Bugs
Had quite a gory dream last night, I realise that I often dream about bugs. Warning: It’s a little gross.
There was a little green blob of gunk stuck on the side of the fridge. I guess it was food because millions of ants were swarming around it.
I started to pick up the can of insect spray when my sister told me not to. So I didn’t.
I stood there watching the millions of ants, until suddenly they dispersed. Some of them started crawling on me, but it was okay. I squished a few ants which were crawling up my shirt, then a sharp, stinging pain pierced my back. I went to the bathroom, lifted the back of my shirt and saw that the ants had bitten me.
Well, instead of a couple of small red marks where the ants had bitten, 2 huge crimson, gaping wounds were stamped on my back. It was as if someone had used a hot poker and burned off chunks of flesh, I could see that layers of skin were charred into a black, heaping mess around the wound. The wounds were pink and red and the purple veins barely underneath the skin were pulsing. Dark purple bruises clustered the sides of the wounds too.
“Err.. The ants bit me, ” I told my sister. Then suddenly I was standing in front of the kitchen stove, where a small pan of blue goop was steaming. I peered into the pan, there were thousands of tiny little ants writhing and wriggling, struggling to breathe. Their little legs were glued in the blue membrane, abject death. Ants were pouring from the brim of the pan and the unlucky ones were burned. I started stirring the pan, the 2 hot wounds still burning on my back.
Then I woke up. Last time I dreamed about bugs, an entire military of maroon coloured, foot-long, obese leeches were squirming on the floors and walls and even the toilet bowls. I didn’t dare use the toilet for the entire morning after that.
Lost my appetite.
Bad Covers
I wonder if that really happened before, and I wonder how she did it. Haha.
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I don’t know why, but I just really hate it when bad bands cover great songs.
It just sounds gross and pathetic.
I just heard Avril Lavigne sing “Imagine” by John Lennon, and honestly, people should just leave the song alone because it just makes themselves sound ridiculous. The only worthy cover of “Imagine” was by A Perfect Circle, the rest just pollute and ruin the original completely.
I think there’s something terribly ironic about Avril singing a pro-peace song, when she’s always snotty and giving the finger to everyone. What’s with all the bands singing John Lennon songs anyway? Not that they care about anything else but themselves.
What really ticked me off was Panic at the Disco! singing “Karma Police” by Radiohead. Butchered. It wasn’t even funny at all, I wanted to cry. It was one of my favourite songs, shit. The only good that cover does is introducing sad and dramatic teenagers to Thom Yorke’s intellectually stimulating lyrics, but they’ll probably somehow twist the lyrics into their sick emo logic.
Come to think of it, every Radiohead cover I’ve heard sound the same - like poop. Damian Rice, Korn, Panic, John Mayer, etc. Some of them try to sound artsy-fartsy by singing acoustic to songs like Creep, they usually just sound pseudo-emo.
Sorry if I sound snotty, Panic!’s version just really ticked me off.
Squawking Parrot
“…So, the light ray bends away from the normal because the speed slows down in a denser medium.”
“YES!”
“To calculate refractive index, take sini divide by sinr…”
“YES!”
“There’re also different ways to calculate refractive index - ”
“YES!”
“Incident ray and refractive - ”
“YES!”
“1 + 1 = 2″
“YES!”
“Are you a walrus?”
“YES!”
There’s a yapping parrot in Physics tuition class, not to mention he attends the A math one too.
He sits behind me, so his “YES”es are like squawks of a parrot just echoing behind me. He yells, “YES” to every inane thing the teacher says, to show off his astounding IQ? To smugly declare that his eternal intelligence is beyond possible levels of the rest of us? To show that he knows how to pronounce “YES”? To signify that that Yes, he has just pooped in his pants? It’s a mystery.
Good lord, nodding your head in understanding or saying “Yes” occasionally is understandable, but “YES!” at every. darn. sentence?!
