The Black Mark On Your Permanent Record

2007-11-10T07:04:00.001-08:00

Courage now, love.

And we move along.

2007-01-06T09:42:00.000-08:00

- Talk about forbidden fruit

Again.

But we all know nothing good'll come out of this right.

Someday I'm gonna look back at this entire shinaz and laugh.
Till then, I'll just stare at the sky.

And hate myself for it.

2006-12-27T20:03:00.000-08:00

-I know! I know!

Stupid, right? RIGHT?!

I can't think. It's neither here nor there.
See, this is the part in the movies where
i light up a cigarette in the dark alleyway,
put my hands together, pretend to pray
Raise my head, stare at the sky,
think of her, and whisper a goodbye.

Amatuer poet ftw.

2006-07-19T07:36:00.000-07:00

- The triple faced coin

Dice my roll says:
Heh, all's cool.
i guess it's like that old credo- you gotta lose money to make money
Dice my roll says:
Yea.
Dice my roll says:
If it boils down to it, if i cant change the road i might have to steer the car.
Dice my roll says:
Its not like i wont try, of course. Life lesson 101: It's most important that you try
Dice my roll says:
they tell you that when you go into the army.
Dice my roll says:
Then again, Sean Connery couldnt have put it better when he said "Did your best? Only losers 'do their best'. The winners go home and fuck the prom queen"

2006-05-22T02:22:00.000-07:00

- Living a lie? Chasing a dream

"History will be kind to me, for i intend to write it"

"We shall not fail or falter; we shall not weaken or tire. Neither the sudden shock of battle nor the long-drawn trials of vigilance and exertion will wear us down. Give us the tools and we will finish the job."

- Sir Winston Churchill

WE DID IT. WE DID IT.

CHECK MATE.

GAME SET MATCH.

GOAL.

GOD YOU GUYS WERE AWESOME. A BLAST! I CANNOT BEGIN TO DESCRIBE.

Udaya
Anisha
Sangeetha
Sean
Tiffany
Vann Ann
Jeremy

HERE'S TO THE GREATEST CAST EVER, FOR A MOST UNFORGETTABLE SHOW.

CHEERS.

2006-05-17T05:48:00.000-07:00

- iNsouciant (therefore iAm)

2006-05-17T05:29:00.000-07:00

- This wont hurt a bit.

AAAANNNNDDD... CURTAIN CALL.

Well. That didn't go so bad.

2006-04-19T06:09:00.000-07:00

- Running with Scissors

Friends, Enemies, the fataly insane, gather round, and let us deliberate one of life's more amusing mysteries. You would agree that some things are weird; eyes out of people's sockets, half a billion piercings on someone's genitals, gravity (like, apple falling?! lol!), death by gravity (like, people falling?! lol!), defying gravity (like, upthrust?! lol!) , or how i introduced this entry with a wall of words completely unrelated to what i'm about to say.

Then there are things that arn't just weird. The extremely weird. The inexplicitly weird. The unbelievably and unexplainable weird. Things that penetrate a whole new level of weird. An entirely fresh dimension of weird. An weird that threatens to tremble and quake, confuse and befuddle, on a massive, worldwide scale. In a word, weirder.

Days ago my mother, peace-loving and ghandi-like woman that she is, stormed into my room with what sounded like the entire foreign legion. Shouts, screams and cries that emulated battle trumpets and command drums. She stormed into my room, scissors in hand, threatening to cut my hair.

Threatening. Oh but that's just the tip of the iceberg, my friends.

You'd think a woman on serious medication wouldnt have to energy to do something so insane and bizaare, and pointless. But lo and behold; Nay, nein and no. I've got a mom whom i had to disarm (yes, i had to use a disarming move on my own mother) to obtain a scissors which she had brought dangerously close to my FACE and EYES, a mother who also threatened to sneak up on me while i was sleeping like bloody sadako and cut my frindge off.

How can a woman, who i was carrying around on my back that same day because she had twisted her ankle, appear to have the agility of a million highly trained Bruce Lee clones in her attempt to ensure i look like Jet Li in 'FEARLESS'. It doesnt make sense.

Again, i had to disarm my mother. DISARM. my MOTHER. Do you know who you learn disarms for? You learn them for thugs, bengs, evil ninjas or rogue transformers, who'd come from behind you with iron bars, parangs, pistols, and disintegrating rays. They would threaten to hurt you if you dont silently surrender your girlfriend or furby to them so they can have THEIR way on HER ass.

Not a nice prospect.

But no. My mom rampaged in like Jack the Ripper, blades a snipping, in a mad and frenzied attempt to rid me of my hair. MY HAIR, of all things. You'd expect mothers to take your wallet. You'd also expect pickpockets to take your wallet. Like in the movies, when Jason crashes into a bedroom chainsaw a-blazing, and aims to cut off every bloody appendage on his victim's body. They dont teach you how to defend against hair strikes in Kenjutsu, Karate, or Aikido. You never see a black belt tell his pupils, "Well little grasshopper, if you see them go for your fringe, perform a cross block. And your sideburn, a knife block."

but i digress, of course. I guess you're never really prepared for every scenario. Who really knows. How could the Power Rangers have predicted that their 100% evil enemy would attack on a weekly basis from 8-9 am?!

One day they're gonna run out of plotlines. They're gonna come up with a villian who would rule the world with skills from his days in the barber shop. He would use a gigantic hairclip to secure the hero to a chair as he divulges his secrets for world domination. But he's not just gonna make people bald, oh no. Thats to simple. It has to be more devious. More sinister. More specific.

He's gonna find someway to keep humanity under his grasp by cutting off the fringes of every poor soul on the planet. And this bizaare but elborate scheme will come so swiftly, so unexpectedly, people would be looking like Mao before they could say the word "trichologist".

And this, well, i'd be able to relate to that.

"In your sleep", she said. IN MY SLEEP. Do you know who threatens to "BLOODY KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP" ? Those weirdoes who grab sharp Ginsu knives and rock about on their heels in dark corners and mutter under their breath, "hehehe. go to sleep. Ehehehehehe. You're gonna die. Eeeeeeehehehehehe. You're gonna die."

I wonder if my mom will utter an infamous one liner too.

You know, one liners? Those murderers always have those. They strangle you, or stab you, and then go... well, anything. Like, "SEE YOU IN HELL", or "MERRY CHRISTMAS", or "CHICKEN CHOPS". Or even something totally obscure and unrelated like "THE STRING OF E".

I never know what one liners are for. Maybe it's to mess with your mind one more time before you go down. Like, "huh?... string of... uugghhh....".

I can imagine my mom now, readying and sharpening her scissors. You know what'd she'd say. "HAIR YOU GO!". Or maybe "SNIPPADY DOO DAH!". Or even "THIS IS FUR YOU". All of which would be really, really bad puns.

Why is she fixated on ridding me of my fringe anyway? Does it annoy her? She says it annoys her. How?

Do the curls i inherited from her remind her of some sick, pre-hair bonding days of hers? Do they form vulgar curse words and crude sexual innuendo? Or maybe the modus is far more sinister. Maybe my fringe must be sacrificed to save an alien race held hostage by another alien race going "GIVE ME JEREMY'S FRINGE OR I LAUNCH THE RACE-DESTROYING-DOOMSDAY DEVICE!". I think i can understand that! I can be sympathetic!

I mean, really.

Assuming you havent retreated by now, that's weirder for you.

THE END (?)

2006-04-15T03:45:00.000-07:00

People blog about BLOGS?!

and blog about blogging as well?!

AAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

the irony.

2006-02-26T07:35:00.000-08:00

- Trip

Boom.

Oops.

2006-01-05T07:28:00.000-08:00

- A man walks into a bar

"Dude"

"Yes Bob?"

"Do you remember the guy that used to update this space."

"Well Bob..."

"You know, like, frequently. Kinda like this."

"I guess i do vaguely remember something like that, Bob."

"I loved how he could have two people ramble on about the same thing."

"Look Bob, can this wait? Ive got cattle to ranch, planets to discover and lingerie to iron, amongst many other things."

"I also loved how he had one guy continuously name the other guy so that readers wouldn't lose track of the conversation. You know, so that we know who's who?"

"Damnit Bob. Look what you made me do. Your endless distracting served only to make me spill my 96% alcohol Martini."

"Oh dude I'm really sorry"

"Nah, they'll understand Bob."

"Probably not dude."

2005-12-07T04:05:00.000-08:00

- A million to one

There's something i've been meaning to write about for a while. Not to people who view this desolation, i never thought id get a hit. The original intention of this little splatter was to remind me of stuff.

I'd not beat around the bush then- Imagine this scenario. There are 2 men in a room.

Stop giggling.

This room is empty, except for a box. In this box is a handphone. The phone has an extremely loud ring, and the box is made of normal cardboard. It sits between the 2 men, who are both equally physically healthy.

Suddenly, one man cocks his head, turns his ear towards the box, and says "the phone is ringing".

The other man puts his hear against the box, shakes his head and disagrees, calling the man crazy.

Is he?

Who's the insane one here? the man who hears ringing, or the man who doesn't?

What if 50 other people came into the room saying that the phone wasn't ringing? What if they said it was? Would it matter?

The only way the verify and certify anything then becomes a matter of common opinion, which is flawed at most. Surely all the other 51 could be crazy? No? Why not?

Things arn't always black and white.

Now excuse me, i'm off the vandalise the USS Renown parked in the Singapore River. It was quirky at first, but now the Yo-yos it's firing out it's side cannon is getting pretty annoying. And the merlion thinks so too.

2005-10-05T06:51:00.000-07:00

-That's when you know; Things are goin' downtown.

It's like working at a nuclear power plant.
It's like being shot at while comfortably behind kevlar.
It's like a steel wall between you and a car doing eighty.

It's like William Tell.

You reassure yourself it's alright. You're gonna be fine. Have confidence. Yea, it'll work out.

Exams. Just study, and you'll do fine. Exams.
"Dont worry".

It's like staring into the face of the devil.

"We'll see about that".

2005-08-21T19:15:00.000-07:00

- OMG WTF DUDE

Ah, routine.

Just like any other day, i first heard the high pitched screeching of a nearby fire siren. Custom dictacted i haul the three gas grenades i bought the night before (courts were selling them at discount) and fling them out the window.

On an ordinary day.

