Another tired day...

Yesterday was sure a tiring day. Although, I slacked at the cross country run, by just walking around and chatting with teachers.

After that, Siping and Kailing gang took hell long of time to decide whether to take bus or take taxi, they suck!

So, we took taxi to Ang Mo Kio. I went separate ways to Orchard to meet up with Joesph Adeth for lunch. Went Macs for lunch. After that, took a slow walk to Plaza Singapura to see if there's any masks.

Then, Joesph met some of his friend, and did a devil horn lock. Haha.

Apparently, Spotlight is a very interesting shop. They have practically everything. Interesting! After combing the shop, i found nothing cheap and good except for a close up mat.

Then, went to Yamaha to look at guitars and etc. Went to Carrefour to play that lousy Casio keyboards, Her Ghost in the Fog!

What a boring noon! Then met with the bassist, Paul. They suggested to go to Parklane to buy some picks. Took another slow walk to Parklane, hanged out there for a while. Woah, I didnt know there are such interesting shops around.

Rei is coming! Yay! Meeting her at Peninsula, so we just took another walk to Bugis then to City Hall. Phew, the sun is indeed merciless.

Oh yeah, I showed Paul some tricks. I think he freaked out. Haha! Ownage!

In the midst of waiting for Rei, went to HMV, Raffles Place etc...

Woah there'a a very cool metal CD shop at Peninsula! The shop is better decorated than Far East's Iinokii. Cool!

So, we set off for a hunt for the witchcraft shop. NOPE. Case closed. But we had fun laughing at weird shop names, like Becuase We Like It, and corny Cowboys.

Then I have to rush off to Kovan to meet mom for dinner.

PHEW! What a long and perilous day!

The longest walk I had in my life. From Orchard to Douby Ghaut to Parklane to Bugis to City Hall. Phew.

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Bionic Woman

Today I went to my dermatologist, Dr. P, because last time I was there he said he would laser this small red scar off my cheek for free. (Secret: I have always wanted to do something about that small red scar on my cheek.) I figured it would be superficial and vain, though, to spend hundreds of dollars on something like a tiny red dot when other girls are walking around with their arms chewed off by sharks and they're not complaining. I feared this would be the first step on my way to Botox injections and breast implants and running a sweat shop completely on the backs of small children.

But see, free is a totally different thing. Now, instead of being shallow, I get to be thrifty.

First Dr. P gave me this pair of goggles to wear that reminded me of the ones they give you in tanning beds. Only I made the mistake of mentioning this and then had to quickly backpedal, seeing as how I was in a dermatologist’s office. “I mean, I don’t go anymore. It was a long time ago, and I barely even remember it. Really!” And it’s true. You don’t get skin this freakishly pale by frequenting tanning booths. I haven’t been since high school, and that was because the Prom was coming up and we Alaska girls didn’t want to blend in with the snow in the pictures. Don’t judge me.

Dr. P started up this huge machine in the corner, put this laser pen/welding torch against my skin, and said, “Now, this is going to hurt like the dickens.” Tell me, have you ever had a doctor say such a thing to you? Usually they’re all, “Now, you may feel some pressure for a moment” or “Now, you may feel a slight pinch.” This is how you know that some part of you is about to be flattened or ripped off or run through with a jousting lance. So, here’s a professional understater using the words “like the dickens,” and he’s talking about my face. Then he acted surprised when every muscle in my body seized up and I braced myself for an impact of nuclear proportions. “Woah, it’s not going to hurt as much as that.”

I thought it would only take a second, since there was just the one scar, but Dr. P ended up zapping me about 15 times all over the place. I started to feel like a metal shop project--I bet he just liked the sparks. As he was going to town and I started having visions of blackened, charred meat, I reminded myself, “This is free. He is making you beautiful for free. And if he finds other microscopic flaws that he wants to fix for free, you will let him.”

Then he tells me that I may end up with very distinctive round bruises on my face, but that makeup should be able to cover them. Great. People will see me and think that I fell on the wrong end of a crutch or pogo stick and narrowly avoided putting out an eye.

I’m pretty sure that all that laser exposure has given me super powers. So if Mr. Fantastic wants to come over later and compare skills, I’ll be ready for him.

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Wal-Mart Guy update

They're going out on Monday! Everyone please cross your fingers that he won't turn out to be a transvestite or polygamist or similar, because that would sort of ruin my newfound faith in the male race.

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Noctural Creature...

Wow, I'm actually blogging at 4.30 AM!

Yes, I'm liking the way of noctural creatures.

Haha, this post is nonsense.

I slept at 7 pm last evening! Earliest ever! I just lie on my bed after dinner, staring at the ceiling, one hand doing charlier cuts... Then sleep overtook me. Fariza! Your lazy syndrome is infectious! Haha!

So here I am, 4.30 am and using the computer (which made alot of churning noises) and listening to my discman and munching on yummy Oreos.

Haha. Weird.

Later I'll be having cross country run, but i'm not running. I'll be one of a hell slacker and self-headbang and admire the scenery there and act blur. Speaking of this, I need to meet those helpers at Compass Point at 6am.

That's about it. = )

Hail Metal! \m/
In darkness and the Beast, we trust.

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Who says I'm a man-hater?

Because I'm not. I've just noticed that some guys seem to spend a good portion of their time doing things that do not consist of asking me and my other gorgeous and talented friends out on dates.

But that's hardly the point. The point is that I can never despair of the male gender because every now and then I'll hear a story like this that restores my faith and causes me to smile and hum showtunes and put aside my plans for taking an AK-47 up to the top of a building and wreaking gory vengeance. (Note: It's been rescheduled for Sept 19th, so mark your calendars! We'll have treats afterward!)

Sunday night my teacher roommate was prepping for the first day of school (she teaches high school science). Apparently she had a brain flash of the absolute perfect demonstration to do in class the next day, and wound up at Wal-Mart at 3:45am Monday morning. A nice-looking and friendly young man was stocking the shelves and asked if she needed any help, since I imagine she was probably running around like a crazy person in pajamas with a wild gleam in her eye. She thanked him, but said that she was fine.

Then she ended up in another part of the store where she did need help and couldn't find a nearby employee. So she walked back to the first guy asked if he would help her. He did, and they chatted, and she found out that he's a college student who works the graveyard shift on the weekends, and he found out that she's a teacher and needed all this crazy stuff for a lab about living things she would be doing that day. When she left, she wished that she'd found a way to give him her phone number, since he seemed really nice and cute.

2pm that afternoon, during her first day of classes, she got a call from the office, asking her to come down. There was a beautiful flower arrangement waiting for her, with a note from the Wal-Mart guy saying that he hoped her class demonstration went well. The flowers were a tasteful and not-too-large arrangement of gerbera daisies and orchids and pretty filler flowers, which strikes just the right tone, I think. Roses would have said "I've already picked out names for our children," and RED roses would have said "I've already scheduled a temple appointment for next month and I'm looking into your bedroom window right now, and my name is Leonard because that's a creepy name." A single carnation or a few daisies would have been very sweet and thoughtful, but a bit reserved, as though he was trying to stay neutral.

The best part was that in the note he said he would like to see her again and get to know her, and gave his number so that she could let him know if she's at all interested. She was walking on clouds the rest of the day, until she passed out at 5:30pm due to lack of sleep the night before.

I thought that was one of the best stories I've heard in awhile. Bravo to you, Wal-Mart Guy. You've got moxie.

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Not so much Fantastic, really

I went w/Cicada on Saturday night to support my boyfriend Ioan Gruffudd, who is currently taking a break from being Horatio Hornblower to star in The Fantastic 4. He and I discussed it, and I told him that would be fine, as long as he's back in his breeches and on the high seas within the next year or two.

I went to see Fantastic 4, even though I knew the movie would probably not be any good, because that's the kind of supportive girlfriend I am. (Note to famous actors who wish to date me: I'm such a good girlfriend that I'll go see your movies even if they're crap. Only I won't pay full price, because Love Has Limits.)

Movie lowlights:

It was at the dollar theatre, which is not a good place.
Someone in front of us reeked very strongly of body odor. It was quite off-putting.
The plot was ridiculous and they never did quite clear up why the heck Dr. Von Doom all of a sudden wanted to kill Ioan and his little friends.
They ran out of zipper on Jessica Alba's suit. It's sad when the costuming unit runs out of budget like that.
What kind of nasty heartless woman breaks up with her Husband Who is Now a Rockpile by driving all the way to a bridge and traffic accidents and crowds where her rockpile husband is saving entire trucks of NYC firefighters so that she can stand there and look at him tearfully and put her several-thousand-dollar wedding ring on the ground where he can't even pick it up on account of the rock fingers and then turn around and walk away? It's called a phone, beast.
Ioan was the only one who never took off his shirt. That's not right.
He sounded funny with an American accent. And they gave him a bad hairstyle.
People clapped when the movie was over. Why do they do that? They realize that it's a movie, right? And that the characters aren't actually on the other side of the screen, waiting to hear whether or not we like it, right?

Movie highlights:

Sometimes Ioan's hair got disheveled.
And sometimes he didn't shave.
And sometimes he wore the blue suit w/the pecs (yes, and the codpiece, for those of you who were going to mention it anyway).
And he still has those great dimples.
Sometimes Jessica Alba was offscreen, or invisible, or not talking.
Cicada and I went to Coldstone afterwards and my ice cream was very good--chocolate and cheesecake ice cream with peanut butter cups.

