supahnamchop

April fools plus a week and two days.

2011-04-09T23:55:00.002+10:00

I remember when I was about 6 years old, I used to love trying to trick my parents. One time, I pried a diamante out of the bow on my favourite shoes and tried to deceive my mum into thinking that it was a real diamond. Unfortunately I didn't do a very good job of scratching off all of the metallic paint on the underside of the diamante and so my mum wasn't fooled. Essentially, I just wrecked my own shoes. My favourite ones too.

There was another time I tried to fool my mum and it actually worked. Let me set the scene. It was like any other weekday evening. My mum was watching TV with my brother and force-feeding him the fruit she was peeling. She doesn't do that anymore and consequently, my brother's diet makes me question whether he has experienced a bowel movement since 1994. Anyway, as we were eating our apple and watching whatever it was we were watching, I had come to the conclusion that I needed to wee-wee (yes, I actually called it that). And so I skipped jauntily along to the bathroom. It probably wasn't a good idea with a full bladder but I was never a bright kid anyway. I'm getting very far off-track. How very unlike me. Did you know that Judge Judy isn't really a judge at all? I guess that means she's just a horrible old lady with an equally (if not moreso) horrible perm.

Back to my anecdote. Nam in bathroom. Nam peed. Nam has idea. - I thought it would be really clever to use shaving cream all over my face as if I were going to shave, you know, like Dad. Despite being dumb, I was able to recognise that putting a razor to my face wasn't the best thing to do. Nah, I probably just couldn't reach it. Thank goodness. I used my toothbrush instead, to wipe off some parts of the shaving cream, exposing neat patches of skin. I looked proudly into the mirror. "Mum is going to be so confused!" I chortled and ran out to the living room. "LOOK, MUM! I shaved my face!"

... I got yelled at so much. My awesome joke backfired and my mum made me swear to her that I did not really shave my face.

It was difficult to trick my dad. He was always tricking me. He also used to peel kiwis so that they looked like they had dreadlocks and then carve faces into their flesh. Totally peeled fruit better than my mum (sorry, Mum).

This time I was trying to mimic the way my mum checked the ripeness of fruit at the fruit markets. I approached our fruit bowl as if I were a shopper at the market perusing the vast display of fruits (in the bowl of what.. 5 fruits? Such a dumb kid). Today, Imaginary Cooking-and-Cleaning-Motherly-Nam was going to prepare a scrumptious feast of avocado for her children's lunch. I picked up the avocado and turned it in my hands, like Mum did. It looked good but I thought I'd better check how ripe it was. I gave it a gentle squeeze to check its firmness. Except my grip was stronger than I anticipated. Yellow and green lumpy paste erupted from the broken skin of the fruit, much like a freshly popped pimple, oozing pus. Panicking, I wrapped the avocado in a few tissues (as if that would somehow disguise the avocado amongst the other fruits), put it back into the bowl and abandoned my imaginary grocery trip.

When Dad asked who squashed an avocado and then tried to conceal it, I pretended not to know anything about it. Fooled ya, Daddio!

I am still just as deceptive and menacing. Impressive, I know.

I feel fat. Fat and unenthused. About everything.

2011-02-25T23:55:00.004+11:00

Jiggle jiggle.

Bought 4 face towels before gorging myself on pho with the girls last night. Despite feeling sick, I was content (emotionally) for that moment. I'm glad that we're making an effort to keep in contact despite our separate career paths and whatnot. Cynical me expected us to never talk ever again. But hey, it's still early days.

Anyway back to the face towels. My latest goal has been to improve my skin (super oily t-zone, pimples and the post-pimple dark marks) without having to return to my evil witch of a dermatologist. She's so weird and she makes me so poor. $150 for consultation? I hate you, biatch. Soo instead of forking out on a specialist, I've spent the last few days on Ebay, my mind boggled by thousands and thousands of korean skincare products. All of which claim to brighten and whiten and translucify (lol) the skin. It's rather fascinating how many variations of the same thing they have. There's shiny packaging too. Damnation, they know my biggest weakness!

