mind keepin in contact as fren?hope u can drop mi a reply"
Wow. I have a 'fren' whose existence was never made known to me. Not only that, I never knew that I could keep in contact (I hate it when they say that) with someone whom I don't even freaking know. I honestly have no idea where 20-something guys get off spelling like they're 14-year-olds. It's disgusting and it annoys me beyond belief. Just stop, please.
Message #1: "hi..u look v fierce le. hee"
Message #2: "how arnormal u r... :P"
What the fuck is 'arnormal'?
"hey had dinner yet ma?"
I need to get out of this country.
(Seriously. I logged in to wholivesnearyou to read a message a cute guy sent to me - and he writes in good English, thankfully - and a minute later I find myself staring at my monitor in disbelief as my eyes passed over those messages. I just...if I were Prime Minister, I would jail people for unapologetically having bad English. I really, really would.)
Remember how I was bagging on NTU engineering students in this entry? I must have opened a bloody Pandora's box or something because I found a message waiting for me in my stupid OKCupid (see, that even rhymes) inbox when I logged in to take tests from an NTU engineering student. And guess what? He pretty much started the message with Sign #10 on the 'how to tell if a guy is a loser' list. I felt the final nail being hammered damn hard into my coffin when I read further (jaw dropping in disbelief) and saw that he "shrugged" to pass GP in JC.
Oh. My. God.
Have I mentioned that I need to leave this stupid country? Like, forever and ever and never come back?
I know I'm mean, but gah. That's what you get for over-estimating yourself, or thinking that I'd be nice to you just because you were deluded enough to be nice to me. Like, who even cares. I hate talking online; it's utterly pointless, depressingly superficial, and wholly lacking in...well, authenticity. It's so phony, all of it. Like Mag said, you may type 'hahaha' or 'LOL' in an MSN conversation when behind the monitor you're actually like, "God, that's the lamest not-funny shit ever." And how can a bunch of pointless emails and mundane IM "chats" act as adequate substitutes for intimate, cosy face-to-face conversations? In fact, using the word 'conversation' to categorise IM "chats" and whatever is seriously wrong, because you don't converse as much as you type a bunch of random crap out of obligation to the person that started the "conversation" with you, and between typing random crap you're looking at other things and not giving the person you're typing to the attention you'd give him/her in a real conversation.
This is why I never go on MSN. It's a ridiculous waste of time, I can't be arsed about it, and I think that if you're genuine in wanting to keep up with my life, you'd ask me out for lunch. Otherwise, just forget it. Don't waste my time and yours, thank you very much.
Anyway, back to the hapless male individuals on that stupid wholivesnearyou crappy site.
On second thoughts, I have nothing more to add, except that I don't even like meeting people off the Internet. I've done it about five times in total, counting from the year 1999 (that Jay Chou thingy I did doesn't count). I still think that this meeting people off the Internet thing has some seriously wrong connotations associated with it. Like, you're so pathetic that you can't get a date in real life and so you have to resort to the Internet, that kind of stuff.
So, yeah. It's just sad. And I have no use for "friends" whose English I'd just laugh at.
Project Runway 3 has started! My d/l speed was really fast a while ago, until I stopped it to see if it'd help my dad's laptop wi-fi to, like, work properly. It didn't, and so I started the d/l, but now it's crawling at the usual 1, 2, 0 kb/s. A while ago it was over 40.
I love Project Runway.
I went to Johor Bahru with my folks today and I came home empty-handed. I must say, I really don't care much for Malaysia, or at least the Malaysian places I've been to. I hate Singapore with every fibre of my being, and yet I'd much rather live here than to live there. I don't want to get into the reasons though, so let's just leave it at that.
We had a horrible lunch experience today. The food was actually more than decent, the waiters didn't piss me off, but when it came to the billing, everything just sucked. They charged us for rice when we didn't order any; they charged us for a Peking duck (for the record, YUCK) that we ordered but which was cancelled and changed to some chicken dish because they couldn't serve the duck for some weird reason; and they charged us like RM18 for one bowl of mango sago (um, I think that's what it's called in English anyway) that's good for only ONE person to eat. That's like S$9 for sago, which is ridiculous because even Crystal Jade only charges around S$ for their dessert. The first two mistakes were corrected after my dad asked them about it, but we didn't think much of the sago thing until we were already driving towards the causeway. My mom was all, "But I'm so used to food being expensive in Singapore!" Upon careful examination, however, it became plenty clear that they must've charged us triple for the mango sago, because there's really no way in hell that sago could ever fetch RM18.
Too bad for that restaurant and the good food. My folks vowed to never go there again. It's a Peking restaurant at some golf course (with gross toilets).
Actually, I kind of like Kuala Lumpur, so I think it's just JB.
On the way back, while stuck in traffic jam leading towards the causeway checkpoints, my dad pointed out to my mom and I the beggars that positioned themselves in the middle of the road, waiting for people to give them money. They hobbled along pathetically, leaning heavily on a cane, wearing tattered shirts and shorts, a Pepsi paper cup in hand. I haven't seen anything like that in a really, really long time. My mom gave some change to one of them (he was the closest to us) and I looked at him briefly and it was the saddest thing I've seen in quite a while. My mom wondered why they weren't afraid of being hit by a car or getting into some sort of accident.
I thought, They have nothing to lose, and everything to gain. How sad it must be for them if they're desperate enough to stand in the middle of the road to beg for money, as if their own lives are worth only the measley amount of spare change that the occasional sympathetic soul hands out. As we drove along and left the man in blue shirt behind to continue begging for the money he'd never receive, I honestly felt like crying for someone other than myself.
I still do, as a matter of fact. But what's to be done about that?
To be honest, I can't tell a real beggar from a cheat. But the way I rationalise it, I don't even care because it's just a few dollars to me. I'd rather take the chance that I may actually be giving some (very, very little) money to someone who really needs it, than to be hardened by stingy, calculating suspicion and walk away, like what everyone else is doing.
I don't want to be like the people whom I'm so fond of criticising. That's hypocrisy at its finest, and I'd like to think that I'm more self-aware than that. It's much easier to live with yourself this way.
I have decided that from now on, I'd only go out with guys that have a driving licence. Major, MAJOR brownie points can be scored if he has a car of his own. This didn't matter before, of course, but somehow it's become one of those things that are non-negotiable.
I think I'm materialistic and silly but hey, do I look like I even care?
I want the Peugeot 307cc.
In fact, I want it very, very badly.
Someone needs to give me $200,000 right now.