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School of Metal!

Dear readers of this blog, me and my crap MSN crapper Fariza has somehow came up with a revolutionary idea of a school based on metal music and its various mannerisms. Wow.

Okay, to cut the bullshit stright, here are the details.

School Principal - Bruce Dickinson of Iron Maiden.
School Vice Principal - Joey Jordison of Slipknot.
School Mentor - Ozzy Obsoures of Ozzy family (duh!) and Black Sabbath.
School Official Counsellor - Corey Taylor of Slipknot. (His counselling session will consist of Jumping the fuck up and to point the middle finger in the air and wildly flung insults.)
School English Lecturer - Dani Filth of Cradle of Filth. (This guy here has masters in English! I will do his comprehensions with lots of effort!)
School Finnish Lecturer - Ville Valo of HIM. (101% concentration in class!)
School Nowegian Lecturer - Shagrath of Dimmu Borgir. (Death is in the air!)
School Italian Lecturer - Cristina Scabbia of Lacuna Coil.
School German Lecturer - Till Lindemann of Rammstein.
School Arts Lecturer - Marilyn Manson of Marilyn Manson. (Way cool!)
School PE Lecturer - Shawn Crahan Clown. (PE lessons range from crowd diving to brawls on stage to throwing baseball bats accurately.)
School Vampirism Lecturer - Lestat de Lioncourt. (Lessons on victim selecting and coffin/fang care.)


Next, the school issues.
The School Motto : 'Metal for Life. Life for Metal.'
The School Sub-Motto : 'Fuck mainstream.'
The School Hall banner :'Fuck it all! Fuck this world! Fuck everything that you stand for!'

IMPORTANT : All forms of mathematics and science subjects are Banned, with the glorious exception of that notorious albeit useful equation of 'People=Shit'.

The School Assembly will be held every Saturday Midnight and it will last for 66mins and 6 seconds. School Assembly will consist of Bruce/Joey enlightening speeches, a mini gig, and Black Mass conducted by Reverend Marilyn Manson. Yes, there will be nymphs for sacrifice and loads of bloodlust, I assure you.

The school song will be Funeral of Hearts by HIM, as students are expected to give up their hearts and lives for Metal, and partially this song is easy to sing.

The School Anniversary will be on 31st October, yes, you guessed that right. It's Halloween or All Hallow's Eve or subtly known as Satan's Birthday. There shall be a coprse painting contest, gigs, and a massive scaled Black Mass to garnish up the event.

Students are expected to don ALL BLACK at all times at all places. Once a student found breaking this code, he shall suffer the ends of Shawn's baseball bat and to be exiled. Of course, admission of emo teenagers, wannabes, posers, pop-punks pricks who listens to Blink 182/Simple Plan/Busted/Chemical Romance/I'm too disgusted to type more, are immediately not considered and rejected.

School Final Exam is to play a gig in front of Roadrunners Staff. If it's a good gig, the Roadrunners will signal to you a \m/ sign. If it's lousy, they will slam a middle finger in the face! Simple as that!

School hours are from 8pm to 1am. After that, students are able to choose to follow Lecturer Lestat for a bout of blood appreciating or to do whatever they like. All students are to be tucked in their coffins at 6am.

The school compound is a seemingly abandoned castle with nymph-filled forests (wisphers my name *haha!*) around it, complete with modern torture chambers and at-your-fingertips convience with mortals and their blood. One spanking school campus of a whooping size of 6.66ha.

The school will provide 24/7 round the clock quality metal music radio spanning the whole school compound.

So, parents? What are you waiting for? Enrol your kid! We ensure quality and all rounded education. Spaces are limited! Ballot for vacant spaces! You gotta live within 1km to get in, mind you!

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One tired day...

Phew. It was sure tiring today!

Woke up at an unearthly hour of 6am for A Maths mock exams. I shan't talk about it, what's there to talk about EXAMS? Give me a break.

Then me and JJ rushed off to Suntec for Lawrence and Priscilla's The Spook Show, feeling abit excited, because it's a 2hr magic show at only $4!!! Damn, when we reached there, there were already swarming with people, mostly Christians obviously. I could almost sniff that stifling stench of those brainwashed and odd people. Yuck.

Anyhow, we went in. OMFG, that place is huge! I think there's around a good amount of 10,000 people, good enough for a decent mosh pit. And, the lighting/sound system reminded me of Slipknot's gig, it's the same! Haha, crazy me.

There were ghosts galore drifting around, trying very hard to spook people out, obviously to no apparent avail. Go back to Hades! I said to one female ghost with tattered clothings and long unkempt hair, 'Say Hi to Satan for me! Thanks! Oh yeah, your hair sinks.' Haha, FUN! And, I growled in front of one hooded mutilated dude, like Dani Filth.

The show itself is not bad, good concept on Fear and blah blah blah. I enjoyed the Fear Extractor, and that part where Lawrence said, 'Remember not to kick the bucket!' during the so-called Spirit Chamber. The Senace thing is very BORING! I give 9/10 for the show itself. The preaching part is -1.0 X 10^24/10. I want REAL MagicK!

Lawrence was so so so dramatic in his actions as if he's can't talk the next moment. Defamed The Beast, blah blah. They are so so so in total self-denial. Yes, Satan is living and it's getting stronger. The AntiChrist is here. So, you pathetic pricks, just Shut the Fuck up and accept this. Resistance will be futile. I think I freaked out some people, when I shouted out "Yes! Satan is ALIVE! I Love it! My Soul is darkened, so?! I like it!' Fun!

When Lawrence wanted the crowd to stand up, pray etc. I was observing those strange beings, scrutinising them. They looked so pathetic, like they can only live upon God, they cannot provide sense of security and well-being by themselves, so helpless like a piece of crap. GET A LIFE! Life doesn't revolve around God. Life revolves around You being Alive, there will be no life under the threat of death. They are like surviving on oxygen tanks given by God. Let me plug them off. Grow up! God is one deaf and blind person, realise that! Does praying help anything? Does it means you are assured that you won't sin again when you pray? i don't think so. It's like DECEIVE. An illusion of false security, so break free. Just think deeply and be mature, you won't need any God to order you around. Be a master of your own, that life is ours solely, take control. Enough said. All has been said. It's all left for you to decide your fate, either a SLAVE or a person with confidence and maturity. Teach someone rules, he will only obey for that moment. Teach someone to decide for himself, he will learn much more lessons and develop cirtical thinking.

Then, I rushed off to Orchard to meet my band mates. Joesph was wearing CoF's Jaded Mirror shirt, Rei the keyboardist is wearing some really nice black metal shirt. Melvin the drummer wore very mild corpse paint and all black. Woot, 4 people in black! Went to dinner at Long Johns. Damn that WOMAN is very boh chap, such a nonchalant attitude! You're fired! Then i have a weird addiction of calling people pricks. Went to IInkoii, damn! That shopkeeper got a picture of him and Joey Jordison!!!! Lucky PRICK. ARGH. They are selling that Slipknot poster at $15! What a direct rip off! Nothing much there except that picture of Joey.

Then, went to Borders to check out the metal magazines. Nothing much. Then, just hanged out and had fun. Really nothing much.

Oh yeah, thanks Mel for that neat compilation! I really appreciated it! Yeah, no need to buy Enthrone Darkness, Puritanica, Bitter Suites..., Dusk... And her Embrace! Thanks Melvin once again!

Alright, I'll stop here. In case, you are wondering 'when does this shit ends?' ;P

Alright, hereby signing off. May the Beast bless you for eternity! \m/
Believe in The Beast, and find yourself duly rewarded. :D

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I never want to get into a car ever again

Yesterday I drove to Rexburg and back. I don't recommend that anyone ever do that, unless it's for a real good reason. My reason was good (picking brother coolboy up at the airport and taking him to the BYU-Idaho) but that doesn't make the drive any nicer, or the crick in my neck any less real, or my beastly temper any sweeter.

So, BYU-Idaho.
That place is just strange, and takes the case for uptight. There was some orientation meeting entitled "Why you don't wear capris, shorts, or flip-flops, ever, and if you do you go straight to hell." I'm stunned those people still have the ability to poop. But hey, smart parents could use the shorts/flip-flops rule to their advantage. I know I would keep my grades up to avoid crap like that and get into a real school. (And for those of you who do attend/have attended Ricks College or BYU-Idaho and love absolutely everything about it and have a testimony of the power of not wearing capri pants and think I'm just a mean nasty person for even saying something so negative, keep it to yourself, friend. Deaf. Ears.)

Mom and I got coolboy settled in, kind of. We only got to spend a couple of hours with him, but Mom tried to make up for it by purchasing the entire contents of both Costco and Wal-Mart to put in his apartment. We met a couple of his new roommates and it turns out that 3 of them are from Alaska as well, and none of them brought coats. Is this some cousin to the "I'm from Southern California and so I dare anyone to make me wear long pants even if it is -30 outside" malady? My mom mentioned that she heard it gets pretty windy and cold in Rexburg, and one of the boys muttered, "Yeah well, it got pretty windy in Moose Bottom (or wherever). I can handle the wind." Sure thing, Skippy. They're going to find you huddled behind a dumpster this winter.