I was ready to tear my eyeballs out.
Once, his “YES”es got to Lizard too, so she turned around.
“Yeah, great accomplishment, Benedict*.”
[*Name replaced with the gayest name I could think of. Sorry to the nice Benedicts reading my blog.]
He faltered a little bit, but wasted no time in building up his lifetime supply of “YES”es again.
Lo and behold, the horror that dawned on me when I saw his face when I entered the Physics tuition room. I thought only the suffering was in A math, now we have to face yet another 1.5 hours of “YES” torture.
Okay, maybe I’m overreacting.
I won’t want to murder him or dig his brains out, but I’d still like to shut his never-closed mouth up.
I like tuition class though, because all the people there are different and funny, TK kids all have similar looks and personalities, so interacting with bengs and different types of metrosexuals [I'd only met 1 type before coming to tuition: Spikey hair, square NIKE bag and walking like a penguin] is refreshing. I like them all except for that squawking parrot guy.
Gonna eat a sandwich now. My mum’s making me diet with her, so oatmeal for dinner tonight baby. Mmm mm.
Shitted Day
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Yet another reason to loathe my beloved school - the teachers. Well, one of them, at least. Who knows how many more secretly possess identical vengeful/imbecilic personalities. My [insert subject] teacher called me up at 1.30pm today to ask why I wasn’t at her lesson. Here is the conversation which highlights her vile character, either that or she’s just really, really stupid in the head:
Her: Why aren’t you here?
Me: I’m sorry, I have a Literature lesson at Orchard Road, so I can’t attend.
Her: Lit..era..ture… Less..on.. At.. Orchard.. Road?!
Me: Yes. You can ask Mrs Poon, my Literature teacher. She brought us here to have a Literature lesson.
Her: Mrs Poon? Full name please.
Me: Mrs Celestine Poon. [I was getting a little angry because she was being difficult on purpose. There's only 1 damn Literature teacher in my level, and there's only 1 Mrs Poon in the whole school. So either she's being difficult on purpose, or she is incapable of even remembering her own colleagues' names and professions.]
Her: Where are you now?
Me: I’m at Orchard Road, I have a Literature lesson here.
Her: A Literature lesson? How can you have a Literature lesson in Orchard Road.
Me: Mrs Poon brought the class here for a Literature talk, that’s why I’m in Orchard.
Her: But how can you have a lesson in Orchard Road? She’s conducting a lesson ah?
Me: No, Mrs Poon is not conducting the lesson, I said she brought the class here for a Literature talk.
Her: But how can you have a lesson in Orchard Road, lessons should be in school.
Me: Mrs Poon brought the class to Orchard Road to attend a Literature talk by a guest speaker
Her: But…
[She asks about how in the blue hell could I be in Orchard Road learning about Literature about 100 more times. I must've said the words "Literature", "Mrs Poon" and "Literature talk at Orchard Road" about 394 times.]
Me: I also have a Chemistry lesson until 3pm today.
Her: How can you have a Chemistry lesson today? I asked Mr Tan about the schedule and he told me today to Thursday is free.
Me: Well, Mr Tan isn’t my Chemistry teacher. Mrs Tan is my Chemistry teacher, and she scheduled a Chemistry lesson until 3pm today.
Her: Which Mrs Tan.
Me: Mrs Tan Tsui Fung. [Again, if she was capable of learning her colleagues' names and professions, she would've known that there's only 1 Mrs Tan who teaches upper secondary Chemistry. Thus, I can only conclude that she's either being a dumb bimbo on purpose or genuinely stupid]
Her: From what I know, the Tan Tsui Fung in TK only teaches humanities.
