Wednesday, March 31, 2010

You know, it's amazing, these social networking sites. Especially Facebook. Now we're all a certain degree of stalkers. You can find anybody, you can see anybody, and you can know so much about anybody.

And the thing is... there are so many hot chicks on Facebook.

Okay maybe it's the make up or camera angle or lighting. Whatever. They still look damn hot on those pictures. It's not like they're ever going to meet everyone on their friends list, so I'll assume that those who rely heavily on superficial effects to look hot in those pictures are deluding a lot of people whom they've never met.

Today, out of boredom, I clicked on an old friend of mine, and holy cow has he got a superhot girlfriend. She's so hot, I OD-ed on her hotness and puked. Yeah. I'm not gonna share the link.

Anyway, one of the first few things that popped into my head was, 'A man-whore I know would most definitely do her.'

And then I realized that lately - or maybe it's been going on for a while and I never really noticed - oftentimes I see a gorgeous girl on Facebook, I'd think that way. And if I see a not-so-hot-girl-trying-real-hard, I'd think, 'Nahhhh... he won't. Well, maybe.'

It's not healthy to think that way! And it's not healthy to stalk people either!

But goddamn, it's so easy.

I'm watching you.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Because I'm a nostalgic pig.

I was looking to rediscover myself, so I decided to revisit my old blog. I was funnier back then.

When you sleep in class, always close your mouth.

Monday, July 24th, 2006

It was a boring lesson. Badly lit hall. Lecturer was speaking too softly. He had his funny moments, though. My eyes I’d blink and they’d stay closed. So I rested my cheeks on my palms, elbows on the table. Promptly fell asleep. Woke up about quarter of an hour later and the page in front of me was pretty darn wet. There was still a trail of saliva from my mouth to its destination. Thank god I was sitting alone. Honestly.
An observation. Body language is interesting. Why do people, particularly males, have this need to assert their dominance over others? This morning we had class with a group of teachers who were ‘back to school,’ so to speak. These were some old birds. Our lecturer, male, could call him experienced, asked one of the teachers to stand in front of class to present some stuff on morphology and morphemes. When the old bird was up there, said lecturer, who was still standing, put his leg up on a chair, posing ala Legolas or Will Turner. Doh. Maybe I misinterpreted it. Perchance he was just airing his balls.
But even in normal conversations. We can only be comfortable with people once the dynamics of dominance and submission are established. Only when we fit into the roles we subconsciously set for ourselves, can we truly say that we belong to a particular group. Human nature. Strange shit. Boring post. Boring days.

-- end

So if you are too bored, do visit for some laughs.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

So I'm home, after two lovely weeks of holiday. I did so much. Went to Cornwall, went hiking here and there with my family, had a great time. The coast is so beautiful, the views spectacular. We relieved boredom at night by playing Road Rage on the console or watching Lord of the Rings, 1, 2, and 3. The days flew by so quickly, it was unbelievable.

Then I went for a rock concert at the Royal Albert Hall, alone, and it was a wonderful experience. Would have been perfect if I had someone with me, but it was nonetheless awesome.

The next day, slightly hungover, I went on a train ride to Manchester for a measly 5 hours just to visit Dan, who thought that I would be staying for the night. We had some confusion there, heh. Dan, I'm still waiting for those dumplings.

The day before I had to come home, we went shopping at The Oracle, and I went bonkers at Primark. Yes, I'm cheap. Whatever. We had a Dog Whisperer marathon at night, and I totally respect Cesar Millan. I'm going to get his book when I get the chance to do so.

And finally, the sad day came to leave England. My sister, my dad and I ended up playing Big Two the entire afternoon in some sort of bonding session whilst my mom sat at the living room playing with her iPhone. I guess it was a dysfunctional family moment. We had a really early dinner and we were off to the airport.

And here I am, home. Hot, jetlagged and swarmed by memories. Will I go back? Without a doubt. I'll need to work crazy hard for it though, and I will. God willing.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

The lousy thing is, here, at this time of year, it gets light earlier. So every morning I wake up, look at how bright it is outside and think that it must be quite late.

I'm usually wrong. It always turns out to be 6-7am when I check the time. And I usually can't go back to sleep again.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

I'm in England again, and either it's a damn cold year or I've gotten older, because I feel really really out of my brains cold. Nothing much has changed in Reading. I'm just trying to take more pictures to better document my trip, but it's so cold, I am wont to take my hands out of my pockets.

We spent the whole day travelling today, getting to St Ives which is in Cornwall. It's right at the south-western tip of England and it took us an entire day to get here, with the constant stops and the very long stop at Wells City to have a look at the medieval Wells cathedral. More about that when the pictures are up.

Unfortunately, by the time we arrived at St Ives, it was already dark and I couldn't get a good view of the Atlantic ocean and the surrounding environs, but there's still a week to go. We're lodged in a comfortable town house but it's sorta funny shaped so we gotta watch our heads to avoid banging against the awkward angled beams. Casualties so far: Mom, 1. Josephine, 2.

I'm just told the itenarery, and we're going to some outdoor theater tomorrow for a look see. Maybe we could explore St Ives a little as well.

Note: On the highway, everybody keeps to the left-most lane; the middle lane is used when you are travelling moderately faster than a truck, and nobody keeps to the far right lane for long. You just cut and move back to the middle lane. The entire damn stretch of right lane is always virtually empty. Awesome, innit.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

I've been so busy these past two weeks. Although I planned to stay home at night, I always failed to do so. Except on Tuesdays that is. I teach tuition to a bunch of kids on Tuesdays.

8 o' clock morning meetings. Two days in a row. Subsequently followed by a 9 o' clock meeting. Then another meeting in the afternoon. I feel busier than the goddam Prime Minister.

Well, thank god for my two-week break. Hallelujah!

I'm really, really, really dreading the 14-hour flight though. Sigh.

UK here I come! Strawberries and cream, FTW!

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Moving forward

I wanted to start conversational French classes, but the secretary told me that I need to be enrolled in a normal class before I can take conversational classes, which are to be treated as supplementary classes. The fuck? I just want to converse in French, which I can already haltingly do! But anyways, a friend is helping me out to talk to la directrice, so fingers crossed that by the time I get back from England, I will be parley-ing.

That aside, I've been going to the gym for two weeks now to improve my health and my poor lungs. My secret wish is to have Jessica Biel's body, but I'll tell everyone that it's for my health. Shhh.

I think I'm going clubbing this weekend? I hope so? I'm not too sure. Torch is getting nauseatingly monotonous and sad, so I think that clubbing would be nice for a change. But clubbing! Paying a bucketloadofcashforwatereddownbeerjusttowashmyeyes is painful. It better be worth it.

PLUS... I'll be going to England next week! Cornwall... TCV... and, still tentative, Manchester to visit my asshole ex-boyfriend who is actually a nice and funny guy. I hope he never reads this, because he'd be infuriated over being called an asshole, then his ego would be inflated because I admitted that he's nice and funny.

After that, I can start planning for a trip with friends to Perhentian in May. Then comes World Cup. Then, god knows! Just not a nunnery in Spain, I hope.

Life is good when you want it to be. So I'll be good and fantasize about other things instead, like owning a French bulldog:

Dogs. Way better than men.