My mom told me privately that she's glad his roommates are from Alaska, because generally people from Alaska are nice. I teased her about it at the time, but I know what she means. My freshman year it was the obnoxious richie kids from San Diego who thought they were cooler than everyone else. (If you are from San Diego, but are not obnoxious and rich at the same time, then you would be silly to take offense at this, since obviously it doesn't apply to you. If it does apply to you, then that's your problem. I'm not taking it back, so you can go drive your Jetta to the beach and sulk.)

The drive back to Provo was okay for the first couple of hours. Only I got tired and started hallucinating that the construction cones were throwing themselves at my car. Turns out I was actually just driving straight for them, which is slightly different. So I asked my mom to please drive for me, which she did, because she is an angel. She drove the way up as well so I felt bad for bailing on her, but figured it was better than getting us both killed.

At one point, the freeway got a bit congested, and these idiot drivers started behaving as though they were at a barn dance or maypole or something, weaving in and out and switching lanes without signaling so they could move up a whole 15 feet. One Isuzu cut us off, and my mom got mad and turned on the brights and was keeping them on!

Me: Hey! Stop it! (smacking at her arm)

Mom: What? He cut me off!!

Me: Because you're gonna cause a wreck, and we're going to be in it!

Mom: Oh whatever, that guy's being a jerk.

Me: (all dramatically) My car is not a vehicle of road rage, Mom, and---

Mom:---okay, fine. Fine. (rolling her eyes)

Me: I'm telling the Internet what you just did.

Mom: Go right ahead. That guy had it coming.

There was probably more, but I don't remember it, because I was too tired and cranky and rabid at the time. Best of luck in school, my brother! Don't let The Man get to you!

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Les Miserables rocks!

Here's one of the tracks, Master of the House.

Thenardier:
Welcome, Monsieur, sit yourself down
And meet the best innkeeper in town
As for the rest, all of 'em crooks:
Rooking their guests and crooking the books
Seldom do you see
Honest men like me
A gent of good intent
Who's content to be

Master of the house, doling out the charm
Ready with a handshake and an open palm
Tells a saucy tale, makes a little stir
Customers appreciate a bon-viveur
Glad to do a friend a favor
Doesn't cost me to be nice
But nothing gets you nothing
Everything has got a little price!

Master of the house, keeper of the zoo
Ready to relieve 'em of a sou or two
Watering the wine, making up the weight
Pickin' up their knick-knacks when they can't see straight
Everybody loves a landlord
Everybody's buxom friend
I do whatever pleases
Jesus! Won't I bleed 'em in the end!

Thenardier & Drinkers:
Master of the house, quick to catch yer eye
Never wants a passerby to pass him by
Servant to the poor, butler to the great
Comforter, philosopher, and lifelong mate!
Everybody's boon companion
Everybody's chaperone

Thenardier
But lock up your valises
Jesus! Won't I skin you to the bone!

Enter Monsieur, lay down your load
Unlace your boots, rest from the road
This weighs a ton, travel's a curse
But here we strive to lighten your purse
Here the goose is cooked
Here the fat is fried
And nothing's overlooked
Till I'm satisfied

Food beyond compare. Food beyond belief
Mix it in a mincer and pretend it's beef
Kidney of a horse, liver of a cat
Filling up the sausages with this and that
Residents are more than welcome
Bridal suite is occupied
Reasonable charges
Plus some little extras on the side!

Charge 'em for the lice, extra for the mice
Two percent for looking in the mirror twice
Here a little slice, there a little cut
Three percent for sleeping with the window shut
When it comes to fixing prices
There are a lot of tricks he knows
How it all increases, all them bits and pieces
Jesus! It's amazing how it grows!

Thenardier & Chorus:
Master of the house, quick to catch yer eye
Never wants a passerby to pass him by
Servant to the poor, butler to the great
Comforter, philosopher, and lifelong mate!
Everybody's boon companion
Gives 'em everything he's got

Thenardier:
Dirty bunch of geezers
Jesus! What a sorry little lot!

Mme. Thenardier:
I used to dream that I would meet a prince
But God Almighty, have you seen what's happened since?

Master of the house? Isn't worth me spit!
`Comforter, philosopher' and lifelong shit!
Cunning little brain, regular Voltaire
Thinks he's quite a lover but there's not much there
What a cruel trick of nature landed me with such a louse
God knows how I've lasted living with this bastard in the house!

Thenardier & Drinkers:
Master of the house!

Mme. Thenardier:
Master and a half!

Thenardier & Drinkers:
Comforter, philosopher

Mme. Thenardier:
Ah, don't make me laugh!

Thenardier & Drinkers:
Servant to the poor, butler to the great

Mme. Thenardier:
Hypocrite and toady and inebriate!

Thenardier & Drinkers:
Everybody bless the landlord!
Everybody bless his spouse!

Thenardier:
Everybody raise a glass

Mme. Thenardier:
Raise it up the master's ass

All
Everybody raise a glass to the Master of the House!
---
Pure wit there.

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This will have to be quick

I apologize I cannot give you the attention and well-crafted prose you deserve, but I'm training my replacement today and it turns out that it's hard to blog when someone is spooned up to me at my desk. (It's not the guy's fault, though. He doesn't have a computer, or a desk, or a chair, or a phone yet, on account of I still have all those things. Because I'm not gone yet.)

Anyway, the Utah Shakespearean Festival. Lovely, wonderful, beautiful weather, great companions, so much fun, I don't know why I haven't been going every single year and watching every single play. Saw Stones in His Pockets Monday night, and I can't say enough good about it. The two leads were amazing, especially since they played 15 distinct characters without messing up once. This is where I started to get a crush on Brian Vaughn, just as Streets of Belfast told me I would.


The next day we saw Camelot, and that's when the crush blossomed into love, because Oh. My. Gosh. That boy can sing, too. And he's just so noble and sweet and tortured as King Arthur. I kept wanting to smack Guinevere upside the head for not loving him anymore. (Also, if anyone watches the clip, they totally redid Jenny's hair and it looks much better in the actual production--dark and curly, rather than the Carol Kane frizz you see there. Good choice, hair people, because that mess looked nasty.) Oh! And Streets and I saw Brian Vaughn in the Gifte Shoppe, but I didn't go over and ask to get a picture, because I didn't think of it and I'm not brave and I'm not a groupie. But I did start flicking Streets' arm really hard in the middle of our conversation so that she would turn around and see him.

We went to a costume seminar where the Guy in Charge of Costumes showed us a bunch of them and talked about how they were made, which involved all sorts of magickery. Some of those actresses are dang tiny, by the way. Just looking at the costumes for Dr. Faustus made us want to buy tickets right there and just come home really really late that night, but it didn't work out. This is probably just as well, because it's a scary play and I was the driver. I would probably have a flashback in the middle of the drive and send us all into a gully.

I won't get into the whole cell phone situation at Camelot, you can read Cicada's blog for that. But I would like to say that in addition to the most repulsive display of People Who Need to be Clubbed to Death with their Own Cell Phones that I've ever witnessed, there was also an older woman near me who kept barking out the word "Lancelot" during quiet moments in the play. I don't know why she did this.

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Pass the Depends, please

Because I'm officially old. Last night I went over to Cicada's lovely and well-furnished home, now complete with bliss-inducing ceiling fan (which will feature very soon in this story). We were supposed to be watching A Room with a View together.

She made us pina coladas, I set up the ground rule that I don't actually watch the part where the naked Englishmen frolick around in the pond, but that she was more than welcome to, and we got started.

But it turns out that my bedtime is 9:30 or something, because I fell asleep pretty much 5 minutes in, lulled by the BICF (as mentioned in the first paragraph). I woke up for the scene where George just BAM kisses Lucy Honeychurch in the field w/the sun and the barley and the my pulse is gettingfastersoletsjustleaveit. Woke up again for the scampering naked men scene, but totally slept through the tennis scene and everything else until the very end.

I'm such a loser. One of the best kissing-and-what-leads-up-to-it-and-the-declaration-of-love-that-follows-it scenes in film and I'm too busy being asleep with my knitting and my spectacles and my 6 cats sucking out my breath. I possibly don't even deserve to be a twentysomething, or a Singleton.

But enough of that. I need to go get ready for the Shakespearean Festival. My mom asked me, "This isn't one of those things where people run around in jousting outfits, is it?" I told her I didn't think so. I'm driving down w/Mom, Cicada, Kitty, and Streets, on account I'm pretty much the luckiest girl ever. If I can get any of them drunk, I'll take pictures and post them for you.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go pull my tavern wench outfit out from behind the bed.

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Maestro.

Here's a raw idea of what Maestro's logo gonna be like.

For your infomation, Maestro is made up of 2 people currently, namely me and Siyang. :)

Maestro is to be activated after the Bloody Os.

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Just wanted to share...

Children mutilated to make choir of seraphim, their songs a cry to heaven that heaven did not hear.
- Anne Rice 's Cry to Heaven pg. 510.

The death of one is a tragedy. The death of a million is just a statistic.
- Marilyn Manson's Fight Song.

I've felt the hate rise up in me.
Kneel down and clear the stone of leaves.
I wander out where you can't see.
Inside my shell, I wait and bleed.
- Slipknot's Wait and Bleed.

Love's the funeral of hearts
And an ode for cruelty
When angels cry blood
On flowers of evil in bloom

The funeral of hearts
And a plea for mercy
When love is a gun
Separating me from you

A prayer to a god who's deaf and blind

- HIM's Funeral of Hearts.

