Pants on The Ground.

Know whats mind boggling? The singers on American Idol at the audition stage and their confidence. Absolutely oozing with confidence at every audition. What's more mind boggling then the addiction with Korean drama's (sorry no pun intended) is that the very people oozing with incredible amounts of confidence are the very people who delude themselves into thinking that they are capable of holding a single note together and speak of themselves as how a devout would speak of their god.

Which is why i only watch the auditions, skip the spectaculars and then on to the top 5.

The auditions, are the best.


I've always wondered which was worst for their family and friends to do; crush their dreams by really telling them that they sound worst than Miley Cyrus who for one, can actually hold a note- singing not so much. Or lying to them about being able to sing and sending them out there to become a public spectacle in front of the whole world. This is where Asian parents are brilliant at.
You open your mouth, sound like crap, and oh boy they'll gun you down before the waterworks start.


This, i think- the main problem are the Ang Moh parents. Too lenient. Too nice. Such liars. Lying would be a better alternative to their kids than to save them from eternal ridicule. But then again, whatever happened to William Hung- i'm not too sure.


I respect them entirely though. Whoever has the guts to be on national television and go half nude even though you're furry and even though its a desperate attempt at fame, i salute you. Whoever has the guts to sing in front of 4 strangers despite sounding like a strangled kitten and probably is a masochist, i salute you.





Ahh, i love Hollywood entertainment.

Cue; Eye Roll.

Have you ever met a Sri KL International school kid? To those who were; i'm sorry but this is all based on a month of observation. Though i'm sure if you are and if i still talk to you; you're pretty decent.

Okay point is; have you?

Maybe its not all of them but evidently its all 19 kids in the bus i take. (please do not snigger at the fact that i take a Sri KL bus; i'm not the only college kid doing it) Anyways. These kids are rich. Their parents are anyways. For 11K+ a year. They should be. They're rich and they know it.

Yes that's the worst bit, they know they're rich.

Its ridiculous, they've got the top notch education but along with that- they've got their trust funds enough to feed 1/4 of Haiti.
I was privy to a conversation they once held in the bus on my 7 minute journey back home (oh the insanity is that i take the bus to college everyday but only 3 times a week back home for 7 minutes per journey but i pay RM80- shingz) Oh yes; the conversation:


Eh you damn bloody rich lah you, look at the stuff you bring to school everyday.

No i'm not rich ohokay (very bad attempt at modesty)

Please lah how can anyone in our school Not be rich? (the other 18 kids nod and laugh in agreement)



That and; you can look butt ugly, worst than Edward Cullen, Jack Black and Susan Boyle combined, have massive body odour, eat your own snot, got warts everywhere and infected with AIDS but if you've got the ka-ching you're at the top of the hierarchy.


My god, i spend RM4.80 on a bad bowl of noodles in Hakka Lee (the alternative for Face to Face when it's packed) and i'm sulking half the time.



Money money money.



Cheers.

Heyho.

My sister's boyfriend's brother named his 10 day old daughter- Megan. Yes after the sex symbol Megan Fox in mind; either way the kid will hopefully grow up being immensely grateful that her Dad named her after the worst but hottest (i differ) actress in mind.

But by the time she's all grown up; Fox will be wrinkly, old with Botox or probably dead on drug overdose or something like that.

Life in Hollywood.

Here We Go Again.

Back in Hiltop; we sat on rotan mats in class. The girls to one side. The boys to the other side. Anyone who crosses the invisible boundary line would be immediately jeered at and become the weird freak for the day. At break, the invisible line would evaporate and juice boxes, sandwiches and effortless childish banter would break out fighting over the wheel of the box cars.

Everyone did.


Except for one girl; i remember how everyone sidelined her though i can barely put a name to the face now. Or the face bit either. But i remember that she wore an eye patch and towered over everyone. Somehow we found that and oddity and we sat around her and not next to her.
At break everyone ignored her biscuit-sharing offers. And no one played with her.


Nothing's changed much. In college we sit according to boisterousness to complete obscurity. The one's who talk and joke and snigger everytime a lecturer says something which apparently sounds close to sex (i don't blame the hormones; i blame the insanity) then comes the nearly sane one's then the quiet one's. Nothing ever changes.

The whole play of Acceptance and Rejection is just as predictable as an episode of a Taiwanese drama (Watch Glee though; amazing stuff laughed my ass off through Season 1)

Cheers.

We play by the hierarchy because deep down; we love sorting the Acceptance and Rejection cards. Be Yourself? Okay bull. Suck it up and give them what you want. Wear a wig. Get cut up. Fake an accent. Fake a "natural" morning blush. Be the snitch.

Do whatever it takes to get in and get what you want and what you need.

But in words of the proper stands, etiquette and belief;

Be Yourself.

In All Honesty.

What is with the assumption that after 11 years of being in an all girl school, that we just have to turn out gay or find men a whole new species?


"So you've never like hung out with guys before?"


If being in an all-girls school prevented any sort of communication with the other sex which resulted from a vow of celibacy or promise rings and the girls sat with their legs crossed, ponytails high and neat, cleats neat, shoes shined all done with mega-watt smiles;


I'd complete my assignment on writing about the Immigration and Naturalization Service in a sympathetic tone and then eat it and then tell my ESL teacher to lose weight. (i would not be the first one to do that in my class)



So no; after 11 years of being in an all-girls school we're perfectly fine. If anything, we get along better with the guys because heck we don't know how to act coy or feminine or anything. We've always acted like we've got a full blast of testosterone back in high school.

If there is a problem; we don't shout or dominate anymore.



Jenny's quieter now; there's our problem.



Cheers.

Kids.

This is what i hear every morning on the bus to college in between the songs on my iPod.

From the preschoolers;
Eh shit you lah i spelled it correctly lah- eeyer. Nabeh lah you, act smart only. Please hor. You see you see? Freaking 10 over 10 okay?! Screw you lah.


From the primary kids;

Oi douche, lemme see your iPod lah. Eh douche; f-ck you lah can hear me not oi? (proceeds to slap the guy on the face and the guy responds by letting loose a stream of profanities) Sorry lah asshole i kept screaming lah walao. Eh anyways; got Dota last night?


From the high school kids;

Boy 1: Eh i like Boys like Girls lah. Boy 2: You faggot- you like boys ah? Walao you screwed up shit get away from me. Boy 1: You f-cker you i meant the f-cking band lah douche. Boy 2: Sorry lah ass, i like girls and you look like the type who likes guys anyways (snigger) Girl: You motherf-ckers are so damn weird; like f-ck all of you. Boy 1, Boy 2: (dissolves into laughter)


Makes us sound like angels.

Here's to the Kids of the future.

Life As We Know It.

I take the Sri KL International school bus. I get stuck in the Jam for a good 20 minutes and walk for 4 minutes before i reach the back door of Taylors where i walk in directly into the cafeteria and straight into class C22.

I've been adapting well- in the sense that i find less people annoying unlike in High School where i'd go around stamping "Dislike" on their foreheads. I even have friends on the bus. *inserts big chessy smile*


:D


The kids are mostly 17 and below (obviously) and mai new fliend is Victoria from the 21st floor from New Zealand who gave me a 15 minute 101 on her Pets. Nice girl; really. She's 14 but was talking to me about her future college courses and economics- International School Kids are intimidating for one.


This is what i feed on.

Beer, marmite and apples. And then there's the approximately- 6 million distractions 18 floors up? Clubbing- sorry if you refer to 2008's Install Dance you'd understand why.

Distraction.

Distraction.

Distraction. (okay not quite)

Finished Maths, did some Econs- come on Distraction.