But there was Mambo last night and for a couple of hours that made everything better. But it wasn't Mambo per se, exactly. Because for some reason it was insanely packed and there was literally no room to move at parts, the bouncers were insanely rude, and Davidoff Cool Water is probably the most overrated and over-used cologne ever and I would rest happy if I never have to smell it ever again. I smelled it virtually every corner I turned and that was really quite annoying, and I am of the sincere opinion that guys who use Cool Water because they're too lazy to find other colognes are utterly unoriginal and really ought to be shot.
Okay, maybe not the shooting part, but unoriginal? Definitely. Josh Holloway is hot, but you're not, so please, stop trying. It only makes me want to rip my nose off, and that is not cool.
Mel and I, along with this dude Mark who sent everyone home last Wednesday, were at Zouk at 10-something which was super early and there was nothing going on, and Zouk doesn't serve free drinks which sucks, so Mel and I cabbed to Double O for free drinks because we're, like, so totally cheapskate. I had two bourbon cokes, she had one bourbon coke and one whiskey green tea which was a very interesting drink, and when more girls started piling in which made the queue bloody long, we decided to cut out of there. It was just two drinks and I felt a slight buzz and I thought that was enough, but it turned out that there was this stupid queue for re-entry which took quite some time (not to mention the confusion that plagued Mel and I 'cause neither of us knew what was happening; it was Mel's first time there and it was my first time there without Baoyue, my seasoned Mambo/Zouk friend, so I had no one to follow), and when we got in Mark was in Phuture and the Velvet Underground/Zouk stamp couldn't get Mel and I into Phuture, so Mel and I headed for the dance floor first, which was totally boring because they were playing some crap-ass music. Mel was all, "Let's just sway booty." Like, randomly. Which we did. And when the Mambo music started, we just laughed our asses off at the whole scene. There was this one dude in this weird striped polo tee behind us who was especially hilarious and seeing Mel laugh the way she did made me laugh even harder.
A while later Mark and Marcus came down to join us, and a while after that Mel and I went to the baggage counter by the entrance 'cause Mel wanted to dump her purse into her bag. On our way out some obviously drunk ang moh guy suddenly grabbed my hand, mumbled something which I didn't catch, and gestured towards Zouk. I was like, "Sorry, what?" He was all, "Let's go." WHAT THE FUCK? I quickly snatched my hand away and said, "Uh, no it's okay" and hurried the hell out of there. Sorry, after all's been said and done, I'm still not some cheap lay and that was honestly quite scary.
When we went back the guys were gone. An excruciating flurry of squeezing past people while texting while looking out for the two guys ensued; eventually we located the smoking corner and found them there. The last time I was at a smoking corner I almost died of not being able to breathe, so I said I'll wait inside. I went in, some random bouncer was all, "You can't wait here." That annoyed me. So I moved in, leaned against some random wall, and Marcus came in to find me. Another random fat-ass bouncer told us that we couldn't stand there; Marcus was all, "We're waiting for our friends." Random Fat-Ass Bouncer said, "You can't wait here." I decided to ignore him which prompted him to say to me, of all people, "Do you understand English?"
I was about to say, "Considering I'm in law school, I think I understand English better than you, so this is me pointedly ignoring you." Before I could start arguing with the Fat-Ass Bouncer though, Marcus pulled me away. And we were just, like, ten steps away from where we stood originally. WHAT THE FUCK? It was so retarded. What difference did ten steps make?
Anyway, Mark and Mel came in a while later and we went off to look for Marcus' friends, one of whom instantly rubbed me the wrong way (not literally, of course). But who cares about that. Mark nicely bought Mel and I lychee martinis even after we told him that we didn't want anymore drinks, and in my humble opinion, lychee anything is definitely good. Mark's Graveyard tasted like hell, so mark that down as a drink I'd never order. Ever.
I just went for a swim, hence chucking aside the original plan of finishing this entry then swimming. Good thing I swam earlier; it's getting rather dark, and the water was already freezing when I went down. I am now bloody hell tired and it feels bloody hell good, thank you very much. There's more to be said about this swimming/exercising/weight thing, but more about that later.
Anyway, back to the story. So after the lychee martini (which was really mild, though yummy) we all squeezed down to the dance floor which was packed like nobody's business. You either rubbed against some random person every few seconds, or had some random person rub against you every few seconds. Save for having my arse pinched by some unseen person, and even then I'm not sure if it was deliberately pinched or otherwise, and if it was deliberately pinched that person should be glad that he was unseen because otherwise I would've done something really, really nasty to him, no one (else) tried to play grab-ass or tried chatting me up or whatever. I think it was probably because there were two guys around and the automatic assumption is always that we are "together" in, yes, that way. And it was a good thing, really, because many of the guys there, from what I saw anyway, were, like, all short and stuff. Which is totally gross. And they wore weird white stripe-y shirts that glowed under the lighting, and I think I'd never get sick of laughing at how funny glow-in-the-dark white looks on people. My own handphone shirt (okay, it's this sock-like thingy in which I stuff my phone) glowed in the dark, peeking out from the pocket of my jeans, and I found that terribly amusing.
