Hiatus Notice: Off to Play Wife

Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers out there!

I’m off to Cairns tomorrow night to be with my man, who’s having a rough time now. He is nearing a breakdown and he’s not happy.

My man is a manly man. The macho-man kind who rise to occasion with much gusto. That’s why he’s my Hero. So to have him on the verge of breaking down is not normal.

I guess being away from home since November has slowly eating my Hero’s mind. He’s coming home to an empty house after a long day. He’s coming home to frozen food or pub feed. He’s coming home to TV alone. He’s too far away from me. He doesn’t have his dog around. He doesn’t have P around.

And he’s not liking it.

On Friday he pretty much went “the shit stops here!” and got on the phone to me. During the daytime. Which is not usual when it’s workday. Lets just say that our phone conversation was truly alarming and I was so worried that straight after coming home from work, I raided my stash and counted how much money I have.

The next day I booked my flight.

If that sounds like a good, sacrificial girlfriend to you…psst, I have a secret! I booked a night flight, so that I can attend the morning lecture. I wouldn’t miss that lecture for anything in the world. I miss one, there is potential I might fail the paper altogether. That is how painful Finance is for me. I figured he could wait a few extra hours.

Mum was telling me to “not give him so much trouble”. Hey woman, are you my mother or his mother? Not give him trouble, indeed! I don’t see why my mum don’t see that HE is giving me the trouble, making me so worried that I have to fly up there to calm my man down. Haha. While it’s good that my mother already loves him before she meet him, sometimes I think my mum is more concerned about the person being with me than I am with that person. Maybe I can’t blame her. This insane girl came from her womb so she must how I am, and must have said a lot of prayers for all my boyfriends, past and present, that she knew about.

Mum’s loving Hero for the way he treats me. She have been saying, “that’s the kind of man you should have.” So what are you saying, mum? That all the other men I’ve been with were not the men I should have had? So she is approving highly of me flying off immediately when my man’s in trouble.

She knows better. There have not been any man I’ve been with that I would have done this for. So in a way, I know mum is highly relieved that I have found someone I would drop everything for. Now she could stop calling me a self-centred bitch. (Though mum being a proper lady, does not use the word ‘bitch’, hahaha!)

I won’t be able to do much to change his work condition, but at least I’m there to give him a taste of home. I’ll be home when he comes home, and for a change he will have hot food the moment he comes through that door.

And do you know how hard it was to come up with a meal plan?

I know it sounds weird that I’m planning meals even before I get there. But see, I would be stuck at home during the daytime studying, when he’s at work and morph into the perfect girlfriend at night. I won’t have time and transport to go out and get groceries. I don’t find navigating a foreign place to put food on the table an exciting prospect when I have chapters to read.

So I sent him on grocery errands today, he was not too happy about that. Since being with me, he has been spoilt senseless in that department because all he do is hand me the cash and send my on my merry shopping way. But if he don’t tough it out and harden up about getting groceries, I’m just going to feed him instant noodle. We’ll see if he’s happy about that!

Yes, yes, call me selfish, but he’s already had his long weekend and he needs supermarket fresh air.

To be honest though, I’m looking forward to whipping up food in a proper kitchen instead of battling with 5 other people in the house in a wee, small, little, miniscule cubicle room we call our kitchen.

So I’ll be busy sorting my man out and push him to a cheerer mindset. If I don’t find an internet connection there to post entries, see y’all on Thursday!

Them books are evil.

Last night I went all high and mighty and said to my books, “YOU are not the master of me. YOU do not dictate my happiness. YOU do not tell me what to do!” and with much drama I flip my hair and turned my backs on them.

And I went bloghopping and chocolate munching and wine drinking and friend-chatting and tv-watching and manga-reading…

…then I decided, wow, entertaining myself is such tiring work! Let’s head to bed.

Except, I can’t.

I was so worried with not studying and so worried with being behind. I tossed and turned in bed. I farted constantly to symbolically relieve the stress and butterflies from my stomach. Then I realized maybe my symbolic farting is a symbol that I should go to the toilet. Also because it was getting so stinky in the room and I was in danger of being poisoned gas by my own analmonia. I figured, I don’t want to be caught dead in a gaseous pool of my own fart, for lack of elegant words. I major in Business, not Literature. Specifically? Banking and Finance. AND Marketing. Tell me if you double major in those you don’t symbolically fart every minute (especially when faced with Finance subjects). God knows how Law students anally feel. In my course, there is a Law student who is double degree-ing with Business. Man, he must be having diarrhoea every nanoseconds.