Uhh.. so yes. Towels were purchased so that I can turn up the facial hygiene factor by another notch. I've always wiped my body and face with the same towel. So festy now that I think about it. Rubbing all that bacteria from my hands and alright, I know you're thinking it.. my butt. All that bacteria back onto my face!! Hahaha, and my boyfriend kisses me. Sucked in.

Speaking of sucking, I suck. I feel like a loser every second day when my mum and/or grandma asks (sounding kind of exasperated) "So do you have an OT job yet?"
Do they really think that I wouldn't tell them if I got offered a real job? Working in the middle of a mall and selling candy isn't really a preference of mine, geez.

Til next time, ye-who-is-infinitely-better-than-me.

I like to picture what the world would be like if wheels were square.

2011-01-31T22:01:00.002+11:00

One day I hope that we can be like the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants. Corny and always communicating with each other despite the different directions our lives may have taken us. We can stay in touch and go on holidays together and talk about the opposite sex. We can laugh and cry together and pour our hearts out without a moment of hesitation. We'll be understanding of each other but honest with our opinions. We'll send each other packages from overseas. Maybe one day we'll be like the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants. But yeah, let's not share garments for years on end without washing them. That's just festy.

I've been feeling uneasy and stressed out these past few days. My self-confidence has been whittling away as fast as my overactive sweat glands have been well... producing sweat. I've been pondering a lot about what my future holds. Maybe it's an early onset mid-life crisis. Maybe it's the heat. It's probably just the thoughts that come with every major transition in life but I'm going to go aheag and say that it's a crisis. Crises sound way more exciting. It could be a crisis of sorts, I mean seriously, last week I wanted to get my belly pierced. (Fortunately) I remembered that I've accumulated a substantial gut from my habitual boredom eating. The body piercing people wouldn't be able to find my navel amongst the rolls let alone pierce it. Wow, that's an attractive mental image. You're not the only one glad who's that it isn't a reality. So with belly piercing out of the picture, I considered the coolness of a tongue piercing. Shortly after, I remembered that I will never be cool.

Maybe I'll just.. I dunno. Something interesting. Yeah.

I want to laugh so hard that I cry and struggle to breathe. Not that I have masochistic tendencies. It just feels like forever since I've felt enthusiasm. I bet in reality it hasn't been that long. But you know, time slows down when one feels like an emo. I know what it is though; I'm just getting too comfortable with nothingness. Gotta pull myself out of the quicksand, quick smart! See what I did there? I used the word 'quick' and I.. ah nevermind.

I've got some challenges lined up. Should be fun, or traumatic. It's okay, trauma beats feeling as flat as I do. I'm not even referring to my chesticles.

Tell them what I hoped would be impossible.

2010-09-06T01:37:00.009+10:00

I have a huge pimple growing on my head at the moment. It's times like these that I appreciate having a fringe (to hide giant pimples, not to gather grease and create more pimples. That would be ridiculous. Are you stupid?).

I littered consciously for the first time the other day. I was standing at a bus stop, eating a banana and I saw my bus approaching from around the corner. There was no time to find a bin so I just threw it into the garden behind me. I knew that it would come to this dilemma though; I knew there were no bins close by. I knew I could have just saved the fruit for later, but I was just so darn hungry. "I'll think about the consequences later." Story of my life, honestly.

Anyway so my throw was pretty dodgy (surprise surprise), and my banana peel got caught on a tree branch. Man, my littering isn't even inconspicuous. I figured "at least it will biodegrade and become compost for the tree." However, I'm not sure if that really works if the compost is breaking down at the top of the tree instead of at the bottom. Oh how I fail at life.

Speaking of breaking down, I wish I could break dance. I'd be the coolest homeboy in tha hood, yo. I wonder how I'd look in a doo-rag.

