Yesterday, for the very first time, I bought and tore open a pack of Durex 'Tingle' condoms and:

unrolled,

handled

&

fondled

the condom.

(you may start laughing now)


It began in Tesco, after we had a rowdy discussion about our CSA assignment (in McD's), involving the use of words like 'sex' and 'condoms'.

I was buying two bars of chocolates and two packs of Double Decker Pranky Prawn crackers (my ol' Dino loves that stuff and has been hinting at eating it) and MZ and K joined me and I stupidly pointed out a whole row of Durex condoms just by the counter.

Me: Eh. Look. (points) (eyebrows raised)

MZ: Eeee! (rushes to where I point)

K: Ooh. (joins MZ)

So they went to discuss which is better and whatnot, while I stand there and wait for my turn to fork out hard earned money to indulge my Dino's cravings (and mine! Lol) and I noticed the old man standing behind me.

He was there, just glaring and eyes shooting daggers at K and MZ. I swear, I could SEE him thinking

"Kids these days."

Then I caught his eye and he turned his glare on me. It was SO full of disapproval, it wasn't real.

I laughed my head off. Silently.

I mean, c'mon. Its research! We're UNIVERSITY students and we're doing research. So MZ picked out the 'Tingle' condoms ("I wanna see if it really 'tingles' when you hold it in your hands") and tossed it to me to pay for it. (With her money, RM 6)

In so, in the car, they (Bozu, M, MZ, and K) forced me to open it. 3 small silver sachet-like foil packets were in there. MZ gave me one.

I sat there, looking at it, unsure completely of even how to open the damn thing. XD

Finally, after much yelling and much 'JUST OPEN IT LA DAMMIT!' I did, and a very strong smelling mint-flavoured condom was in there.

O.o.

My first time seeing a condom. Seriously. I freaked.

(I mean, I know what it looks like and stuff, I mean, I watch TV you know, but never seen it up close and in my own hands)

I stared at it like a dumb dumb, unsure of what to do with it.

"Take it out of the packet la!".

I hesitated. Like the stupid dumb dumb that I am. XP

Then finally, after being exasperated by my unwillingness to touch it, MZ grabbed it out of my fingers and dumped the condom itself onto my palms.

"There!"

And I laughed my head off, with the round thingy on my palms.

"Unroll it la dumb dumb!" said K, with M and Bozu laughing.

"How????? I don't know how!!!!" (Is it even rolled up???? I dont know!) said me.

So began Lesson One for P-chan's Condom Education 101.

It ended with product testing, when Bra-man blew it up (like a balloon!) and tossed it around class, giggling maniacally. (And I heard J saying 'OH, GOD DANG IT'. Muahahaha.)

Durex is very tough, btw. Bra-man tried poking holes in it, and it didn't quite burst. Thats a quality product, people!

By the way, the conclusion was that the skin on the man's *ahem* is more sensitive than any other skin on the body because the condom didnt' tingle on my hands.


A Day of Immense Firsts

First time buying and seeing a condom. First time eating Vietnamese Beef Noodles. Sounds better than it tasted, by the way, but with some chilli (I know, I know, but hey. I opened a condom. Whats a bit of chilli????) in it, it actually tasted better.

It wasn't that good, but hey, like M said, "Its the company you're with that matters." I agree, and like I've always said, who cares what you eat, its the company that counts. :)

I rarely get to eat dinner with my friends so yesterday Bra-man, LM, M and MZ was my dinner 'gang' (and what a great gang :)) and we went to this Food Court place in Taman Megah. Variety was mad there, man. Too much variety.

First time sleeping in Media Ethics class, despite two cups of coffee (not strong enough, thats why). First time also witnessing the:

Breakdown of Verbal Communication (aka Six Steps Away!)

at Mz's and M's place. I was standing there, just enjoying their company and chilling out when I noticed that MZ was chatting with M.

M was sitting in the hallway, exactly SIX steps away from MZ, and they were MSN-ing.

And I said, incredulously:

"You guys are chatting?? What happened to verbal comunication??"

To which M and MZ burst out into laughter at my (very) befuddled face. I mean, I know sometimes even my sis and I do that but to have each other within SIGHT and within EARSHOT.....

Still, to each his own :) Its alright as long as they DO still communicate verbally. Lol.


An interesting day with a less-than-stellar ending, but nonetheless having dinner with pals are great. May never be able to show my face at Tesco Mutiara but oh well.....


There are other Tesco stores. XP

Some dude had his a** up against my thigh today.