So I head to the toilet, and liked I promised, I savoured the feeling of eliminating my distress. It’s so peacefully Zenshit.

BUT only my gastrodistress. Farting and shitting doesn’t seem to relieve the distress I have in my heart and in my head.

So this is how the books get back at me. They are evil. They know they have me. Their grip on me is strong. They refuse to let me go in peace. They’re evil. Evil.

I’m in campus now, textbooks and tutorial papers staring at me. Willing me to abandon them.

I could just as easily adopt the “traditional”, very politically incorrect, way of life. Finish high school, get married, spew babies and be stuck in the kitchen yelling “when I was your age, I did not (insert what you DID do when you were their age)”.

But noooooo, I decided to be smart and uppity and headed to university instead. And not only did I chose to learn traditionally female oriented things like nursing (being such kind and patient person I am) or teaching (ditto) or child psychology (I need psychology), I decided to go into Business. Defying my own father. And instead of just majoring in one, I decided, “I’m a superwoman, I’ll double major!”. And instead of staying at home where study life would have been easier, standard in my chosen field would have been considerably lower, I decided to head overseas (again, defying my father) and tackle the curriculum in a country where education standard are not to be messed with.

All this farting better be worth it.

The scary thing?

I was initially also thinking of going into Law.

Holy Lord, I don’t know what would have become of me then.

Sorry for the wingeing folks. I’ve scheduled Saturday as a recharge day because being the stupid anal-retentive, perfectionist, organizer-dictated life that I am, i can’t relax without first scheduling it. Show of hands, who thinks I’m sad? Thank you.

Hopefully I’ll be back to normal after that.

There’s too much anal in this post. Pardon my insensitivity if I have offended your delicate sensitivity. But butt the puck, it’s my blog and if you dare defy me, I warn you, my fart have been known to kill. The world is searching for the weapon of mass destruction in the wrong country and the wrong person.

BWAHWAHWAHWA!!! *thunder* *lightning*

I need a drink.

This whole thing is not even a joke anymore. Diabolical proportions. I’m taking a break from studying today. I don’t care. And tomorrow I will get meself a Brown Brothers.

Hero once was surprised when he found out that I drink Brown Brothers.

“You know it’s 5% alcohol, right?”

“Yes. Of course.” It is wine after all. What is this guy getting at?

“Beer is also 5% alcohol.”

“Yes. Apparently.”

“So why do you say you don’t drink?”

“Says who I don’t drink? I don’t drink BEER. If you haven’t noticed by now, I have been downing wines. Of various kinds. I just happen to like Brown Brothers ones better. I don’t like the taste of beer.”

It didn’t matter to Hero. Now he knows he’s not dating such a teetolar he’s as happy as they come. I tell you; sometimes all he wants is for me to join him drinking. I knew it long ago. And deep down inside I know that in addition to the usual “milk-OJ-chocolate” supplies he always stock his fridge with before I come over, he will throw in the wine.

From now on he’ll be downing the beer and I’ll be downing the Brothers.

Oh. And a year ago today, Hero picked up the phone and first called me.

Alright. Enough of that. I’m bloghopping. And I need my wine.

I hate you all, professors. I hate, hate, hate, hate you all.

Reflections…

Dear Self,

Looking back years ago, will you ever think your life would be like this?

Will you ever believe it if I say that one day, you will be well chasing your dreams, working hard and studying hard for it? That whatever obstacles you have anticipated have been realized and overcame with much gusto and success?

Will you ever believed me if I said you will meet your soul mate, and he will be the best person that has ever entered your life? That all the heartbreak you have had over the years led up to this? And that those heartbreaks were necessary in order for you to appreciate what a gem this man is?

One will not comprehend the meaning of sweet had one not tasted bitter. One will not know the worth of a diamond if one has not known the worth of a common rock.

So Self,

Even though life Now has it’s own obstacles and difficulties, it also has more triumphs and happiness. And you know yourself, having experienced it, that difficulties are just fleeting incidents in one’s lifetime, but the experience, the knowledge and the strength of character derived from overcoming those far outstrips the cost one have to pay.

Hang in there, buddy.

The best feeling in the world.

It is the norm when 6 insane people are put in a room to study an insane subject, you can get some insane conversation. Another contributing factor would be the United Nation study group we have, when cultures differ and culture shocks are sometime experienced.

In this case, you have one Malaysian (yours truly), one Scottish, two Australian, one Chinese and one Norwegian.