I swear, I'm going to get bashed for being a totally judgemental racist one day (there are racists that are not judgemental? Why of course, because I am full of many smart ideas). Or I'll be raped, depending on who I'm judging.

Man, I have zero tact. Awkward pause of agreement here please. ... Thanks.

3 more weeks of placement. I'm running out of time to do anything. I'm kind of starting freaking out because I don't think my interventions are having a lasting effect at the moment. I have not generalised any skills yet, uh ohs.

Still, the kids are a riot. It's so entertaining when they hurt themselves or tease each other. Of course I don't let on that I'm thoroughly amused though. I've got my stern voice (and matching face) down pat now. I think I've mastered the fake chirpy voice as well. The trick is to imagine that you're Johnny Depp from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Only less creepy. Pretending that you've just inhaled a litre of helium also helps. Aww yeah, I'm so deceptive. I could totally be a ninja.

A purple ninja addicted to helium.

And this is why I don't blog at 1:30am. This is why.

Hey I have peanut butter WOOOO!!

One of these days I'm going to print my face on a mug and gift it to you (and you'll have to pretend to like it).

2010-07-31T02:23:00.014+10:00

Being at 2 schools and having such a massive caseload is overwhelming, especially because I didn't take the paediatric elective last semester. It's hard to pick out the abnormal kids when you don't even know what normal is meant to look like. Actually, I don't really know how to identify oddness either. So basically I've been totally reliant on the other student to fill me in on everything. I feel so bad because she's been totally carrying me.

The other student is so confident and clear with her words whereas I'm always a blubbering mess when I try to ask or explain anything to anyone. So I've just been sitting there while she does all the talking. It's not just that. We're both struggling to build rapport with the friggin' staff. Each teacher has their own seat in the staff room and they all have their own routine, their own conversation buddies and whatnot. Then there's us; the scared little OT students sitting precariously on the end of the table (being careful not to steal anyone's seat and be despised for the remainder of the placement). As if our highlighter yellow t-shirts don't make us stand out enough already. I don't want to have to worry about offending staff by randomly butting into conversations where I'm not welcome. Stupid rapport. Go build yourself.

Oh and what the hell is "fruit break?" It's called bloody little lunch, man. LITTLE LUNCH. What is this fruit nonsense?! Other than that, K-1-2 is still much the same as I recall. The coveted teacher chairs are the same. The Aussie alphabet pictures are still blutak'd above the board. The covers of the home-reading books are still the same. The yellow assembly dots painted on the asphalt. Megaphones. Lunch orders. Bag hooks. Hands on heads. Look, cover, write, check.

Now that the whining is out of the way, it's been good. The kids are so cute. Their lack of inhibition is truly something marvelous. They may be naive but it amazes me how honest, simple and forgiving they are. My dream boyfriend?

And now I sound like a big creepo.

A little kindy girl made us snowflakes. She should have been doing her work though. At least we know she's able to use scissors (I wonder whether her grip is functional). Another little girl was insistent on teaching me how to speak Vietnamese and had her mind blown when I said I already knew, in Vietnamese *GASP*. I also have this pretty cool lookin' purple dingo-eggplant hybrid creature drawn in my notebook thanks to a little boy. The best part is we've been getting big smiles and waves wherever we go. Kids can be so nice when they want to be. Get on their good side.

Today I was in Target looking at DVDs and a Justin Bieber song started playing. This kid was like "Eugh! I hate Justin Bieber!!" and then this other boy from the next aisle chimed in "Hey! We do too! Don't we?" He nudged his little brother and all 3 boys smiled at each other. I got the feeling that they'd made some sort of silent pact to be friends and bond over their mutual hate of 'JB.'

So I was youtubing last night and I was looking at the popular music videos. It's occurred to me that JB's lame, prepubescent rapping sounds heavenly compared to this:

He looks especially awkward when he dances. Iyiyiyiyi feel sorry for him.