He stood just about 5' 6'', perhaps less, his head was not even above my shoulders. Dark skin, dark hair and a shirt that had seen better days. A scraggly moustache.

He didn't smell that good, as if he had abandoned the good ol' soap and water for at least 2 days. Sweat, mingled with an unidentified stench that I shudder to think about its origins.

He stood there with his a** against my thigh, his body pressed TOO close to mine as I tried with every single availalable tool I had to put a protective barrier between my body and his.

It failed.

I spent 25 minutes with his a** against my thigh and his arms shoving into my sides/boobs. Though, in that situation, perhaps the perp with his/her arm against my chest was another man/woman. I would never know, so many bodies were smashed against each other in the most offensive of positions it could have been a serial molester and nobody would know.

My personal space was violated so thoroughly today I may never touch another person again.

(I also now officially hate those responsible for the LRT being SO FREAKIN' CROWDED, aka the *bleeeeep*, because of the fuel price hike.)

I understand that the rush hour madness. I understand the sardine packed-ness. I understand. I do.

What I don't understand is.....


WHERE DID ALL THESE HUMAN BEINGS COME FROM????????


No really. Where did all the car-drivers go? Why are they invading the LRT?

Fuel prices are up, I know, but suddenly everyone is poor? If you can afford a car, you can afford to pay for petrol! Just don't speed so much garddarnit! Car pool! Drive slowly! Change to a smaller car!

Don't crowd up the LRTs! Can't you freakin CAR POOL???? That's what K (and J, on occasion) is doing! You dont see him invading the LRT! CAR POOL, DANGIT!

(ahem)

Forgive my ranting, but today is THE WORST LRT RIDE I EVER HAD IN MY ENTIRE 3 YEARS of RIDING IT and guess what??

Its only going to get WORSE.

Wheeeeee.

Its done.

Perhaps I should go away for a bit, clear my head. But I have deleted my initial post (for those of you who didn't read it, it remains better you didn't, and for those who did, I am sorry for emo-tripping out on you) and perhaps the only way to deal with it is to let it go.





Letting go.





Easier said than done, that.





Still, today, no emo-tripping. I am done. My night was a cold one, and dragging myself out of bed was impossible, so today, just today, I am going to enjoy my self-imposed holiday and when Monday rolls along, I will be fine. I will be Me again.



(I will also be able to face her and just aloofly not care. Read about it here)



And now, to bring to you the best parts of my life (because I am trying this thing called optimism):


Helping a friend find a present

Bra-man, and his GF of 3 years (yes, THREE years!) LM, are the sweetest couple ever, IMHO. Despite his crazy, pervy ways, Bra-man is a genuinely good guy, and LM is a great, funny and smart person, and man, they're both really cute together XP.

Opposites, but somehow soul mates. Lol. Really sweet.

Anyways, wanting to get her something special, Bra enlisted the help of me, MZ, J and K to help buy her a pair of GOLD EARRINGS. GOLD, baby, GOLD.

Now, I myself personally do not like gold (I prefer silver or platinum with semi-precious stones, I never did fancy diamonds despite their hype, I think they lack character) but I know ooodles and ooodles of girls out there do.

So Bra said 'lets go Poh Kong' and I said, yeah, cool idea, they've got their Tranz line which is affordable and looks quite nice.

So off we trooped, and debated (I was all for girly butterflies/hearts, though in the end, I can see how a more subtle and unique pattern would fit the 'special occasion' tag) and he bought her a lovely pair of earrings, also sponsored by K and V.

So sweet, really. So LM turns 21, (on Sunday) and so HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(fanfare!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Sticking up for a friend

And not regretting a moment, except for the fact that I should have stuck up for him sooner. (link above)

Having been attacked needlessly, simply for being at the wrong place at the right time (he was sitting straight in her line of fire) and for being shouted at unfairly, I feel that sticking up for him is definitely the right thing to do.

K and me, we got pissed off for several reasons: one, she was directly attacking our friend for no reason, two, she lost control and lied, denied and shouted. Too much. TOO MUCH!

Cannot believe he kept cool while I lost my head completely. But for my part, I know why I lost it: and its not because she is a lousy lecturer (though she IS) but well, because. Because.

K and J are right; I can never keep my cool. But it no matter, I mean, I would fight tooth and nail and claw for a friend. It was worth it. Like I said, I only regret not sticking up for him sooner.


Being a good friend

Is perhaps, the only way to go. To be there ready at hand when they need notes and help, to lend a listening ear (and sometimes plain intrude in their lives in your concern), to be someone fun to hang out with, to be able to be depended on. To be able to laugh and have fun, as well as work and share problems together.