The rays of morning light didnt tear through the windows like they used to, but instead warmly drifted in and delivered Cornettos, and it was raining way too heavily for a cloudless sky. Instead I decided to return to happily snoozing the hours away. But i didnt have that convenience, for just as i began dreaming about ninja matchsticks (which was about the same time the keyboards were about to launch a massive offensive on the empire state building), a battalion of Nazis- all wearing ties of varrying patterns- stormed in singing "Ride of the Valkyries", decimating my peaceful slumber. Annoyed, i stretched my legs and opened my eyes- and was greeted by the most peculiar sight.

Staring back at me was the severed head of a rabbit, still gruesome and bloody. This was most unusual, for the night before i remember tucking it UNDER my bed, instead of on it. Still puzzled, i swung my right arm in front of me, knocking the head to the floor with a soft thump.

I sat up, arms lazily rested on my legs, and surveyed the scene, leaving out unimportant questions like "any other comments? if so, what are they?" and "are there any other feature's you'd like to see added?". The first thing i noticed were the bags of pringles scattered all over the floor, prominent like notices on a stretch of road, but more scattered. They were torn open, ripped like a conned passer-by. The chips themselves were not only all half eaten, but playing hopscotch on the parquet. Which was odd because i dont remember ever opening those bags, or any bags to begin with. I concluded that i must have been hungry at some point. I brushed my bed to check for the bedsheet. Yup, still there.

I pushed myself out of bed and changed into the usual, brushed my teeth, washed my face, blew my nose, combed my hair, scraped my tongue, oiled my cyborg arm and summoned two demon guards. I didnt remember the candles i bought for the ritual to be quite so purple, nor did i remember carving on them the runic symbols that covered each candle top to bottom. I was just about to forget this strange phenomenon.

When an arrow flew into the room, followed by a loud crashing noise, the kind you get when sharp objects pierce windows. Funny. I didnt have windows at that part of the room. But i decided to formulate my theories on how the arrow got in some other time, and ducked for cover like a farmer who wanted to cover his duck. The arrow hit the wall-side trashcan and cut through it like a javelin through a hamster, spilling its contents all over the floor. I was shocked beyond words. For one, i distinctly remember emptying that trash can last night, and its contents did not make me content. A second later i began wondering why an arrow would ever act in such an obnoxious manner.

And then it hit me.

The runic symbols were there because i had woken up in the middle of the night to carve them on! But the mystery of the arrow was still baffling. Torturing it for answers, death threats, hypnotism, all of it bore no results. Demoralised, i decided to hide the arrow somewhere below the roof but above the floor. The arrow pointed and mocked. I was convinced it was time to get out of the place. I grabbed a pair of socks as i passed the microwave, slide down the stairs and headed towards the door.

The fire sirens started again. I tore the pin off the smoke grenades behind the family portraits and flung it out the nearest window, and the results were immediate. A troupe of clowns appeared doing somersaults.

But it wasnt summer. Nor did i have any salt.

This was too much. The tiny bizzareness began to take its effect on me (i have a short temper, you can tell). It was time to take things into my own hands, time to weed out the root of the plant of irregularity. I stormed out of the house, confident that whatever i had to do, it was out there somewhere. I was stopped halfway down the road by a friendly police officer, who sent me home to get some pants, after which i set off again, feeling all of the above, and also wearing pants.

Well, so far so good.

(to be continued...)

2005-08-15T06:29:00.000-07:00

- The Minefield Theorum

I'm not good at writing serious shit, so imma try my hand at it now. Besides, it helps with the self convincing. Besides, i dont think it'd be "writing" so much as "confused and disorganised words and clutter that can be used to stain the minds of the young, or block windpipes."(It does bring a whole new meaning to having crap-shoved-down-your-throat).

It doesnt help that im sick enough to feel an elephant the size of ohio decide to tango in my head every 5 minutes. And the damn thing isnt even doing it right, it keeps adding steps. And since when did the tango involve a piledriver?

So dude, right, you wanna really do something, right? But, like, you're afraid of the outcome right? Because either way, things may (and probably will) end up screwing you over worse than a ten-tonne monster-truck with a strap-on, right? But you really wanna do it, right?

So do you do it?

The smart man laughs at this scenario and realises that since there is no gain in doing so other than to clear impulses, simply gives the reply: "Of course not! Stupid man! Go back to your whistling competition with the kettle!".

I dont consider myself the brightest spark in the fireworks. But im compelled to do it. Its not because ive made some surreal pact with the devil, its not because i LOVE getting myself in sticky situation and its not because i do not like green eggs and ham.

I would do it because there is nothing to gain, but something to lose. And since imma lose either way, i might as well satisfying my impulses kthxbye. "But Jeremy!" You ask, risking your position in heaven, "What can you possibly lose from just staying put! All shall be as it is! All shall be fine and dandy! Raindrops keep falling on my head!"

I'll elaborate. Imagine a minefield. You're stuck in it. You can either sit there, and rot, or get out. liberate yourself. Move.
There is another patch 30 metres away from you. Here's the snitch- there's alot that could be in those 30 metres. A claymore? A remote?
If fear grips you, flip to page number "1- 0- 5- 3- 12"
If not, flip to the next page. And move on. Determination.

Because nothing is holding you back except your own fear. Brace yourself.

Would you rather be confined, afraid, in that tiny space? No sssir.

You lose opportunity. It's more than a window now. Opportunity is like time- it comes, and it goes. And no amount of tampon sacrifices would bring it back. You couldve done something, and you couldnt. You shouldve done something, but you didnt. And now you'll never know the outcome.

Utter a ten-four and drive on blind.

Opportunity waits for no one. It doesnt care if you lose the only chance you've ever had. It wont give you compensation lives, and it wont let you restart the game with the hit of an "esc".
Thats what you lose. You lose what you didnt do. You lose a chance, an opportunity to see the results. You'll never have known. You'll never had experienced. Boom.

It's times like this you just cant hesitate. You have to attack to move forward. To clear your path. To create another big conflict that you'll have to fight your way through. Again.

If you wanna do something, do it. Consequences? Yea, i know. You're just gonna have the bear it. It's just another mine. Another beartrap. Another sandpit until you reach that finish line. You cant fear moving. You cant just stay in a spot. You're gonna meet them, its inevitable. its just a matter of time. You cant let fear delay your advance.

Then you'll be victor. Victor and failure and failure and victor. Every failure, every setback, every unforeseen consequence, every mine- It strengthens. And you'll just have to keep on going.

Fear is just one big headache

'
Im going to move forward. There's something i must do.
And im asking for trouble, really. I am
"You called down the thunder, now reap the whirlwind."
'

I just hope i've smeared my swords with enough aspirin.

2005-08-14T04:41:00.000-07:00

- "And he swore by him who lives for ever and ever,"

Why do you fight?

For Love?
For Hate?

For Power?
For Strength?

For Honour?
For Betrayal?

For Order?
For Anarchy?

For Peace?
For Conflict?

For Thrill?

For Freedom?

For Justice?

For Vengeance?

Out of Ardor or Indifference?

Anger or Affection?

Fear or Valour?

To Damn? To Convict?

To Kill? To Die?

To Live? To Protect?

For Self? For Destiny? For Desire? For Hope?

For Sin?

2005-08-11T05:23:00.000-07:00

- Slash

I know i look ridiculous,
But it's what i do.
(And it's all to protect you)

2005-08-07T03:52:00.000-07:00

- Out of nowhere

I'm inclined to write for the sake of writing just because i can, just because i know someone out there will inadvertantly stumble upon these words (and decide to throw themself out the window), just because i feel i have space i need to fill. Like putting a chair in some corner of the living room (not naming any names here) just because "it looks plain"- something just needs to be there. Not very practical. Or, if you prefer, practically impractical. Just like this paragraph, which i included to make no sense whatsoever.

I'm sure you noticed the lack of introduction in this post. If you didnt, it's fine, i wont persecute you for it. Dumbass. Hi, my name is JeremyR. I've never used a computer and i cannoto speakah engrish. Im not materialistic (except when it comes to anything i own) and enjoy long walks on short beaches. I can cook (my speciality's called a "bread sandwich") and am a fucking polite, decent man. Did i mention i dont have a blog?

So today i'm going to talk about Runescape- A game which i had the misfortune of watching someone play in a local Lan Shop. A game which prides itself in having spread across the interweb like the plague did Europe. Except Runescape probably got more casualties, doesnt need the assistance of rats, and probably more deadly. Symptons include extreme boredom, brain retardation, and fear of the outside world. Oh well, it's all the devil's work.

when Runescape is in play, cry and lose 10 IQ per second.

Runescape is an online Role playing game. Basically what this means is that you control a virtual character to collect virtual items, which you use to collect MORE virtual items. These items serve no purpose save for showing them off to people you're never going to meet, or friends who couldnt care. All the while, you'll meet other people, all of which are in the same predicament as you: they're stuck in the game. Hey, misery loves company.

But RPGs can sometimes be fun. The thrill of collecting items and beating up monsters via mouseclick is addictive to the max. That and sometimes, you can sell these items for money. Throw in exciting, vivid graphics to suck the person into the character itself, and fast gameplay to get him or her glued to the screen, andrenaline pumping, and you've got something decent.

Massively popular Runescape has none of those.

The game itself looks like it's been drawn out by a four year old with a brain tumour. First, the people look like big lobs of random pixels put together, with arms. The colours are either dull and boring, or bright enough to give you a seizure- combine this with the fact that most things are patternless and have only one colour to begin with, and you're looking at drawings a fetus with a colour pencil would be ashamed of. It's filled with basic shapes, nothing dynamic and diverse here! It's only redeeming quality: it runs on a "3D engine". Which isnt saying much when "3D" is actually just 2D objects popping out of large, badly coloured blocks. It's very sad when a game from a pc loses graphics-wise to an etch-a-sketch.

Will run without a graphics card.

Which brings me to my next point: How much action can you store in a game that has less graphic potential than 3 grains of sand? Well, sometimes, enough. Pacman and tetris had bad graphics, they turned out ok. Most gameboy graphics are horrible, but it's still something that will keep me entertained if i had absolutely nothing else to do. These games made you use at least 10% of your brain. They had action. Bad graphics, but hey, action.

