The Dreamer

I have been having weird dreams of late...

Last night I dreamt I arrived at the OKC airport, only it wasn't the OKC airport. Funny how dreams always mess things up huh? I dreamt my ex roommate was there to pick me up and I was so idiotic I exited the airport without stopping to pick up my luggage. I dreamt she gave me a bear hug and squeezed the poop out of me. And then I remembered the luggage and ran back into the airport. And then I got lost.

And then the pounding outside my window woke me up.

Yay for construction outside my room. It cuts short my nightmares.


And then there was the dream about Excel. He and I never were good buddies. School tried to teach me excel. School failed. School failed bad. But lately he and I were forced to meet again, and after a rocky start, we got along jest fine. In fact, we've been spending sooo much time with each other I dreamt about him.

I had a dream about excel. Has anyone in this world ever had a dream about a Microsoft Office program? I mean like, really?

If you did, you need to go get a life.

Today I thank God that I'm not...

...Pam Anderson.

No I don't hate the woman. But today, I was able to commit a crime because I was me and not her. Today, I broke into a church.

Okay, so technically I broke into a church compound. And since I live in church, "breaking in" can't really be termed "breaking in". But lets keep a little drama going on here shall we?

So it's past midnight when my friend drops me off. I hop out of the car and try the gate. It's locked. Dead locked. Chained and padlocked by the guards. After several failed attempts to locate them, I decided to squeeze through the grill.

Please do not try this at home.

The first part of my anatomy to go through was my left leg all the way to my thigh. Then I got stuck. Seriously. Any sensible person would have pulled her thigh out of that embarrassing situation, but obviously I'm not sensible. No, I would squeeze my butt through (after a series of contortions and heaving at the metal rods), followed by the rest of my torso, my left shoulder and then my head. Oh, have I ever mentioned that...

...my head.

Is.

HUGE?

It must have swelled to twice its normal size with the sheer craziness of the mission, but all of a sudden, my head was pinned between two rusty pieces of metal. Not a pretty predicament to be caught in. Literally.

So I removed my glasses, flattened my ears and tried again. This time the head got through, followed by my limbs on the right side of my body. After waving off my friend, I walk up the hill to my apartment and scared the living daylights out of the guard.

Half asleep guard: EH? Macam mana you masuk?
How in the world did you get in?
Me: Uh, I pun tak tahu.
I also dunno.
Half asleep guard: Tak tahu?
You dunno?
Me: Um...ada lubang...
There's a hole...

Now I have nothing against the woman, but if I were Pam Anderson, I'd still be standing on the other side of that gate. Or stuck somewhere in between. Now that's something to be thankful for.

Skinny Jeans and Bathing Rituals

I don't get skinny jeans. I really don't. Maybe its because I've been "blessed"
(under protest) with a bootilicious rear end. And skinny jeans really makes that bootiliciousness even more bootilicious. And me no likey bootilicious.

But the fashion industry cares not for people like me. If the trend is skinny jeans, well, they are gonna produce skinny jeans. And people like me have two choices: buy the skinny jeans and look like a carrot, or shop hop for weeks on end without any progress. I chose the latter.

Well, I finally got my unskinny jeans. But it made me remember how body conscious we females are. I mean, some of us even have hair washing rituals. Yes, hair washing can be a religious experience. Kinda. Here's the story.

Oh, and that picture is just to make you laugh. Back to the story.

It was 12 midnight and a group of "orang muda yang tak guna" were lepaking making a nuisance of themselves. Amongst them was a "orang yang tak begitu muda tapi masih muda la" who was provoking the nuisance.

For those of you who speaketh not the language of my country, here's the translation:

• Orang muda yang tak guna - useless youths
• Lepaking - hanging out
• Orang yang tak begitu muda tapi masih muda la - A not so young but still young person...la.

So the Orang Masih Muda (OMM) had just found out that she and one of the Orang Muda Tak Guna (OMTG) had the same bathing ritual as her.

OMM: So ya, I shampoo my hair first...
OMTG: And then rinse...then put the conditioner...
OMM: But cannot rinse yet...
OMTG: Must let it sit, so soap the body first...
OMM: Wait a while...
OMTG: THEN only rinse. Start with the body then the hair...
OMM: So that the conditioner has a few more moments to soak in the hair...

Realising that they were kindered spirits in the realm of hair washing, they excitedly gave each other high fives. But wait, there's more.

OMM: Actually right, there's something else I do...
OMTG: Which is?
OMM: You probably think its stupid...
OMTG: Tell la...
OMM: Well, do you comb your hair when you wash it?
OMTG: Of course...
OMM: Coz right, you need to wash your comb, so I run it thru after I apply shampoo.
OMTG: Serious? So do I!!! Like that the shampoo will clean the comb.
OMM: YEAH!!
OMTG: And after you comb after conditioning it too right?
OMM: To make sure the conditioner reaches each strand?
OMTG: EXACTLY!!!
OMM: Do you comb from front to back or back to front?
OMTG: Back to front!!!
OMM: ME TOO!!!
OMTG: So you loose hair from the back instead of the front right?
OMM: YA YA!!!

