Buffy Season 7 is awe-fucking-some.

Season seven of Buffy is just a culmination of some of the best damn writing in TV history. Well, it is. Taking a look at the writing credits, it is pretty damn obvious that they rolled out the big wigs for most of the episodes. Every third episode has two writers credited to it. And Jane Espenson, my second favourite writer on Buffy (after the God himself, Joss Whedon), is heavily involved in most of the episodes. To quote Logan in Veronica Mars, season one episode four, "I think Keanu Reeves said it best when he said 'Whooooaa'." If you have no idea who or what the quote is referring to then bad you! Did you not get your fill of lame '80s movies while growing up?

Last Sunday, I had made well-thought out plans to be comfortably seated on my couch (or as comfortable as one can get on this crap College Square calls 'couch') to catch the Commonwealth Games closing ceremony. Come 5 pm, I was asleep on the couch, my tired body finally relenting to the pleasures of rest, no thanks to a total of an hour's worth of sleep the night before. Many lifetimes later, my bleary eyes open and what do you know? It's twelve am. The next day I watch the spectacular fireworks on the news and read about it in the papers and listen to how you could infact see the fireworks from College Square from the Chairman. Gorram it..

I am suffering from Sammy withdrawals. I need my Snakes! Also, this week because everyone's busy, I'm probably going to go a week without my fill of Spaghetti too. Damn school and it interfering in our social lifes. I'll just compensate by watching more Buffy! How does that work? Hell if i know.

I heart Melb Uni

Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!

*hyperventilating*

Buffy Season 7. Out now in the ERC library. On 7 day loan. Fuckin' hell..

Good lord. Thy kingdom has indeed come!

The Empire Games 2006

Malaysians: guilty of being rabid supporters of the beloved national Badminton team.

Karen + AddieLee: guilty of being part of the gila-flag-waving-diehard-Malaysian-Boleh-WAHHHH!-'Eh, eh, we're on the screen' Malaysian mob at the badminton doubles preliminarites at the Games.


plus


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*I love that picture of Ad and I taken with her oh-so-fancy Samsung phone. Now that's what you call shit-eating grins.

Our fanatism paled in comparison to Ben, a first year student from Monash Clayton campus, who with his buddies truly displayed the 'Malaysian Boleh' spirit, if their energetic flag-waving (they had multiple flags. They came prepared.) is a yardstick to judge Malaysian enthusiasm by. I reckon it would have been almost embarassing had we not both been chiming in in the 'Malaysia Boleh' and 'Ole, ole' chants.

Ben quickly ran down to get Wong Choong Hann's autograph which we, sceptical lemmings, followed after glimsing his success in getting Wong-chai's attention. Choong Hann was really accomodating; signing autographs, taking pictures, talking to us admirers, long after he needed to. Unfortunately, even the Games players don't have tickets to the final. Here's hoping the organizers release more tickets soon.

Turns out the people sitting behind us were the mom and dad of one Scotland women's team player. After we had gone ape-shit over Malaysian's victory over India, they asked us to kindly lend our support to the Scottish team, which we did without needing much persuasion. There is really nothing funnier than a Malaysian attempting a "Come on, ya Scot-ish" accent in the company of real Scotswoman/man.

Stories of Seth Green

"Karen! Guess who I saw on the tram? I swear I saw Seth Green!"
"No, you didn't."
"Okay maybe I didn't. But there was this guy who looked so much like him!! Adorably dorky features (my words, not her blasphemous ones), red head. I swear it's him!"
"Did anyone else seem to notice him? Autographs or something?"
"Nooo.. But Karen, I swear it looked so much like him!"
"How tall was he Gill?"
"*puts hand an inch or two above her head* About that tall"
"..."
Conclusion: I have never been more grateful for vertically-challenged people. I also have new appreciation for my sister's penchant for wearing 8-inch platforms.

And now, how's this for 'Good Lord, Thy Kingdom Has Come!' shades of awesomeness?

Ahhhh. Perfection.

And now, in response to Michelle's blog-tag:

Current time:
8.41 pm

What are you wearing?
Paper bags and an aluminium hat like the one in Signs. What can I say? I'm excited because Channel Seven is screening Signs this Saturday at 7.30 or so. Again. Did I say again? I meant again.

Name something out of the ordinary on my desk:
I use a laptop. Hence, it's currently sitting on my lap. No, seriously. But then I suppose the question doesn't concern what kind of computer I use. Ermmm. Plastic beer cups. Free souvenirs from Costa Rica.

Current favourite song(s):
That stupid Mario theme has been doing a number on my braincells for a day or two now. Also, DCFC's '405'. And Modest Mouse's 'Gravity rides everything'. Damn. Those songs work to nullify all your musical freewill, so much so that they'll be constantly replaying in your head long after you've taken your headphones off.

Last thing consumed:
It's been two days since I last ate anything. I'm trying out this new diet called 'The Nicole Ritchie'. Hee. Or is that the 'consume lots for 3 minutes only for it to ultimately land in the ceramic of the toilet bowl' diet?

Last phone call received:
The last person who called had to suffer excruciatingly through my grunting. But then again, it was 7 am in the morning.. Nonetheless, I am pleased to say that I have received no other phone calls since then.

Current annoyance:
The dishes are piling up, the shower stall has some yellow muck growing on it, and the toilet bin has to be changed. I'll be damned if I'm the one to do it all. I would also ask you to come in and put your toiletries on my toilet counter but good luck finding a spot beneath the dust balls, cotton fibres and hair.

Plans for the day:
To win the psychological war that's waging between my sister and I. I think that when it comes down to it, the person who walks away victor and cleaning duty-free is the one who's ready to get down and dirty. My gameplan: to hide 3 spoons and one bowl. Everything ends once the other needs a clean spoon and bowl for cereal. Hey, all's fair in avoiding clean-up.