Not Runescape. In Runescape you have fights involving 2 blobs of pixels next to each other repeating a single frame of animation, while the user has the back breaking task of clicking furiously at the same spot over and over. Meanwhile, little red pixels (i'll assume its blood) will start flying about, displaying the games' graphic capabilities at its time. Throw in grunting, moaning, and bad porno music in the background, and you've got yourself a game as exciting as notepad.

Rated M17+ for intense graphic violence, blood and gore, sexual content, and/or strong language.

There isnt much else to say about Runescape except for the idiocy of the game in general. Seriously folks, im sure you've got more exciting ways to spend your time. Here, try this: Take a bowl, put it in a microwave, and turn the microwave on. I swear, the results will amaze you. Other fun activities involve watching paint dry and watching grass grow - cheer with your friends for added social fun("GROW GROW GROW! GROW GROW GROW!). Whatever the choice, i'm sure it'll be healthier for your head.

Or what's left of it.

2005-06-13T02:18:00.000-07:00

- THE HORROR THAT IS.

And now. A random cut-n-paste from the chat logs.

(to some, you may not understand initially. But i assure you, read on. It has its fair share of comic moments that dont require full understanding of the crap we spew like an 98 year old man with diahorrhea drinking laxative.)

JeremyR: SO
JeremyR: HOW DID TEH 4 MAN GO
Shawn: No four man.
Shawn :Three.
Shawn: That fuckhead with the cleric deck won cause I got mana screwed.
Shawn: And Joel...well, he was using a draft deck. What do you expect.
JeremyR: Elaborate
JeremyR: This i gotta hear
JeremyR: Oh wait

Xus™ = Þ...¼ ½ ¾ Finally Mugging... Dont disturb (Eugene) has been added to the conversation.

JeremyR: SHAWN LOST TO A CLERIC DECK
JeremyR: please continue.
Shawn: I got manascrewed, fuckhead(I'm not trying to be rude, I just don't know his name) was building up clerics. Joel was building up a hefty manabase but hardly any creatures.
JeremyR: ...
Shawn: I stabilised in late game with higure. But fuckhead got out some doubtless ones.
Shawn: with about a dozen clerics in play.
JeremyR: I miss the old days where the only clerics i had to worry about were rotlungs
Shawn: After the game they were talking about some cards.
Shawn: They made me remember the days long forgotten.
Shawn: When catapult master and gustcloak savior were good.
Shawn: They thought surpreme inquisitor was good...THEY THOUGHT A MISTFORM DECK WAS BROKEN. WHO THE FUCK ARE THIS TURDBRAINS AND WHO CRAPPED THEM OUT?
JeremyR: Calm down shawn.
JeremyR:They are what i call "noobs"
Shawn: I guess I'm overreacting.
Shawn: I was like that once.
JeremyR: Actually shawn, you still are, to a certain extent
JeremyR: Your addiction to push lich's tomb to the top is fine evidence
Shawn: It CAN be broken.
JeremyR: Yes Shawn. It can with a little tearing action.
Eugene: i agree. lol.
JeremyR: OMG Eugene is around. Well, not really. He's just saying "lol"
Eugene: I am.
Eugene: Shawn is fat n ugly
JeremyR: Ah. He is wide awake
Shawn: You aren't even speaking proper sentences. What's wrong with you.
Eugene: i was n will be mugging
Eugene: n wat was that abt shawn losing to noobs?
JeremyR: They were using a tribal Cleric deck. BOTH of them.
Eugene: lol. shawn... i tot u weere a season player man
JeremyR: Both of them. They used doubtless ones, ancestors prophet... zealous inquisitor... shitty stuff
Shawn: I did beat jerm's cog with my ninja deck.
Eugene: the cock deck is it?
Shawn: If that is what you call it...
JeremyR: COG
JeremyR: C-O-G
Shawn: Did jeremy tell you? I'm trying to buy a Black Lotus from someone.
Shawn: I'm prepared to pay 700/
Shawn: Holy Jesus fuck, I just remember there's drama on wed. I wanted to play deck with the fuckheads.
JeremyR: Heh. So you wanna skip?
Eugene: i'm playing lan on wed
Shawn: I mean Jerm, he's in drama too. We're the only JC1 boys currently.
Eugene: ??
Shawn: in drama. The rest are girls.
Eugene: lol. u must be damn happy man
Eugene: or do the gals shun u
Shawn: Not really, most of them are malay or indians, the rest are fat and ugly.
Shawn: Or both.
Eugene: lol
JeremyR: Fat and ugly malays that are also indian. Doesnt get worse than that.
Eugene:i can imagine a malay shawn version
Shawn: GAWD! IT Burns!!!!
Shawn: Who can resist my enigimatic charm and wit? Bow before me, peasant!
JeremyR: Actually, all we have to do is put shawn in a skirt
JeremyR: there's his female version
JeremyR: I think the boob size is already right.
Shawn: Shut up, shit rat.
Eugene: lol. u'll need a damn bloody large skirt man
Shawn: Your new name is Turd brain.
Shawn: Live with it.
JeremyR: It doesnt matter. She/he wouldnt move out of his/her room long enough for there to be a skirt requirement
JeremyR: OMG SHAWN IN A SKIRT. You will see the ground below him rot and erode
JeremyR: He's the ultimate lawn mower
Eugene: lol
JeremyR: Flip upside-down for instant horror
Eugene: plant him over a anthole n the ants would be experiencing independence day
Shawn: Shut up, I'll look sexy in a skirt! I'll look sexy in anything! I'm a sexy bitch! My E-penis is twice as long as yours!
Shawn:Eat shit and die!
Shawn: JIHAD!
JeremyR: I cant imagine an e-penis tha size juttng out of a denim skirt
Shawn: Dear god, that's an awful image.
JeremyR: Hey, the ant hole wasnt my idea. But i can imagine your ass slowly parking over an ant hole and them screaming "REPENT! REPENT!"
Shawn: One of my mother's colleague's wife died last saturday.
Shawn: Apparantly, she had a stroke while shitting, fell, and broke her neck.
Shawn: I just thought it was funny.
Eugene: ...
JeremyR: You should go to the funeral. Barrel of laughs.
Eugene: lol. the corpse would come back to life man
JeremyR: "Here lies XXXXXX, who had a heartattack in mid defecation"
JeremyR: Man i can picture it. "OMG WHAT'S THAT COMING OUT MY ASS" *faints*
Shawn: She broke her neck.
JeremyR: Oh. Poor, poor soul.
JeremyR: Wait... how do you break your neck while shitting
JeremyR: Please Shawn, enlighten us with your knowledge of toilet injuries.
Shawn: she had a stroke
Shawn: and fell
JeremyR: Ah, thats all clear now
Shawn: I have no fucking idea.
JeremyR: did they clean her ass up before putting her in the coffin?
Shawn: Maybe she was trying to reach nirvana in mid-shit and had a climax.
Shawn:fell and voila!
JeremyR: I wonder if she prayed before she died
Eugene: no one prays while shitting
Shawn: You could be wrong
Shawn: I think the pope does.
Jeremy: Shawn might. "O lord, grant me the strenght to..."
Shawn: no one prays while shitting. Oh fuck man! This line is comedy gold. Sounds like something clint Eastwood would say before he pops a cap in someone's ass.
Shawn: No pun intended.
Eugene: Is that how you pray in the toilet?
JeremyR: I dont see the big deal but...
JeremyR: SHAWN LOST TO NOOB CLERICS
Shawn: Shut up turdbrain!
JeremyR: I disregard your rebuttal because you're fat
JeremyR: OMG
JeremyR: LOOK WHO'S HERE

玉树临风的天才少年....永恒之恋....感情就像候车月台,有人走就有人来,我的心是一个车牌, 写着等待 (Kai) has been added to the conversation.

JeremyR: SHAWN LOST TO NOOB CLERICS
Kai: lolx

End Scene

2005-05-27T21:07:00.000-07:00

- YOUR HONOUR, I OBJECT

Because i can.

2005-05-08T07:23:00.000-07:00

- Priority

I just love priority, moreso than i love work. But i think that's a given, there are many more things i prefer to work; Ice cream, power tools, the state of Idaho, men chasing ice cream around the state of Idaho with power tools, the list goes on. And its a pretty damn long list too, but i digress.

My priority is pretty much screwed though.

Miscellenous actions such as "playing the guitar", "drawing", "Learning Japanese", "Random internet surfing" and "shouting at people as they walk below the balconey in a condescending manner" have found their way to the top of the list. I've had suggestions, sure.

Mom writes:
"Dear Jeremy,
Why dont you use your time wisely and study instead? Like, for your upcoming Chinese exam"

lol! Poor unenlightened mom. One does not STUDY for chinese exams. One fails them. That's the way it works.

Conscience writes:
"Dear Raphael
LIEK OMFG YOUR MATH HOMEWORK IS 2 MONTHS BEHIND SCHEDULE"

See no evil, do no evil.

"Muscles write:
Dear Unfit bastard
Train us, or else.
*threatening picture deleted*"

Fool! I hold the power to deprive you of calcium! Do not make me.

So yea. Im kinda stuck now. Everything is trumped except...

"Sleep writes:
Dear Raphael,

---------------------------JOIN ME---------------------------
"

Now that's an argument i can agree with

Good night everyone. And long live awkward endings.

2005-05-08T07:11:00.000-07:00

- WELL

It would appear you're looking better with each passing day.
After you've gone a seperate way.

I wonder who'll be my next unlucky partner.

Stupid poor-me
Stupid self pity
Stupid hypocricy
Stupid stupidity

Dont think, feel. Dont feel, act.
"What're you fighting for?"

Random thoughts, me-of-the-future. Just, random thoughts.
And Godspeed, i hope you're more enlightened than i am.

2005-04-14T06:23:00.000-07:00

- Touche*

"Well basically, the thing is this. If you dont think you can do it, try. If you ultimately cant, dont. There's a difference. That's what i'm saying. The thing is that most of us think we cant do something we can, but hell, i aint gonna start flapping my arms on my balconey in hope for unaided fli- "
"dude."
"hm?"
"If what you say is all fine and dandy, can we apply it to getting over someone as well?"
"..."

I couldn't think of an answer to that one.
I still can't.

2005-03-24T00:52:00.000-08:00

- Prerequisite: Killing Spree

To talk about oneself is way better than to judge others, isnt it?
Yea. If i gossip, i either wont mean it, or it'll be funny.

