The other 24 questions

(I am aware of the unusually high number of grammatical/spelling errors in the previous post. However I am too lazy to go back and correct the mistakes, so I shall just assume that this act of recognizing my mistakes will be interpreted as an act of atonement to the spelling gods in cyberspace.)

7. What shirt are you wearing now?
The ISV shirt. I am also drinking out of the ISV bottle. Who ever said it was all about good karma so had it pegged wrong. People don't go on volunteer trips for the good deeds. It's all about the 'freebies' man.

8. Do you "label" yourself?
If by labelling, you mean putting yourself in a category, then no. I AM UNIQUE. (Oi, pipe down you other 5,999,999 unique individuals). If by labelling, you mean giving yourself a nickname, then no either. But somehow or another, I now respond to 'Kay' or 'Kaz' to a selected few. The sad thing about being named Karen is not having an immediate nickname, unlike say Gillian or Jonathan. It's like my parents ran out of steam when it came to the middle child.

9. Name the brand of shoes you're currently wearing.
Joshua Radin- Closer. Oh whoops. I thought you meant name an artiste you're currently listening to.

10. Bright or dark room.
Naturally lit rooms. There are certain shops at OU in Malaysia I refuse to enter, on the grounds that their excessive flourescent lighting secretly emits radioactive waves to alter a person's spelling ability. Hence, the bad spelling on the Internet. And in graffitti. How disheartening.

11. What do you think about the person who took this survey?
She has a terrific writing style that seems easily attainable but is beyond hard to reproduce. It's one bit innocence and earnestness, two bits heart and three bits soul. Also, she is incredibly random. Which her fan-base greatly appreciates. /end fangirl rant.

12. take a break...
Hon, if I took any more breaks, I'd be on a one way path to flunking out of uni.

13. What were you doing at midnight last night?
As indescribably boring as this is, I was sleeping. Much to my displeasure I woke at six in the morning. I absolutely loathe waking up early for no reason. There's just nothing to do at six in the freaking morning.

14. What did your last text message you received on your mobile say?
"TT money yesterday. Come through yet? Luv mum." My mum, she of the concise text messages.

15. Where is your letter box?
Up yours. Ermm.. it just seemed like the natural response to the question!

16. What's a word that you say a lot?
'Jesus' and 'Christ'. And not in the "Praise Jesus. Hallelujah" kinda way. I am trying to hold back a little in front of the more religious, in my defence.

17. Who told you he/she loved you last?
I'm going to assume that 'luv' is broadly accepted under the wide banner of 'love'. Me mum then.

18. Last furry thing you touched?
NOT a pigeon.

19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days?
I've been eating ridiculous amounts of cereal, OT's, this week. And because as far as 'classic Asian traits' go, my stomach is as about staunchly Asian as I'll ever get. To the clueless: Think lactose intolerance and say hello to diarrhea medicine! (I bet you wished you were still clueless now).

20. How many rolls of film do you need to get developed?
4. Wait. 3.

21. Favourite age you have been so far?
Nine. And twelve. And thirteen.

22. Your worst enemy?
Pigeons. And cell phones. My sister has been abusing the free talk time we get and calling, "Just to say hello". And all phones in general. I almost hate talking on the phone as much as I hate pigeons. And taking showers. My level of hygiene is questionable at best. Great. Now no one's going to invite me out anymore.

23. What is your current desktop picture?
Veronica Mars. I am always amazed at what fanboys/girls churn out. That applies to the good, the bad, and the ugly.

24. What was the last thing you said to someone?
"Gill can you pleeeease stop calling *insert sobbing noises*. No more!"

25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly, which would you do?
My answer is always, and I stress, ALWAYS, going to be money when it comes to hyperthethical questions like this.

26. Do you like someone?
The new cast of Big Brother Australia are all kinds of hot.

27. Are you dating them?
As is always my one problem when it comes to finding true love, they're not actually anyone I know. Plus, there's that whole celluloid/TV barrier.

28. If the last person you spoke to was getting shot at, would you jump in front of the bullet for them?
I'll pay someone to take the bullet. I am a millionaire in this situation, am I not?

29. If you could punch one person in the face who's in your life right now, who would it be?
My brother. And in return I'd like him to punch me. It's a thing we do. Regardless of size and height difference we spar whenever we're both around. It's very Fight Club. Without the broken bones or nose bleeds.

30. What is the closest object to your left foot?
My trusty fan heater.

Spoiler alert for Inside Man.

