonderous line came from Cinderella while I was browsing quotes online. It reminded me of a theory I had about beauty.

Once, I was sitting in my torturous math tuition class, across me, sat a girl with gentle features, fair skin and a pretty face. She had large eyes framed with double eyelids, a cute nose and a pouty small mouth. I thought she was beautiful. Her friend asked her a question, she turned, smiled and said.

"Shit!"

Ahem. At that point, her gentle, sweet features simply degraded into that rough vulgar word. She turned into an average school girl almost immedeatly in my eyes. It was the first word I heard from her and the strongest impression she made on me. I began to think about my theory.

Even if a girl has a gorgeous body and a beautiful face, if she's ugly inside, slowly she'll become ugly in your eyes.

There was a certain girl I knew sometime back. I meanly stereotyped her as average looking; though I knew perfectly well that it was wrongful of me. I didn't like her, in fact, I near couldn't stand thinking of her. However, one day I began talking to her and I found her lively, intelligent and cheerful. She was so nice and polite, seeming to know exactly what to say, the expressions on her face making me laugh quietly from their spontaniety and quirkiness. I began to realise how fair her face actually was as I began to love her as a sister. To me, she was someone beautiful.

If a girl is just average looking, but she's beautiful inside, she'll transform into someone beautiful.

Honestly, I know its wrong to judge a person by how he or she looks, but I admit, I have on many, many occasions. After having done that, reminding myself I'm not that great looking myself. However, thats how it is I guess. Skin is just a piece of glass that allows what you are inside to shine through. I believe what you look like can't be chosen; but infinitely more important, what you are, can be chosen.

Oh, how I know.

I got this picture from Deviant Art, its called "Pen and Paper" by Anazo. Being the complete math klutz I am; I find myself feeling for this guy. Algebra in all its torturous glory has the infamous ability to turn students into lean, mean, suicide machines. Well, as long as the Anazo dude lasted long enough to take this expressive picture.

Algebra is pretty much like a large, hideous pink van with green stripes to me. Its disgusting to look at, terrifying almost, but you need it at certain times to get a bunch of people from here to there. For instance, I was sitting down on the bench at a futsal court at a game I arranged. Wondering how I was supposed to get everyone's cash, give them the right amount of change and not end up comatose in the process. Then, a friend of mine with a inhuman ability to do math, began accepting cash, counting them out, and giving change accurately. Stylishly adding, subtracting and switching from small sporadic change into a large fifty rm note to be paid to the futsal owner dude.

Well, I guess I've got to thank God he made many different types of people. Including guys who like math. I might get better with digits someday, but as for now... ugh.

Erk.

One Republic

Dudes, I have a new favourite band. One Republic. Honestly, at first I figured that they were just some small not so famous band that made an awesome song with Timbaland. However, confessing that I had to listen to bands with violins, or whatever to a certain friend, he immedeatly pointed me to One Republic. "Jo, I think you'll like One Republic."

Yes I did. Every song was either good or great; the last time that happened was in Switchfoot's The Beautiful Let Down. Normally I would only like a certain song from one Cd or three at most, the rest of the tracks just lost my attention, making it a chore to listen to them till I got to the next song. However, One Republic's music was wonderful, I found myself closing my eyes and enjoying every song. .

Their lyrics were so meaningfully framed in their passionate music. Instead of the same boring rant at the world or the torturously corny love songs from other bands, One Re's music was uplifting with substance to them, flowing from their experiences and humble beginnings as a Myspace band. Exactly the stuff to listen to if you're thinking about a beloved or loved one. Or if you're in a hard time needing a little bit of encouragement. One Republic gives that, in my opinion.

.

Phew.

I am melting. I feel like a fish being steamed in a steaming cooker. Or whatever you call that wierd canister thingy that steams fish. Sweat is my constant companion at the moment and my body odour my own brand of cologne.

I smell disgusting. Originally, cologne used to be on my list of must have's next to facial hair and a godlike athletic body. However, after finding out the amount of dead grapes or whatever goes into the diabolical mixture to produce its wickedly seductive smells, I decided to decline. After all, witht the sad tear jerking sight of roses smashed and stepped on inhumanely and cruely, who would want to? Which leads to the question, how do I smell wonderful in such a catastrophically hot day?

Well! There are so many inventive and creative ways really. Way number one, my favourite would be to get a bunch of your pals two days in advance of a hot day! If it isn't a hot day, then; coffee? Hang out with them! Do stupid things together, however, do not, under any circumstances whatsoever, fall asleep. At night, go play waterballoons or slap each other with wet towels shirtless! They are fun! Just get creative! After two days, you should be so exhausted you'll fall asleep instantly and not wake up all during that cruel day of olfactory torture.