I'll probably write about how a girl said Shawn had, and i quote, a "fucked up face".
Just for kicks.

I'm devolving, so much so i used the non-existant word devolving.
Today i spun, out of thin air, 5 jokes which i used to annoy the people around me. I'm pretty sure i overdid it.

"What do you call a bomb that belongs to me?"
"uh..."
"MINE! HAHAHAHA!"

I saw a fist, then everything went black.

"What's the name of the boat that Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn, Merry, Pippin, Frodo and Sam rode on?"
"Fellow-ship!"

You're better off not knowing the rest.

Stop trying to kill yourself.

When i went home, i picked up the phone. And i did nothing.
That's right. A heard a monotone for a minute before a put the phone down, then wondered why i did that. Then i started fretting in the next hour or so that someone had tried to call during that time.

I fear me.

"What do you call an animal that has many styles?"
"A HARE!"

That is all.

(If you're reading this Jan, a met a friend of your today. Amelia, i believe that's how it's spelt. She's awefully tall, ye know.)

2005-03-20T17:18:00.000-08:00

- "Whadd'ya say we blow this joint?"

Incredible. I actually felt like blogging.

No kidding!

Blogging, bloggage, bloggeration. What is the reason for this sudden bloggency? Admittedly, you wouldn't be surprised. Boredom makes the mind do crazy, awkward things. Like starvation, without the frantic screaming and flailing of arms. And i probably wouldnt be blogging if i was hungry anyway.

I'm in school. I'm in computing lesson now. IQ droppinginggzsx.
"TEE HEE! BLOGGINESS!"

This is getting to me. I'm actually (b)logging what's going on around me. Which, as both you and i know, only the alt-capping population does.

"Mr. PaNg jUz pAszed LeHx... nvr seE... LuCkY lAhZ..!! haha"
...
*shudders violently*
Never gonna do THAT again.

Wipe that Goddamn horrified look off your face.

Ye know, through the holidays i've fortunately been able to catch up with stuff i've sort of broken off from last year. This includes guitar playing, manga drawing, Japanese speaking and Outland testing. Yea, geek stuff. Though, i have realised a terrible, terrible truth.

My writing is going down the drain, and hitting it's head on all the nails jutting out the side all the while.

I only see one variable, and i mean no offense friends (not that any of them read this anyway)- Cjc. Though my racist instincts tell me its the Malays.

Catholic Juniour College is making me dumber, and semi-illiterate.
I've dwelved from semi-intellectual to the sloping curse of idiocy.
"JIHAD!"

The way i talk, the way i type, the way my english is somehow subconsciously becoming (this was 'become' before i backspaced) and deteriorating (im not even sure if that's spelt right anymore) toward what my now limited vocabulary can only describe as evil.

HELLFIRE AND BRIMSTONE. APOCALYPSE AND CATACYLSM. DAMNATION AND DOOM. APPLE AND ORANGE.

I've also been told that my writing is weird. In all ways. As near-positive as that sounds could sound, depending on my level of positivity, it comes at an apt time to prove me right.

Damn, i hate being proven right.

This is very, very wrong. However, when speaking with jie, KY, shawn and the lot, i (fortunately) speak normally. Besides the occasional "OMFG THAT IS TEH PWNT", but that's intentional.

I think.

But when i come to this place, boom, i'm a hawker boy. Bad english, worse chinese, and struggling Japanese. Choppy talking and the inability to express. The degeneration of speaking, in other words. Incomprehensible, stuttering, concious speaking. Singlish a plenty, simple terms, similes involving toasters and sign language (pointing and grunting).

"Duh-uh". Crude infinitum.

The hell. It is Cjc's doing, i am sure of it.

This gives me all the more reason to get the hell out of here. Cut short my time in school. Skip the rest of the day. And God help anyone who gets in the way of my Shoto Nitou Ryuu.

Yes, im still shuddering.

- Jeremy "Stupid bloggous feeling" Raphael

2005-03-10T02:36:00.000-08:00

- PUT IT BEHIND YOU (nothing exists below this post)

English Genius
You scored 93% Beginner, 93% Intermediate, 93% Advanced, and 77% Expert!

You did so extremely well, even I can't find a word to describe your excellence! You have the uncommon intelligence necessary to understand things that most people don't. You have an extensive vocabulary, and you're not afraid to use it properly! Way to go!

Thank you so much for taking my test. I hope you enjoyed it!

For the complete Answer Key, visit my blog: http://shortredhead78.blogspot.com/.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 43% on Beginner

You scored higher than 39% on Intermediate

You scored higher than 60% on Advanced

You scored higher than 80% on Expert

Link: The Commonly Confused Words Test written by shortredhead78 on Ok Cupid

Just testing.

I wonder, should i be happy the majority of people im competing against arnt very good at english, or be sad that i didnt meet expectations?

Am i too caught up with myself?

Is it possible for someone to be selfish and self-reliant, yet not obnoxious and egotistical?
or proud?
Does positive condescension exist? Would that be pride? And what sort, really?

Degenarative and Destructive, or Humourous and Healthy(?)
It just adds so much character.

Wow, this entire thing has been about self. Selfish.

What have i become.
(Raphael?)

2005-02-25T06:42:00.000-08:00

- The First Horror

BORING EH?!

JUST WAIT TILL I GET MY DREAMWEAVER.

AHAHAHAHAHAHA EAT THAT SCUMBAG.

(OH NOES!!!!!!111one11two)

2005-02-25T06:31:00.000-08:00

- Aitakatta, koibito.

WELL.

We're all aware of the way this little shithole i call a blog works. Very simply, i update every once in a while, most probably when something of significance happens, or when i feel like it.

I hardly feel like it.

In fact to be truthful i've got half a gajillion drafts (fine, its a rough estimate) lying around the place just waiting to be finished, because often, my attention span doesnt carry me very far.

I've got one that starts "A WHIRLING TYPHOON OF DEATH, DOOM, DISTRUCTION, CHAOS", another which never got past the title "Let's make it happ'n Cap'n", a few hundred rebuttals and rants that i never thought people would want to see anyway ("REND AND TEAR REND AND TEAR REND AND TEAR"). But all of that's gonna change.

Should i decide to rant instead of throwing a fork upward and hoping someone catches it with his/her face, or drawing a kindergarten on fire, or maybe even planning my next step in operation "Landmine's on Orchard Road", then i shall submit it nonetheless, to appease... Readers. Whom i didnt know i had.

So there's that then. But i warn you, should they be cut short, then i'm definitely not to bl

2005-01-03T03:15:00.000-08:00

- ATTENDING ORIENTATION, and the horror of the act thereof.

What a day.

As I sit here to write, I am perplexed. Most people have trouble coming up with anything to write, but here I am ready to rant, rave and diss. But I've no idea where to start. Today was the third day of a new year, and the first day of school. As such I'd have expected such a day to be serious and enjoyable, one of which wouldn't require me to input into this blog and spew up jokes every two sentences. Like the past few sentences, for instance. You may not notice the jokes, but they're there, you unsophisticated mind you.

So, to kick things off, I know. Lets play a little game. You know, the one where I say something, and you say something back? You can go.

"So Jeremy. Was your first day in school a good one?"
"SHUT THE HELL UP. I'LL CUT YOU."

The morning starts smoothly enough, with me probably spending 4 hours sleeping and the remaining 2 convincing myself to actually open my eyes. I wake up at 6, relatively early and ready to go all Gung-Ho and Carpe Diem. My mother drives me to school, and its a very jolly drive.
Jolly of course, until the car behind us decides to smash its front into the rear of my mom's car.
The car ahead of us slowed, and so did we. Of course, we didn't expect a trend to form anytime soon. A bleep, a bang, and a whole lot of screaming, and the next thing we knew the car behind us lacked an integral part of its front: Its front.
It had taken a deep dive into the edge of the rear. Of course, we all know that with a smaller surface area comes a larger pressure. Car pieces were practically flying everywhere as I felt the car rise from the earth and hit it again. There were a dozen things I could have been worried about. My mom, I, being late for school or the person behind me. I could have been worried that more people would decide to join in the road rash. But no, in my head I could only hear one sound, that large "HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!" cheer I heard on the radio.
Never before did it seem so ominous. It was but a tiny feeling at first, but when I finally reached Catholic junior College my suspicions were confirmed: Something was terribly wrong. And it wasn't just the smell.

And so we come to the building itself. Now, many things come to mind when one sees the building, most of which are vile profanities. But to me, I thought of the place as old. Old and haunted.

Allow me to explain. I am NOT exaggerating when i say the damned place looks older than Stonehenge. The walls of the place in general are a shade of dirty yellow, not unlike the many urinals we have in the toilets. Except they don't have aromatic soaps at the bottom to keep it from stinking. The corners are filled with more moss per unit area than Orlando Bloom has fans, and that number is only rivaled by the large cracks that span across the walls and ceilings (Some of which end up creating constellations) the students are proud of. I wouldn't blame them. If I had stayed there a year my sense of judgment would have been off tangent as well.
But the architect was smart enough to include a bus stop in his design for some semblance of shelter. Comparing the school to said bus stop would be like comparing a garbage lid to a bomb shelter. Using the school to hide from any sort of disaster would be like putting up an umbrella against a volcanic eruption, in that you'd not only fail horribly, you'll also look really stupid in the process. There are a hundred things that could be said about the compound, most of which would circulate around the fact the school's weaker than the coffin you'd find yourself in thereafter.

I still give te junior college a chance. I feel it can redeem itself and impress me in the process.

Which brings us to the people, and the principle of course. The principle is much unlike many others in that he is a Holy man. A brother. A rotund man who moves around in a large white blouse. But the principle is ALSO much unlike many holy men in that he is very sarcastic, and very vicious. During his speeches he has called people pests, idiots, morons, and my favorite- bloody fools. He's a winner, definitely, but one must wonder if he calls his congregation jackasses or something. It also makes me very wary when receiving the body of Christ from the man. He definitely isn't hard to spot, though. Look for the fat friar in a straight jacket.
As for the overly jolly and overenthusiastic orientation group leaders... Well. I'm sure they would have seemed tons cooler if they hadn't treated us as five year olds, or sixteen year old retards. They were friendly, of course. But the things the tried to teach us, dear God. There was Indian techno dancing. Now, I'm not being racist here, but the entire killer dance of doom was horrendous. It is a mass dance we're supposed to learn by Friday, where every dude/dette and his/her partner will show it off on the dance floor. Now, to be fair it IS getting easier and more fun to perform and learn. However, it has remained just as dumb. And that's not the end of it. There was a single song where your hand was supposed to mimic a shark biting, and while doing so sing "doo doo doo doo doo du dooo..."
I swear, I felt what was left of my sanity disappear with each bite. In the song's final verse, instead of being a shark, you're supposed to jump off the 'stage'. That sequence was called, if I heard right, "mad a lot". I definitely agree.