And so that is the story of how the Orang Masih Muda and the Orang Muda Tak Guna realised that they were not alone in the world. Someone out there thought exactly the way they did, and it brought much joy and comfort to know that they weren't so weird after all.

I've long passed the adolescent stage where I wished my flat nose could exchange places with my not so flat booty. After all, the flat nose is the dominant gene in the family - there's no running from THAT. And no matter how many lunges and butt squeezes you do, nothing's gonna change the fact that God made your hip bones THAT wide. Besides, contrary to popular belief, you can lipo fat away from your hips, but bones...bones are there to stay.

So we females content ourselves with making the best of the one thing we can change - we wash our hair. And we wash it good.

Her Royal Highness

I am the queen of stoicism. I don't lie. Tell me I won a million dollars and I'd reply, "Okay, that's good." Because that's what happened to me today. I won a million dollars, and I replied, "Okay, that's good."

Not really, but you get the idea.

Due to lack of things to blog about...

Imagine this:

Me: Hi, I'm Caryn.
(pronounced Curr-reen or Care-reen, depending on my mood)
Not me: You are Korean?
Me: No, my name is Caryn.
Not me: Oh, I thought you said you are Korean.
Me: Yeah, I've been told that before...

...many times before...

Patience is...

Patience is slicing up a (huge S) bangkuang & 3 carrots to make popiah with a paring knife.

knock knock...

Knock knock.

Who's there?

The interrupting cow.

The interrupti --

MOO!


You may now laugh.

MCQ

At which moment of your life did you feel the smartest?

A. When you got 15A's in pre-school.
B. When you finished reading the entire collection of "Peter and
....Jane".
C. When you solved the rubix cube with your eyes closed and hands
....handcuffed.
D. When you remembered your pin number to the atm machine.

I choose D.

Merdeka

I celebrated Merdeka by eating rice.

ROTF

I haven't quite stopped laughing yet.

Dunno if I ever will.

I have not been kidnapped.

I've been missing from the world of msn, facebook and blogger.com for about a week. And no, I have not been kidnapped. Dad took leave and we went ronda-ing around KL. This included lots of food, talking, sitting in the car, listening to uncle/aunty talk, movies, board games and chor tai di. Yes, the mother got addicted.

Nothing particularly interesting there - at least the rest of the world. I mean, who wants to hear about a mother and sister poke and prode a brother about his opinion on female humans?

Everybody?

Nah. Not tellin'.

...

But I can and will tell about durians.

The father went hyper and bought enough durians to make a skunk pass out, a rafflesia wilt in horror and keep a legion of ghosties at bay.
Now, I never touch durians...unless it is within the four walls of my home, I am not going out in the next 24 hours, and have 10 tubes of toothpaste in my storeroom.

Wait, I don't have 10 tubes of toothpaste in my storeroom.

Heck, I don't even have a storeroom.

But you get the point.

...

But this time...I kinda gave in.
*BELCHES indiscreetly*

'cus me.

3 in 1

Hi Aunty Chris! Enjoy your lunch. (Don't know Aunty Chris? Ignore this, it's an inside joke.)

This has been a wacko week with regards to sleeping patterns:

I sleep late so I fall sick. I fall sick so I put off work. I put off work so I stay up late doing work. I stay up late doing work so I stay sick. I get a blocked nose so I can't breathe. I can't breathe so I can't sleep at night. I don't get enough sleep so I drink coffee. I drink coffee so I don't fall asleep. I don't fall asleep so I sleep late.

It's a vicious cycle, I tell you.

...

Let me introduce you to my yo-yo, on again-off again relationship. Unlike most couples, we thrive on stress. When exams come, we are tight. When we are traveling, we are inseparable. When we are organizing CF camps, KIDS camps and going on retreats, no one, NO ONE, can come in between us. But then, I'm an independent woman. When I have no more need for him, he gets dumped. DUMPED!

Say hi to Nescafe 3 in 1.
I'm not addicted. I promise.

So as I mentioned earlier, I've had a wacko week with regards to sleeping patterns. And Nescafe 3 in 1 became my best buddy. But we ran out. And I made a new best buddy. He's also Nescafe 3 in 1. But slightly different...Three packets. One cup. No sugar. No milk. Very SHIOK.

Ever played a guitar while keeping count with the heel of your foot? Ever had your leg go into a caffeine induced spasm that wouldn't stop, slow down or respond to voluntary neural action potentials? I have. Today. During a worship session. It was weird, but shiok. Very shiok.

(F)lame?

We were in the car "lame talking" when someone said something exceptionally lame. And this is what happened:

The Kor Kor: *shaking head* S'lame...
The Easily Amused: S'lame? Wassat?
The Kor Kor: SO LAME.
The Easily Amused: Ohhhh...S'lame!! How about V'lame? For VERY lame. Teeheehee...

*random chattering and laughing*

The Quiet One: Flame.

*silence*

The Driver: Huh? What's that?
The Quiet One: Fu-yooh lame.