And no, I wasn't high, or even mildly tipsy. I'd never been so sober whilst clubbing before in my entire life. And you know what? It was totally the best clubbing experience ever. I'd always thought that clubbing sober would be boring, because after a while, it just gets so old, your feet get tired, you get tired of being sandwiched between all these smelly sweaty people. Therefore, you need the high to get into the groove of things. Granted, last week at St James I was mostly sober too (beer on an empty stomach drank really quickly does weird things to you), but I was also really tired and I derived the high from there. But last night, I wasn't tired, I wasn't tipsy, we were crammed in this small corner and I kept bumping into the bloody wall, and my toes began hurting after a while. And yet, those couple of hours, especially the last half hour, were just amazing. Even if nothing eventually comes out of it, I think it was exactly what I needed, sort of a final antidote that shows me so much more than I, or anyone, could ever tell myself. I thought I might wake up and go, "Oh my god what did I do last night?" but I've woken up for, like, four, five hours now and my mind's all cleared up and I haven't thought that at all.
I would go into the details, but some things are better left unsaid, so let's just leave it at that. Suffice to say, though, that I did not randomly make out with random people, and that I did not randomly make out with anyone, and that I did not make out with anyone, period. It still icks me to see couples making out with reckless abandon in the middle of a huge-ass crowd of people so how could I possibly become the female half of one of those couples, especially when I'm still totally and super single?
You know, I must say that I rather enjoy being single. I love the freedom of doing whatever the hell I want without having to answer to anyone or consider anyone's feelings (parents, of course, not included in the equation). It's liberating, and I still believe that I am my own person, and that I don't have to answer to anyone but myself. And there are some standards that I'd never breach, no matter how tempting it was in the heat of the moment. Ultimately, it's about being able to live with myself, and I think I've been able to live with myself more when I'm not attached as opposed to when I was attached. But this is another story for another day (meaning never because I don't care).
There was a Blue Monday (an electronica song by Joy Division - or is it New Order? Anyway roughly the same band lah) number and I was totally in love because I loved Orgy's cover of the song, though not so much the original because it's damn long, but it was perfect for a club. And YMCA was hilarious, and Mel thought Square Room (Square Root? Whatever) was hilarious, and I remember thinking the whole Mambo shit was HILARIOUS the first time I was there. And seriously? Watching the people on the podium, the "regulars", will never fail to amuse me and crack me up. At times like these, I am tickled enough to con myself into believing that I flove my country.
When I felt compelled to leave due to the fact that my dad's over-protectiveness compelled him to stay up to wait for me, they were blasting a crappy Linkin Park song and I hate Linkin Park and that really just destroyed everything, and so it was a good time to leave. In fact, it was already 2.30 a.m. and I originally wanted to leave between 1.30 to 2. Even though my dad hadn't called me and actually shockingly did not call me at all, the thought that he was waiting up for me kept lingering at the back of my mind and I didn't want him to stay up too late and worry, and I definitely didn't want to piss him off, so I told everyone that I had to leave. Marcus walked me out to get a cab which was quite nice of him because, you know, he really didn't have to and I'm sure getting back was a bitch because the crowd did not get any smaller.
So yes. It was a great night. I think I'm done talking about it.
I'm also really glad that this year's Christmas Eve and Christmas were spent meaningfully. On Christmas Eve I went up to the 9th floor where my neighbour - the same guy who was desperate enough to ask me to his OCS Social Night thingy - was having a Christmas gathering with his and his parents' church friends. I stayed for about an hour which was longer than what I'd initially planned. His friends were all very nice; everyone talked to me and his 16-year-old sister was really sweet. I nipped some handphone themes off her. And I played Chopsticks on their piano. How utterly embarrassing, but it's the only thing I can play now. I also nipped The Girl Next Door from him which I haven't watched but I'm definitely looking forward to watching it!
After that I went down home and watched Transformers with my family.
