Surprise, surprise! Today was actually quite productive for Audrey.
First of all, I went for a BLOOD test (!!), which was disgusting, bowel-moving and puke-inducing. Actually the Mother and Father wanted me to get my Hepatitis B injections all done before I go off. But thanks to smart me, who kept saying that I should have already gotten my injections when I was a baby because of the law that says all babies have to be immunized, they decided to sent me for a BLOOD test to confirm if I already have had the injections. And since I full well know that the law I was talking about was only implemented in 1988 (3 years after I was born), so now it turns out that I will take the BLOOD test AND the damn hepatitis B shots as well.
Blood test = 1 shot
Hepatitis B = 3 shots
Blood test + Hepatitis B = 1 + 3 = 4 BLOODY SHOTS!
(Petunjuk:- Ugly green colour represents hate of injections)
The BLOOD test was farking painful. Like when I was young, I tried to distract myself by thinking of ice-cream. Unfortunately it did not work (preferences and priorities must have changed over time). So I tried to think of something else nice. And I dunno why but my mind decided to pick kissing (?). I started thinking about how blood rushes about faster when you’re kissing then I started thinking about my own blood rushing into the test-tube or whatever and then I could feel the needle pushing itself in under my skin and flesh…. *goosebumps*. So that did not work either.
Then later in the evening I went to take my photo for my visa. I went to the shop and the lady told me to change into something with a collar because according to some great logic, my sleeveless top would somehow not be visible in the photo and I would then look naked. So I went home and changed. Then I went back to the shop. Then the lady said I would have to tuck my hair behind my ears. Okay, I know it is fucking stupid to get into a fight over my hair but you know how obsessed I am over it. Some more, before that I’d already susah-payah went and blowed my hair nicely to take the stupid photo. And then she told me I have to push my fringe off my forehead also. You know my fringe, right? How the hell am I supposed to push it off my forehead when it’s all straight and coming down nicely over my forehead?
My father kept yelling and me to push back my hair but I was already trying to without messing it up and getting very irritated and stressed. Then he came over and starting sweeping it in the WRONG direction. So I screamed and there started World War III in the tiny little photo shop. By that time I didn’t care already that the other customers were all staring at me. In the end, I went home AGAIN and pinned up my hair, plus my mother combed out my lovely curls cos she said its too messy and brought mousse and a comb back to the stupid shop and finally took the photo (which I know I look like shit in because it’s damn difficult to smile nicely when you’re pissed. I probably look like a serial killer).
And then, when I got home and went up to my room (and after remoussing my hair and blowing my fringe again), what do I find but ants on my wall! Out comes the insect spray, but after spraying the fucking wall THREE times, I still see more and more ants coming out! What are they, immortal or something? So it’s time to call the heavy artillery, which is none other than Mummy Ooi.
Mummy Ooi stormed upstairs armed with 3 packets of powder poison, which actually works in a very sneaky and evil way. You scatter the poison all over the ants’ trail and then they’ll take it back to their nest, thinking it’s food and eat it and die in the nest. I felt very very wicked while watching Mummy lay the poison. It seems a much more inhumane way to kill ants than by just spraying them. Like you secretly kill them with poison, whereas when you spray them at least you’re being upfront about it. Then I started to feel sorry for the ants cos they looked so busy and productive, unlike the human here. But then I thought of them attacking me while I sleep then I didn’t feel so bad anymore.
I am PMS-ing badly. I feel like I want to burst into tears every other minute. And the other “other” minutes I just feel damn depressed. Yesterday I was at MPH Midvalley and I picked up this mini-book which was like full of advice for dads who have daughters. It’s the kind of book that has only one sentence or piece of advice on every page. For example:
– Remember that she will always, always melt your heart.
– Always play ball with her, even if the ball is pink and covered with glitter.
– Dance with her. She will never be too young, or too old for that matter.
– Know that she will not be happy if you become better friends with her boyfriend than she is.
– Do not give in to the temptation to buy her everything she wants.
– Do not be worried if weird boys start showing up on your doorstep. All boys at that age look weird anyway.
– Help her to decide her intended path thru life.
– And lastly, let her go.