Watching Inside Man requires a test of patience that can usually be found in M. Night Shyamalan's movies. It requires you to hold on to all your burning questions and sit through the entire movie till the end, hoping against hope that the punchline delivers and makes the price of the movie ticket entirely worth the experience. If all goes well, you walk out of the cinema lavishing praise onto the flick while your slightly befuddled mind attempts to come to grips with the ingenius of the film. However, if the experience was like mine after viewing Inside Man, you'll spend the next two days scouring IMDb and other Internet forums trying to properly understand what was the whole premise of the show without ever formulating a satisfactory answer.

Simply put, Inside Man bit off more than it can chew. The star-studded cast comprising of 'old reliable' Denzel Washington, 'Hollywood's current 'It' man', Clive Owen,'The Man to Watch', Chiwetel Ejiofor, with side players Jodie Foster and Willem Dafoe, performed well enough with a script that delighted in observational humour but lacked substance in the grand scheme. The movie should been gold. The execution of the bank robbery was shot with 'A grade' flair. The plot exposition was well paced throughout the story. The screen chemistry between Owen and Washington captured the intensity of the film and propelled the story further. So what went wrong?

Well, plenty. Infact the more I thought about the movie, the more grating I found the film to be. The movie took great lengths to justify a lot of things, which unfortunately failed overall to appease this viewer's questions. I'll just say this much. As great as a movie's premise can be, it all fails when the credits rolling and you're left never quite knowing the motives of the character's actions.

On a side note, I am happy to say that I have renewed my faith in Roger Ebert, the movie critic on Rottentomatoes and the Chicago Sun-Times. For a while there I doubted his ability to critique a movie properly, believing that his 'star power' had blinded him to the basic foundations of his job. Then I read his review for Inside Man. And my faith was restored.

Also, I should probably make clear that my reference to M. Night Shyamalan at the beginning of my post is based upon nothing but admiration and respect. Shyamalan ain't no one-trick pony. But then I suppose this requires a separate blog post on it's on. Suffice to say that he's a demigod in my world and I heart him.

I think Brokeback Mountain, the film, is probably one of the best, if not the best movie adapted from a story. I read the book and I think about the movie, and I can't help but marvel over how the movie successfully captures everything in the story. You know how it is. Movie adaptations usually come out either trashing the original story (case in point, any movie that was adapted from a book by Stephen King), falling below the expectations of the viewer/reader (any movie that was adapted from a book that featured a kid wizard named Harry) or becoming something else altogether from the original (any movie that was adapted from graphic novels/comics). The novella, all 56 pages of it, by Annie Proulx is such a gem to keep.

In the hunt for the digital camera I have narrowed my search to a couple of models.

#1. The Casio EXILIM EX-Z750
#2. The Pentax Optio 750Z
#3. The Leica D-Lux 2

Truthfully speaking, I'll probably won't buy a digital camera anytime soon. Partly because I couldn't be bothered splashing out for one and also because I can't bear to put down my Pentax film camera yet. But how will you experience the thrill of first glimpsing upon physical photographs right after they've been processed without film cameras???

But, if I did go out and get one, I will most probably go for the Pentax model. One, because unlike the Leica, it has an optical viewfinder which I still value in cameras whether film or digital. Two, because I've been taking pictures with a Pentax camera all these years, I'm apt to be biased towards the brand. Three, Leica is almost dead and buried now, so if I do get it, I could face a lot of problems when it comes to repairing it. Four, and this is by far the most important factor of them all, the Pentax model, while not as pretty as the Leica, is sure as hell prettier than the Casio EXILIM.

I am such a girl.

Technically didn't the 'V' in 'V for Vendetta' stand for the roman numeral for 5, first?

That is in no way a spoiler. Unless, well, you're that good. And because I think I know who's reading my blog I can safely assume that you guys are no where near that good. Hee. I admit. I can never really give up a shot at making a wisecrack at other people's expense.

So, I was writing up my essay for my history subject when I was struck with a crippling case of mental block. The ideas were there, they just weren't coming out. I did what I normally do to get over the mental block; ate 3/4 cooked spaghetti, took a shower, watched some Buffy, surfed websites, watched somemore Buffy, watched episodes of That 70's Show, surfed IMDb, just a wee bit more Buffy, and still nothing. The half-filled Words document sat there open, the empty space following the last paragraph sneering, mocking me. So I attempted to force words to come out. Nothing intellectual regarding the U.S involvement in Chile in the 1970s were coming out, save for 'Nixon+Kissinger paranoid!' and 'CIA conspiracy = DUH.' It was frustrating to say the least, the former reminded me that I needed to expand about the Cold War tensions and their experience with Cuba in the 60s and the latter served as a reminder that ConspiracyChicks needed to be updated some time soon.