Random thought: I dislike it when people call unrandom things random. I'm aware that this is hypocritical but hey, whose blog are we reading? Mine or yours? That's right, so shut up. What I'm referring to is phrases such as "you're like, sooo random!!" For goodness' sake, how can someone be random? It's like saying "you sooo have an unbiased likelihood of occurring!!" Does that make any sense? No. It does not.

I wait for my toast to pop up, and then get startled when it does.

2010-07-19T20:05:00.001+10:00

Can't be bothered with flow this time. Hah, flow makes me think of periods. Periods make me think of blood clots. Blood clots make me think of this picture of a donut I saw the other day. It looked like bread with a blood clot in it. Which of course made me think of periods. Hah.

I don't know if it's the same for other people, but I often find unexplained cuts, bruises and soreness when I wake up in the morning. Perhaps I'm a ninja in my sleep. That would explain why I find a katana under my pillow each night. Funny? No.

I can never finish my shampoo and conditioner bottles at the same time. Even though the bottles hold the same amount and I use both each time, I can never do it. I swear, the day when both bottles finish concurrently, I will be so elated that I'll run outside naked and soapy and then scream to the heavens, "This is the life!!!"

The yearbook asked "Where do you see yourself in 10 years?" or something along those lines. I wrote that I saw myself married with kids and living in a quaint little place with a white picket fence and flowers. Realistically, if I am married by 28, I bet I'll be living in a flat with no fly screens, let alone picket fences and flowers. But hey, that's okay. My idea of happiness has changed a lot over the span of 4 years.

I think I've changed a lot over the years as well. So I guess people do change. It's just not always when you want them to.

I can't find my tweezers. Probably won't be able to see my face behind these overgrown King Kong caterpillars by tomorrow. "Nam, where are you?" *combs eyebrows out of the way* "Oh there you are!"

Damn, I'm really stupid.

Chocolate, please.

Out of sight, out of mind? Or does absence make the heart grow fonder?

2010-06-13T01:00:00.001+10:00

I've always been one to stuff up my priorities. Always. I think my first blog post was about me creating a blog when I had assignments due. That's so me.

I was talking to a friend today and she reckons that people never really change. As much as they want to, they'll still revert to the same old person. That could mean two things for me; 1, that I'll never make up my mind about anything (and thereby continue to hurt people) and 2, somebody else will continue to hurt me.

Oh how depressing. It's a shame I got my hair cut on Thursday and my fringe can no longer sweep over my heavily makeup'd eye as I shed that single tear.

How does one make a decision tantamount to life or death? A little dramatic of me? Perhaps, perhaps not. Does one ponder for days, weeks on end until the pressure and stress builds up and some sort of explosion is in store? Or does one retreat from the stressors by hiding out like a coward until the mind has settled down? What if the stressor is none other than oneself? Can't hide from that, no siree.

Went for my P's yesterday. It was kind of like dejavu, but not really. Three years back, I woke up late and rushed to get my L's at the same RTA. I didn't brush my hair or change out of my pyjamas properly. Similar story this time around. I woke up one and a half hours later than planned and sped to Fairfield. If that's not a sign that I shouldn't have my license, then I don't know what is. So yeah, anyhoo I failed. Not badly though so I'm not bummed about it. Who am I kidding, honestly. "Nah don't worry! I failed well!" I'm an idiot.

Hey, you know I've always had this strange fear whenever I'm on Facebook. It's as paranoid as my fear of forgetting to put my pants back on before exiting a changeroom, but still a valid fear nonetheless. You know how there's that text box for your status, like "What's on your mind?" or something like that? I'm always afraid that when I'm stalking somebody, I'll type their names into that box instead of the search box at the top of the window. So it would be like NAM (SURNAME): *insert name of someone hot, or their hot boyfriend* Haha, I kid. I don't restrict my stalking to just hotties. I stalk everyone.

Deactivating facebook for a bit though. Feels like I'm detoxing. Which reminds me of those horrendous lemon detox ads on the radio. Tania Zaetta and Geoff Field, your voice acting skills suck. "WOW!!" Oh, please.