We are the new diabolic.
We are the bitter bucolic.
If I have to give my life, you can have it.
We are the pulse of the maggots.
- Slipknot's Pulse of the Maggots.

I won't let this build up inside me.
-Slipknot's Vermilion Pt 1.

For here, apart, dwells one whose hands have wrought.
Strange eidola that chil the world with fears;
Whose graven runes in times of dread have taught
What things beyond the star gulfs lurk and leer,
Dark Lord of Averoigne - whose windows stare
On pits of dream no other gaze could bear!
-H.P Lovecraft.

More to come. Having memory lapse now.

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Infernal Saint is spawned.

Here are the evolutionised logos of my soon-to-surface band, Infernal Saint. The final one is the most decorated one. ;D Enjoy.

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The Aftermath.

It's been 5 days since that hellish experience of Slipknot's gig.

And, I'm like still stuck at Fort Canning Park in my spirit, still relishing that electrifying and exhilarating moment of sheer brutal insanity. All the madness. All the sic-ness. All engrained in my mind.

The aftermath is disasterous yet sweet. The disasterous side is that you regret not doing the things that you wanted to do, like mosh more or to shout louder. And then, you will despair why everything happened so fast, you cannot register into your long-term memories. You despair why you didn't get the VIP tickets. All the regrets. Why didn't I go earlier?

The sweet side is that you knew it that your dream is fullfilled, and that's enough said. That sweet sense of satisifation is overwhelming. That feeling can linger in your mind for a long time, and you will be grinning and feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

I think the fact that my dream has been fulfilled, can spur me on to divert that energy of the madness to my studies and all, giving me more movitation. Cos, life is FUCKING great now. As the quote goes, A Slipknot gig a year, keep depression at bay. :D Ok, I will study hard for the love of Slipknot, of the love of the maggots worldwide, for the love of Metal Music. That sense of movitation is massive enough to fuel me. \m/

Oh yes, Singapore Slipknot gig will be featured in Slipknot's Live CD or DVD. So, when it's out, grab it!

Song blaring in my earphones now: Slipknot - Duality.

Stay (sic), my maggots!

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My weather pixie

I think she might be on crack.

57 degrees? What the heck?

We may need to have an intervention.

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The Week of the Education

So this week was Education Week at my university. Thousands of people from all over descend upon the campus like so many locusts, for the purpose of getting knowledge. That's what they say they're doing, anyway. We all know they're just here to get away from their families and meet up with all their friends to talk about how darn much the campus has changed in 25 years. The classes are about everything from religion to finances to parenting to fashion ("The Denim Jumper: It's Still Hot, No Matter What Anyone Says!!!)

Most people who come here for Education Week are lovely. They're excited to be here, they're having a great time, the classes are great, and the world is just fabulous.

Unfortunately, I never meet the lovely people. I meet the weirdos.

I ran a booth in the student center for several shifts this week, supposedly so I could give out information about the online courses my department offers. Instead, I became some kind of Information Booth for the Lost and/or Weird. Some people thought I was some sort of academic advisor for every field under the sun, rather than a trained monkey who existed simply to hand out catalogues.

So. Here are some of the things I heard. Please imagine that the speakers appear to have come straight from cabins or lean-tos in the forest somewhere.

My son was just laid off. He really likes computers, though. What do you
think he should do to get more experience and training?

Where are the bathrooms?

Where's Jamba Juice?

Where is registration?

I want to get a masters degree in Environmental Science, but I know your
school doesn’t have anything in that. What should I take to give me a good
background?

Where is the elevator?

Where is registration?

I don’t have the Internet at my house.

Where can I find See’s chocolate?

Ooooh, Pens!

(implied) I see that you are on your cell phone. I’m going to ask you questions anyway.

Do you have any more of those pens?

(implied) I see that you are speaking with someone else at your booth, but my question is more
important and so I must ask it now!!!

(implied) I am going to stand here and tell you my life story for exactly 34 minutes, and I won’t stop even when your eyes glaze over, because you’re attached to this booth and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Every night in my dreams, I see you, I fee-ee-eeel you . . . thaaat is how I know you . . . go on. (said by Saline Dion over the sound system)

Can you tell me where my class is? I don’t know the room number, I just know it’s in this building somewhere.

Hey, this isn’t what this building looked like the last time I was here in 1983!

Do you know where my class is? I don't know what room it is, since the schedule just says [Student Center] with a 3421 in front of it.

I almost went here to school, 35 years ago. That was before the divorce, though. I still don’t know what went wrong there. And, I mean, I date, but I’m having a hard time finding a nice LDS lady. Lots of them are older now and they just want careers. So you’re single, huh? Can I ask why? Just haven't found the One and Only yet, huh? Yeah, I'm having a hard time finding a nice LDS lady. There just aren't too many of them around.

That last one better not have been going where I think it was going.

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Since I'm feeling lazy . . .

. . . it's a quiz day. When I was a kid I wanted to be a teacher because I thought grading papers was the coolest. When I was older I wanted to be a teacher because I thought randomly springing quizzes on punk teenagers would be all kinds of fun. I eventually decided not to follow a teaching path, much to the disappointment of therapists everywhere.

Anyway. The quiz.

1. What is your full name? Miss Nemesis
2. Where do you live right now? Provo, UT, for the next 39 days
3. What are you listening to right now? The gentle hum of flourescent office lighting. If I decide to mix things up, I might put in my new Wicked soundtrack, which is not a burned copy at all.
4. What's the last thing you ate? Ooh! I know this one. Warm blueberry muffins from scratch with fresh blueberries, courtesy of Savvymom. Sorry to anyone who didn't get any, because they were excellent.
5. What are you doing (well, supposed to be doing)? Running a booth (read: playing on my laptop and scowling at people who stop and ask me stupid questions)
6. What are you doing after work today? Hanging out with my Mom and my sister's darling little family. I'm pretty much a party animal.
7. Last live musical concert you attended? Okay, see. I'm really lame when it comes to stuff like this. I hardly ever go to concerts. There was that classical concert I saw up at Sundance a few weeks ago. That was cool.
8. Last person you talked to on the phone? Colin Firth. He wants us to get back together--it was pretty sad. Also he kept crying.
9. Do you like the person who sent you this? Um, no one sent it to me. I stole it from Kelly, but I like her. And even though I didn't ask for permission, that doesn't make me a bad person, okay? OKAY??
10. How old are you today? 25
11. Marital status and are you happy with it? As single as they get. And yeah, I'm happy with it except for the times when I set wedding invitations on fire and consider becoming a baby stealer.
12. Children? Look, I didn't give them up--I gave them more.
13. Pets? I'm kind of responsible for my old roommate's fish, which is probably why the poor thing keeps floating and trying to jump out of the bowl.
14. Siblings? 4
15. What do you do for a living? Rid the world of injustice.
16. Favorite month? Any month with consensual kissing in it.
17. What do you do to vent anger? You probably don't want to know. It isn't pretty. The llamas don't enjoy it much either, poor things.
18. What do you do to relieve stress? Eat food off the sidewalk while breathing deeply.
19. Favorite T.V. show? Ouch, this is hard. My best TV boyfriend right now, though, is Hugh Laurie from "House." Misanthropy has never looked so good.
20. Sexiest man alive in your opinion? Look, I'm too much woman for just one man. That's why I keep a several Brits on retainer. It's kind of like Light the Red Lantern, but without the oppression and cinematography and commentary on Chinese government.
21. What was your favorite toy as a child? Heaven help me, it was probably a book.
22. What was the last book you read? Apache Lover, recommended by Texas Mama. It's a spirited and eloquent cross-cultural romance, according to the Romantic Times.
23. What is your favorite book? I'm pretty sure it would be this one, if I could just find it.
24. If you could own it – beach house or mountain cabin? I get the beach house, Savvymom can get the mountain cabin, Spitfire gets the house-boat. Then we'll switch off. Hah! Got you there, Rules Person!
25. What is under your bed? Spiders, my beautiful new red carry-on suitcase, and my silver stocking holders from Pottery Barn. Oh, like you don't keep yours there too.
26. How many pairs of shoes do you have? I don't know how many I have. I do know that I only wear about 3 pair on a regular basis, including this scummy set of brown sandals that I got at Target about 7 years ago and just can't give up even though they're falling apart.
27. Favorite color? Blue when I'm feeling peaceful and tranquil. Red the other 21 hours of the day.
28. Favorite car? Um, the kind that works and smells nice and doesn't spontaneously catch on fire.
29. If you could go anywhere on vacation next month, where would that be? ENGLAND!! Hah! Hah hah haha hahahahahah!
30. What was the last movie you saw (in the theater)? Batman Begins (Katie--Shut up. Christian--Call me!!)
31. Who is the friend you have had the longest? My therapist.
32. What did you do last night? Ate obsene amounts of Godiva chocolate w/my mom and sister. It's great (and fattening) to be me.
33. What are you doing this weekend? Packing up my books, only about every 15 minutes I will start reading one of them, so it could take awhile. In fact, you may never hear from me again.
34. What inspires you? Grace, Poise, and Snark. And the part on The Sound of Music where the Reverend Mother sings "Climb Ev'ry Mountain." That gets me every time. sniff.
35. What are you afraid of? Sharks
36. Plain, buttered, or salted popcorn? Anything that isn't kettle corn. I hate that stuff.
37. Favorite time of the day? The time when idiots aren't bothering me.
38. Who, of all the people you email this to, won’t respond? Well, I'm not emailing it to anyone. But I hope everyone comments!
39. Number of keys on your key chain? 4
40. Can you juggle? Only if juggling actually means "chasing stupid balls around after they fly out of my hands."
41. Favorite day of the week? Saturday
42. What did you do on your last birthday? I had the Birthday that Kept on Giving last year--it was great. AmyJane & Co. made me a cake, Mistress of Mayhem made me a divine dinner, Savvymom also made me baked goods, and then we all hit the strip clubs.
43. How many provinces/states have you lived in? 5
44. How many cities have you lived in? 9
45. How many countries have you lived in? 3
46. How many cars have you had? 2, but each came with a driver.
47. Pet duck or pet rock? That's a hard one. Ducks are cute, but you really can't/shouldn't throw them through windshields.
48. Any Hobbies? Homeschooling and picking hair out of the carpet.
49. Care to share a secret that no one on your e-mail list knows? I don't know, does your mom care to?
50. If you suddenly became rich what would you do? Move to England, buy an estate, marry an English filmmaker, name our children strange names, and take up horseback riding in some desperate "Look, see? I really am English!" bid. Wait . . .