*blinks back tears*
I’ve always been daddy’s little girl. As a kid I used to make him pick me up, dance around the house and sing “Shall We Dance?” from The King And I. In hardware stores, I used to make him pick me up and hold me up while I pressed the entire display of doorbells and listened to them ringing. And every night at 2am, after watching my nursery rhyme video, I would go upstairs, wake him up from deep slumber and tell him I was done watching and would he please go turn off the VCR. Also, Daddy is the one who I go to if I need money:)
Of everyone in Malaysia, I think he will be the saddest one when I leave. Oh no thinking of it now makes me want to cry again. Of course, I will miss Mummy Ooi and her kind of garang way of talking to me and the way she always tries to hide(show?) her affection by forcing me to finish all the vegetables. And I will miss Brother Ooi for his weird antics (ie, falling in toilet and grabbing toilet bowl for support) and competing with him for who gets to play Gunbound first. But I dunno, for the fact that I know Daddy Ooi will be the one who will be shedding a tear for me leaving… it just makes my heart break.:(
::This entry is dedicated to the 3 Oois whom I love so much::
Okay, everyone, whatever Jia Min says about my driving skills today, it’s not true.
I’m not mentioning names but today I kindly did someone a GIGANTIC favor by going to pay his saman for him at MPSJ. *sighs dramatically* The cons of being so sweet, kind, adorable, etc.
Anyway, for some reason, driving around I got honked at like fcuk. Can everyone please have pity and mercy for this poor tiny girl with the P sticker driving her mother’s fcuking humongous Civic, which is damn low and cannot go over speedbumps without scraping its underbelly horrendously? So I had to go pick Min up because guess what – I don’t know the way to MPSJ. I didn’t tell the person with the saman that because I wanted to jaga imej… I mean please, how can a person who has stayed in Subang Jaya for 15 years not know how to go to MPSJ? For the record, I don’t know how to go to Taipan either. Or Hsin‘s house, without memorising the directions (ie. turn left, turn right, turn right again etc).
Anyway, we made our way into USJ, weaving our way professionally thru the traffic, not on purpose mind you, but because I couldn’t make up my mind which lane to stay on. We finally reached MPSJ after doing what looked like a vaguely illegal U-turn at the traffic lights. And the goddamn MPSJ had roads which were the size of the longkang behind your house. There was no place to park except right next to the sign that said “No Parking”. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to commit a traffic offence right there in their headquarters. The traffic police/MPSJ boss would probably slap the ticket right on my windshield and bellow,”Dik, senang saja you nak bayar itu saman. You pergi naik tangga atas ke itu kaunter bayaran, lepas tu sudah selesai”.
Since I was suffering from severe hunger pangs and irritation and since Min was going to be late for class, I did the next best thing: I parked in the parking lot meant for the kakitangan. Seeing a whole bunch of what looked kakitangan MPSJ outside the entrance of the parking lot, I cleverly pressed the oil and zoomed in, hoping I looked like one of their kind. Then I quickly parked and ran upstairs with Min. After depleting my wallet of 80 bucks, we zoomed out of MPSJ and went for lunch then I sent Min to Monash.
Later in the day, I had to go pick Min up from Monash again cos she didn’t have transport. As I backed my car out of the driveway, I heard this weird grinding sound, my car started shaking then stopped. My first thought was, what did I roll over? But no, when I looked around, I realized that I drove into the gate. While it was already open. Surprisingly, noone came out to check on the damage so I quickly went off hoping that they didn’t hear. Then I parked my car at the side of the road to check the injuries. I noticed there was some neighbours standing around and thinking that they might tell my mother, I quickly went off again.
Then on the way to Monash I got honked at all they way as usual. When Min came into the car, she was listen to my sob story, naturally. And as we were driving out, who should we see but Aden, of all people. Jia Min recognised him, I don’t know how but I thought we got the wrong person. Even after I wound down the window and we started talking I still somehow thought that was the wrong person and that he’d also mistaken us for somebody else. I’ve only seen him once before ok!
Then after that while driving, I tried to keep my eyes open at all times to ensure no more honking or close calls. I kept my eyes so wide open that I didn’t notice I had been driving the entire time without letting go the handbrake. No wonder there was a suspicious squeaking, creaking kind of sound that at first I thought was part of the song on radio, then later I thought had to do with my car’s injury from hitting the gate.
No more Audrey behind the wheel for some time.
Person with the saman: You owe me 80 bucks and a lot of emotional stress.