Is this burning an eternal flame? Sorry, it's just a rash.

2010-05-19T21:14:00.006+10:00

Oh man, today I was totally rugged up. 3 layers of tops and a thick jacket and scarf over the top. It was uncomfortable when I tried to touch my toes to stretch. And by uncomfortable, I mean it was physically impossible to do without tearing my clothing and/or muscles. Or lack thereof.

It was nearing 3pm and I'd decided that I had had enough of uni for the day. I'd begun exhibiting 2 of the 3 major pre-meltdown warning signs. I had to get out before it was too late. Hah, I make it sound like I was about to turn into The Hulk.

Indicators of over-exposure to assessments:
- eyes shutting on their own accord
- losing all means of communication to grunting and pouting
- unprovoked hysterical weeping

So everybody knows that before leaving any place, measures should be taken to ensure that the bladder has been emptied. Needing to pee when there's no toilets around is rather unpleasant. I had to squat pee in a Cabra carpark between cars once. Most shameful moment of my life, it was. Stop judging me, I was 4 years old, okay?! My parents would have smacked the pee out of me if I didn't do what they told me. Which was to pee in the carpark.

I digress. My apologies.

Anyway so I went to the bathroom at uni. When I was bending over to wipe the toilet seat (with low quality bark-like paper* that I'm forking out like 70-something thousand dollars for)... my scarf unraveled and plunged into the toilet bowl.

Damn it, I liked that scarf.

*As opposed to the high quality bark paper, of course.

I eat tim tams in my jim jams!

2010-05-06T11:45:00.018+10:00

Hi. This is gonna be a long'un. That sounds like longan. I like them. But if I eat one too many, my nose bleeds like a bloody faucet.

I love today. The sky is blue, the sun is bright and its warmth really makes me appreciate how refreshing the breeze is. I just went for a walk and smiled a lot. Today is one of those days that I just love being alive.

Love. It's a word I don't completely understand but will continue to use every day. The concept baffles me; just how something can be so simple and still be so complicated. Some people write songs and books, some people dance, some people jet across the globe, some end their lives and others create new ones (wow, so x-rated) all because of this crazy thing called love. Freaks me out, it really does. I'm not big on risks (and as an OT in the making, I feel the need to assess and then apply the hierarchy of controls). I've let my guard down once before and the outcome was not in my favour. Naturally, the only solution I saw was to never let myself be vulnerable again. But as hard as I've been trying, keeping these walls up is proving to be rather difficult. That, and I reckon any heartache is worth the trade if it means experiencing just one moment when there's no denying that you're in love. Whatever that means.

That's about as serious as my blog will ever get, folks. Take note, this is going down in history. The next hundred or so entries will be brimming with stupidity. Just how you like it, m'dears.

Speaking of which, I note peculiar observations in the draft message folder of my phone. It looks as though I am prepared to send a whole bunch of nonsensical messages to friends about the most ridiculous things. Not far from the truth, actually.

1. Bin walking Friday breathe.
I hate walking to and from the station on garbage collection day. It's the worst when uni just so happens to be starting at a time that means I'm going to be following a garbage truck down the street. I end up doing that thing like I do with smokers, where I'll hold my breath (but try to look natural and cool) and stride as far and as fast as I can until it's safe to inhale without contracting cancer. But in this case I'm just avoiding breathing in bin gas (mmm evaporating bin juice. Sexy), which is totally on the same level as cancer. Seriously, people in my suburb should like, not eat, not use products of any sort, and not menstruate. Or something. Think about it, let's say there's 10 houses on my street. Hmm 4 people per household. Each household accumulating a week's worth of garbage. And I live around blocks of flats too. So many bins packed with lovely, festering garbage, simmering away in bin juice for a week until Friday rolls around. Only then are all the wheelie bins emptied; the lids knocked back, releasing a big green stinking cloud to engulf the whole Parramatta City Council area.