Friendship; to be somebody important to someone.

Being a friend, I think I know how to do that.

I've never really had them before till a few years back, so forgive me for being 17 years rusty. Haven't had much practice in this dept., so I will never be able to know what is a friend, and what is more than a friend, or even what is not a friend at all.

But I think, if you genuinely care for someone, is willing to help (though you're not very good at it), is ready to help, and do not mind doing things and favours and share some great times together, that is friendship, I think.

When you can talk all day, and enjoy each other's company, thats friendship.

I don't know much, but I know that perhaps friendship has to be enough. Because sometimes thats all there is to it. :)






I am on a mission.


A mission to save me from myself. It starts now.

I wished I put more effort into blogging.


No really.

Blogging for me is a rant/entertainment thing. I do it to amuse my friends who click on the link from time to time and decide to read drivel. I basically rant or bitch or moan about something or other, without any real cause/event to make it worth being blogged about.


-_-'

(though I sincerely love deluding myself that my nonsense is highly entertaining, and that I write it in a funny, amusing, light-hearted and wonderfully witty way)

And now I resolve to change. I shall blog about things worth blogging about. Events that happened in my life that made an impact, little things about the world and everything in it. Serious things like science and socialization. Politics. Economics. Ergonomics. Palindromics. Pornonomics. Openmics.

Nah.
Not gonna happen.

Though I will regale you now with the tale of

CABAL.

What a game. I love this game. Well, I mean, it is cool, relatively violent, very exciting, and its an RPG. You guys know I LOVE RPGS.

I played. I was levelling very well. I was on a roll.

Then the illegal game client happened.

Then the error happened. Then bad luck happened. Long story short....

I CANT PLAY CABAL.

Assignments.

Are a killer this semester. What with a lecturer+tutor with a *bleep* up her *bleep*..... (who, incidentally, gives the most work, ridiculous work, to boot) and tonnes of work (of which remarkably I am still able to handle), I think this semester is gonna be an action-packed one for me.

Which, of course, explains why I have not blogged in a week and oh yes, my teeth are fine.

P/S: Somehow I think someone is emo-tripping and ranting when 1) I was never mad at him. 2) My 'outburst' was never directed at him. 3) He should never mess with a girl on PMS and 4) Hello? He hasn't seen 'outburst' yet from me. Why should he get an apology from me when nothing was ever directed at him? Siapa makan cili terasa pedasla!

Hmmph.

THIS IS A BITCHING POST. Yes thank you.

(pic from LoLCatz.)


Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm cookies.

Can't eat 'em.

*&@%*!#%&*@!*&(#$!%@(&$ !


Sadness. SADNESS.

I is abowt to be crazee. Someone save me!


Here is a list of what I will do when I regain control of my mouth again.

1. EAT a fat ass MegaMac.

2. EAT a huge tower sandwich of CHEESE, BACON and HAM, with a 2-egg omelette and lettuce, tomatoes and onions. TOASTED to boot.

3. EAT a HUGE plate of rice with the most difficult things on Earth to chew, such as veggies and beef.

4. THROW away that damn can of Nestum. I swear I will NEVER eat Nestum again! (no offense, Mr.Nestum-maker guy)

5. BRUSH my teeth for a full 5 minutes.

6. Yawn. A jaw-cracking YAWN. DID YOU KNOW I CAN'T EVEN YAWN PROPERLY??????

7. EAT TWO bowls of SPICY PAN MEE. SPICY PAN MEE!!!

8. EAT a fat ass cake/muffin/cheesebun in TWO bites, like I used to do.

I am SO hungry.

*sob sob*

Huuuuunngggrrrrryyyyy.

My Mouth Tastes like 2 Days Worth of Soft Food.

Bleargh.

The Operation

It began with 16 pills. I kid you not. Sixteen. 10 anti-inflammatory, 4 antibiotics and 2 oral sedatives. The dental assistant gave me these pills (which resembled a drug addict's idea of a party) and two small cups of water and told me to eat it, sit down, and wait for it to take effect.

Boy, did it.

In about an hour, I was drowsy. Then when I got on the chair (which was a pink colour and looked like something out of 'Saw') I was pretty much half-asleep as the dentist told me to open wide.

(Had a wild moment where I considered refusing and going for a niiice, biiig cheesy Big Mac instead.)

Then I was in a limbo, as he drilled, pulled and poof! an hour passed and he (Dr Dentist) was asking me if I wanted to keep the tooth.

I said 'heck no'.

Well, at least I tried to say 'heck no'. I managed only a feeble head-shake.