Become a girl. Somehow, for some wierd reason, when God created Adam and Eve, he made Eve smell nicer. Imagine Adam prancing completely naked about through the woods of Eden wrestling with the butterflies from morning to dusk. What a gorgeous scent he must have had. Then God was like, I'm going to give this dude a Woman, or this woman a man, or whatever you prefer. And Kazaam! Woman. Being Adam's helper, she's got to be stronger where Adam's a loser at. Therefore, hello awesome smelling hair! Honestly, its not fair! whenever guys leave a pile of used clothes on the floor, the smell radiating from it is a potent mixture of stale sweat, dead skin and that indescribably humid disgust. However, when a girl leaves her mess on the floor, it's a nice smelling mess. I took that from a mag by the way. I have never before, in my unspoilt teenage life, sniffed a girl's mess. (mess being bunch of clothes)

Or, you could just take very consistent showers. On a normal day, I take about three showers, four max, two minimum. That's so I'll be clean and nice smelling in school, fresh smelling at home and a knockout in my dreams. It usually works too! Unless I do something stupid in the middle of showers, like be myself.

So! Long story short! There is almost no way for me to escape the crushing smell of my very own. So, for my birthday, why don't you guys get me cologne that doesn't involve the killing of innocent grapes and flowers. Cause, grapes and flowers are living things too.

The Mall of my Mind.

There are so many things I want and want to learn. These things mostly bump around in my day dreams and sometimes manifest as hysterical delusions played out infront of my long suffering friends. Air Guitar face melter anyone?

Sigh, I'd love to learn how to play a guitar. Its a beautiful instrument with rich sound and gorgeous looks. Not only that, its fulfilling and relaxing to play an instrument you can sing with. Gosh, I want to pick it up.
Next on my list, an electric violin from fender. Wow. Seriously, this is what all electric violins should look like. Sleek, black and glossy. Normally, when this passes through my imaginations, I can see myself playing that gorgeous thing next to the electric guitarist in a glorious instrumental. The stage lit with a gazillion lights in the middle of a stadium surrounded by adoring masses. Right, back down to earth.

Next up, I'd love to get slim enough to fit into one of these and actually look good in them! However, being the wonderful health and excersise addict I am......... sigh, you know what... Just love me for myself okay? Who else can play unashamedly with his fats in the middle of History period? Not many.

I thought, wouldn't it be cool if i took up skateboarding? I actually went so far as to borrow a friend's board. As soon as my two feet were on the grip tape and those poly something wheels began rolling, I realised two things. 1) this was fun! 2) Jo+ four tiny wheels on a plank of wood= well, considering my almost autistic prowess of brain to limb coordination, I'll leave it to your colourful imaginations.

Finally.





Sigh. Honestly, I had no idea what all the hype about cars was. Had. Until I drove on a freeway, gosh; it was an exhilerating experience! Finally I understood what it was about about speed. Of course, one must always follow the rules of the road ( very innocent and sincere look) but imagine if there was no such thing as a car accident or a speed limit. Yeap, this one is planted firmly in the imaginations and daydreams department.

Well! I have lots that I want to do and lots that I want to have. There is no way a blog could cover everything. It might, but I'd be far too lazy to put everything in. All of these are wants, not needs and neither are they practical or profitable. But sigh, its awesome to imagine.

i want.

Jo.

Ok. dangerous to whine on my blog.

Ladies and Jellyspoons

Right, I was walkng past a mirror one day in my favourite white striped blue shirt with dark blue cotton pants. I had my favourite (only decent) pair of sneakers on. I realised as I walked past that infernal self consciouness amplifier that I had boobs! And a huge Boob which others would call a belly. My goodness, that was frightening, maybe it also had to do with the fact i just ate.

Its not fair though, why do some people stuff themselves as if the food they eat did actually exist but still retain their idiotic figures? How do I? With only two and a half meals per day, find himself with a gelatinous face growing on his Greecian example of male beauty. Sigh.

Yes, right now most of my friends would probably be thinking, go excersise! Diet! Well, as most of my friends are walking skeletons or specimens of immortal beauty, devoid of all human blemishes, and are able to stay that way whithout excesive self torture... :PPPPPPP. I give thee.... the raspberee..... (Atunagaga, go away)

Well, I mope. Its a good strategy though, all the shallow women would stay away from me. Sort of like the movie Penelope. Not only that, I'm one of the few guys who has the goods and the steeled courage to sing milkshake with his shirt off.

Fat is Phat!



(I wrote this late on an impulse)

The Day a Boy Becomes A Man

Amazing how the body reacts when its nervous. he heart races as uncomfortable adrenaline pulses through your veins and all sleepiness vanishes, leaving you very much scared and awake. Even though you feel very sleepy and tired. That was the night before.

Right now, I'm in the Kancil, the car actually seems decent. In fact, while waiting for the exam to begin I was entertained most of the time, mostly thanks to an Indian girl who unfortunately accelerated into the rear bumper of a chinese dude and partly thanks to the tense but friendly company around me. The instructors look completely the same, only this time, the one manningThe Slope was a very grumpy looking JPJ lady. Her frown never once left her face; thank God I didn't see her yet.

I checked the clutch level, it was fine, the steering was slightly assisted and the accelerator was standard. I promised myself I wouldn't scream or panick as a so embarrasingly did the last time.

A malay dude in sunglasses pointed at me and motioned me up The Slope, I left my nervousness and let my recklessness lift my foot of the cluth, then came my right foot down on the accelerator. As my car pulled up the slope, I was surprised at how little came through my mind aside from that fast raising tension to slam the brakes down. Half way up, the clutch went down and I let my Kancil slide forward. Now. It stopped.