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Some pictrues of thy Gig of the Year.

ENJOY. Shawn Clown is effing comical with that mic aka 'gun'. Corey, you made my year!

Hail Slipknot. I know my wait isn't wasted.

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IMing with Cicada (totally work related)

Cicada says: So have you ever heard of *Kitchen Confidential"?
Nemesis says: Yep. I've seen the book in bookstores and in your brother's car.
Cicada says: Yeah . . .
Cicada says: Well, the guy says that you only need one knife.
Cicada says: But make it a good knife.
Nemesis says: Like what, a big butcher knife for everything?
Cicada says: He suggests "Global" because they're really good and relatively inexpensive.
Cicada says: But "relatively inexpensive" means about 80 bucks.
Nemesis says: And then if you lose it . . .
Nemesis says: But you wouldn't lose it.
Cicada says: Well, how do you really lose a knife.
Cicada says: I mean, where do you take them? Other than from one side of the kitchen to the other.
Nemesis says: Someone could steal it.
Cicada says: hahaha
Cicada says: Well, if I used *that* rationale for everything, I wouldn't have bought a computer.
Nemesis says: Or if you have to stab an intruder and then you don't want to use it anymore.
Cicada says: OOoo!
Cicada says: But then I could hang it on the wall and label it, The Knife That Killed My Intruder.
Nemesis says: Oh yeah, true point.
Nemesis says: Then maybe the cutlery equivalent of the NRA would replace it, and they would use you as a media darling. "See? See? You DO have to kill intruders, all the time, and THAT'S why you need a stockpile of weapons in your house!!!"
Cicada says: I could totally be an NRA poster girl.
Nemesis says: Yeah you could. NRA Bob from the office could be your sponsor.
Cicada says: Yes!
Cicada says: And I could hang pictures of Charlton Heston in my home.
Nemesis says: Signed, of course.
Cicada says: Of course.

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Slipknot gig, FINALLY!

Get to the the bullshit straight. So here it goes:

Corey said, Singaporean maggots are a bunch of fucking insane bastards, and it's one of the craziest crowds around.' And I loved it.
At the end of the show, Corey knelt down and bowed to the crowd! I think Singaporeans really impressed him. Cos during the Spit it Out, the crowd is automatic of getting the fuck down to the fucking ground, and the responsese were HUGE. I already loved the feeling of jumping down together as one whole maggot corp. FUCKING AWESOME SENSATION.

I was there early, so they were having a soundcheck. I saw all of them unmasked. Mick is one giant! When they left for dinner in mini buses, the crowd banged on the windows, it's really harcore.

2 females fainted, but not me, well, almost. Tired from that long 9 hour stand.

The show itself is like watching Disasterpieces with Vol 3 inside, but you get high very very easily. The Blister Exists (loved the part Shawn and all hit the kegs with those baseball bats) sounds amazing, Pulse of the Maggots and Before I Forget too. PURE amazing. The entire crowd sang along to Duality, nice feeling too.

I felt over the moon when Wait and Bleed started. This is a dream came too true. I felt abit dreamy watching, asking myself, This is fucking true?!

Oh yes, to my amazement, they sang Purity, Eeyore, Heretic Anthem (Corey said those people who oppose as ignorant people! Playing a such an evil song during Hungry Ghost Festival? Power.), and Everything Ends. The thing is that they didn't sing New Abortion and Liberate.

Generally a 10/10 gig!

BEST MOMENT OF MY LIFE!

Stay (sic), maggots!

I found out that I can mosh well and have endurance too, this being my first gig and surviving ''most brutal'' band ever. :) Oh yeah, I managed to crash into the $100 area, ableit getting separated from Sherman. No one practically cared. We said the fuck word to the cops and pointed the middle finer proudly as a whole when Surfacing was played. Woot! I LOVE that rebelling feeling. FUCK IT ALL, FUCK THIS WORLD. FUCK EVERYTHING THAT IS (i forgot the lyrics.) The sound is good, loud and impactful. But abit too ''raw'', they should have it more clear so that I can figure out what the heck are they playing instead of wondering until the chorus comes.

I'll go dig for the complete bootleg list, and post it here. :)

\m/ \m/ (remembers Corey's 'Put your devil horns in the fucking air!')

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Oh. My. Gosh.

Yesterday I was skimming the discussion boards at Digs, and found a thread for people who are trying to track down books that they read years ago but whose titles they can't remember. And I found what looks like pretty much the Best Book Ever.

This is the poster's description, by the way--not mine. Ditto for the typos and formatting:

(italicized comments added by me in the manner Eric D. Snider and his angry letters. My compliments to Eric D. Snider. Call me!)

In the beginning of the book the heroine is at a party where her cousin is getting engaged. (The cousin's fiancés is really a spy along with her brother) In the first chapter, the cousin finds his fiancés looking through some paper and he realize what she was doing so he beats her. Her brother(whom everyone thinks is her cousin and lover) kills him and they leave. (wait, so they're having this huge engagement party even though everyone thinks the bride-to-be is sleeping with her own cousin? Eww . . . )

The heroine met the brother outside and he made a past at her. (because he isn't too busy fleeing the scene of a murder or anything) Then the heroine's father dies and she has to live with the uncle (who is a bad guy). Apparently the heroine father was helping the government un cover something and when she goes into the office that was her father (well, there's your book title: The Office that Was My Father) she finds a envelope on the back a cabinet. She also finds the brother there and he takes the envelope and her in the carriage escaping the uncle’s guards (Yay, a carriage ride! I love a carriage.). When they are a good distance away they argue and he starts seducing her (which is how it always happens, you know. Then they start up with the heat and flame metaphors, if this is the kind of book I think it is.). Then she makes him stop and when the uncles and his guard come she gives the wrong direction where the brother escaped.

I don't really remember what happen after that some how the uncle get drunk and want to rape the heroine but her slave stops him but he rapes her. (So . . . her uncle does rape her, then? Some help that slave was.) Then the uncle sends the heroine to England (yay, England!) and the brother goes after her. While there she stays with some other family member and their son falls for her and teaches her how to sword fight. Then when she try to escape he tries to kill her but the brother comes and saves her.(b/c ahe escape her families house b/f he had a change to get there). (Um, if you were going to kill someone, why would you bother to, I dunno, teach them how to use a sword???)

She goes back with him to America. Also his sister (the cousins fiancée) has a secondary romance with I think another spy(she is barren by the way). (Oh, good. I was wondering.) After they go back to the South, (aaaah, they're Southern. This is all making so much more sense.) the brother want to uncover the uncle and he does but the heroine end up going also with his sister behind his back. She end up shaken b/c I think some how she fought with the uncle, and then you find out she is pregnant (by the uncle? Eww.). At the end both couple and a double wedding, where 2 American presidents (don't remember which ones though I think one was Adams) participate in the wedding. (Wow, I bet Adams was just thrilled to be there. Southern white-trash shotgun weddings were totally his thing.) So if you know what novel this is or even have an idea please let me knowThank U

I have never in my life been so happy to confess that no, I do not believe I am familiar with that book. I would be willing to guess, though, that it was in paperback, with a cover illustration containing a woman with hoopskirts and unbound hair swooning with parted lips while a dark brooking breeches-clad man clasps her to him. And maybe Tara is off in the distance. And maybe the book is covered in my vomit.

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My China Registry

It seems that I am supposed to be getting one of these, apparently. You remember the recent cat-fight over my mom's china, yes?

Savvymom called me the other night, all excited.

SM: Mom says we can all go register for china and she'll start buying it for us for Christmas and birthdays and stuff!

Me: Huh?

SM: Yeah! And so I'm at the Dillard's homepage looking at Wedgwood and I'm trying to decide which one I want.

Me: Mom wants us to go register? Even if we're not getting married?

SM: Yes! And if you get 5-piece sets for all of the major holidays then you'll have your whole set in just a couple of years! So which ones do you like?

It was all a bit much to take in. There's also still a slight question of whose idea this actually was--Mom's or Savvymom's. I got the impression from Savvymom's that it was Mom's, but now I'm not so sure.