Then, I started sliding eastward along the upperleft keys to form the word 'qwerty'. If you don't know already, qwerty, that word that may or may not be a word, can be typed out by sliding your finger from the left to right across six letters on the keyboard, starting from 'q' to 'y'. I started wondering what other words could be created by a mere slide and I took it upon myself to find out.

red
fed
few
awe
dew
wed
was
saw
sew
serf
Fred
Loki
milk
hung
drew
grew
brew
hut*
hug*
jug*
and my personal favourite, grease.
*might only apply to keyboards that have the letter 'y' missing.

All in all, I impressed myself by coming up with more than twenty words using the 'slide' technique. Unfortunately what wasn't so impressive was my inability to overcome the mental block.


*Minimal spoiler for V for Vendetta. You have been warned.*

Coming out from the cinema after V for Vendetta I couldn't shake the sense of awe that first engulfed me from the minute V took over the television station and ran his pirate broadcast. Besides some very questionable holes in the plot (but then again can there ever be a graphic novel/comic book/any kind of adaptation without flaw?), the movie marks a brilliant start to a year that has at least two other comicbook adaptations. This isn't in the playing field of The League of Extraordinary Gentleman, kids. It has the political backbone to raise a hundred questions that remains all the more relevant in the world today. V for Vendetta is an example about what can go wrong in a country when fear is the currency of a government's mandate and sedition is the watchword, when free media exists as an utopian ideal, and when the population is placated by a safe and cushy living environment, to the extend that they become nothing but passive consumers of government propaganda. To be able to sit through all two hours and ten minutes of the film, you need to believe that all of the above is possible. Of course, the movie is really a depiction of an extreme version of all that, but surprise surprise, no one can deny it's relevance after taking into consideration history and the state of our world today.

What annoys me about the U.S. Democrats is the fact that they had so many opportunities to call Bush on his less than democratic remarks, but they didn't. Why? Fear, I'm guessing. Or they were waiting for the election to make a grand statement. Whatever, losers. Instead of standing up and telling Bush that it is un-American to tell Americans that it is un-American not to support the war, they meekly sat down and chose the path of less resistance. And the PATRIOT Act? How's about a breach of individual privacy as granted in the UN Declaration of Human Rights? Bush may be an incompetent 'puppet' president. But he sure knows how to use the right choice of words and evoke enough sense of nationality to make the public believe he's gosh darn-tastic. Or at least his speechwriters do. I'll say one last thing though, if Bush keeps going on about Immigration the way he's going now, come January 20 2009 the US will be inaugurating a Democrat president.

Gee, where did *that* come from? Right. V for Vendetta , the movie. You could be doing dumber things besides watching it.

Hot damn.

If you've been frequenting my blog recently or if you've been reading NME or Rolling Stone or any other music magazine recently, you would have noticed that Arctic Monkeys is this year's watchword. The band from Sunderland, with the debut album of all debut albums in year 2006, have been either revered as the sound and voice of this generation's indie rock scene or trashed as a bunch of yuppy-wannabes who attempt to hark back into the golden age of rock but pale in comparison to the rock gods of the yesteryears. Ermm.. Also, some critics might have labled them immature (Jesus Christ. Alex Turner, the lead vocalist is all of 20 this year!) and annoying.


Anyhow, go check them out for yourself and be your own judge.

This

might be of some help. Or even

this

. Or, you could try

this

.

Right then. Now we get to the point of the post.

Unbeknownst to me, Arctic Monkeys recently released tour dates in Australia. Known to me is the fact that both Melbourne dates sold out in all of 5 minutes. Jesus Christ dudes. You'd think this was a case of hard-core fans yeah? Well... yeah. But then you also have the bastards and wankers who buy up tickets only to re-sell them on eBay. And of course, bring in the interested and slightly curious almost-fan who wouldn't mind being fifth row centre and the picture is completed.

So, here's a proposition to you, friend of mine or random reader who chanced upon whatsthedamnurl while Googling 'liking ass' or 'who DOES give a rat's ass?'. Want to go watch them live? They'll be playing The Palace at St. Kilda on August 2nd and 3rd 2006. Don't ask me how much the tickets will come up to. All I know is the official price was AUD$65.50 and the tickets seem to be going for less than a hundred on eBay, which is good cause most tickets generally seem to sell in pairs, meaning you technically save a little. So, anyone out there interested? Leave me a message in the comments page or email. Or if you know me directly, please SMS me. I should probably state that you need to be 18 and above or have a really convincing photo ID. And no travelling costs is covered if you're not in Australia during those dates.