“Studying is not the best feeling in the world, man,” said K in his thick Scottish accent. Hours before he nearly killed me when I made fun of the way he pronounce “Apple Pie”.

“Apoul poi,” the poor guy said when we walked to the City’s bakery. I cracked up and “poi-ed” all the way back to Uni.

“Yeah,” Norway said.

The Chinese decided to be introspective about the whole thing. “Come on guys. Nothing good is achieved without pain.”

He is after all, a Chinese, the champion race when it comes to arithmetic subject. He is also the only human in the room who understand swap and options and therefore he can afford to be all Confucius regarding our sufferings.

“I’m hungry!” I moaned, a mere hour after munching a fat pie from the bakery. I’m Malaysian. We eat 6 times a day whether we are hungry or not. We pass friends in the street, we go “have you eaten?” and we invite them to eat. Breakfast, brunch, lunch, yum cha, dinner, supper and snacks in between…eating is a national sport. Studying, we avoid like plague. No sane Malaysian student actually study until 3 days before final exams. And when exam time comes, the frequency of eating double. Stress needs fuel, you know.

Until said Malaysian students head out to study in a foreign country, and then panic about exam 2 months before it even arrives. Man, how life changes.

“What’s the best feeling in the world anyway?” one of the Australian decides to be philosophical. When studying, it helps to be extra distracted.

“Falling in love with the man of your dreams,” I swooned, as I daydreamed about Hero and tried to wipe my drools.

“Getting drunk,” the other Australian replied. He is, after all, an Australian. It doesn’t help he is Australian of Irish ancestry. Like Hero (swoon. Drools). Australian drinks a lot. Irish CAN DRINK a lot. Man! “We should get drunk now.”

“Yeah!” I echoed excitedly. “Let’s head to bottle O and grab a Brown Brothers!” (I loooove Brown Brothers stuffs!)

“We just went to the City a few minutes ago,” China guy said, trying to keep us all in line.

“45 minutes ago,” answered the Norwegian. Don’t mess with Scandinavians and their sense of time. Maybe he’s half German. Who knows? “The best feeling in the world is having sex with a hot woman.”

I cracked up again. Seriously, I think I have serotonin overload. I laugh at everything. China guy unsuccessfully tried to put us in line because right after that everyone’s remarks was laced with innuendos. After a few failed attempt, he adopted the “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Confucius be damned.”

“But seriously, you know what the best feeling in the world is?” quipped Scottish guy.

“What?” asked one Australian. “A threesome with two hot women?” (Again, he is Australian).

“A threesome with two hot women after steak and then with Brown Brothers wine and risoles after that!” (Can you tell this remark was made by a food-mad Malaysian?)

Scottish shook his head.

“Nah. The best feeling in the world is taking a shit.”

……

Sexual innuendos suddenly silenced. No more naughty laughter.

We all stared at him.

“Taking a what, now?”

“Taking a shit,” Scot replied nonchalantly. “You know, when you stomach ache so much and you can’t hold it in anymore, when gases are dying to burst out, and then you’re getting cold sweats and this extremely uncomfortable feeling. And then you go to the toilet and sit on the porcelain bowl and then uuuuuggggggghhhh it all out. Plop! Plop! Plop! One by one your sufferings are eliminated. And then when you’re done, you have this huge, great feeling of relief washing over you and you’re like, ‘fuck man, that was goood!’. You know?”

When he put it that way, we unanimously, seriously agreed with him. ‘Taking a shit’ is truly the best feeling in the world.

I will never take going to the toilet for granted ever again. The next time I do my big business, I will make sure I focus and savour the feeling. Feel the beauty of your sufferings and discomfort plonking down the toilet bowl. Experience the smell of the toxins flushing out of your body.

Such a beautiful process.

He has changed my views on life.

(We didn’t achieve much in terms of studying. But we did, as you can see, came up with life philosophies that no doubt will bring greater good to this evil, evil world we live in.)

Goodbye summer. Hello winter!

I’m writing this 3 hours after studying, and a few minutes after the last post. No idea why I’m posting twice. Stress might be one of the reasons.

I bought some stuffs for winter preparation today. It’s still fall/autumn season here but the night has gotten so cold. I toyed with the idea of knitting a scarf for both Hero and I but after 20 stitches decided against it. With my workload, there is NO WAY I can even knit a germ’s scarf before winter. So I bought two scarfs. One purple for me since I have a large amount of bluish and purplish outfit. Also a considerable amount of red and pinks but that goes well with purple. Black one for Hero because as a straight on 100% man he shies away from anything remotely fashionable. Such is my sufferings in love. To have an unfashionable man. Haha. BUT I know what Hero will say when he looks at the plain, black, scarf—he will think it’s either too feminine or too gay. Just a plain black one.