Yesterday, some of us ancient CFers went back to school to be a nuisance. And as tradition demands it, we left a letter for the current CF committee:

Dear 2009 Committee,

We don't really know you, but we really hope that you will be able to read this note. =) We couldn't get into your shack but we tried peeping through the shutters but couln't see anything. That's when we decided to write this note. *big smiley face* I bet you think we are crazy now. Trust us, you will be doing that when you come back to visit next time. *evil laugh* Ok, we are hungry now, have fun! Continue serving the lord with all your heart, soul, mind and lameness. We are starving to death now X_X You know when (we are back), when you find another weird note. =P

CF Committees of

2004, 2005

2007 & 2008

Muax!

.

I have one word. "Flame".

Mutation

I was bitten by a radioactive spider and became a pig. A Superpig to be exact.

.

So I wake up at 8:30ish to eat breakfast with the family, assuming a rather zombified, "don't talk to me or I'll punch you" face. Then about halfway through breakfast, it turns into a "talk to me and I may answer you, albeit incoherently" face.

.

Then I stumble back to bed and sleep till lunch.

.

This is the life of a Superpig.

Lets talk food.

I've been rotting away at home. Rotting leads to messes in the kitchen. Here's the proof:

Say hello to half my mess. They are bagels, not doughnuts. Doughnuts are fried in oil. Bagels are boiled in water. Doughnuts are smothered in sugar. Bagels are fat free. Doughnuts are bad. Bagels are good. End of discussion.

Oh, say hello to doughie, the genesis of my mess. At this time, I would like to dedicate doughie to BUM. Will the congregation please rise for the occasion...

Lets talk more food. Lets talk popiah.

We had popiah for dinner. And I observed a disturbing trend. Girls can roll popiah. Guys can't. End of discussion.

Starting with my very skinny, clean, neatly tucked in popiah. Some people call it kiam siap. I call it si mun.

Moving on to the mother's "about to pao cha", turgid, but still neatly rolled up popiah.And then the guys.

Here's the korkor's popiah: ends flopping around like dumbo's ears.

But nothing beats the father's popiah. It wouldn't stay rolled. He ate it with ze fork and ze spoon.

I observed a disturbing trend. Girls can roll popiah. Guys can't. End of discussion.

.

Oh, my phone died. Also end of discussion.

...I wanna ride it all night long...

This is part two of Life is a highway. And yes, I kinda-sorta-sometimes-once in a while listen to country moosik. I'm glad I got that off my chest.

Now for the main course.

So on the way up to Ipoh/Penang, dad got David and me to drive. Hmmm...now I know why our "travelling mercies" prayer was longer than before.

When Pa drives on the highway, we all sleep and leave him to suffer in silence. But when Dave or I drive, everyone is on full alert. Like seriously. We always try to get mum to sit behind the drivers seat so she can't check our speed every other second. But then if she wants to check our speed every other second and make her mor qui chang...I can't complain. Right mum? RIGHT.

Oh..."mor qui chang" is hokkien for "hair stand up".

Anyways, I didn't kill nobody. I mean, I'm a nice, sedate, phlegmatic driver. I stay well below the speed limit. I hardly overtake. And I only got one glare from a lorry driver. I think. Hee.

Ally Fant

Somebody came back from Amewika and gave his aircon the dreaded swine flu.

Somebody's aircon dieded from the dreaded swine flu.

Somebody has been crashing in my room because somebody's aircon dieded from the dreaded swine flu.

Somebody crashed my room and found my Ally Fant.

Somebody ABUSED my Ally Fant.

Caryn: Wha- Is that my Ally Fant?

Somebody: Yea...

Caryn: What did you do to my Ally Fant?

Somebody: It's crossing its arms.

Caryn: Nooo!!! You killed my Ally Fant...pore pore Ally Fant.

Anyways...the point of the matter is...I'm gonna be gone on a road trip this week with mom & dad & Somebody.

.

Yes I am cheong hae. And I'm proud of it.

Who's who?

In my family, there is the one who cooks, the ones who wash dishes and the one who eats. The one who eats is also the one who brings the cow/beef home. (that is cow-language for the one who goes cari kerja) I leave you to guess who the cook and dishwashers are...

.

So the other dishwasher came back yesterday. It isn't in service yet, being busy jetlagging. So this dishwasher is still working full time.

.

That's what I've been doing with my time. I've been washing dishes. I have nothing else to say.

Irony

I travel halfway around the world for 40 hours and I don't jetlag. Then I take a 2 hour trip to Kampar and I do. *scratches head*

It has been about 2 weeks since I touched down...and I've been waiting for the jetlag to come. It refused to come. Apart from the first day back where mum and dad had to keep me occupied so I didn't fall asleep on my feet...it has been good. *pats own back*

But a weekend at Church Camp threw it all off. Its 1am and I just ain't sleepy at all! *stops patting own back*

Oh the irony. *waves goodbye*

Hey Gorgeous,

I've been looking for you for 3 years. I finally found you. I can die a happy cow.

Or would that be "I can die a happy beef?"