Watching it on DVD only reinforced why I refused to watch it in the theatres, even when the whole world was raving about how good it was. Apart from the few funny scenes which I liked and the guy with the transformer car who was endearingly funny, the movie bored me to near tears. I wanted to fast-forward through all the long, drawn-out action scenes, because, really, I am so not interested in watching bloody fake-ass robots fight each other. Who the hell cares? I don't even like action sequences involving human beings in the first place. The last twenty, thirty minutes were just...excruciatingly painful. And the done-to-death "human beings deserve the right to choose despite all their wrong-doings" message was literally bludgeoned over my head and I'm sorry, but I just cannot stand watching movies that treat me like I'm some retard. Which, granted, 99% of the movie-going public is, but that's precisely why I refused to watch the movie when it came out. There are many good reasons why I don't watch Michael Bay movies. Transformers encapsulates all of those reasons.
Anyway, Christmas was spent having lunch at my grandma's house, and then having dinner at Jolie's with Jolie (duh), Jolie's mom, Chloe, Ping Ying, and then Jervis. Jolie's mom is SO CUTE! She's so exuberant and animated and lively. She's like so not a mom lah! Forever young and everything. Very impressive. Jolie's house was amazing, and I drove there and spent about ten, fifteen minutes parking on this super steep slope. I got out, called my dad and told him that I'd reached, told him about the slope, and he was all, "Will the car roll off?"
WAH LAU EY. I was damn scared! I told Jolie, "What if my car rolls off?" She just laughed at me. Thanks Jolie. Thanks Dad. Then Jolie proceeded to tell the whole world that I was afraid that my car would roll off the slope. Thanks Jolie, again. HAHA.
We watched Hot Fuzz after dinner and it was the second British comedy movie I watched in the year, after Death at a Funeral, and once again I found it a bit slow. But it was not bad, though I was falling asleep at some parts. All in all, it was a good, good night. I had a good time. I am also of the opinion that we should spend more time talking to each other, and that we should go out before school starts for me! Like, totally.
About the whole swimming/weight thing? I spied a bathroom scale in Jolie's bathroom and I stepped on and discovered that it read 50 kilos.
I almost fainted and died, and simultaneously it wasn't unexpected.
My target weight is 48. FORTY-EIGHT! Shouldn't be that hard, right? I did lose...THIRTEEN! kilos once. And subsequently piled five back on, but when I set my mind to doing something, I'd bloody do it, and I will be 48 kilos before anyone knows it! More swimming, no more desserts, no more extra food. I can't remember what I ate when I was actively dieting though, but I think what I'm eating now, minus the extra sweet nonsense, should be all right.
This reminds me. At Zouk last night, while standing in our corner against the wall on the dance floor I randomly patted my tummy and Marcus thought I wasn't feeling well. Then I shouted into his ear, "Fat!" That led to me, him and Mel comparing fats and I totally won in that department (seriously, my tummy is disgusting). Marcus tried to show us his fats but, dude, you're like totally unfat. NO FATS AT ALL. At all. It was so gross! And it only made me want to lose my disgusting fats even more.
Argh. I swear, the space between my thighs grows smaller and smaller every passing month. This cannot continue. Call me deluded, but I refuse to wear jeans that aren't size 34 (Mango, Zara, etc) or 26 (Guess) and I know it doesn't matter but it matters to me. And I don't think it's wrong, so it will continue mattering to me and I will start swimming rigorously. In all honesty, the primary reason I stopped was because my boobs were shrinking at an alarming rate and I was afraid that one day I'd have boobs the size of a newborn baby's - which is bloody non-existent. But I've gained five kilos and my boobs have not grown any bigger so to hell with it! And I've grown accustomed to having small boobs anyway so to hell with it once more!
Um, let's not talk about my boobs.
Anyway, I miss Ruishan a lot and I hope she's having fun in North America and of course I would want her to enjoy herself there but I really miss her a lot. And I love reading her blog so I'm sad that she hasn't been updating, which has effectively made me re-read her archives. And it's only made me miss reading her blog even more. I miss Ruishan! Am looking forward to her return.
Simultaneously, I am not used to the idea that Mag's flying to Manchester in less than a month's time. When Chloe and Jolie get a departure date their leaving would seem more real. And it's just weird, going to school without these people around, the people who have defined law school for you, who have made it, first, tolerable, and subsequently, enjoyable. The people without whom law school might suck all over again. I'm glad that Ruishan's still around, as are people like Kenneth and Lavan and whoever wants to sit at the Year 3 canteen table and talk nonsense with me (usually, they are Chloe, Mag, Ruishan, and Lavan). So it's still good, but I would certainly miss my friends muchly. And this is coming from someone who hardly misses people.
I planned to read up on the stuff for my paper which is LONG FUCKING OVERDUE but I should have known that staying home would mean that I would get no work done. At all. I blame this entry and my swimming.
And my incessant laziness which totally resulted in the two embarrassing and tragic C+'s. Sigh. I HATE MY RESULTS. But there's nothing I can do it about it anymore, except face the upcoming semester with renewed determination and whatever and do better, no matter what it takes. And I will, so there.