Me: [I was really losing my rag now. Yes, I made a mistake, my Chemistry teacher's name is Tan Siaw Fung, but in the midst of my imaginings to wring this teacher's neck, I momentarily forgot her name was Siaw Fung. However, this teacher should be capable of realising that I was referring to the only Chemistry teacher who had a similar name, but instead of asking nicely and normally, "Oh, you mean Mrs Tan Siaw Fung?", she chose to act like an ignorant retard.] No, there’s a Chemistry teacher with a similar name, she’s the only Chemistry teacher besides Mr Tan in my level.
Her: But I dunno any other Tan Tsui Fung in this school… [Blah blah blah]
[She then tries to pin the blame on me]
Her: I paid a lot of money for you to attend this session you know, then in the end you liddat…
Me: This is not my fault, I’ve already said that my Literature teacher had brought us to Orchard Road for a Literature talk, it was within school hours and it was a school lesson. I’ve also paid for this Literature talk so I could not miss it…. [Getting really infuriated with her apparently low mental capacity]
The conversation went on and on about the same damn thing. She had absolutely no reason to treat me like an indolent pest because I was courteously telling her that I was unable to attend her session as I had a Literature lesson in Orchard Road. However, she decided to doubt the credibility of my words. Either that or the words, “Literature talk at Orchard Road” and “Mrs Poon, the teacher in charge” were unable to register in her thick, unmoving skull.
Surely she is capable of acknowledging her colleagues’ names and professions?
Either that or she’s the one who’s so indolent that she can’t be bothered to remember them.
Thus, I can only conclude that she was being a fat, dumb bitch to me for no particular reason at all. I swear, I must’ve explained why the hell I was in Orchard Road a zillion times and explained who the hell my Chemistry teacher is for another zillion.
I was practically exasperatingly repeating the same words down my phone in the MRT train, I think the other passengers must’ve been annoyed with me. Well, if any of them complain to TK, it was this damn teacher’s fault for forcing me to regurgitate the same sentences over and over again because clearly, information is unable to penetrate through her mind which is probably full of schemes on how to ruin students’ lives.
This isn’t the first time she’s been rude to me.
I think my anger and my complaints about her is justified because she treats me like scum despite the fact that I’ve never done so vice-versa before.
You know what I think? I think she’s simply one of those teachers who feel empowered by their authority which the title of ‘teacher’ holds. They’re the ones who just like to play difficult with students who don’t suck-up to them because all that weight of authority has gotta shift somewhere, right?
They pick out the nitty gritty details which are irrelevant and redundant but necessary in allowing us to understand that we have no alternative but to succumb to their orders, no matter how ridiculous. They choose to ignore the obvious, instead they force us to state it in attempt to put “shame” on us, when all it does is infuriate us.
This is their method of shaming us, whereas their own lives are sad and pathetic. In order to purge their own sorrows, they crap on us instead. They’re just sad, pathetic little people who are unable to realise that they too will die one day and there will be joy upon the news of it. Their ego is so big that they keep dumping on everyone else, until one day there’ll be no one left, trust me.
Bottom line: I hope that she trips over an old man’s spit and falls flat on her face on the road. Then I hope that 10 lorries will run over her head and that bugs, particularly cockroaches and bottle flies, will eat her corpse.
WWE II
*While waiting for my turn at the dentist’s*
Me: Hey Daddy. Do you know that WWE is coming to Singapore?
Dad: Yah. I’m the one who told you about it.
Me: Right. So. I feel like going.
Dad: Oh. Okay. I wanna watch too.
OMFG my dad’s cool! I was expecting some major argument over whether I should watch sweaty men fight in their underwear, but clearly he seems to enjoy it too 
I’m expecting a lot of 16-20 year old ah bengs, matts and emos to turn up and scream loads of vulgarities all night.
I also hope no one brings in one of those dumb big banners which just blocks everybody’s view of the ring. I’m not gonna pay $155 to stare at the back of a neon green vanguard sheet all night. Thus, appropriately, I will kick the person’s ass if he shields my view of Kane with his dumb “MARRY ME KANE!” poster.
YAY YAY TRIPLE YAY!