You have no idea how reluctant I am to have this... Environment affect me, to transform and change me into the sugar-induced bunch these people are. Should that happen to me, may this very blog entry have the power to kick me in the gut and turn me in the direction I am now. Every day the damn thing takes more out of me. Everyday I find it getting harder to right write.

But I am not alone. Without reluctance I present to you BONUS MATERIAL- The first day of JC for my friend Shawn.
"Dude, this sucks"
"The canteen has a pro, in that it sells coke. It's con is that I've seen third world country toilets that were cleaner than this place. In fact, I take back the pro. It's coke tastes old. You know, I went to get some food at the snacks store. After looking through the menu, I decided to place my order. The store owner told me they had sold out. The rest of the conversation went stupidly like this:
'Alright, i'll have a scrambled egg with sausage'
'We're all out of scrambled egg with sausage as well'
'... Ok. Then what DO you have'
'Omelette with sausage'
Now, the last time i checked both were made out of the same thing. To make things worse they actually cooked the damned omelette in front of me."
"As for the class, all the girls in my class either look funny, or are Malay. But that's a moot point right now since i think they all hate me."
"In hell right now, wish you were here"

How strange. Many a time, when i write such an article, i feel relaxed. I feel soothed. I have an "aaahh..." feeling. But now i've more of an "AAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!" feeling. Well, at least when i exit this place after the course of two years, i can be sure of what i have.

A reasonable education. And most probably brain damage.

2004-09-24T20:00:00.000-07:00

- WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU

WHY CANT YOU CONTROL YOURSELF

YOUR MANNERISMS

CANT YOU JUST STOP

STOP

STOP

STOP

DAMNIT JUST STOP YOURSELF

WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?! I'LL KILL YOU I'LL KILL YOU ALL

- A note from yourself to yourself

2004-09-20T01:34:00.001-07:00

- There are many evil things in this world.

And apparently, UMNO specialises in all of them.

Dont get me wrong now, this isnt another political shot at that annoying little political party. I mean, no, why would i do that?

Instead, you folks are treated to oodles and oodles of fun, exciting RAMBLING! By golly, take a step back!

What is this all about? What sort of nonsense am i babbling? What the hell are you still doing here? The answer is simple my friend. So simple, in fact, that i'm not even going to joke around it. Yes, i'm going to take a breather from my routine of "one-joke-per-line". (also, these may look like 3 lines without a joke in them, but there is. Really)

Tomorrow i have a test on the history of Singapore, which, oddly enough, compromises of 80% Malaya's history. Why is this bad? I'll tell you why: It's so incredibly boring, learning about why the British even bothered with this hunk of tin, to the little bitch slaps Malaya and Singapore threw each other during the union. It also is a large, blatant chunk of propaganda.
Why do i say this? Well, firstly, the book makes the Malays sound very retarded. Now, allow me to quote:
"Malays ist verlangsamt" - Mein Kampf
(note, words may have been edited here and there)
Other than that, Singapore tries to show why it is, in fact, great. And why it's in the right. But that's not even the half of it.

The very fact i hate studying this boring heap of filth, coupled with the fact that 80% of it MALAYAN, has made me dislike Malays even more. Yup, it's worked.

So we've come one big round, and back to "This subject is ghey". Dont get me wrong, i love History, just not the Singaporean half. Never, EVER believe that "take it as a story!" bullcrap.

Speaking of stories, i know! Lets play a game! You are... Darek madeupman (or Darekina madeupwoman- though you've got to admit it doesnt sound half as catchy). By sheer coincidence and badluck you have been forced by the mafia to enter.... school. Your legs tremble upon entering the compound, and you're quickly given a choice to study one of 2 humanities!
If you go ahead and look at your options, go to "LOOK". If you decide to weasel out of this, go to "CHICKEN"

LOOK
You move up to the list and see the following: History and Literature.
To pick History, scroll down to "HAVE YOU NOT BEEN READING?!"
To pick Literature, scroll down to "WTF"

HAVE YOU NOT BEEN READING?!:
You decide to pick up history and purchase your books. Open purchase, you notice one of them is Singaporean history. After reading said book, you find it a colossal waste of time.
To throw the book into the dustbin and hatred, go to "BIN"
To bear with it and try to study it, go to "MISTAKE"

MISTAKE:
You try to bear with it. Everyday, you endure gruelling hours trying to study the subject. Days and months pass, and your brain starts to detioriate because of its contents. But you press on, ignoring the odd fluid dripping out your years. Many decades later, you have managed to master the subject, at the expense of your fertility and an eye. Overjoyed, you run out to the road, proclaiming that you indeed know your country. People all over the world are shocked that you have done so, but also avoid you for being crazy enough to attempt such a stunt. You end up feeling very lonely and decide to eat Mcdonalds, when you suddenly get a Heart Attack and DIE. GAME OVER.

CHICKEN:
You decide not to go through this ridiculous charade, and exit the school compound. However, you forget that the mafia has eyes everywhere, and in seconds a few goons leap from the shadows. Badda-Bing, Badda-Boom. Fortunately for you, you know enough martial arts to fend them away. Unfortunately for you, they have dogs. You decide to flee, knowing that there's no way you could beat something half your size. On the way, you manage to find a cave, and hide in there. You hide there for 10 years, living on the moss growing inside, for fear of the dogs. One day, you decide to peek your head out to check for the dogs. They're gone. you rejoice, and step outside, ready to enjoy life again. You then suddenly contract syphillis and die. GAME OVER.

WTF:
You decide to pick literature, knowing your supreme liguistic skills. You enter the class, till you realise you forgot to purchase your books. The class laughs at you, and the teacher uses you as a lesson for "Irony". From that they onward, you're used as a puppet for the teacher to explain literature's most intricate and complex writing techniques. Because of this, you never have a life. One day, you decide to rebel, and burst into a flurry of insults. The teacher, shocked that you have feelings, utters an apology. You feel fulfilled. Suddenly, you contract Parkinson's Disease, start rolling on the floor, and die. GAME OVER

BIN:
You throw the book in the bin, realising you have no need for such garbage. Months later, there is a test on said subject. Everyone passes except you. However, you notice that the studying of Singaporean History has degenerated their faces. You feel very relieved, and resort to mocking them to achieve your ends from that day forward. Years pass, and the class decides they hate you. They form a gang to hunt you down and kill you. Narrowly escaping a siege on your house, you flee into a nearby drain, where you subsist on guppies and rats. You realise you have made a terrible mistake, and days later, burst from the drains in apology. Your friends, softhearted, decide to forgive you. Then you suddenly contract SARS. You survive. THE END, YOU WIN!

What does this tell you? I dont like modern world history. No, not a bit.
I'm tired, and that usually means its time to let you off the hook, and for me to stop writing.

END:
You exit Jeremy's blog, brushing away the insane humanity it has driven into your noggin. You assure yourself you wont ever look at something so retarded again. You feel assured, and that builds up your self esteem. 2 seconds later, Jeremy talks to you again, either on messenger or some odd means. You cry. GAME OVER.

2004-09-09T01:15:00.001-07:00

- Horrible Screaming Death, the stuff gay quizzes are made of!* -Warning, long post

Our hero, despite being bogged down by endless responsibilities, find time to actually DO SOMETHING! So what will it be? Will it be about his insatiable need to kill anything with six legs? Will it be about his should-be-exiled school and should-be-condemned faculty? Will it about certain games he thinks are "whoa... man thats awesome..."? Will it be about something useful, political, philosophical, and non-egotistical? Perhaps he's gonna write about things about himself, AGAIN! Or perhaps he's gonna rant about shit he hates. HAHAHA! Just kidding! No one actually reads those.

Nah, today our hero is going take a straight venture into Gay quizzes, before returning to study about the Third Reich. I'm very busy, what with playing baccarat with various secret agents and all, and only managed to find the time to bang this experiment in my spy copter while flying from Monte Carlo to Timbuctoo. But i digress.

We all know what these are. The worst of the worst. We've seen them before. They remind us of their insecurity, and that their creators are in fact homophobic idiots. It also reminds us that, if we enjoy these things, we need more social skills. So, as usual, I gave it a shot. Obviously, fear is not a factor for me.

Question one: NAME

I laughed at this one. I had too much practice after doing tons of revision papers. This was ALWAYS the first question, so it was so easy i hardly had to THINK to get it right.

Note: Just for fun, i entered the results with the default settings, just to see what difference my name would make.

Not a good start.

Question Two: AGE

Not as easy. But I've done it enough times to have no problems. NEXT!

Question Three: Pick one- Ellen, Willow and Tara, Anne Heche, Gina Gershon, Jack from Will & Grace, Melissa Etheridge, Legolas, Justin Timberlake, Rupaul.

No Kai Budde?! No Gordon Freeman?! Not even MARIO?! What kind of SICK question was this?! I had a start: Justin and Legolas were ruled out even before consideration, as we all know only crazy little bimbos vote for those two. Besides for the fact Legolas has cool boots, he's the type of guy who'd ACE a lie detection, simply because the man seems to have NO drama in him whatsoever. Justin Timberlake was once with Britney Spears, and that's enough to eliminate that choice. Now, i have very little knowledge of the other people. That said, i still managed to sift through the idiots: I saw RuPaul's name in the Brady Bunch movie- as a female character. Choosing him over the others here would be like stomping on the nettles in the middle of the garden. Not smart, really. Arguments that he's just super-secure and thick skin dont even WORK here. There's a line between security and homosexuality, just like there's a line between Bravery and Stupidity. And to all who are simply NOT convinced:

THIS is Rupaul. And he scares the shit out of me. If he wasnt male, he would have scared me gay.