I stumbled out of the room, dazed, with a numb mouth, and promptly fell asleep on the waiting room couch, till my mom came and got me.

I honestly tell you I cannot remember how I got from dentists' office to dad's waiting car.

Fell asleep in the car, reached home and slumped onto bed, slept like the dead for two hours (bled like mad onto my pillow to boot) and woke up dazed and sleepy.



The Aftermath.


Have been eating:

1. Nestum. Warm. UGH.

2. Yoghurt.

3. Milk.

4. Mashed potato. Also warm.

I may never eat Nestum again.


I also have been dosed with anti-inflammatory pills, antibiotics and a nice lot of painkillers. Whee. So my brains are fried.

I also have discovered my ability to open my mouth is limited, so talking is only semi-coherent. Can't complain though. I can still be understood.

Its the soft food part I hate.

And the antibiotics are dehydrating me.

*bitch and moan*

I am drinking everything through a straw now, and anything I eat dribbles down my chin.

-_-'

I hate wisdom teeth.





And in regards to my emo post, well, sometimes things happen. Being ignored is NOT nice. Not nice at all.



You should know who I am talking about.

-_-'

Sometimes things have a way of stabbing you in the ass, and then turning around and going for your heart with a blood-curdling war cry.

Yes, this is a rant post.

Yes, this is an emo post.

Yes, this is an emo rant post.

Scroll to the bottom for some interesting facts if you wish to skip this.

Stupidity...sometimes.

And mostly not due to thoughtlessness or apathy or selfishness, more so because she has the short term attention span of a wet sponge. Her brain is already quite full as it is, and she hardly needs anything more. Like a wet sponge. No need for more water. And she sometimes has moments where she seems to have forgotten her spine.

She needs to find her spine again, lost somehow between an immovable force and a hurricane.

She also needs to find herself again, lost somehow between trying to please everyone and trying to not be the person she used to be. Trying to be someone other than the pathetic loser she used to be, but maybe still is. She will never know.

And while brains and spine are fine things to have, somehow being deprived of both are a result of over-enthusiastic efforts to finally be someone else besides who she was.

17 magazine says I will meet a tough guy on June 23, and forget an old crush, and be love-happy.

Pfft.

17 magazine was never 22, fat and too tall for her own good.

17 magazine never knew the crippling doubt that creeps into the mind at the oddest of times and results in a horrifying and vivid recollection of flaws, mistakes and humiliation.

17 magazine certainly never knew about the moments where she stares at herself at the mirror and hates what she sees.

' All the world is a stage and the men and women merely players.'

That makes sense. But somebody forgot to mention the fates of those who are being played.

And in the end of the day, when she sits in front of her computer, she screams.

And somehow screaming seems to make it worse; it makes the ache worse, it makes the shame worse.

She wants something so badly she can't even talk about it. Stupid.

She wants it more than she can even mention. Stupid.

Stupid.

Awake. Eyes, wide open and lips pressed tight. Breath withheld, palms wide open, heart racing with the sound of blood rushing to the parts of her body still left in her control and rushing out of the parts severed from her control.

She died.

It was not a clean death.

A bloody one which relatives shook their heads to say ‘such a waste’ and then returned to their perfect lives with nary a care as to the ending of the life of a girl who once knew how to live.

She knew how to live, but she had the dying part down pat.

She knew so much more than her head would allow her to keep, and she knew so much less than what her mind wanted her to remember.

She knew how to live, but the dying part was her forte.

She gave away her books to the one she cared about. She packed up her clothes in a brown and crinkly paper bag and left it at the place where she fell in love. She took her precious possessions and left it in the room of the one person who knew her heart inside and out.

She knew how to live, but the dying part hurt too. She would miss them all so much. But perhaps, she thinks, dying will put an end to emotions.

She had it all ready and she was sure she left nothing behind. Instructions to bathe her one true love, final comforting words to the man and woman who gave her life, a funny little letter to the one who whispered secrets to her in the dark and told her everything. A last minute gift to the one who left, but yet remained.

A dying note to indicate consent.

A glinting edge. A swift arc of such morbid beauty it brought tears to her eyes.

A death she welcomed for its respite. A death to end the longing, the pain, the sheer helplessness of slipping into an oblivion nobody saw. A darkness nobody could shine through, a heavy pressure on her chest no one can lift. A blackness so complete she forgot the taste of warmth.

A death so beautiful it hurts.

A death so magnificent it blinds.

Oh, yes, she knew how to live, and to breathe as if nothing was wrong with the circle of thorns around her neck.

But she knew how to die best.