I think I’m very ill.
The reason is I haven’t been paying much attention to the World Cup.
Wow. Even saying that hurts.
I just can’t be bothered with England winning anymore because the fans piss me off and now there aren’t any other underdogs left out there for me to root for. Except maybe Ukraine. Mighty respect for the Swiss though. Knocked out of the World Cup with no goals conceded is a damn impressive record.
Spain! Puyol! Such a shame he did what he did. The Spanish might have had a chance since France weren’t at their best til Viera netted that second goal. Alonso made a mess out of it with his header to clear the shot but I don’t blame him. No one blames Xabi Alonso. No one. I must say though, Zidane provided a nice finishing touch. The Spanish defence were so gone by then.
So yeah, other than that, I don’t care much for the World Cup. Maybe its all the hype surrounding it rather than it itself is what’s annoying me. I just don’t want Brazil to win again because it’d be nice to know there’s some new fresh blood in the football world.
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My eating habits are totally out of control now-gone completely haywired and downright disastrous. I eat anything edible in sight. It’s a worrying thing to realise that going down to the kitchen and heading upstairs with the food in fact, does not qualify as exercise and an even freakier experience is that I get peckish 2 seconds after wolfing down a snack in such a shameless manner it’d make a pig blush.
Wait. What colour do pigs turn if they do blush?
Ignore the question that comes from an unstable, overfed mind.
Speaking of an overeating disorder, my sleeping patterns are completely way off. I stay up for about 20 hours one day, and slumber my way through the next, waking up only to perform my prayers and, you guessed it, eat.
This is not good.
As a result, I decided to repay what the kitchen’s lost on food supplies by making dinner for the past couple of days and a bit of pastry dessert for last night. The satisfaction of making myself less of a bum was much felt.
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A passing thought:
One amusing experience I had in England was that the locals I had encounters/conversations with thought I was British of foreign ethnicity because of the way I spoke, albeit with a hint of American slang.
“So where are you from?”
“Malaysia.”
“No dear, I mean, where do you stay?”
“Um…Malaysia?”
“Are you sure you’re not from up North?”
“Quite sure.”
And so it went like that, which was frankly amusing. Widad had warned me not to be more British than the British before I left and Lutfi was certain I’d be overBritish once I returned. Just to be clear, both things did not happen and I spoke the way I usually do. Najia calls it the i/nat slang.
If there was one thing I immensely enjoyed, it was chats with the locals. They’re so polite and good-humoured! No rendezvous with young lads, but genuine talks with British and Scottish men who were old enough to be my father (in case you had the wrong idea). It lifted my spirits a whole lot because I found them to be friendly, non-judgemental, laidback, relaxed, open-minded and appreciative of different views and opinions. It just takes a lone walk around town, on the harbour or in the park and you’d find them with a nod and a ready smile.
Unfortunately I wasn’t able to have the same oppurtunities with English women because they seemed a lot more scarce to bump into, and they’re very much preoccupied with whatever it is they’re doing. I did manage to have a chat with an Australian during a cruise on the River Thames, and by coincidence she had been in KL just the day before.
Its experiences like these that make travelling away from my family worthwhile.
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If I were to enter the Pilsner Urquell International Photography Awards Competition, do you think I’d have a shot at it?
Ah, don’t fret on letting me know the bold truth. Let me have it please. And have a go at this if you’re keen on more to critisize.
Enough said here.
anyway, what happend to u, babes? u sound like me! hehe
ah faz, x habis2 nak kutuk england fans 