I complained about garbage for an unnecessarily long time there. Oh man, I really do talk trash! HAR HAR HAR, I kill me.

2. Tough guy inside out.
I was walking and there was this really big buff guy with an intimidating face and and body language. I was a little scared (being a young girl, alone in the evening) but this fear was quickly dispelled when I noticed his shirt was inside out. I don't think he saw me smirking. Probably not, considering my limbs are still intact and I'm not lying in a ditch.

3. Chips attack.
I was assaulted by a box of hot chips with mad taekwondo skills. As believable as that was, I'm sorry to say that it's completely untrue. Kind of came close that one time I was eating wedges and it was so hot it formed a blister on my palate and left me with a bit of skin flapping around whenever I spoke for a few hrs. Then the skin broke off. I think I swallowed it.
Anyway so I was walking by a strip of shops, minding my own business, iPod in ears, quite oblivious to my surroundings when this dude approaches from the opposite direction and suddenly halts in front of me. "Oh crap he's gonna knife me!" I thought, as Taylor Swift became background noise. I soon realised he was looking past me, over my shoulder at a packet of grainwaves. Fair enough, they're pretty good. I relaxed from my stance and continued walking. I wondered if anybody saw me tense up and raise my arms to defend myself. Oh well. Now it's too late for youuu and your white horse, to come arounddd...

4. Crossing road overcautious die.
This always happens. I'm crossing the road and I wait for a car to pass because I don't want to get run over. As I'm waiting, I realise that I should have crossed while I had the chance because the car is approaching at snails' pace. In fact, I could have crossed 40 times by now. Of course, at this point, if I were to cross, the car would be too close and I would get run over and die. It'd probably just bump me at that speed though.

5. Unfashionable Asian future.
Why are there so many fobby ladies with such poor fashion taste? I know I'm not the most chic person there is, but geez. This woman wore embroidered red pants with pockets. They might have been backwards but I couldn't tell. I don't like my outlook. I feel sorry for my future husband. He'll cheat on me and I'll kick his ass.

I used to hate it when my dad would iron my clothes because he'd always iron a crease into my flare pants.

6. P
Going for my P's next week. I'm regretting typing this sentence right now because it means that if I fail, everyone will know. And by everyone, I mean all of my two regular readers. Yeah, can't touch this, yo.

I Don't Like Change Very Much but Coins are Okay.

2010-03-24T16:21:00.011+11:00

The computer lab always makes me feel so paranoid. There is row upon row of computers, and when I am forced to take a seat that is not in the very back, I feel rather conscious of the people sitting behind me. I know I’m being silly and nobody is going to judge what I’m doing. Yet, I’m typing this blog onto the end of a 75 page manual about ageing and disease just in case. Think of what could happen if they all knew! “What is this blasphemy?! She’s not doing anything remotely university related! She brings shame on the USyd reputation! She must be banished from this campus!!!” And then I'd be chased by people yielding pitchforks, flaming torches, and chanting about beheading and/or burning me at the stake.

My morbid fears are not completely uncalled for, you know. As a person who sits in the back row whenever possible, I can vouch for nosy stalkers by saying that I do look at the computers in front of me. Yes, I see you, Gossip Girl watcher, and you too, Youtube UFC guy. And you, first year physiotherapy kid with the default coloured WebCT. Can’t say it makes me want to break out my pitchfork and flaming torch though.

Even the graffiti at main campus is superior.

I feel like I should reduce my font size or type something that looks uni-related. Ageing. Disease. Cardiopulmonary. Neurotransmitter.

Today I forced myself to read through a 14 page journal article as preparation for one of my classes. I found that this article made absolutely no sense at all and could not for the life of me, figure out how it related to what we had been discussing in class. Still, I pressed on. I highlighted and I summarised as best I could, cursing the lecturer’s irrelevant readings under my breath. After what felt like a lifetime of nodding off and taking one or two unnecessary walks around the library, I eventually finished the article. Pleased with myself, I thought I’d check the outline for the next reading and accomplish even more! It was only then that I realised I’d printed and read the wrong article. The title wasn’t even remotely similar to the correct one. Didn’t feel much like studying after that.