----------

[MSN conversation last night]
"I'm sorry to burst your bubble Jon but things aren't always as easy and obvious as they seem."
"That's ok. I'll just blow a new bubble. HaHaHa.."

I love my brother more than I love life. And you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Maybe someday I'll have enough guts to actually post the other two paragraphs, unedited. To me, what's more ball-busting than revealing your inner troubles on public domain is answering countless irksome questions from well-meaning friends (no offense meant to anyone). You don't want to talk about it, but you're obliged to because afterall, it was your freaking 'bear-all' post that started it all. And there's only so many times you can regurgitate the same story before you get sick of hearing yourself again and again and again and again and again..

Therefore word to the wise, don't bug me about it. Let me bug you when the time is right.

----------

Right then. Happy belated 20th Sophie Poo. As a belated birthday treat let me reveal that I'm one of those obsessive people who visits your blog at least a couple of times when I'm online, which is almost daily. What can I say? You write awesomely (no, I'm not having a crack at you), both fiction-wise and blogpost-wise. Can't blame a girl for being hooked when you almost constantly 'speak da word gurrrlfriend!'. I thank my lucky stars, all two of them, that I'm on your 'approved' friend list. *sob* I wouldn't know how I would live if I wasn't privy to the contents of your locked journal (now, I'm almost certainly having a crack at you).

Many happy returns Sophia Foo Yong Tau Foo (What do you mean that's not your real name?!) You're just brilliant.

'And so between them both you see, they licked the platter clean.'

To my blurass friend, Christine;
Yesterday marks your twentieth year,
No longer are you a wee teen,
(HAHA) You're an old Ninny now, dear!

Soon you'll be really old, like eighty,
and die a wrinkly, stinky death;
But for now, don't fret or worry,
because you still have a firm asth.

Who knew I had a lisp? I meant ass.
---I apologize for the quality, or more specifically the lack of quality. I came up with this in between writing notes and fighting the urges of sleep during my Democracy lecture.

Happy 20th Birthday Christine-ninny. Just know that when I think of you I think of;

[---]
elegance,
[---]
charm,
[---]
maturity,
[---]
and Carlsberg.

Love ya lots (although my gut tells me you're probably not reciprocating that right about now).

Hpe you had a good one.

'Don't give a damn 'bout my reputation'

Yo no hablo espana, but like to think I understand it anyway. I suppose that sort of explains why I even bother frequenting websites in Spanish attempting to find trivia about Natalie Portman.

--- Two idiots just knocked on my door, I suppose, looking for their friend who lives in unit 5615. They greeted me with blank stares like I'm the one who's lost then proceeded to dare ask if this was said apartment. You'd think the gold plated '5415' on my door would be clue enough. I quote the splendous, wonderful, effulgent, Karen W. when I say, "I weep for the state of humanity if this the benchmark for all future generations to come". Hee.

Right then. So, Spanish. I'd like to think that my knowledge of the language is still at that 'D+' level it was before, but I have a sinking feeling that it has sunk to a brand-spankin' new 'F-'. I suspect that the only reason I half understand what's going on in the article is because I have only read about, oh just about 6,745 other webpages concerning Ms Portman in my entire lifetime. What can I say? I've been a fan for quite a while now. What's funny (to me, at least) is that I've seen almost every movie she's acted in to date except that movie, the one that first placed her as an upcoming starlet to watch, The Professional. I'll get my hands on the DVD if it's the last thing I do.

Awww. She's so gosh darn pretty.Proof that going to Harvard means jackshit: when you can't appreciate the beauty of Natalie Portman and instead go on about some actress whose last name rhymes with a bird that can't fly who lives in icy conditions (but is gosh darn cute too come to think of it). Too bad the praise doesn't extend to her. My loving tribute to Nick, who's off vacationing where the sun shines and heat sizzles. I'm angsty. Melbourne just got damn cold. And yeah yeah. You'll be having the last laugh when it comes to who's getting a nice, cushy executive position first.

And since we're on the subject of all things pretty, here's a picture of Ashton Holmes who was last seen on movie screens as Viggo Mortenson's kid in A History of Violence.