Moving on, that left Ellen, Jack, Willow and Tara, Melissa and Gina. Didnt know who the first 2 were. Took them out. So we move on to Willow and Tara./ For those who dont know, they're this supposedly sweet Lesbian couple. As my dartboard should know, i have nothing against homosexuals, but would usually only vote for gay marriages if both chicks were hot. Secondly, its from Buffy. I'm not a Buffy fan. There's something about teenage drama-fantasy shows that i dont find too appealing. Yes, charmed was fun for a while. But it got boring. And when they're using "HOT" in their advertisments as part of why you should watch the show, it just dampens your interest in it. Sooner or later, they all just turn into another "days of our lives" show. Nah, John Doe and 7 Days is officially (I've got a cert) cooler, thanks. So yea, because of my uninterest in Buffy (sorry Jan, "it has a nice storyline" just doesnt work anymore) i decided they shouldnt get the vote. Sorry Lesbian couple, your dependance on male dogma pertaining to lesbians did not pull through.

That left Etheridge and Gina. I like both of them. Etheridge, because she's a rocker. Maybe i'm dated, but i listen to hard rock. And ALOT of it. Not the screaming kinds that turn people away (well... Sometimes), Just Hard Rock- The guitar, the drum, and the solo. The entire package. I've got an affinity for rock, and thus rockers. But Gina was my favourite character in Show girls (just dont ask) AND face off (favourite MINOR character, that is). She has this Lawful Evil in her, Like Knuckles in Sonic, Like Vegeta in Dragonball. She's the evil person on the good side. I once saw her quote on someone's blog: "I have one rule for myself: fuck the rules". She's not "bad", she's just pure cool.

A flip of the coin, and Etheridge won. All the same.

Question Four: Pick a Movie- Bound, Better than Chocolate, Gia, Jeffrey, It's my Party, But i'm a cheerleader, Relax, its just sex.

I voted "Relax, its just sex". It was the last word, really- "Sex". Compelled me to vote for the damn thing. There was simply no contest. Nothing, not even "cheerleader" could change the vote- and i blame my damn male brain, for laughing so damn hard at the word sex, and for laughing so damn hard at the creator for obviously being a bigger loser than i am.

Question Five: Pick a Beverage- Beer you can drink, Beer you can chew, Fruity Mixed Drinks, Cockt-tails, Jello Shots, Give me the Bottle!

Sorry dude. "Give me the bottle" was a FAILED attempt at comedy. Everything else seemed too household, that left the 2 beers. Again, i have equal feelings for both, as both are very situational: If someone help me at knifepoint threatening to kill me if i didnt have Beer i could chew, it would be beer i could chew. However, if someone held me at knifepoint threatening to kill me if i didnt paint his shoe, i would much rather have beer i could drink.

Again, a flip of the coin got me "A beer you can drink". And this is what i got:

Note: The answers i mentioned above WERE input into this thing... but somehow it doesnt show em here. But i assure you, the result i got was 4%

Well... green zone. Thats safe. No reason to start calling me Bridget or anything. Then again, i felt of tinge of shame, having suceeded at a hunk of retardation. I concluded this entire thing not only wasted time, but was stupid. VERY stupid. I need no justification other than "it came from the internet".

So just before i ended my little experiment (after my bouts of disbelief and a nice long shower, which involved beating the hell out of my idiocy with a bar of soap), another test caught my eye. It was a test which i could use to prove people wrong. I had the time, so i decided to give it a shot. After all, with my new found quiz experience, how could i do badly at this one? I was wrong.

Cool Dating Tips and Romance Advice!

FUCKING QUIZ. MOCK ME?! YOU TWO LINED RETARD. I WILL KICK YOUR BINARY ASS AND EAT YOUR VIRTUAL CORPSE.

....

I need friends.

* Jeremy would like to thank you for sieving through his enormous post, weaved completely out of boredom and bad English. Feel free to ask a favour of him, or something- he evidently would much rather be doing it.

2004-09-04T21:25:00.000-07:00

- ZE POST IS DOWN THERE

Hello. Today i'm gonna try a little exercise, just so it makes it more fun to read my blog out loud.

Ahem

Ach. As you can see from ze certificate ere, zis iz not only very bache, but zis iz very accurate. Some of you might not haff forgohten ze butterknife fiasco. Altzo , should any von off you need ze picture of ze face framed for eizer worship or to use as ze dartboard, pleaz do not hassitate to dropp me ze line!

Alzo, on ze Saturday, i vas velcomed into ze Catholic Church! Many claim i am von stepp closer to GOTT! Daddy needs a new pair of lederhosen! I VILL NOW FOLLOW ZE WAY ZAT REAL MEN PRAY TO GOTT!

And now, zis special offer goes out to Jan and her freunds: Need z Ego boosted, you've found ze place! Ze first von is free, but ze next few are not! So zat i can make ze money!

Hahaha! And remember all, Sie setzten Ihr weinerschitzel in mein Sauerkrauten!

Bleh. Forget it. I even had to exaggerate to haff... i mean, have something to write about. Never again.

2004-09-02T04:53:00.000-07:00

- A losing war

Battle doesn't need a purpose;
the battle is its own purpose.
You don't ask why a plague spreads
or a field burns.
Don't ask why I fight.

2004-08-21T23:56:00.000-07:00

- WARNING- INCESSESANT PERSONAL EGOTISTICAL RAMBLING, THE KIND EVEN THE AUTHOR WILL NOT WANT TO LOOK BACK AT, APPROACHING.

THE SANE SHOULD AVERT THEIR EYES TO SAVE THEM.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Let's just assume that i have, in fact, been updating the blog, and thus conveniently save myself the effort of trying to explain my absence, or apologize over and over like anybody cares (Which somebody does... right?)

So the confirmation name has been handed in. Ddont think i can change it anymore. The usual responses were:
"Hell yea that was my favourite Ninja Turtle"
Or
"LOL the patron saint of the insane?! Damn right you need it"
Psht. Yea Right. The dude here is sane.

Teehee.

But amidst the comments stood one very straightforward and tactless (required) comment: that it simply would not fit. That in the future, the name will sound way worse than it does now.
The name in question is Raphael, and I swear that one comment alone made me hesitate for what was left of the entire day.

Also, Jeremy's hair finally has some sense of Order (Never thought that sentence would ever exist). Yup, spike and all.

And lastly, the Sandman. Meh, i have a problem with the sketchy art, and certain parts that seem to overdo the fantasy bit.
BUT it is a good comic book with a captivating story nonetheless. The climaxes and punch lines appear at all the right moments, the situations for those climaxes and punch lines to happen were well crafted out. It has that very "cool" effect

It's also apparent that the book was created with 2 things in mind during design. Firstly, the climax and punch lines ( "I am hope.") always end at a page, and not in the middle of it. This creates a sort a satisfying feeling when the page is turned.
Secondly, each opposing view/side or conflict is dedicated to a page each. This is hard to explain, so i'll give an example. When Lucifer tells Dream that he cannot leave hell, the last comic square has him asking this:
"you have no power here. what power have dreams in hell?"
That serves as the aforementioned punch line and climax, ending right at the end of the page, not at the center. This FORCES you to flip the page to find out the answer. Clever, Gaiman. Clever.
The next page has only 3 sentences, but it takes the entire page. So the opposing arguments each end on one page- So it's very clear cut and satisfying. Also, one eternal waking per page.
"What power would hell have if those here imprisoned were not able to dream of Heaven"
Elaboration carries on later, but the point has been made. Clever

It's really these tiny, seemingly insignificant things that make the difference. Most of us notice it, but not consciously.

Lastly, the character himself is not the usual all-righteous Lawful Good archetypes. Rather, he is Chaotic Good. Very much like Riddick (yes Jan, he's comparing your beloved dream to Riddick) that doesnt bother with crude wit but instead philosophy. I'd pick these heroes over Superman anyday.

I still think Gaiman missed out "Luck" though.

2004-07-10T09:18:00.000-07:00

- DAMN YOU FATHER TIME

I will not, i refuse to, let this blog die. My ideas are plenty. They will make it here from now on.

I cant let them run away like lepers from a soccer game.

Life has been.. messy. It has been active in it's own way. However, my life and my opinions are part of other people's lives, not the other way around.

In that case, it feels only appropriate for me not to write about them. Its not me, or my life situation, after all.

Yet somehow i feel i have things to write. things not too well organised or composed, but content nonetheless. To hell if i dont think its good or interesting enough.

If you've decided to visit here, you've probably already exhausted any other means of self-entertainment anyway, and from here on out, it can only get better.

2004-07-08T04:28:00.000-07:00

- Pen awards entree.