There's also the part where registering for a china pattern seems like a very grown-up and established (read: snobbish and socialitish) thing to be doing. I mean, yes, I like china. And I will want some in my future life. But I don't know if I want all my Christmas and birthday gifts for the next 10 years to be plates.

However, it is a tantalizing idea to be able to pick out stuff like this without having to consult another person (say, a husband or fiance). I mean, sure, I bet most guys would be happy not to have to stand around looking at 6 million identical plates and being asked for their opinions. But there's always the risk of becoming attached to a Man with Opinions. Then it would be nice to just cut that off at the pass. "Oh, gosh, that's already taken care of and I have 5 place settings already. It was my mom. She made me do it. Can't back out now!"

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have patterns to peruse.

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Weekend Highlights

Highlights:

Friday night is a blur--must've been all the liquor.

Streets of Belfast bought our tickets for the Utah Shakespearean festival. Yay for Irish plays!

Did absolutely nothing productive on Saturday. It was marvelous.

Bought a huge bin of fresh blueberries at Costco, so have been adding them to all my foods. Check me out with my antioxidants.

Saturday night dinner at Ottavio's w/the girls. Had possibly the best tomato soup in existence. It was this creamy tomato basil soup, and there were little bits of tomato and onion in there. Next time I'll just ask for a vat of that and skip the pasta. Got the portobello ravioli w/basil cream sause, by the way. Also good, but not as good as the soup. Then the 4 of us split the monster chocolate cake.

Lovely roasted chicken dinner Sunday night at Savvymom's, followed by brownies w/peanut butter & chocolate ice cream.

Coolboy is burning me (shhhhhhh!) a copy of the Wicked soundtrack for my birthday. (To see the complete list, see the sidebar.)

Scrapbooked with Savvymom and had an epiphany: I don't like to scrapbook.

• I'm not good at it, as I have no visual creative abilities.
• I have bins and bins of scrapbooking supplies and pictures. They sit in my closet and grow dust.
• I still haven't finished scrapbooking my England study abroad, and it was six years ago.
• Leaning over those pictures makes my back hurt, and at my age you shouldn't be messing around with that sort of thing.
• My handwriting is sloppy, so even when I do manage to painstakingly design a page of beauty, I ruin the whole thing by writing on it.
• And no, I don't have a printer. Or cute fonts. Or a million dollars.
• I buy piles and piles of stickers, somehow thinking that stickers will turn crap into art. Turns out they won't.
• I have possibly been going through an ugly phase for the past couple of years, so haven't felt too enthused about recording such times for posterity.
• I've started "forgetting" my camera because I can't bear the thought of adding more pictures to the Piles of Guilt.

So. After discussing the matter with my Brain Trust (Savvymom, Amy Jane, and AA) I have come to a decision. No longer shall the Piles of Guilt ensnare me in their poison'd coils. As Savvymom rightly pointed out, I am "more of a writer, as opposed to an artiste." So I need to just go with that and not worry about making the things cute. Pictures, brilliant description/story taken from blogs/emails/journals, maybe printed out in a cool font, done. In gratitude for her good idea, Savvymom will be receiving the Bins of Guilt and Shame and their contents.

Lowlights:

I've sort of been slacking off on the whole working out thing, so now I'm getting (more) out of shape yet again. Dangit.

None of the highlights included any kind of sweet sweet lovin' from the male persuasion. Sigh.

The "check engine" light came on in my car. Great.

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I CAN'T WAIT. I CAN'T WAIT.

4 LONG years... Desparately waiting... Now, it's left with only ONE day in the countdown counter. The long, hard and perilous wait is soon over.

I can still remember, when I fell in love with the first Slipknot song, which happens to be Spit It Out, around 4 years ago. It's raw brutality and sheer speed of that song captured my heart. Soon it became a sought after passion for me, I went around hunting for the impossible-to-find-in-the-heartlands album, Iowa.

Iowa is the FIRST metal album that I listened to properly and then succumb to. I went around unearthing their Live videos from the net, feeling tons of jealously and envy that those people in the videos can watch Slipknot Live. Soon, the fever roared up so high, I almost made a mask which will look like Joey's.

Then I went to purhcase Slipknot S/T, it was a nice album as well, I loved Wait and Bleed.

Then came Vol 3. I think I don't need to say much for Vol 3.

Hooked to their explosive live performances, I was extremely tempted to get my hands on Disasterpieces DVD. The yearning was overwhelming. I Love you, Corey! And Joey too! You sure have some sick drumming skills there. Stay (sic), my master maggot.

My dad, luckily got me the DVD while on a trip to Hong Kong as it was banned in Singapore. That saved me from plunging into deeper insanity and despo-ness.

Now, they are coming.

I CAN HARDLY WAIT ANY LONGER. I'm practically living on adrenaline now.

\m/

Stay (sic), my readers. You are all going home in a bodybag. If you are 555, then I;m 666.

- Temporarily Insane.

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2 more days to Slipknot gig

Wow, time passes fast! It's only 2 more days left to Slipknot Gig! I'm feeling the heat and madness of the Knot already. Can't wait for Purity, Left Behind, (sic), Wait and Bleed, Spit it Out (because of the notorious quote of, 'Get the fuck down to the fucking ground right fucking now') and the list of songs goes on.

One word, CAN'T WAIT.

Anyhow, went to Ning's Little magic Shop Auction yesterday. It was fun at Little India, Tekka Market stuff rocks. Cheap and generous servings. The auction is a very good catch although I got nothing. Collected my orders. Mini Zomie is a little disappointing... But I had fun with my spongeballs! :P

Then I went to Orchard to meet my family for dinner and some shopping.

And again, 2 more days to Slipknot!

Oh yes, I got a B3 for my Chinese O levels. Dang. But heck, I jumped 3 grades! C6 to B3!

Oh man, I'm feeling hungry...

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Welcome to England, where we really REALLY don't want you to get pregnant

This England thing just gets better and better!

A few months ago, my doctor put me on Yasmin birth control. (I promise, I'll keep the TMI factor low.) She says it's for purely medical reasons, but she's probably covering her bases in case I turn out to be some closet nymphomaniac. I'm not, by the way. I don't think. I mean, who's to decide what automatically constitutes nymphomania, huh?

(I just realized that the above paragraph will probably bring some interesting visitors to this site, since last week someone got here by doing an MSN search for "Kiera Knightley topless." Hoo boy.)

Anyway, love Yasmin. She/it is my new best friend, as is the Canadian pharmacy that let me order the pills online for less than the Wal-Mart pharmacy would have charged me (about $35 a month). Along with this newfound love, I developed a fear that the National Health Service of the United Kingdom might not have Yasmin, or they might tell me I don't get to have any, or they might give me some awful thing instead that causes me to gain 40 pounds and start hallucinating. And then if I complain they might just spout a lot of nonsense about the British Way and stiff upper lips and and bloody Americans with their Culture of Entitlement.

It was worrisome, friends.

So I started researching the NHS and trying to figure it all out. Turns out that in the UK people pay about £6.50 for all prescription medications. I figured if they have Yasmin there and I can get it and pay that much for it, it would make my life. And then I wouldn't need to pay $400 to cart a year's supply over there with me.

But GUESS what I found out today! They do have Yasmin, and it's absolutely free. All the contraceptives are. All of them.

Free free free free fee.

And they'll mail it to your house for you--also free. This is one country who seems to care very very much about its citizens taking their birth control pills. I mean, I'm not much concerned about unplanned pregnancy myself, but England is concerned for me. And I think that's just great. Maybe some other countries should start looking into that, America.

And now I have $400 to spend on chocolate and shoes! Long live the Queen!

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From my mother

I hesitate to write this, because my mom might read it and think I'm making fun of her. But I'm not, and no one else had better say anything rude or I'll kick them in the head. It's one of those "I can talk about my mom but you can't" things. You understand.

Every time I go home, my sweet mom invariably says something that wins the prize of Comment That Would Completely Destroy My Self-Esteem if I Didn't Already Have an Over-Abundance of That Stuff. She never means it that way, because she's one of the sweetest ladies in the world. This is part of what makes it so funny.

Mom is coming down to visit for the next two weeks. She says it's so that she can attend Education Week here at BYU and then take coolboy up to college in Idaho. Only I think she actually just wants to play with baby Savvy and lounge by the pool. As would you. So when I start posting the winners from the next couple of weeks, you will know what I'm talking about.

To prep you, here is the winner from my most recent trip home.

Mom and I were driving home from the gym (or possibly a bakery) talking about nothing in particular. You should imagine that my mom has a slight Southern accent, because she does.

Mom: "Now [Nemesis], you're probably going to get mad at me for saying this."

Me: "Um, you don't have to say it then."

Mom: "No, you are. You'll probably get mad, and be all GOSH, Mom! but I think it's important to tell you this."

Me: "Okay, seriously. If you think I'll be mad, you're probably right. We can just skip this."

Mom: "Now I've been thinking about this. When you get married, you'll need to start having kids right away, because you won't have a whole lot of time if you want to have more than just a couple."

Stunned, stunned silence . . .

Me, once I could speak again: "Wow, thanks for that. I actually have thought about how my childbearing capability is limited by my age and how I probably won't be able to have the number of children I would like to have, but it's good to know you're thinking about it too."

Mom: "That's not what I meant! You can have as many kids as you want, you'll just need to have them close together, because the older you are, the greater the risk of birth defects."

