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)

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.)

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.

(This entry was written on Uni’s computer, without my Windows Live Writer. Apologies for the messy layouts. I HATE not being able to justify my paragraphs. I’m anal-retentive like that.)

So I’m properly back in Brisbane.

My man is away working again and this time it’s a month stretch. So the boss says but we know how that can turn out! The previous away job was supposed to be a 2 weeks deal.

It turned into a four month long separation.

Gah.

So I’ve delayed updating because honestly there hasn’t been anything new to say. I packed up and camped at Hero’s for a week, commuting for an hour to Brisbane almost everyday for classes and work. When not commuting, I’m holed up at home playing the excellent girlfriend (ehem) who magically juggles assignment and studying for midterm test while making dinner.

Ok. Not really. A lot of our dinners for the past 2 weeks were deliveries because I was too busy doing work and he was too busy wanting to be lazy. In fact, I’ve only cooked twice during my 2 weeks stay. That was when I was sick of eating Western (pizzas, steaks, pies and whatnots) and subjected everyone in the house to go Asian (rice, people, rice!). Hero made steak most times and my oh my, my man can REALLY cook steak! Yummmm.

Other than that it’s just lounging around and trying to sort out the details of my impending move to Hero’s side. To be honest, I’m apprehensive about the move. A lot of my friends and a big part of my life has been Brisbane. My friends are here. My hangouts are here. My shopping haunts are here.

To move to another place will mean starting from the beginning. Finding new friends. Finding new haunts. Discovering new hangouts. At this age making friends is trickier with everything else you have to juggle in life, I think. This is not to say I’m not moving. I’m 90% positive I will…it all now depends if my applications are accepted by the University.

Alright. I don’t even have anything interesting to say now. I’ve been in Brisbane less than 24 hours and I just sat for one midterm. I’m tired. Also I’m feeling a bit weird-ed out about it because I thought the test was alright, but apparently everyone thought it was hard. So I suppose I’m either too stupid to find out it was hard or I studied enough to find out that it was actually ok.

I’m hungry. I’m out to hunt for food and replenish my 2 weeks empty pantry.