Late June. It is a time where the weather tries to kill you slowly, either by frying you with its unbelievably hot sun, or boiling you with insane amounts of humidity. It is also a time where Mother Nature reminds me she is not only far from perfect, but has instead been born with a massive array of birth defects- such as having the sun grossly mutate into a torturous fireball, and having the wind only blow when I’m indoors. Besides this, it is also the time where stacks of unfinished holiday homework would mock me from across the table, and the reminder of returning to school haunt my dreams.
With such a wonderful environment, it only seemed fitting that inspiration would crawl into the deep, dark recesses of the earth, to pounce on me only when I needed it least.
You see, I was selected to write an essay for the pen awards. The topic? One of the most open topics there could be- My Story. Confusion overwhelmed me. What did this vague topic mean? Now, I have always believed that limitations, contrary to common belief, actually bred creativity. Right then and there, it appeared that Satan had read my mind, and decided to punch me in the gut for coming up with such warped logic.
It almost seemed that way, for as my eyes scrolled down the tiny slip of paper, two words met with them, and proceeded to fling childish taunts at me from the page itself.
“Involve Family”
I panicked. Do not misunderstand; I do not dislike my family. I find them to be less dysfunctional than others. Moreover, should I be stuck in a fire, I can be rest assured they will not stand by and laugh. However, as I had learned from society, family stories were by far one of the least interesting, most boring, and yet hardest to write. It was simply not my style to ramble on about my fat brother and his destructive nature; it was my style to write about things remotely interesting.
Or at least have something worth reading and writing about. Sadly, family hardly fit into either of these categories. Try as I did, I simply could not get past “My father is the core of the house”, before my mind either gave up or wandered off to a much more exciting place.
Before I knew it I had totally abandoned the idea of writing a family story worthy of the average sarcastic, irreverent teenager. I proceeded to writing what I wrote best: Warped and cynical views of events, entwined with a dollop of parody.
Mr. Gneh was the man responsible for my entrance into the competition, so it seemed only reasonable to have him consult my paper. I was confident in my story in all ways but one- if my story fit the topic of “my story”. I watched Gneh’s face as it scanned the paper, sweat drops trickling down my face, past my mouth as it started its own prayer.
“But is it relevant?”
Gneh continued giving ample advice, and while I did catch a phrase or two, most of it was muted by the curses thundering in my head. I had returned back to the nefarious “square one”, my work a waste, and my mind still baffled at the meaning of “My story”. Staying optimistic, I decided that my situation would have been funny from a sadist’s point of view.
“A good story need not have a twist!” I heard him saying, “Some good stories are reflective and insightful! Cliché yet nice! And… are you alright?”
I checked myself, and noticed my right fist was raised, shaking. I forced it down, then bowed. “Thank you Mr. Gneh. I understand.” I walked off, confidence shaken, mind already churning out cheesy plotlines, but perhaps with more of a clue than before.
I spent the next few days weaving up a reflective and insightful story, trying my best to make it sound philosophical like the many other articles out there. I was disgusted at myself, and lamented at how different writing never made it past the mushy, cliché types.
A week later, late at night I stared upon the mess of words upon my screen. It looked like the kind of story only the church would like. I disliked my writing, but knew that it was much more suited for where it was headed. I stared, sighed, and prepared to glue the essay onto my computer forever as my mouse hovered over the “save” button.
Perhaps it was divine intervention, for at that moment, the screen flickered into a dead, black pane of glass. I was puzzled for a while, before the lights in my room flashed off as well. From the darkness, I gazed out the window, and saw rows of lights disappear at a time, and heard shouts of exclamation. Yet I just stood like a dummy, facing the dark night, as if expecting a meteor to descend.
My work. All of it was gone. Disappeared. Erased. For 5 minutes I stood, stunned. I was half expecting the computer to turn on, for this to be all one big prank. Then I trudged downstairs, grabbed a candle, and placed it on my desk. The little light lit up towers of books, and one lone piece of paper on the table. Its big flashy words seem to watch me- “the topic is My Story”
For the ensuing 30 minutes, I looked at the paper. Hope was slowly draining from my body. The competition was over. I picked the paper up, and headed for the bin in the darkness.
Then inspiration hit me like a bullet train on a well greased track moving at full speed.
My story was a story that wrote itself! It made perfect sense! Just then I heard the blessed sound of the computer buzzing, and lights clicking, and leapt onto the computer, hands ready to type.
To type my story about My Story.

A nice 1000 words, just right. Hopefully this will make it through. Critiques are more than welcome. in fact:

"PLEASE TEAR APART MY WRITING THANK YOU KEKEKE ^_____^"

2004-06-22T05:04:00.000-07:00

- Didja miss me? (+ Harry Potter)

It's been such a long time since i last updated this blog. A ton of things has happened since the last update, i'd be hard pressed to squeeze it all in one entry.

First, my birthday on June the 15th. A large thanks to those who remembered- i couldnt have survived the day with calls from only aunties. Now I'm 16, and besides being able to watch a new range of movies (legally), my age is now an even number.

Go even numbers.

I also got a Gmail account, thanks to Caroline and newly aquinted Jan. Thank you Jan, i will never forget this blessing you have bestowed on me. You qualify for blind idol worship, although you probably already knew that with your divine genius. Thank you again, and did i mention you rock.

"But Jeremy, this is all old news! With so many happenings, why didnt you post a blog entry sooner" you ask? My birthday and ~~ass kissing~~ worthy praise didnt move me enough for a blog entry. I also had a little demon who had taken residence a long time ago inside me, names laziness. I hate him, but i enjoy having him. And i hate enjoying having him as well.

I needed something so incredibly interesting that i couldnt help but write about it.

And that thing came, in the form of one of the worst movies i have seen in a very long time- Enter the third installment Harry Potter

Don't get me wrong, i have nothing against the series or the book. I do not diss to get recognition, but the movie i watched was wrong for so many reasons i apologize if it does sound like it.
Now be warned, there are spoilers ahead, though i dont think it'll make the movie any worse than it already is. From there on out, it could only get better.

We're greeted with a scene which shows Harry Potter and tiny special effects to remind us, the viewers, the the movie will actually involve magic. I cant find any other explanation for it, except that it was created with no purpose whatsoever, and viewers like me would be too distracted by this pointless sight to concentrate on the rest of the movie, which in my case would have been considered a plus.

Unfortunately, my brain was cursed with the gift of "giving things a chance", and so i decided to forget the introduction and move on, in hopes of enjoying the movie. Of all the bad decisions in my life, I can safely say that was one of the worst.

The ensuing scenes started to then cut up any hope of this being a movie worth spending money on, and i slowly started to concentrate more on my popcorn.
After Harry steps onto the Knight Bus, we're introduced to a talking Shrunken Head. Not exactly the best media for humour, but I'll give him originality points. However, its jokes were about as bad as its looks, and i decided they were probably linked somehow. Sadly, it was also the funniest thing for an hour, but no matter how much bigger 2 is than 0, it is still a tiny number, which is more than you can say for 0.
On the train we meet a Nazgul, and Harry (being the protagonist) automatically became the ring bearer. Throughout the entire story we see Nazgul do nothing more than fly around and do Nazgul shit (Play haunt the ringbearer, such as fly around Hogwarts- which suddenly had a clock tower zapped straight from Zelda, the same way the leaky cauldron had morphed into knockturn alley, and the theatre had morphed into a torture chamber.

There are a ton of things i could say but i'll sum it up in one nice word- Incomplete. The movie had a plot so simple, so rushed, it could have been done in an hour. What was the other hour? Alot of bad scenes (hippogriff riding, wine glass breaking, bus-between-bus action) designed for cheap laughs, and seeing as how i find stupidity funny, I had alot of cheap laughs.

Of course the movie had its moments, like when a small chubby negro said to Harry at the dinner table "Black is everywhere! It's like trying to grab air with your bare hands!"

To this day i still wonder why the only one who laughed was me.

But just when i thought it couldnt have got any worse, The movie decided to pull a fast one on me: somewhere at the end, Lupin turned into a naked hobo in a cheap mask.
At that point, I screamed. My hamster screamed. My dead ancestors rose from the grave and screamed. The future generation of my family built a time machine, teleported to my living room, and screamed. Then I screamed again.

In conclusion, I'd like to say that watching Harry Potter is indeed a bad movie- the equivalent of having a bunch of hedgehogs crawl up your ass, run around, then decide to have a Dance Dance Revolution tournament. If Hitler had watched it, he would have locked the producer in the Ghetto. If Stalin had watched it, he would have him purged. I, However, do not have either of their powers, and will do what any dude my age would do: Curse and insult. Alot.

Yea, im still screaming.

2004-06-01T05:46:00.000-07:00

- "Remind me of chinese and die, ming bai mah?"

It's over. It's finally over.

The chinese Os is like a bullet train on a well greased track moving at top speed. You're bound in the middle of the track, you've been given a sheets of metal, drill, hammer, nails, screwdriver, nuts, bolts and a stapler.

Here comes the train. Ok genius. Go! Start! Work at it!
And brace for impact!

Afterwhich you walk out, dazed and barely alive, and a minute later you realize that you've just accomplished one of the greatest magic tricks of all time.

HAHA HOUDINI. IN YO' FACE!!!

But no one claps! There's no roaring applause, standing ovation or shouts for encore (thank God). It's either a "meh", or "geez was it alright?", "how'd did it go?", "did it 'urt?!". You seem like this big fool, arms out stretched on stage like you're about to get crucified, beaming to the crowd, and only YOU realise that its over, that you've taken a sledgehammer in the face and bloody survived. Your hair is disheveled, your vision is blurred, and you're the only one proud of you.

You can't bow like how copperfield did after his flying act, or like how a conductor does after he/she leads a band through all of Bach's works. There is'nt an applause. It'd be kinda awkward.

Don't get me wrong, whatever's left of my soul loves concern. But how the exams went dont matter as much as how the time after the Chinese Os went.

Yea. Only the aftermath matters, not the nuclear strike.

2004-05-17T05:24:00.000-07:00

- "When I get out of this, never again will I curse the sun."

I don't write well in Chinese.
Neither do I write well in the cold.
However, today I was subjecting to do both in the freezing abyss I've come to know as our school's "Theaterette". I guess it should have expected such a place to exist in the grim monolith of Catholic High. How else will they preserve the bodies?

I have this annoying tendency to insist on closing all the doors in air conditioned rooms- you know, to keep the cold air in. The same applied when I first entered the theaterette. I left the door behind me ajar, and unwittingly took my seat at the back of the theaterette. Throughout the beginning of the Chinese lecture, I was constantly annoyed by the open door, and prayed that it would be closed sooner of later.

Unfortunately, it did.

"Unfortunately"?
I regretted wanting the door closed through the next few hours. The cold was unnoticable as first, slowly creeping and smothering us like blanco smothers wrong words. A thick layer that would soon harden, causing the word beneath to be trapped. Soon one by one, after seconds of falsely-assured comfort, we started succumbing to the sub-zero glaciation of that God forsaken refridgerator.
I guess its a bit hard to understand the torment we were in, so let me try to paint a clear picture, though im very sure it would be fogged up by the very mention of that arctic coffin.

Usually, we write words by moving our wrists right? Well, then, we couldnt feel out wrists. Or our hands for that matter. The only way we were sure they were still there was either by sight, or (after the extreme frigidity started causing hallucinations) by furiously slamming them against the wooden wall. Not too hard though, for fear that our hands would crack like after how T-1000 did when he was splashed by liquid-nitrogen. But we don't form back, and the bruises remain.
So we didn't move our wrists to write. We moved our whole arms. Yup, hand writing in the room hit an all time low. It was then did i start to hate the tiny one-by-one boxes of chinese composition paper. i couldn't even blanco properly. Sometimes i whited-out words which i wrote correctly. This meant that i had to invest gruelling effort to write it well again. Combined with the barrage of uncontrollable shivers i recieved on random occasions, this usually took about a minute.
My hands were so numb that I didnt notice even if the pen came loose by accident, causing it to sway here are there on the paper like a hard-tipped brush. However, this did save me the hassle of prying them off when I needed to switch to using blanco instead. I.e, all the time.