::A view of the floor::
::A view of my desk:D Among other things are my Roxy bag, sticker photo notebook, stereo remote, MD player and Brother Ooi’s hairband, etc. ::
::My bed. Notice the handphone right in the middle? This is why I always lose it::
::The makeup table. Min, Hsin, Malcolm and anyone else who had to wait for me: this is why::
::Chair also doubles up as clothes hanger. Very innovative::
A F T E R O P E R A T I O N C L E A N U P :
::A clean working space is the key to success::
::My bed after its makeover. L-R:Toby, BlueFlower, Koala-with-identity-crisis, SanjayBear, YellowBear, NormalKoala, LifeguardPooh, WeizhenKangaroo, Lolo.
:: You won’t have to wait for me longer than 15 minutes anymore, I promise!::
I’m back at the blog because for some reason, every room that I click on in Gunbound will not let me in. Either “the game in progress” or “the room too full”. I’ve noticed that the makers of Gunbound don’t have very good English either. 😛 Plus, at this time, Gunbound players all seem to be Spaniards or Brazilian. Must be the time for them to be awake.
I have nothing to blog about.
Random thought of the day: I like my hair color.
Stupid act of the day: I spilled Milo on the laptop.
I just can’t seem to shut up about the cake, as most people can testify to that. Aiyaa, don’t blame me lar, this was a major achievement for me as well as for Brother Ooi.
(ooh just used my finger to stab an insect to death – pest control of the house: that’s yours truly)
Anyway, these are the proof that I did indeed bake a cake and didnt just halfway run out to the nearest Berry’s and grab the nearest cake.
The product that took sweat, blood and tears (note to self: all that Mummy expanded when she gave birth to us)
Me holding sweat-blood-tears-product, looking vaguely psychotic. It’s all that hard work and stress, I tell you.
Oh that’s the recipient of the cake, looking quite hip as it is. The macho male holding a piece of Biore Pore Pack is of course, Cook No. 2, Brother Ooi.
Mummy and Daddy Ooi, holding the precious cake. Notice the cocoa powder and Kitkat used for decor? Innovative, that’s us.
My first slice of cake!! (yum)
Nursing a cough that feels like TB. And bloody hell, can’t even find my inhaler. Yes, yes, I am a scrawny asthmatic who depends on steroids to keep her alive 😛
Oh on the brighter side of things, the entire family ate The Cake. And nobody died or had to be sent to the hospital! Granted, the cake was a little on the chewy side (no thanks to Brother Ooi’s over-enthusiastic mixing) and there was no cheese smell, but overall it was F-I-N-E. Will post pics of precious cake up as soon as I figure out how to hook up the camera to the laptop.
The cake is done! Amidst a lot of sweat, blood and tears from me and Brother Ooi.
For people who are interested, this is the recipe (and what we managed to do with it):
1. Preheat oven to 220 degrees Celcius. Grease a 25-cm round cake tin. (Unfortunately, forgot to check temperature of oven, think it was only about 50 degrees. And the not-smart Brother Ooi told me to grease it by spreading butter all over the tin with my bare fingers. So I did.)
To prepare Sponge Cake:
1 At low speed, mix icing sugar and ground almonds in mixer. (So far so good. Brother Ooi managed to spend half an hour doing this)
2. Add eggs gradually and whip at high speed until fluffy. (Still going fine)
3. Fold in sifted flour, cocoa powder followed by melted margerine. (What the hell does fold mean? Margerine was unavailable so butter was used. Butter was melted too early on and decided to form lumps among itself. Scraped it in anyway)
4. In a separate bowl, beat egg white and castor sugar until stiff and fold into chocolate mixture. (Egg shell pieces fell into egg white, amidst lots of cussing and mass inserting of fingers into egg white bowl to retrieve them. Later realized that there were black dots in it and decided to ignore it. Egg white and castor sugar refused to stiffen no matter how much Brother Ooi’s macho arms whirled them around. F*ck it lah)
5. Put batter into a round cake tin and bake for 10 minutes. (10 minutes wasn’t enough, due to low temperature of oven – cake was still wet. Put in for another 5 minutes – then cake became consistency of brick)
6. Trim the side of the cake and place it into 23-cm round springform cake tin. (Had to use fruit knives for this due to cake’s bricklike texture. Realized in horror that cake tin wasn’t greased well enough and that cake had stuck to bottom of pan. Efforts to remove cake from pan resulted in cake breaking up into tiny crumbs. Brother Ooi cried on my shoulder)
To prepare Cheese Topping:
1. Beat cream cheese and castor sugar in mixer until light and fluffy (No problem)
2. Add lemon zest. Cream well. ( How do you cream lemon zest?)
3. Fold in whipped cream (Poured cream in. In hindsight, wonder if cream should have been whipped first – box did not say)
4. Sprinkle gelatine over water and dissolve over low heat. Stream slowly into cheese mixture (Tried to sprinkle but gelatin fell in big lump into water. Took more than 3 mins in microwave to melt. Then hardened. Also scraped into mixture)
5. Pour topping onto cake and refrigerate until set. Decorate as desired. (Not bothering to decorate)
1. Halfway through, Brother Ooi abandoned ship, leaving adorable sister all alone to handle things and ran off to take a dump.