So I’m thinking of heading to the City tomorrow to find him another one with tartan patterns. Hero thinks anything tartan is manly and acceptable. Were you to give him a choice between a soft plain black scarf over a pink and purple tartan scarf, he will pick the pink and purple one.

I also got myself one of those fluffy bedroom socks. Purple (of course!). Can’t wait to pull them socks to bed tonight.

I got a pair of leather gloves too. They were cheap as…only $6 or $7, I can’t remember. It’s warm and good for when you head out of the library or computer lab at 3am in the morning and finding the atmosphere outside, away from the comfort of indoor heater, has plummeted to 5 degrees.

There goes my summer dress. There goes my lovely thongs and open toed shoes. There goes my sleeveless tee. There goes my tubetop and my miniskirts.

Hello sweaters. Hello parka. Hello very heavy and madly warm fleece blanket. Hello tracksuits.

Hello winter!

Finals in a month. Damn.

For a week I have been heading off to campus nearest to my home every night to study. I was doing it so relaxingly, without any care in the world.

I thought, “exam is only in June. Plenty of time.”

And then my knight in shining armour called one night while I was deep into valuing company in mergers and acquisition. He unwittingly pointed out that final exam is only a month away.

A MONTH.

A mere 30 days.

Lord help me.

This blog look and sound neglected for a while now.

And it will still be until I have time to breath.

Tengkiuverimarch.

(Typing this in Uni’s computer, without my Windows Live Writer around. Thus the messy formatting)

So it’s P.P.S.

My English teacher mum will disown me.

Kenneth of InvestorBlogger has kindly corrected me in the matter of post script and anything that comes after that. So of course, it is P.S and P.P.S and P.P.P.S. Oops. My bad. Mum doesn’t read this so I think all is good. I’m still her holy and obedient daughter that spends her weekend studying her butt off instead of committing carnal sins. Besides, English is my second language. This excuse is never too old. Hehe!

(Thanks, Kenneth!)

By the way? The mention of that sin is just a reference. It does not indicate in any way that I engage in it…on a weekly basis. I kid, I kid. I don’t engage in it. Ehem. Yeah. Ehem.

So I finished all my readings in 3 days! It took some sacrifices. One of it is being a confined nerd. I’ve only stepped out of the house for the first day to attend lecture. Second and third day, which is today, I confined myself to the cubicle I called my room and soldiered on. It was not that bad. Between readings I had time to make myself plenty of ham sandwiches, steak, play with the household cat, watch Dr. Phil, watch Oprah…

What? What? Watch what?

Dr. Phil and Oprah. Yeah, that’s how boring studying can be sometimes and you’re desperate for entertainment. It takes a lot of willpower and gravity not to smirk at Philly and Oppy. And not that watching them helped my spirit the slightest. It just made me more loopy. The worse thing? That particular Oprah show I watched had Dr. Oz as the guest. Gasp! Horror!

Once again, my mum will disown me for dissing her favourite talk show queen.

I briefly considered doing grocery shopping at a particular boring time. But then I looked at my pantry list and is reminded yet again that last week I had bought enough to last me for 3 weeks. So it wasn’t even a valid excuse.

I did laundry. I swept and mopped my room. I organized my papers. Isn’t it amazing how much one can achieve just to find excuse to avoid prescribed reading? Suddenly washing the dishes seems like a life and death decision. “I must wash it this minute or we will be plague with bacterial translocation! Readings can wait!”

I only have vague idea what ‘bacterial translocation’ means, but I’ve been helping one of my nursing housemate with her assignment. So now my vocabulary is enriched with “dorsal”, “ventilation associated pneumonia”, “acute respiratory disease syndrome”, “semi-incumbent position” and most of all “prone positioning”. Heh. I thought it was so cool!

So my point is, I want to show off, ok? Cos I’m sure most of you don’t know what a JBI is, but I do! HAH! “Unequivocal synthesized findings”, oh man, I have newfound respect for nursing students at this moment. And here I thought all they do is just learning how not to terrorize patient too much, how to count tablets, how to measure cough syrups…how ignorant of me! I’ve always thought nurses are wonderful people with saintly patience. Now knowing what they go through in work and in studies, I think they rock.

I just spent 3 hours staring at a medical-ish chart not unlike a share volatility chart, and nurses are expected to interpret the findings based on the statistical evidence provided. I never thought nurses would ever have to worry about “confidence intervals” and “chi square” and such! I thought that was my domain! Man, do nurses rocks!