Me: (I actually don't remember what I said at this point, but it probably went somewhere along the lines of GOSH, Mom! and how maybe she should wait to have this pep talk with the guy I end up marrying, and she can just blame all the Down Syndrome babies on him instead of me.)

Mom: "Fine, fine. I'm just saying. Now you can go tell your sisters that I'm a freakshow and they can all call up and yell at me."

If anyone has any other mommie gems (about their own mothers, not mine, since we've already covered the ground rules on that) feel free to share!

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Soapbox

There is an LDS wedding announcement on my fridge right now. (Okay, there are actually about 5 LDS wedding announcements, but I'm here to discuss one of them.)

I am happy to report that this announcement was sent to my roommate rather than to me, because if it were from my friends I would feel slightly conflicted about writing this post. I would get over it, though, because I must do my duty.

Enclosed in this wedding announcement were two small inserts. You may think these contained an invitation to the ceremony itself, or perhaps directions to the reception. You would be right-thinking but dead wrong.

One insert was pale blue, produced by Target's Club Wedd, and read What They Really Want.

The other was white with silver lettering from Crate & Barrel, and read If You Really Want to Know What They Really Really Want

It was their registry information.

I think we can safely assume that what this happy couple Really Really wants is a swift kick in the head.

I was horrified that two stores I like as much as Target and Crate & Barrel would validate and encourage people in such tacky and gimme-gimme behavior, so I went to Target's Club Wedd homepage. I found a Club Wedd Guide, produced in partnership with www.theknot.com, which sets forth all kind of registry guidelines, including a section entitled "Registry Etiquette."

Ahem.

How Do We Let Guests Know Where We’re Registered?

Q. My fiance and I recently registered at two department stores, and we're having a bit of a problem when it comes to letting guests know where we're registered. I'm not having a bridal shower, and I'm definitely not going to send registry cards in the invitations, so my question is: How do we let people know?

A. The only way to let people know is to tell them. It may seem impractical and frustrating—to wait for people to ask—but there it is. Just make sure your parents, wedding party, and other close friends and family know where you're registered, so that when people ask them they can let them know. People know to ask someone when they're ready to buy you a present. And remember that if people ask you where you're registered—or even what you would like as a gift—it's okay for you to tell them the names of the stores. It's not as if word can be spread only by those close for you. By and large, you shouldn't worry about it too much. People will ask and let others know.

I must assume, then, that those inserts were created to be used in bridal shower invitations, which would be appropriate, since, unlike a wedding, the point of a shower is gifts.

Friends, when people send you wedding invitations with registry information included, please don't make the mistake of thinking that they just don't know any better. They do. This rule is plastered all over every bridal publication ever created, generally with extra big headlines that read "You Will Be a Tacky White-Trash Money-Grubber If You Do This!!!" They're just choosing to ignore the rule, which is why I choose to ignore their registry information.

I have a separate list of gift ideas for those people. A few favorites:

• crystal ashtrays
• those wire baskets that you keep in the kitchen w/the straw and fake eggs
• goose-themed kitchen towels
• gift cards to stores where they aren't registered (if I'm too lazy to shop)
• Precious Moments figurines
• a used copy of Emily Post's Wedding Etiquette

Feel free to add to the list--I'm always looking for more!

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She's an angel straight from Heaven!

Here's a recent picture of my darling baby niece, whom everyone must admire and adore. (You can do it silently in your head, if you wish.) This was a day or so before she filled her family's Subaru to the brim in vomit.

Savvymom swears that she said my name yesterday. Of course she waited until I wasn't there to do it. Still, you can't get mad at a precious genius baby who loves her aunt the most, yes she does, a booo-shee booo-shee booooo . . .

Oh. Ahem. Excuse me, not sure what happened there.

And no, I don't know what I will do when I move to England and can't see her anymore. I'm sure she'll be just fine, since she has a loving family and a short attention span. I'll be the one crying every night on my huge pillow because no small people love me.

I'll probably end up kidnapping some blond British tot, and there will be this huge police chase and media frenzy, and after I'm in jail they'll make my story into some Lifetime: Television for Women movie filmed in Vancouver. And they'll give it some awful name like "Baby Love," or "The American Baby Stealer."And I bet they won't even ask who I want to play myself (Janeane Garofalo! Janeane Garofalo!) and they'll pick someone lame like Crystal Bernard.

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Matchmaker, matchmaker, make meeeee a match

So I'm back at work now, after my successful battle with the scurvy. Only I'd probably better go get some orange juice or something so I can keep staving it off. Thank you for your good vibes and kind wishes on my behalf. They comforted me marvelous much.

This morning my boss brings in a very cute guy who is interviewing for the position I will be leaving.

Boss: "Hey [Nemesis], this is [Cute Guy]."

Me: "Hello, Cute Guy. Nice to meet you."

Boss: "I wanted Cute Guy to meet you because he's single."

The office suddenly got very quiet, w/the occasional smothered chuckle and guffaw.

Me: "Well, isn't that nice . . . "

Turns out what he meant was that he wanted me to talk to the guy about what it's like doing this job (with the travel and lack of social life) from the perspective of a Singleton, since the others on the team are all married.

Yeah. It's never ridiculous to be me. But I didn't mind, because the guy turned out to be a great kisser.

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Somebody kill me please

I'm sick--possibly dying, even.

You know how when you're gorging yourself on food at a party, there is always that moment? It's the moment where you can either stop eating and feel pleasantly full, or you can take that One Last Bite and consign yourself to hours of gastrointestinal misery.

I took the One Last Bite.

It was a brownie bite covered in powdered sugar, supplied by Streets of Belfast at the clothing swap party (more to come on that later). And I'm sorry that I have to keep typing out "Streets of Belfast" but I realized that if I abbreviated it I would be casting serious doubts on my dear friend's gender, parentage, and personality. Maybe I'll start calling her "Streets." That sounds cool and hip an' stuff, right?

Anyway, I ate the brownie bite and have not been the same since. I dragged myself up from the couch to go to Cicada's house for perogis (sp?) because she was kind enough to invite me. They were these amazing dumpling things filled with (I'd better type this fast so as not to induce any kind of episode) mashed potatoes, onion, and cheese, and then you dump on sour cream and sauteed onions and bacon and eat them.

(ulpp--didn't type fast enough--clapping hand over mouth and running to bathroom)

Thanks for waiting.

She also made a beautiful strawberry-rhubarb pie, and I showed my first bit of common sense that night by politely abstaining. We then moved over to another friend's parent's house, which was very large and beautiful and also had a very nice bathroom. I spent a good portion of the evening in that bathroom, which I'm sure resulted in them closing off that wing for an indefinite amount of time.

And now I'm skipping out on church, which is not something I do, but every time I tried to out of bed, my stomach started w/the Greg Louganis-style twisting and flipping while I prayed for sweet death to take me.

I'm writing this from the living room. So far I've ingested a piece of dry toast, which happily has not made any kind of second appearance. I just flipped through this awesome wedding scrapbooks magazine that no one took home with them yesterday. One example page included a poem written by the groom to his love as part of the proposal.

Ahem.

An Engagement Poem

If you take this ring, someday we'll wed.
I can't wait for you to sleep in my bed.

Someday we will marry for time and eternity.
I will love you always, that's a certainty.

Well said, Ammen Harper. Well said.

Now excuse me while I go throw up my toast.

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Weird bloke on MRT.

Alright, today I met up with Siyang, Tham, Barney, Yanru at Orchard for a very very boring session. Sat at BK and blah blah, sniped for brevity.

Then, Tham suggested to go to Clark Quay to meet Tom for something. Then went to Liang Court Macs for dinner plus another session.

Then the exciting part, on our way back, on the train. This balding old bulldog-looking bloke stared at us when we were flourishing as usual etc. Then he blurted something like, 'Hey, you teenagers, don't play cards ah! You know you play cards, the police can arrest you. Ai yo, better don't play with cards. Later the police come catch you, be careful ah!' in chinese.

We were like stunned by his almost senseless comments and feeling quite pissed. But heck, we continued to flourish, challenging him right on. Who cares?!

Then, that fat flob went to tell one kid not to play with the train bars, then I caught something like 'Apes play with bars, you know?' That flob is seriously screwed up up there.

Then he went to on to tell that kid's parents about us and flourishing, then pointing at me, half giving a very very stupid and idiotic look on his fat-brim face which very much requires a session of face smacking. Fuck off, will ya?

I too can see that the parents are pretty much pissed off by this bloke.

Phew, if Clement is there, he will analyse together on his madness symptons that will qualify him for a long admission in IMH. Haha, the malay guy with his rosary beads at Kovan is one interesting encounter too!

Alright, that's it.

Tomorrow, school's going to be super slack. NC Superstar. Well, I'll sit at the back and flourish and seal my ears. :) Then going to watch Chocolate Factory at J8. Gonna be nice!

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Wings of a Butterfly video

Here's a new video for your pleasure.

It's not yet released, and it's Wings of a Butterfly by HIM. Oh man, what happened to Ville? I prefer his semi-long hair that is semi-curly. That's more HIM-ish.

Enjoy.

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Crap, now I'm famous

They finally got me. I spent the last 6 years of my life doing my absolute best to avoid them, and today they got me.

I'm going to be in the promotional material.