He's pwetty. Like Seth Cohen kinda pretty, except he's still watchable and not groan-inducing after five consecutive episodes. Technically, that last sentence doesn't make sense. But at least I got to string 'Seth Cohen', 'groan-inducing' and 'five consecutive episodes' together. Plus, Ashton just looks damn fine in that suit. Who cares if he's cheeks are rosier than mine, or if his hair is elegantly styled in that 'messy but rockin'' 'do which somehow translates to 'dirty homeless bag-lady' on me, or if his lips never need to know the icky-ness of lipstick to stay that red? Yeah, I'd go out with him. Ouch. Reality just bit back hard. I'm here, ya bastard.

Has anyone out there got a copy of Magnolia? I promise you instant karma if you loan it to me. Aimee Mann makes a killing on the soundtrack. And if the movie is as promising as the soundtrack, hell, sign me right up. If you know what's good for you, download Aimee Mann's Wise Up and Save Me. With lyrics that read like this,

"If you could save me,
from the ranks of the freaks,
that suspect they could never love anyone..."
Aimee Mann- Save Me

it's not everyday you come across a gem of songwriting like that.

The reason why I haven't scoured Limewire for a copy of the movie is because my current download list looks something like this:

I miss That 70's Show, circa Season One. All six of them were actually there. And the punchlines and gags were just better.

You know, I think yesterday marks the first April Fool's Day in my life where not one single prank was pulled, either me in the position of prankster or fool. It was like it was just some other day. Nobody at work recognized it and I infact completely forgot about it. It's a little sad to think about. I know when I was a kid, April 1st always seemed to hold a little crackle of energy in the air. Between raising your guard and being on constant lookout for the best opportunity to pull a prank, the day was spent in a haze of joyous laughter, sneaky collaborations that only lasted until the next prank, and intense debates defending your intelligence quotient. Now as adults, we instead celebrate random days, like St. Patrick's, which we all know is just a thinly veiled excuse for the average individual to nurture his or her inner alcoholic, while alcoholics everywhere rejoice and drink as they like without having to makeup lame excuses for yet another day spent in a foggy state of insobriety. And life is suppose to make more sense as we age? How so, I retort?

It ain't bad, this growing up thing. Your fears become more complex, as does your thought-processes and love-life. Most days I don't have a problem with it. Just seems like you can live forever in a permanent state of happiness and yet can't help but look back at days long past with a slight twinge and inkling for the simpler times. Just saying it's all.

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


equals


*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.

Rilek y'all.

One Miss Adeline Lee + mum in tow arrived in Melbourne safely on Monday. She's currently hanging out at Caulfield doing the orientation thing. She's currently unhappily taking 3 minute showers in her apartment. Hee.. That's something I'll let her rant about when she gets her broadband up and running.

My schedule is out for Semester 1 2006. And all you people can just keel over and die in awe right about.... now. It's fantastic. Perfectly constructed so that it's impossible for me to miss any tutorial or lecture (read: the majority four out of five days I start at 2.15 pm) and there's still time for me to work and play (Friday's off plus all that extra time in the morning). *Insert cheesy smiley with extra broad grin*. Factor in my oh-so-busy 11 hour week and there you have it: I so rock.

Yeah, I really do.

Commonwealth 2006. There's enough of us here now to make a perfectly respectable noise level to cheer on the Malaysian badminton team, hello Ka Seong, Alex, Ivy. Jenshen, Daryl and I calculated that with all the badminton bigwigs out there unable to compete due to ya know, not being conquered by the English in the past, we might actually have a pretty good shot at making it quite far into the tournament. After much debate about the state of Denmark (Embarrasingly, it took us quite a while to figure out that they're not part of the Commonwealth nations. Sejarah-shmejarah) we sussed out that our biggest competitors would be England and Singapore. And Singapore's only a threat just cause our Southern neighbour has that Indon guy, pfft tosh. Plus, tickets are like $15 per head, which is what, the price of a movie ticket? Boleh larh. That is assuming of course that Malaysia cracks it's usual 'Tim Henman' syndrome (Why oh why do you keep doing this to me, Timmy?) and doesn't lose those easy matches and win random hard ones.

Should be all systems go. Anyone want to go support your home team, jump on the bandwagon. The more, the noiser eh?

Just almost.

Oh, the almost cleverness of me!

