Why Do People Have to be Unnecessarily Mean?

It was completely unnecessary to be spiteful. But he did it anyway.

So this is me today.

What I Do With My Saturdays

In this case, it's Spend A Million Dollars On My Tyres.

I'm at IanK's place, changing all four tyres. I have it on his assurance that it is purely for health reasons, as my health would face certain deterioration (i.e. death via automobile accident) should I continue to drive on bald tyres.

So here I am, paying a bazilllion ringgit on BF Goodrich tyres (which everyone assures me are excellent), when my girlfriend buzzes me on GoogleTalk.

Me: Hey, guess what?
GF: What?
Me: I'm changing all 4 tyres! They're BF Goodrich, and they cost me a million bucks!
GF: Are you nuts? Mine are Michelin, and I paid RM 86.80 a piece.
Me: /faints

Aaaanyway.

I'm a mere girl, and completely devoid of any intelligence when it comes to car tyres - although I'm learning. So I surrender to my menfriends (this time) and simply write the cheque when they ask me to.



What to do?


Mood: Bleh about the hole in my bank account, but ecstatic about my new tyres

LOLCat Spinoff - the LOLDog!

All together now ...
...
...

AWWWWWWWWWWWWW .......

Taken from the I Has a Hotdog Website


Mood: ZOOOOO HUGGABLY KEWTE my head's gonna explode.

Why I Love David Cook (WARNING - Video-intensive)

It's the middle of the night, and I'm indulging in my American Idol insanity - more specifically, David Cook. He is SO my boyfriend. :D

One of my favourites, David singing C Cornell's version of Billie Jean:




From tonight's show, with Mariah Carey's Always Be My Baby. Am gobsmacked. He made this song so MANLY.

GAWD the smile. /faints


AND he's in tears at the end of it! I'm gonna faint again.

/faints

Mood: EEEEEeeeEEEEEeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! !!!! !!!!

It's nearly midnight. I've got this meeting minutes I need to do for a meeting tomorrow (go figure). It is a meeting I will most probably get scolded at (although it is well-deserved, but who likes a scolding anyways), and I have only one more day to get everything done.

And yet.

I had a nice dinner and coffee with DavidT, came home to Tim. He bought me dinner, the kind soul, waited up for me, and interrogated me when I came home late. And then promptly went to bed.

The gerbils (or germans, as DavidC likes to call them) are doing well, and my most favourite place in the world tonight is on the carpet at Tim's apartment. The fish is looking at me as if he's been starved for days (the oinker), and there is a warm glow of light all around me.

I am suddenly feeling very happy. Things are right with the world today. Let the problems come tomorrow, but today, life is all good.


Mood: Unapologetically Happy

Having Standards in Genting Highlands

You can't.

You absolutely can't.

Or maybe it's simply because, against all better judgement, I booked a room in the First World Hotel. Ok, it was a last-ditched effort, as there were no rooms available anywhere else, and I was gagging to go to the Genting International Jazz Festival, and didn't really want to navigate my cold and drunken(one if its sponsors is Heineken, naturally) patootie down the winding and fog-enveloped road in the middle of the night.

Aaanyway.

Checking in was the first of my nightmares. I should've taken it as an omen(cue scary music) and just run screaming out of there. But of course, hindsight is 20/20, as they say.

Shock # 1: You need to take a number to check in. Actually, there's more. You need to take a number, wait for an hour, miss your number because there are a bazillion people all around talking loudly and blocking the queue signs, queue up for another 15 minutes at another line while the guy at the counter flirts with a guest and her daughter for 10 minutes, and then check in.

Shock # 2: The place is a rabbit warren. Literally. Giant ground-burrowing gerbils would find themselves quite at home among the maze of corridors that make up Tower 1 of the First World Hotel. In fact, they would probably also get lost if not for the signs posted up, e.g. : 701 - 789: Straight ahead, 770 - 779: Left. We were in 767- as you can imagine, we were in a bit of a quandary about direction.

We finally managed to find the room (after seriously contemplating setting up camp next to a water cooler near the lift lobby and vowing to buy a GPS unit and a Survival Kit if we ever got out of here alive) and didn't have much time to notice its charms before we charged out again - with much trepidation. After all, what if we couldn't find our room again the next time? We could have left a trail of M&Ms but feared some of the guests would pick them up and eat them.

Thank goodness the First World Plaza has lots and lots (and lots and lots) to do, so our trauma was lessened somewhat. Managed to catch an excellent movie - Three Kingdoms, tried to ignore the play-by-play commentary going on right behind us, and charged straight to the Jazz festival afterwards and got great seats.

After an excellent show (Didn't drink much, as prices were- as to be expected- through the roof), went back to the room and dropped unconscious on the bed. But not before I noticed a few things. First disappointment: the room is tiny. The ceiling is high, but really, since one can't fly or float around much three feet over one's head, added height, in this case, is quite superfluous.

Disappointment #2: All the lights are bright, white fluorescent. Even the one over the bed. If there is one thing I CANNOT stand, it's bright white lights in the bedroom. I am not going to perform a triple heart bypass, I simply want a nice, relaxing atmosphere in which to, you know, sleep.

But the view is nice, though. Sort of. We were on the 20th floor, so we had a great bird's eye view of the outdoor theme park. At odd times, the screams of the poor unfortunates (or fortunates, as the case may be) would come wafting up through the open windows.

Woke up at 830 in the morning, to the blissful lack of screams. We dressed, made our leisurely way down to the cafe for breakfast, and were confronted with a horrific sight. The First World Cafe, at 9.15 in the morning, is a seething mass of hungry, aimlessly wandering people in search of empty tables. If you've ever watched the movie Night of the Living Dead, just picture the zombies with plates of food in their hands, shuffling around- the First World Cafe is just like that.

Call me naive (or as my mother puts it, 'snobbish'), but the first meal of the day should NOT include queuing up just to get in and then scrambling for a table. I nearly had words with this Chinese guy who so nonchalantly put his plate of food on the table I was already sitting at and then motioned his family to sit there. I might be short, but I've got a mean right elbow.

And the highlight of this meal: Queuing for eggs. Am I the only one who thinks that omelettes shouldn't be made wholesale? I chuckle at my own naivete. After waiting in line for 8 minutes, I actually thought I could ask the chef to make me a simple cheese omelette! What a simpleton I was! While standing there in front of the stove, deftly dodging flying bits of hot fat and cooked ham, I meekly resigned myself and became, in my own eyes, one of the hungry, desperate zombies. I held out my plate for a mass-produced sunny-side-up, and a roll(yes, a roll - they made the omelette like a swiss roll) of ham and cheese, and slowly shuffled to my table.

In an attempt to reclaim whatever humanity I have left, I've decided to have a nice cup of coffee (latte - skinny, wet , triple grande) and reconnect with the real world(insofar as the real world consists of Gmail, Facebook and LOLCats). So here I am, sitting at Starbucks, enjoying the chill late morning air and TimeZone's impressive download speeds. The fog's nearly gone, and I expect a nice drive back down to reality. All in all, it has been an enjoyable weekend, and at least I've got something to blog about.

Peace, all.


Mood: Chillin' Out