Every year the photographers run around in a frenzy, lassoing unfortunate employees and making them pose in all kind of ridiculous ways. As a full-timer, I could usually invent an excuse to get away. ("Sorry, I have to go to a meeting." "Can't help you, in the middle of a big project." "Oops, can't, I have a pelvic exam to go to.")

The poor student employees, on the other hand, have no defense. They're just offered up like sacrificial lambs or cattle. It's especially bad for those with any hint of non-white ethnicity. The higher-ups are onto them like nobody's business. And no, don't even get me started. I still work here, so it would be best not to. On a selfish note, the frenzy to find and photograph ethnic diversity usually helps me in my quest to remain away from the camera. "What, you can't find another blond-haired blue-eyed person around here?"

But today, less than two months before my termination date, they got me. These two earnest little student photographers needed someone to pretend to be an instructor. I tried to protest but came off sounding rude and nasty. Then I felt bad, so I left the big guns (gynecological disorders) alone and agreed to do it in the hope that they wouldn't spend the rest of their lives thinking about what a horrible horrible person that one shrill witch was.

Of course, they would ask on the day when I haven't showered, have awful piled-up-on-my-head hair, and just got back from slapping on the barest amount of makeup in the women's restroom. Also I'm pretty sure my shirt and pants don't match.

They set me up at a table with a world geography textbook and a highlighter, and I had to pretend to be a teacher looking through the book, planning out the geographical horrors I would be soon inflicting on defenseless students everywhere. I tried to look appropriately dictatorial, but kept lusting after the pictures. "Mmmm . . . New Zealand . . ." "Mmm . . . Fiji . . . . "

Finally, we were done.

"Hey, so you guys have Photoshop, right?"

"Oh yeah. We'll take care of your face."

Great.

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The price of beauty

I have problems.

For about the 8 bazillionth time, I've had to go put makeup on in the office restroom.

You may ask why I do this, and you would be right to wonder.

Is it the lovely green flourescent lighting, which makes every woman look and feel her best?
Is it the strange looks I receive from other bathroom visitors and custodial staff?
Is it the delightful air freshener, which lets out a perfumed mist every time it senses my approach?
Could it be the feeling of power I get as the woman in the stall behind me sits and suffers in silence because she just can't relax and do her thing knowing that I'm standing there listening to her?

But no, it's none of those. I'm just a lazy disorganized slob who can't get her trash together in the morning. I actually set my alarm to go off 15 minutes early this morning so that I could be sure to do everything I needed to. I was going to get up early, shower and actually style my hair, eat a healthy breakfast containing both carbohydrates and protien, and get to work early.

But then I had this weird dream about a pregnant friend who kept taking out her baby early because she just wanted to see it, kind of like a kid taking a peek at her Christmas presents. When I questioned the wisdom of this, she said it was fine, she was just going to be putting it right back. So I had to go back to sleep for 15 minutes, because I couldn't get up with that being the last creepy thing in my head.

And then I had to kill a spider in the shower.

And while I was in there I remembered that I had to shave my legs because I was wearing a skirt today because I'm going to the temple this afternoon. And I had to do a good job w/shaving cream and everything, because last time I didn't and it was really bad. Last time I took off a few layers of skin, and then it was so cold at church that I got goosebumps on my legs. Let me tell you, that does not feel good. That's the reason why Alaskan women are so hairy, because that mess hurts. Of course, we were discussing Joseph Smith in Liberty Jail, so it felt like bad form to be complaining. "Sure, being wrongfully imprisoned in a 5-foot-high jail cell with no blanket while your wife and children are suffering is bad, but have you ever felt goosebumps like these???" Anyway, point is, had to shave. Carefully.

Then I had to iron my skirt because it's linen and closely resembled one of those broomstick skirts that were so popular in 1995 if you were living in Alaska and didn't know any better.

And then there was possibly a wormhole or something, because all of a sudden I was late for work and had to run out the front door w/my makeup bag. Never got breakfast.

Then I spent the first two hours at work before I remembered that I was sitting there all nekkid-faced.

So ladies, if you ever see me in the bathroom, trying not to gouge out my own eye with an eyelash curler, please don't judge me.

And take all the time you need in there. I promise I'm not listening.

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Random Highlights

So here are the things that have been good about this week:

1. My cool sister and sweet niece came back from their vacation, albeit covered in barf. They brought me a Ghirardelli chocolate bar with almonds. It's created by a precise blend of deep-roasted cocoa beans and hand-selected ingredients, and the roasted almonds perfectly complement the smooth finish of the chocolate.
2. I got to visit and be jealous of Cicada's new apartment. Only I'm not jealous of the mosquitoes. Or the heat. Or the neighbors whose idea of watering the lawn consists of throwing down a garden hose in the middle of the yard and letting it run for hours before moving it over to a different spot in the yard. Those people are water wasters, which is right up there in my book with puppy killers. But the rest of the apartment is great, since Cicada has absolute heaps of taste and sass.
3. I braided my hair today, for the first time in 8 years. Haven't received any compliments yet, but I know that's because people are just shy. It's okay to just admire from a dist----wait! Hah! Just now. My coworker friend told me that she likes my hair. There you have it. True, there may have been a slight "as opposed to how it usually looks," tone, but I'm going to just focus on the positive.
4. I signed up for my two (count 'em) optional classes for next year: "The Child and the Book" and "Gender and Information Studies." My little English major heart is thrilled to have something to talk about that isn't to do with databases and computers. The gender class covers cool things like gender and language; gender and communication; men and women's reading habits; women's and men's representation in adverts; women's and men's magazines; women as writers. Who wouldn't get fired up about that stuff? I'm sure the section on men's magazines will be particulary enlightening. "We write some articles, and then put in a topless picture of Kiera Knightley."
5. I'm hosting a clothes swap on Saturday to get rid of my worldly goods. (Well, not all of them. Some things you just don't get rid of, like Williams-Sonoma cheese knives or beautiful ramen bowls from Japantown. But the rest is out.) The plan is to set up all our stuff at my house. I'll supply finger foods, put some Pink Martini in the stereo, and people can go to town. We'll see if it actually happens this way.
6. Oh! I almost forgot! PAB is up to his old tricks. I heard his dad on the phone yesterday making calls on his behalf. I hoped this meant that the young lad would be paying us a visit, but no such luck.

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Future employment prospects

So I'm the luckiest girl ever. My sweet friend Shannen has agreed to give me some editing work while I'm in England! It won't be a whole lot, maybe two projects a month of 15-20 hours each. But hey, that's perfect, on account of sometimes I won't be able to work because I'll be in Belgium eating chocolate and practicing all kinds of French on good-looking non-smoker men.

Savvymom says I need to be sure to only spend that money on things like travel and shoes. She's right. Otherwise I might be tempted to do something stupid like pay off my student loans early or add to my retirement account.

I found one of those quizzes online that HR departments supposedly give to potential hires. And in celebration of my upcoming job, I figured it would be fun to take it. Feel free to play along, but don't blame me if you find out for the first time that you're a sociopath or similar.

1. When do you feel your best?
a. in the morning
b. during the afternoon & early evening
c. late at night
d. after a good snog

2. You usually walk
a. fairly fast, with short, quick steps
b. less fast head up, looking the world in the face
c. fairly fast, with my nose in the air so no one will guess that I'm totally lost
d. less fast, head down
e. very slowly

3. When talking to people you
a. stand with your arms folded
b. bore them
c. have one or both your hands on your hips
d. make lots of threatening hand gestures
e. play with their ear, touch their chin, or smooth their hair

4. When relaxing, you sit with
a. your legs propped up on the backs of your indentured servants
b. your legs crossed
c. your legs stretched out or straight
d. one leg curled under you

5. When something really amuses you, you react with
a. a big, appreciative laugh
b. a shrieking cackle straight from the depths of Hades
c. a quiet chuckle
d. a sheepish smile
e. a clap, which makes no sense

6. When you go to a party or social gathering you
a. make a loud entrance so everyone notices you
b. make a quiet entrance, looking around for someone you know
c. head straight for the spinach dip, knocking down the people who don't get out of your way fast enough
d. make the quietest entrance, trying to stay unnoticed

7. You're working very hard, concentrating hard, and you're interrupted. Do you . . .
a. welcome the break
b. feel extremely irritated
c. vary between these two extremes
d. not understand this question

8. Which of the following colors do you like most?
a. red or orange
b. black
c. yellow or light blue
d. green
e. dark blue or purple
f. white
g. brown or gray

9. When you are in bed at night, in those last few moments before going to sleep, you lie
a. stretched out on your back, planning for global domination
b. stretched out face down on your stomach
c. on your side, slightly curled
d. with your head on one arm
e. with your head under the covers

10. You often dream that you are
a. falling
b. fighting or struggling
c. searching for something or somebody
d. flying or floating
e. in your house and monsters/vampires/velociraptors/wolves/Gestapo are trying to break in, so you're running through the house frantically trying to lock all the doors and windows before they get through them.
f. your dreams are always pleasant, and you're a big stupid liar

Now for my results! I forgot to add up the points, so I'll just go with the description that seems closest.

Points that Nemesis got: You are an attractive and vivacious woman whose ovaries are not drying out at all. Your intelligence and wit is not intimidating to men--indeed, it attracts them, especially British men. You would be best suited for a career in library science, professional bossing, or royalty. And your niece Savannah loves you the best. Also your hair is nice. Go celebrate with a flourless chocolate torte!

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More pictures

For your visual pleasures... :)

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