I have corrected 1 (Statscounter link) and a half (comments is up!) of the grievances stated before and I'm currently feeling pretty smug. Yes folks. It is indeed a work in progress. I don't think anyone can post comments yet, cause I know nothing happens when I click the comments link, but feel free to prove me wrong. Apparently if you have any kind of Internet security system or popup killer thingymajig, the window just won't open and although I have corrected that with my Norton, I have yet to leap out of my bed screaming 'Eureka! Eureka! at this present hour due to a case of abso-fucking-lutely nothing happening. Yes, I might be a tad bit frustrated too.

Today marks the first time in my life my money's mysteriously disappeared and oh, does my heart hurt. Even when I lost my wallet that one time, there were no bills or coins inside, which, come to think of it, is probably why the police officer seemed less than impress when I reported my wallet's value at 6 bucks (which is the price I paid for it, but boy was it pretty). I withdrew AUD$70 today when I went for lunch. And somewhere during the time when I paid for a Italian B.M.T. at Subway to when I paid for a Chocolate Frappe at Macca's (you tend not to think of the calories after an 8 hour shift), 50 bucks went missing. So I've narrowed it down to two possibilities.

#1. I simply dropped the 50 when I was taking out the 20 to pay for lunch, which is actually pretty possible considering my wallet type (just one note/coin space).

#2. Someone at work took the cash out of my wallet and pocketed it, which is also not entirely impossible as I had left my wallet in the pigeon hole in the changing rooms.

And although this completely bites and blows my budget for tomorrow (the arrival of a certain Siao Cha Bo, who holds the number 2 position, quite proudly if I may add.. Hello Ad!), life goes on and you can only glower for so long. Therefore, to the fella who might have found a 50 note on Elizabeth St today, consider yourself a lucky bastard. And to the co-worker who might have stole from me, there's no doubts that you are one fucking bastard.

[/Edit]
I know what's wrong. To comment you either need to turn off your popup window murderer or configure it to allow Haloscan to open. Heh heh. I was, err... careless before. My bad.

I am quite the genius! Golly gee and knock me over with a tumbleweed but I think I'm actually done fixing up my template. There you go folks! This is Who gives a rat's ass? year 2006.

Screw the fact that the entry page is slightly aneroxic and that the titles suffer from a slight case of invisibility. I mean... at the end of the day, who does give a rat's ass, eh?

One Sunday idled away and a brand spanking new layout beckons

4 things I'm not too crazy about:

#1. I can't get my Statscounter link on no matter how I fiddle around with the template.
#2. The entry page could be bigger.
#3. The title doesn't come up in the contents area.
#4. And as you'll soon find out, I can't put up the comments page. I have fiddled and diddled but it ain't showing up. Oh heck. Guess the tagboard sure does come in handy right about now.

Nonetheless I'm completely digging the layout, enough so that I actually dared to confront my fear of HTML and apply the skin to my blog. Take that HTML! Although in retrospect, I suppose it did one four up me. Huh.

"It came from below." ...... "What? You mean the third floor?"

My Top 5 weird/random admissions:

#1. What is weird? The polar opposite of normal, maybe. But then what is normal? Who determines where the line is drawn between normalcy and weirdness? If you go by the opinion that normalcy is dictated by how the majority acts, what then happens when the majority is wrong? For instance, through one man's powerful words and extreme brain-washing (plus, one hell of an obedient army) one race was persecuted. How is that normal? But then I suppose death is normal. "The only thing is ever certain". Can anyone ever come up with a cure to prolong life? So much so that by your 600th year of living you find that death seems more appealing than ever. Hey isn't that something out of Harry Potter Book #1? Something about how death is the next adventure for the living, who was it that mentioned that... the guy who created the philosopher's stone? Wait, but then again that could have written on the back of a cereal box due to it's extreme cliche-ness. Hmmm... I wonder if anyone else reads the back of cereal boxes? That reminds me. Don't ever bother try to find some new cereal brand even if it promises six more vitamins and additional acid folate than Crunchy Nut, cause even if CN is less healthy it sure as hell packs a whole lot more taste, being of course it actually has some taste to it... Ugh. I detest yogurt. It looks like diarrhea warmed over with some fake strawberry flavouring inserted to make it seem edible. Must be the 97% (well, insert your chosen ninety-something percentage so long as it's higher than the competitor's, but make sure it goes no higher than 99.99% cause no one would believe that something is 100% fat-free, except maybe cardboard. But then again no one would admit to eating cardboard due to fear of being cast as a social pariah). (And that kid in Special Ed is excepted, because goddamn, he's in Special Ed!). I bet so long as you slap a __% fat free sticker on a food item, somewhere some sucker will buy it. Hee. I live with one.
Sometimes my mind goes off into tangents like this. But then again I'm sure yours does as well.