Also, after a while my hands started to turn blue. This was disturbing at first, but after the sane part of my brain became raw (You know, when i was afraid licking my pen would cause my tongue to stick to it), I was actually amused by how it matched the colour of my pen ink.

But all this was no match for what happened after the lecture. Dashing out of the theaterette to the nearby canteen like a madman free from his assylum (straight jacket still well attached), i was bumped by a fellow student, and a cube of ice from his finished beverage hit me on the arm. I stared at it as it slid off. It felt warm.

ICE FELT WARM.

All in all, a fun time i was definitely undeserving of. Tomorrow i will be once again subjected to that locus of algidity, and this time i will bring thick gloves.
"Wont it be hard to write in those things?" you ask?

Hard?
Definitely.

Harder?
No way.

2004-05-16T05:00:00.000-07:00

- And now for something completely different

Pure, Solid Gold

Just gotta love history.

2004-05-14T19:04:00.000-07:00

- Life does not suck, Shit does not happen

Looking back at this blog it seems like i've gone goth, complaining about life before singing cure songs to myself, then cutting my wrist and drowning myself with my blood. But this place strives to be the total opposite of "WHY YOU WHINEY LIL..."

You see, usually most people do not find things that i find funny, funny. What i do here is make every day seem like a joke. A sitcom.
Laugh. Does that sound so angsty to you?
I've just got a different sense of humour. This site is not sad at all. I will not pollute this place with constant "Sigh. Why is it this way"s
And i know this is a complain in itself

Well, serious tone aside, yesterday Kai tried to squeeze some marks out his paper like the rest of us. That meant he had to see Serene Seah. We all bid him a safe journey home.
So did Kai evetually get his marks? Well, one. That was all. Despite the fact he could have got many more.
In comprehesion there's a vocabulary section where you write the given words synonym. Kai, thesaurus by his side, said to Serene Seah
"ha! look! You marked my answer for 'Vogue' wrong!"
His answer to "Vogue" was craze. He brandished his thesaurus and pointed to a single word under "Craze" - Vogue
Serene Seah looked thoughtful, then confused for a moment.
"But vogue may not be craze!" She stuttered
You know those times in cartoons and movies where a sort of silence follows with crickets chirping in the background after a character says something stupid? like "Oh i dumped it in the drain" or "You wanted me to kill him?"
Yea. Now was one of those times.

What i really want to know is, does she actually think up this crap, or is it truly completely random?

Anyway, the new Half Life 2 trailer is out, and i'd like to comment that it's ABSOLUTELY SPECTACULAR. No. This is not sarcasm. The tester shot his car back up a cliff (it was hanging), and then in another scene he shot his car to flip it over, crushing the man behind it. When a guy gets hit by a rocket, he doesnt just die. He flies. Through the sky. Hands outstreched, spiralling. Like an acrobat.
Its amazing. Pure, total freedom. Thats what the game is. You can do anything you want anyway you want, AS long as you get the objective done.

I also saw Counter Stike Source (Not CS.CZ) in aztec. It uses Half life 2's engine. Again, stunning. One scene shows counter-terrorists, at the top of a bridge, spraying bullets down to the fleeing terrorists below. The bullets splash the water, and one poor terrorists, blinded by a curtain of splashes, fell to his death. his blood mixed with the water, and later you see red-tinted splashes.
Incredible.

I think i'm in love with this game.

2004-05-12T08:30:00.000-07:00

- 4S is not a subset of Human

As some of you know, recently our English comprehensions were returned to us. More than 90% failed. This onslaught was caused by the marker, Serene Seah, who's name i dare mention only because i have masochistic tendencies. If you have any sort of human compassion however, i suggest you not try it, lest your fingers start shrivelling up before your eyes, more defiled than a dettol box in a septic tank.
She is, by the way, 1% idiocy and 99% STD.
Apparently those who did not have the same answers as her were wrong. Theoratically this means that those who passed also pass in thinking as she does. Thus, they are faggots.
Of course, i tried to save myself some marks by finding for faults in her marking. Yes, technically that meant all, but I picked only the most obvious just in case.
However it was a futile attempt. Everything was futile.
I travelled downstairs to her table and met with her, quietly doing my best to avert my eyes, while asking her why i didn't get marks for this/that question.
At that point she gave my paper a look, one which i could only translate at "too long, didn't read".
"Well as i wrote there your answer is v-va-Vah-gew"
"Vague, Ms Seah"
"Ya dont correct me. Your Answer is vague"
"But I beg to differ!" I begged, differing, "I wrote five lines worth of explanation, giving analogies and various examples! All your points are inside if you bothered to look"
"Is that so...?" She said (probably killing a few innocent calves doing so). She snatched up my paper and read it, eyes furrowed, like how a mental retard would look when learning sex education. After reaching the last sentence, (her lips finally shaping the words "fuh-fuh-full si-si-stop-pah"), she handed returned me the paper, panting.
"Well then. It's excess denies."
At the moment my right arm grabbed the pencil box in my left arm and started tugging furiously, in hopes of finding an inkless pen to gut her with. However, my mind, still in a disgusted whir, forgot how to use zippers then. It was a good 4 seconds of caveman-like cynicism, and thankfully she asked me what i was doing before i started trying to biting my pencil box.
You see, my mouth automatically formed the word "ASSHOLE!" in reply, and in doing so my body seemed to regain stability. The same way you only start paying attention in BINGO when your neighbour shouts "BINGO!!!".
"What did you call me?!" She shrieked, apparently incredulous.
"S-O. I said S-O-B." I replied, poker faced.
"Oh. Well, you may go." she said, more confused than angry

I walked out of that room, triumphant from that battle.
But i lost the war. My marks were left unchanged.

What can i say. "WE FOUND A WITCH! BURN 'ER! BURN 'ER!"

2004-05-11T01:50:00.000-07:00

- Ineffective Ego Rubbing

Today i was handed an awkward assignment. Not one i was supposed to do, but it was all in the name of "friendship". As you may not know, Our class was trying to raise money for the school.
Naturally, a proposal letter was to be written to (guess what?)propose to an ice-cream distributor his sponsorship, so that we could sell his hard earned products at our own benefit.
Naturally, the job to write this letter on behalf of our teacher was Ricky. Ricky, Honkee blood pumping in his veins, came to me for help.
Naturally, i did the whole thing for him.
Though i dont think it turned out quite as he planned.
Naturally.

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To a most inspiring, benevolent, generous and understanding Mr. David Lim

Greeting, my name is Alice Long. Currently i am a teacher in the infamous Catholic High School. Recently (as you may know, being the well informed gentleman you are), the school has run into a number of economic knockbacks. As such, my class' pupils and I have decided to embark on an endouvour to raise money to help the school. We concluded selling ice cream was by far the most effective way to earn massive amounts of money, enough to send our school to prosperity. I'm sure you know this yourself, seeing the prestigious (and may i mention, hard to get) position you are in now. We will sell ice cream on our school sports day to schoolmates and passerbys.

As you may have guessed so far (knowing your remarkable intelligence), we seek your sponsorship for the ice creams we wish to sell. We have selected you, as we know you are by far the most understanding and helpful ice cream distributor. We hope you will support us in our mission to help our school. Please do not consider yourself unfortunate, but instead lucky, to have an opportunity to display the innate generosity in your most blessed soul to the public.

Thank you.

Ps: Not sarcasm, but instead exaggerated sincerity.
Pps: I know where you live.

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I dont really know, but threats add flavour. Everyone knows that. And if you disagree i'll kill you.

And now I've got an essay to work out. "Carpe Diem", it's supposed to be titled. For those who have no idea what that means, or doubt that i do (unsurprising), it means "live for the day/moment." It's Taking everyday as your last and thus fulfilling all you want to do.
Simply put: Sucking the marrow out of life.
Nike-ish.
Now what else could i write about that besides that it gives morbid translations of life.
Thanks to it I'm now a second... 2 seconds... 3 seconds to death.
Yup. Carpe Diem alright. Live for the moment.

Or die trying.

2004-05-05T06:20:00.000-07:00

- Beware: Personal ranting ahead

I had originally planned to move everything back to chaos.co.nr. it all works. Or worked. My old webpage did at least, but i thought blogger's would be tidier... so i tried that ftp thing.
It didn't work. And now im stuck with an Error 403. I'm forbidden access from my own webpage.
Now i'm sure i did something wrong here. I just hope i'll be able to change everything back to where it was. Free web hosting is hard to come by, and i sure as hell aint using it properly.
For those who'd like to insult me for my incredibly spastic actions, leave a gash at the gate of my door. I'll count the new ones daily, then shout "DUMBASS" at the mirror while repeatedly stabbing my left shoulder with a paperclip. Please note that i'll do this only till my box of paperclips have been exhausted. That should be about a day.

There are other stuff, sure, but when i look back at this page one day i'd like to chuckle and shake my head and go "ah.. yea those were the days", and not burst out in gigantic tears before flinging myself in the nearest furnace. so i'll be brief: Halo, Slack, measly 73.

2004-05-04T08:36:00.000-07:00

Warning- No direction

It may seem like I finally hopped on the bandwagon and joined the blogging endevours of all people near my age (i.e, 9-90).

However, you're all partially mistaken. A blog would be cool sometimes, yes - not as a "all about me page" but as a dump. A place to put my thoughts. you see, everyday tons of crap fill my life, crap i could easily devulge into this place as steaming, unwanted masses. I've got too many thoughts i hardly write down, before they flee in terror of being part of my sentences (i.e, wailing pits of despair). Thoughts that range from trivial matters like how i feel Spongebob should have been made more porous, to the unlimited amounts of stupidity floating around the earth.

About the latter: It's in the air we breathe, the sites we see, and the cars we'd like to break. Retarded presents, unfortunate happenings, lousy advertisments, and downright moronic websites; It's a fight against idiocy, in my irreverant, sardonic way.

That isnt to say all my thoughts are sarcastic comments. Of course, this is still a blog. Ying and Yang must still balance. There will be some trivial stuff and self indulgence.

I guess im overrating myself. No one may even be reading this right now. Except me, which suits me fine. I'm sure most of you are still sane, in which case you find most of what i find amusing not only unfunny but disturbing.
In which case; Laugh your ass off, Casey Jones. And welcome to my nightmare.