2. Daddy Ooi kept coming into kitchen to laugh at offspring’s efforts and remind offspring that the last project offspring did together (which was assembling a DIY shoe cupboard), offspring succesfully nailed doors of shoe cupboard to the back of it so now shoe cupboard has doors on its back and a covered sheet of wood on its front.
1. From outside, cake looks edible.
2. Got egg white on arm, courtesy of evil Brother Ooi
3. Have skinned and cut thumb, courtesy of I-know-not-what
4. However, was not electrocuted by blender, mixer or microwave. Very thankful and certain that animosity between me and kitchen appliances has ended. On the other hand, the battle with VCD players continues.
I’m betting that H s i n ‘s blog entry for today will be titled some song from Saturday Night Fever, am I right?:D Yes, yes, boys and girls, Saturday Night Fever-The Musical = Fantastique!
Watching Saturday Night Fever has given me the inspiration to:
1. Learn disco-dancing (take note: the 70’s type, not Atmos/trance/Melbourne Shuffle dancing) – But this might take some effort since I can’t even walk up the stairs or on a flat ground without tripping most horrendously
2. Buy and wear one of those 70’s style dresses with below-knee, extremely flair hemlines and halter/spaghetti tops
2. Start wearing heels again (Come to realize that height does not really allow not wearing them, anyway)
3. Find lover who can dance, sing, walk and hold women’s waists like Tony Manero (v. swoonworthy)
4. Take singing classes
5. Buy a discoball and hang it in room
For full synopsis of day, you can check out Hsin’s blog. She’s probably very rajinly typed everything out, unlike yours truly. But Brother Ooi is back. Which means we have a cake to bake! (For Mummy Ooi’s Mother’s Day) Besides, I have to practise my pointing-finger-up-at-sky-with-one-leg-cocked move.
*blows nose in vain attempt to unblock it*
As you can see (or hear), yours truly is not feeling that hot. Have been suffering from leaky/cemented nostrils, what feels like a sandpapered throat, and tearing eyes for the past few days. As such, spent whole day lying around on bed/sofa, letting out groans and cussing viruses. Also, water tastes bitter. Daddy Ooi, how could you pass this dastardly disease to your only daughter aka the light of your life aka the apple of your eye aka precious jewel etc., etc. I think you get the idea.
Currently scouting around Friendster for pics of cute guys with H s i n . Haha I know…I’m damn lifeless. But it gives me hope that there are cute guys around. Haven’t seen any in real life other than CPU guy (Power of Four: remember him?) I have this soft spot for guys with big eyes, sharp noses and messy spikes aka Japanese hair. 😀 Like what Hsin and I were saying: *gets down on knees* Dear god, please give me one of them to love and to cherish. I will sure treat him well” 😛 But it’s still my principle to never message any guy online first. P a k L u n, sorry I didn’t go to your Friendster page as you suggested. 😛 But I still love you as Bender!
Oh no, I just realized that I’ve somehow stopped looking at guy’s photos and am checking out girls now. Some of them are really so hot, it either makes you feel like stepped-on cow turd or turning lesbian.
He just told me that he felt “incomplete without me”. Of course my first question was, “in what way?”. The subject was quickly changed so maybe I’ll never know. But I’ve come to realize something that I’ve never wanted to admit before: that the past is the past and however much I wish for the past to return and for me to relive it, well, that’s impossible, innit? Something that I’ve always hoped for to happen is now something that I would rather not have happen. Not because I don’t want it too (I don’t quite know actually) but because it’s just too complicated. I do wonder what would it be like if something were to start again. Would the problems and differences that we used to have still be around? Or would we have changed and matured over time so things would go smoother now?
Fook, this was supposed to be a funny blog, not one for me to lament and whine and talk about teen angst or whatever it’s called. With none of this sappy shite lying around. It won’t happen again, if I can help it.