#2. Just in case your eyes glibbed over the paragraph above, here's the one important fact you should know about me: I detest yogurt.

#3. I had a four and a half years sabbatical off pork. In Costa Rica/America, I started eating it again. Goddamn. Bacon is goooooooooood.

#4. When it comes to music, like many others I know of, my biggest musical influence is, well, me. Now, while my brother is 3 years my junior in terms of age and lightyears behind in the case of maturity (at times when we're hanging, it's unclear who's actually ahead), he is the person I turn to for new suggestions. Don't get me wrong. The songs friends have suggested are usually alright but they just don't sit well on my playlist resulting in my finger clicking the delete button (sorry guys). E.g. The Bravery- Honest Mistake. When Jon suggested it to me, I thought, 'Oh dear god, is he losing his touch?' only to realize that soon I was bopping along to the song. Jesus Christ, does that kid wield some sort of power or what?

#5. I have the same bed sheets as Sammy Snakes. Who coincidentally almost owned my other sheets, had the shop not ran out of stock. Snakes also almost owned the identical pair of sheets that Charmie-Charm-Charm has (the paint-splattered one) until, if I remember the story correctly, the shop ran out of stock too. With reference to the first identical pair of sheets Sam and I own, what are the odds eh? We didn't even know of each other's existence yet. I mean, afterall, we only got it from this shop called IKEA.

---------

The holidays are almost coming to an end. School starts on the 27th apparently. It's so strange to think that come this year I'll be walking down the halls and pathways of Melbourne Uni as a second year student, and in a year I'll be doing so with the label 'GRADUATE' gleaming slightly in my shadows. I'm kidding. Of course third year art students don't walk around with the word SOON-TO-BE-GRADUATE stamped on their foreheads. Number one, there simply isn't enough space to write all that. And number two, DESPERATE will already be imprinted on their foreheads, furrowed brows perfectly highlighting the rising panic in their eyes, which in turn provides a great complement to the jittery movements the high-strung, highly-caffeinated (cause big kids drink coffee, hell yeah) students make as they realize the time has come to face the music, and we're talking the BIG music now, not just the miniscule one that cropped up during the end of primary school and again in secondary school.

Or am I the only one who thinks that perfectly encapsulates the final year student's being?

Can't be. There's a hell lot of blogs out there reiterating what I just said (except with less amusing imagery, if I may say so myself).

How do you rehash a month's worth of memories into a reader-friendly post?

Answer: You don't.

Hee.

Real answer: I don't know how to.

To say that it was 'really good' doesn't do my memories justice. Neither does saying it was 'mind-blowing, god-awesome, effing-brilliant stuff'. By the end of the one month, I've become so used to the travelling life that waking up in my bed the day after I got back evoked a momentary but pretty potent sense of disappointment, empty refridgerator not providing the least bit comfort.

I suppose the difference with Costa Rica compared to any other place I've travelled to so far, is the fact that it wasn't an English-speaking country, thus, providing me with very little choice but to actively immerse myself in the local language. And while I was practicing mis-pronounced Tico Spanish, whether consciously or not, a lot of the local culture became
ingrained into my life. Be it from adoring pinto (rice and beans basically, but don't let the blandness of the description fool you into thinking that the food was sister to cardboard) to setting my natural body clock to Tico time whilst on the Caribbean Coast (essentially a lot like Malaysian time - never punctual, constantly late) to understanding the basis behind the Nicaraguan jokes (like Malaysia and Indonesia, a lot of Ticos blame Nicaraguans for taking up local jobs although these are the jobs that the locals don't want), the hardest thing about leaving Costa Rica behind is having all these new ticks within me with no outlet to express it or any conceivable way to sustain it either.

Oh heck. But then I guess (in Southern Belle accent) "tomorrow is another da-ie", innit?

Here's my attempt at giving a run-through of my trip.

First two weeks
Were spent on the volunteer project. The head of our host family has been working with the Costa Rican Ministry of Agriculture for 25 years plus and he uses his house as an example of how organic farming works. Hence, he gets quite a bit of visitors, mostly local farmers who want to learn the techniques and he works with the government on advising local farmers on
how to apply an organic method to their farming lifestyle. What we did was help out around the farm, providing a hand to physical tasks, while personally learning why Costa Rica was pushing for organic farming around the country.