In my own field though, next week’s lecture will be on mergers and acquisition, the thing that I have waited so long for. Should be interesting.

Sheesh. Two post about studies within a week. I must be losing my edge.

Alright, back to the books.

(Only after I bloghop. It’s a matter of life and death, you know)

Life is TOO busy at the moment.

I’m sick of being a stinking student, a uni bum, in poverty and highly stressed. This is not life, man. Life is being paid to endure your stress and get career burnout by the time you’re 30, not Uni burnout before you even hit 25!! Life is sipping piña colada in Jamaica in the afternoon, being surrounded by the likes of Depps, Clooneys and Pitts and flying off to Ibiza at night. With Liam Neeson, Rufus Sewell and the Il Divos in tow. Aaaaaah.

Note to all high school students out there: think hard. Think twice. Think trice. Think thousand million times before you decide you want to go into medicine. Medicine takes you 7 years of full blown tertiary education to be legit. I can’t even begin to imagine how they could stand that long studying and PAYING for their stress. This is too much, man.

Aside from rich ungrateful kids and some Asian kids (read “brat”) getting handsome monthly handouts from their clueless dotting parents (seriously man, your kids are not spending those money buying textbooks and paying note printing costs. Orange and vodka anyone?), I don’t know anyone who is not working two jobs just to keep up with bills. I moved to another place to escape bills (it’s included in the rent) and yet I still have to hold down two jobs—three once, until I realized that being Superwoman is not gonna cut it—to make ends meet. And that is just me. I have yet to tell you horror stories of accounting students with 3 part time jobs, law students with multiple part time jobs on top of all the humongous readings they have to endure (plus weekly assignments, plus weekly homeworks, plus…OMG, how do you guys survive, really?).

We university students might look like a prestige, intellectual set of lots, but hell, behind the scenes you really have no clue.

I have a total of 11 chapters to read before this week ends. I’m not even sure how it got THAT monumental. I’ve always been ahead of my readings. This week I looked at the prescribed reading and was shocked at the sheer amount. And to tell you the truth, those of you who are taking this subject like mine, CHAPTER 12 IS COMPLETE WHACK. “Why am I reading this?” I ask myself. But having been raised and educated in Malaysia, kiasuism is one of the quality you posses.

So I read. And read. And felt even more stupider.

So if you guys have the ability to be confident that the world will not come to an end because you skipped a chapter, please skip chapter 12.

(Hint: it has too many research and studies that we don’t need to know but end up having to read anyway to find out how they come to the final conclusion. And let’s face it, who cares how they came up with that conclusion?)

In addition to that, a huge catastrophe that had just befell me.

I just ran out of toilet paper.

Oh horror.

No more chocolate factory from the poop chute til I get some new ones!

(P.S: Did I JUST said that?)

(P.S.S: OMG! Like, I totally did!)

(P.S.S.S: Poop chute, hahahaha! I crack myself up sometimes, hahahaha!)

(P.S.S.S.S: What is the legal amount of Ss after P in P.Ss?)

(P.S.S.S.S.S: Who cares!)

(P.S.S.S.S.S.S: Uh, NSFW from poop chute reference. Uhm. Yeah. I guess.)

Caveat Emptor

One of the things you learn early in Business Law subject is the “caveat emptor” expression. In fact, it’s basic business law. You probably will see it within your first year.

And one does not have to be a business or law student to realize that caveat. It is preached everywhere and anywhere though in different ways, tone and names.

Those people with botched cosmetic surgery should have heed that golden warning and not part with their hard earned money to get a half-assed job done on their face.

I mean, what can you say about people who are stupid enough to pay this lady to do plastic surgery on them?

 

Gedwadaimin?

Would you buy slimming products from a 200 pounds human?

Would you pay $36 dollars per hour to get English lessons from a person who doesn’t speaks English? You’d be surprised that some would. More about this next time.

Would you buy cosmetics from a lady who obviously have a different shade of foundation from the neck above making her look like an Oompa Loompa?

Granted, no doctors operate on themselves, plastic surgeon or not, but still…

Moral of the story?

Thou shalt not have a fugly plastic surgeon who can’t make herself look a million dollars. Because she will fug you up for 2 reason:

1. Her face itself should probably tell you the result you’ll get
2. She have a vengeance because her own job is botched, so she is on a mission to botch every other woman’s face so that we all now can be ugly and ugly can be the new black! Woohoo!

End of story.