Yes! I was perfectly on that yellow line! My prayers were half fulfilled! I pulled up the handbrake three times, as I looked hurriedly around the controls and signalled the the grouchy examiner. She was talking to another person! My foot slowly left the brake and my car creaked downwards ever so slightly. That was enough, I left my foot slightly on the brake. I looked to my left and noticed a fellow friend up the slope with me and we exchanged looks that conveyed my nearly relieved feeling and her troubled situation. I put my hand up again. The examiner finally noticed me and pointed down the slope. My car roared then purred as it struggled against the handbrake. I let it loose and it rolled uncomplainingly down The Slope. Yes! I have conquered you.

I released the clutch and let my car work its way over the the parking area of the exam. Suddenly, I heard a the sound of a pole being hit by a car. Not very pretty at all.

Parking went perfectly as well, thanks in most part to the formula subscribed by my intructor and many tense prayers. I worked fast, deftly switching between first gear and reverse and turned the steering wheel as strongly as I could. It was all over in about two minutes. The examiner motioned me off to the three point turn.

At that time, everything was pretty much going enjoyably pleasant. However, falling down at the end of a race doesn't qualify one for a medal. I refused to take things easy. Once again I worked the first and reverse gear and acted through the entire routine whithout problems.

It was satisfying, releaving and marvelous as I saw a not so grumpy JpJ lady tick off every "lulus" box and motioned me to sign. Yes, i've passed it all, from the scaling of mount everest with a monster to the precision of a brain surgery with a 700 pound scapel, I passed(indulge me lah!) It was the day a boy becomes a man. Now if only mom would let me drive.

Iron Man

The truth is, I'm Iron Man. dum dum dee dum dum dee dee dee dee dee dum dum dee dum. (agressive electric guitar nots)

As I sat in back seats of the cinema surrounded by friends, the missile, Jericho, flew. The toy of destruction forged from the brain of Tony Stark himself then exploded into tiny munitions. As Tony Stark,the soon to be Iron Man, stood infront of a gloriouos back drop of mountains with his arms outstreched as though a saviour; shards of hell fell from the heavens; its explosions blanketing the mountains. I loved it. It was awesome.

An Awesome Day

At night, after being dropped off by andee, I walked into a living room full of relatives and friendly faces. My face had an exhausted, goofy smile plastered on it and I was wearing a sweater in hot humid weather. did I look funny? I expect I did.

It was the best of times, it was hardly the worst of times. In vineyard, we have a precious tradition of creaming beloved classmates on their birthdays. It was LKm's sabo day, or birthday, whichever you'd rather call it and michelle planned it all. Michelle, who's an angel most of the time planned the ultimate sabo. As she told us about her diabolical plan, you could see pure evil leaping out of her black pupils. You could smell her cream lust, she wanted cream splattered all over Lkm and nothing. Nothing could stop her.

And so the day drifted by, nothing much happened, which isn't true of course, but I want to get along with the story. So then came the end of lunch. Mishie had this fiercely equated idea that if, if, the air conditioner was turned off, Lkm would be overwhelmed by the heat that she would be forced to take her sweater off. But somehow, she didn't. It was so odd, I thought to myself, is it possible that she could remain in her caccoon of cotton when I was being steamed alive in my own sweat?

Plan B.

So came the last minute of school. The fires of mishief roared as the demon of sabo awakened. Well, I went to play ping pong. The target was sent right to the toilet to toil at the soil. Still outside and blissfully playing ping pong, I was snapped back the mission when Julian impatienly ordered me into the room behind.

It was there the death squad was assembled. Weapons checks were performed on our Mark II shaving cream cans as we focused on our tasks. Sensing the weight of the room I gave a said what was on my mind. I said, "this would be our finest moment." And began spraying war designs on my face. After maori and pole dances later, Jaryl popped his head out, he was our designated watcher.

"Wait for when I sing happy birthday," he said. More pole and maori dancing ensued. By me alone, with most of the deathsquad giving me death stares and death threats.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YO..."

I was first out of the door. "AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" I gloriously cried.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" The look on her face, was stretched in delirious horror at the sight of a face full of war shaving cream and five other fierce saboers! She turned around, only to be blocked by one. She ran to the other door and pounded Rachel clumsily into door of which Rach was defending. Seeing no other way, our target did what most people would have done. She squated in a corner as oodles of glorious shaving cream was sprayed on her. Admist the laughter and thrilled screams, Lkm was covered in the purity of whitness. Smelt like a man's chin too. Regaining a sense of space and time, she got up when most of the attack had ended and dazedly made her way to the toilet.

Jaryl's hungry eyes turned upon me. Next thing I knew, the hunter became the hunted among his fellow hunters. I ran into the backroom for sanctuary, when I came out, the entire place smelt like a ladie's stubless legs. (erm... i have no idea what girls use to shave their legs but...) We had to clean up. Five seconds of fun followed by fifteen minutes of mopping wipping and more screaming. It was worth it.


*grammar edited