Sadly I don't have any friends to tag. Maybe it's the grunting. Or the funky smell emanating from my apartment. Who knows?

Match Point

Some things just never change.

Three years ago when I was in Form 5 in Malaysia, what would I normally be doing at one thirty in the morning? Well. Who'd have thunk it? The exact damn thing I'm doing three years later in my second year of uni in Melbourne!

David Letterman... My nights just wouldn't be the same without David making a dig at Oprah, Paul playing the role of the perfect musically-inclined sidekick and Biff going on highly amusing excursions that reflect the strange land of America.

Today's mini-segment: 'Stupid human tricks'.

Ahhh. Nights don't get any better than this.

A clergyman just drank some beer while doing a handstand.

Heh. His face went a startling colour of on-the-verge-of-a-cardiac-arrest.

A random dude just hopped around on one stilt.

WTF. That's just Dumb. That's dumb, with a capital D.

Some girl "is going to make music with her toes". Direct quote, I swear. She's whistling through her toes.

WTFF? That's flying ..., in case you were wondering.

X3- an utter disappointment?

What gives? Where the bleeping hell is Gambit?

If they could successfully cast Jean Gray, Professor Xavier, Magneto, Wolverine (note the specific exception of Rogue. And Storm.) then where did they slip up when it came to Gambit? If they could even find some random dude (canny resemblance admittedly) to fill Christopher Reeve's shoes and play the titular character of Superman then the matter of casting shouldn't technically be a problem?

Plus, Brett Ratner behind the director's chair? No offense to him (Rush Hour 1 &2 were amusing but no directing spectacle) but I was really looking forward to see what Matthew Vaughn would come up with. After Layer Cake, which by the way has the most awesome 'whoa' opening sequence, I personally thought Matthew Vaughn really had something going on. Think visuals that have just the right amount of slickness. Oh well.

I give up. Yeah yeah. I'll still contribute to X3's total gross.

-End rant.

In one of my politics class, the lecturer screened a Republican-created video about President George W. Bush. It chronicled his rise to presidency. In one scene, the narrator mentioned something pertaining to George Bush and his wit. Naturally, the lecture theatre burst out in laughter.

I mean. This from the guy who said 'I believe that human and fish can co-exist together'. Or something along the lines, operative words being human, fish and the high possibility of co-existence. You can't really help it, you know?

Some pictures to make my post seem longer:

Ad's first day dealing with 'The Man' at Monash.















Does this not give a reason to my absolutely valid fear of pigeons?

Note the lengths companies will go to to prevent legal ramifications. They care, *Sob*, they really do care!

*Insert title here*

-----------------> 'Inmates' by The Good Life.
Possibly the best nine minute plus song out there together with Iron & Wine's 'The Trapeze Swinger'. If you're going to start hollering about Green Day's 'Jesus of Suburbia', give me a second to explain. This is my blog and what I say goes. HA! Also, 'JoS' uses five different chord arrangements. Which I suppose could be considered a marvel in it's own right, but I'm talking about songs that use one running tune throughout the whole nine minutes. In this age where people's attention span last about as long as, OI! CAN YOU PLEASE HAVE THE DECENCY TO FINISH READING THIS PARAGRAPH? (Ooo.. Shiny eBay pop-up! Hello material possessions!) Ermm.. right. And that's why songs like 'Inmates' and 'The Trapeze Swinger' stand out all the more for their ability to keep the listener hooked for the duration of the song.

And if that's not the kind of music that's up your alley, then check out Arctic Monkeys. I don't know what it's like anywhere else, but the Melbourne music scene has been buzzing about these band lately. And with damn good reason too. 'I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor', their first single promises a rollicking almost-3-minute tune that bucks the current crop of electro-synthesized pop propogated by Kaiser Chiefs, The Killers, or any other recent UK band. Thank god! Bring in the drums, the accent and you can't help but be swaggering to the in-your-face debut single Arctic Monkey. If that's not enough, check out 'Fake Tales of San Francisco'. Hot damn! Say hello to the new face of the U.K. pop/rock scene.

There's a new club in Melbourne Uni this year. The Joss Whedon Appreciation Club. Heh. Needless to say you are reading the blog of a newly appointed member of said club.

I am currently saving up to get Dead Like Me Season 1 DVD. You should be doing that too.

After reading a whole assortment of blogs, I've come to realize that I lack a few skills needed to be skilled (duhhhhh) at maintaining an entertaining blog.

#1. I do not write candidly about my life. Self-censorship, dudes.
#2. I cannot make a mundane event seem fun and completely ass-kicking, either through wit or excessive photo-shopped pictures, because well, mundanity is as mundanity does.
#3. I cannot write a post that seem ambiguous and random but is obviously an angst-filled piece about the bastard of the day, mainly because angsty child I am not.
#4. I lead an uneventful life. No alcohol-fuelled nights at clubs with disastrous consequences to blog about, no guy I fancy to gush about, no stories about quirky MSN conversations (partly due to my intense dislike for all things MSN-related) and la-di-da. You get the picture.
#5. I do not have 153,567,345 contacts, which are essential for being players in a highly amusing blog post.

Together with Sammy, I have an audition this Tuesday for a student production. What sets this apart from previous auditions is this is for a musical. A musical. Huh.

(Me thinks I need to re-think the "Sureeeee. Why not?" attitude I practice in life.)

Now, while dear ol' musically-inclined Sam (Yes Sam) is going to rock the audition, yours truly who's previous audience has comprised of the four walls that make up the bathroom is gulping down air frantically in attempts to quelch the nervousness that has taken up permanent residency in her stomach.

Huh indeed.