It wasn't all work and no play. We (there were 10 of us) travelled occasionally to the local town for Internet, headed out a couple of nights for dinner and clubbing, and even hit the tourist beach for a day of sun and souvenir shopping on our day off. Plus, the good camaderie between the ten of us made it so that work and life went by easier. What we all were
taken back by was the facilities provided on the farm. The TV on the farm, which had cable access provided us with entertainment. Eg. countless moments were spent debating whether MTV's Laguna Beach starred actors or real kids (my verdict: Like Arrested Development, I maintain it's scripted reality. But goddamn is that show an excuse to play today's latest hit
songs or what?). For those who were under the assumption that I was staying in this ulu-fied place, suffice to say that we actually caught the Golden Globes live on TV.

Last two weeks
Were spent on the adventure tour. We travelled along both the Pacific and Caribbean Coast, staying in some of the best resorts as well as some of the more dodgier ones (think cockroach on the mirror). Allow me to take a second and mock you by saying I have now swam in both the Pacific and Carribean waters. Ha! Among other things, we went kayaking in the rain, horse-riding in the mountains, zip-lining across the forests, white-water rafting down Class 2,3,4 rapids, bike-riding to the beach and snorkelling in the Pacific Ocean. I know. If I were you I'd be jealous too.

Last day before flying out
Were spent in LA. The night before, while flying from Costa Rica to LA, Yoong Mei, you won't believe who was on the same airline parked up in Business Class. As your friend I say you deserve every right to smack my head in when you see me for I failed to get you Sting's autograph. However, I do have something to atone for my mistake. How's a picture of
Sting's star from the Hollywood Walk of Fame sound?

LA was pretty damn fantastic considering the short amount time we spent there (just one night and 3/4 of a day). Charm and I by foregoing a trip to Disneyland instead, flew home with a bunch of decent shopping in our hands. Of course, we did a tour of LA as well, and really, the only thing that put a slight dent into my memory of that day was the fact that I
didn't meet Seth Green. Or Ethan Embry. I did meet Elmo. But who the hell gives a damn about that retarded, annoying blob?

To sum up: you can't go wrong in life my making a trip down there someday.

And yes, I have your souvenirs, kids. Go crazy.

-[edit]-

February the 8th, today a perfect specimen turns 32. Whaaaaaaaaat?!? That's not TOO old.

Also, to the people who have been calling me and leaving me messages. My phone's kinda momentarily screwed right now. It's got, what phone doctors would consider, a mild case of 'overdue-billitis' which unfortunately led to a severe case of 'line-gets-barreditis'. Huh. So apparently I'm only a "worthy customer" so long as I keep my payments on time. Therefore to the lovely people who have contacted me, be patient. Why am I not calling you on my home phone? Ahhh. Sadly the above mentioned disease was pretty lethal and my home phone got afflicted with it too. Damn dirty technology! However, while my phone is unable to make outside calls, it has excellent receiving skills. Feel free to give me a call. And Sammy, sorry I didn't pick up; had a shift.

Brokeback Mountain, first movie of 2006. And hot damn, it's an excellent start. Sets a pretty high bar for this year. I was watching the first quarter of the movie wondering why the hell everyone was raving about Heath Ledger's performance, when it was pretty neat but not buzz-worthy material. Come the end, gee whiz, I am floored.

Finally, Crazy Woman Who is Obsessed With Rent. Breathe. It's coming out here on March 2 (or possibly 19).

Hunt for Seth Green; results? 'Unsatisfactory'

Hey folks.

I'm back.

Leg One of the Journey

In true Karen fashion, 50 minutes before it was time for me to leave to the bus terminal, I was folding my laundry and packing my backpack. While packing up my toiletries, I found that I didn't have spare moisturiser. *Fuck all*. See, with eczema, you just can't take a chance without moisturiser. After a couple of seconds, I realized that Sydney ain't no hick town (my bad)

So, the past 12 hours I've been on a Greyhound bus. While taking a flight would have been indeed a whole lot of hours shorter, I wouldn't have been able to pass the Australian National University in Canberra and find out that there is a Liverpool city in Southwest Sydney.

Next up is tomorrow's flight to New Zealand before we finally fly across the Pacific to Los Angeles, then Costa Rica. I think I've packed everything I need. And I think I've got all the documents I need. So, why exactly is there this nagging feeling in my gut? I shall put it down to paranoia.

Happy 2006 everyone. May your year be spent in good health and good times. Also, I realised that I'm turning nineteen this year. 19. Holy cow. Ka Faii reminded me that if I thought that was bad, the 1986-ers are turning 20. Holy freaking cow indeed.

See ya lot soon!