Yay. I just found out a mate of mine actually reads the crap I write. Noi! Find better things to do! Hehe. Truthfully, its a relief. I like people seeing how weird I can get with my nonsense. Leave your comments so that I know whose time I’ve wasted, lol.
I’m currently addicted to Dragonstea din tei by Ozone, a Rumanian band. It’s pretty catchy. I stumbled across it on a featured blog (MyPatheticLife360) and there was this video of some Gary Brolsma lip synching to it. He’s good! So are his dance moves! I’m totally into the Numa Numa Dance! For those of you who have yet to check it out, the link is www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/numa.php. If you don’t enjoy watching it, honestly, you must not have a sense of humour, or at the least, a sense of fun. Abby didn’t get it. Heh. TYPICAL. *Dodges Abby’s swats* There’s a Malaysian version of it by some smartpants over in MMU…hahaha. I found their version funnier, especially the dancing guy in the background. Check it out.
Ok, I have a few more things to rant about. Why do certain drivers choose to drive at 60 km/h on the highway? In the fast lane? It drives me wild! The worst part is when you’re on a high and blissfully setting the roads on fire down the highway, only to be stuck behind a car whose driver is completely oblivious to the surroundings and is obviously very busy admiring the intricate pattern of tar that is the road. GAH! Please, if THAT doesn’t send you into a frenzy of gnarls, then I have to salute the amount of patience you’ve got. It’s the FAST lane! MOVE OVERRRR!!! Another thing is when you’re [legally] speeding down a road and you see a car waiting at a junction. Ok, it’s got to be pretty obvious to both of you that its your road, the guy has to wait for you to pass, thats the way it works and the world moves on. My experiences have taught me that SOME drivers choose to wait for the moment you’re like 3 inches (ok, FEET) away from them and suddenly lurch forward. My God. Suddenly braking when you’re at 100km/h is not my idea of a thrill ride, and neither is having my heart in my throat. Please, for all you drivers who have this ambition to make my driving seem like something out of an F1 race, you are far too kind. Please, you really don’t have to. It’s not worth the trouble. No, I was serious. STOP.
Another rant…this one goes out to the girls who can relate with me. Since my former classmates were all girls (we were basically a chick class), this topic actually came up once in our crazy class discussions. Its about our age and how badly people are at guessing them. I have been called ‘auntie’ or ‘kakak’ one too many times. Each time I go to the market, or a shop, or a restaurant, I’m given one look, and its ‘kak, nak apa?’. It bothered me sooooooo much when I was 16. Hey, its a touchy age so you really can’t expect acceptance of the fact that I looked older than I was at such a supposedly sweet age. Ugh. Everytime I got called that, I just smiled and pressed my lips together HARD, lest some retort would come flying out. At times, I would respond by calling them kakak or abang back but I don’t think it really registers. Ah well. The only time I actually responded was some poor guy at a 7-Eleven shop. I had had a bad day, and could only think about getting home ASAP. After making transactions with the lad who looked like he was 25, I noticed he hadn’t refered me as anything and was just about to leave the shop when the inevitable happened. He just HAD to say ‘datang lagi, kak’. I whipped around, smiled as wide as someone who’s strained possibly could, and gritted out a ‘Uh, I’m 17′. He gaped at me and then apologised sheepishly, but I was already halfway out the door by then. He’s forgivable. The only incident which still sticks to me til this day was when I was out on a holiday and was about to get into a canoe to explore the lagoons…and the guy who was managing the damn vessel muttered ‘jaga-jaga kak, jangan jauh sangat’. I was 15. HE looked 55. I just looked hopelessly at him and felt like wailing. Lol. Memories. The best part was when I hopped out of the canoe and some lad in his twenties started to hit on me by the beach. Haha. That was precious. To each his own. =)
To be honest, I don’t really care about this age thing anymore. I admit, it tends to irritate me now and then, but I’ve taken control of my unstable emotions to avoid messy confrontations. Besides, its not that big a deal. It’s a definite plus when you’re walking down a road filled with ‘lepakars’ who refrain from hitting on you because they think you’re some 28 year old professional high class woman. I think it lies in how you carry yourself, and the clothes you wear. Mine were always (and are still) the loose dress type. What kind of teen dresses like THAT? *shrugs* Oh well. I take it as it is.
Enough said here.