I was focused. HAH PUNNY!

On Monday afternoon I decided to walk from the station to uni. I’d had a cold for a few days prior so a nice leisurely stroll in the warm sun seemed like an appealing means of relieving my sinuses. Soon my mucous felt a little too runny. It was running and dripping from my nostrils (and of course I had no tissues). “That’s okay, I’ll just sniffle until I get to uni.” Thank goodness I was alone and nobody saw me leaking, right? Wrong. Nosebleed. Before I could say "Oh crappers!", blood was all over my face and dripping down my arm. I cupped my nose and feebly applied pressure whilst walking as fast as I could. It was only another 10 minutes before I’d get to uni. I freaked out. Okay, confession: When I was rummaging through my bag with my free hand, I came across a menstrual pad. It was very tempting. But only for a second, I swear. I’d rather look like a bashing victim than be caught wiping my face with a pad. Admittedly, it would have been really effective (it was a ‘super').

I ended up going into a random street and approaching two tattooed and body pierced boys who were smoking and consuming energy drinks by their car. “Sorry guys, but would you happen to have any tissues? My nose is bleeding.” They were nice enough not only to spare me the bashing, but also to give me tissues. They even offered me the whole box. I guess they figured I’d already been rolled.

Looks like it was taken straight from a crime-scene, man.

Speaking of assault, there’s been talk in the news about some Indian dude groping people in my area and then running off. My mum was worried that I would get attacked when I walked to Woolies at 10pm last night, but I reassured her that it was okay cos I’m an A cup and he'd have trouble finding my boobs.

Lastly and most importantly, the other day I saw a guy who had back stubble. Do people shave their backs?

Smiiile and Maybe Tomorrow You'll See the Sun Come Shining Through For Youuu...

2010-01-28T20:25:00.001+11:00

Hello.

I've been too busy lapping up the social butterfly lifestyle and enjoying myself to blog lately. Or maybe I've just been too lazy.

I am ashamed to admit that I am a tincy wincy itty bitty bit excited about uni starting up again in a month. I miss the routine and the learning. And using highlighters and pulling the lever thingy on my lever arch folders. Of course I'll retract this statement once the onslaught of assessments and endless nights of sleep deprivation begin. But for now, I am determined to focus on my studies and perform well this semester. HAH, that's so ridiculous.

Albeit being unemployed, I've found that this break has given me a lot of time to think. I've realised that I am a very selfish little girl who doesn't deserve the awesome awesome awesome (3 times to emphasise awesomeness by the way) friends I have. I've also realised that some things don't turn out how I want them to, no matter how hard I try or how many tears I shed. So as Nat King Cole once told me, "Smile, what's the use of crying?" Actually, I find that it can be sort of therapeutic to weep, Nat. So there. And it also helps when the wind blows dirt into my eyes. Yeah, that happens to me all the time. I swear my eyelashes are faulty or something; they do nothing, man.

Last night I dreamt that my eyesight had deteriorated significantly. Rather than being upset about having to rely on glasses to see for the rest of my life, I was happy that I'd get to decorate my face with cool frames. Goodness, I'm superficial even when I'm unconscious.

On an equally superficial note, I've decided to do something psycho drastic to my hair. Apparently that's the thing to do. So now I just have to decide. Orange or green crew cut?

I experiment with my hair regularly.

I thought a dead cockroach was chasing me.

2009-11-28T18:59:00.011+11:00

I feel guilty because I had to force myself to blog again. It's like.. exercise. When you do it regularly, it's easy to keep up, but if you let yourself go and try to get back into it, it's suuuper hard. Could it be? Has Nam been exercising? Yeah right. Do you see flying pigs? Cos I don't. And if I did, I wouldn't be sitting here blogging. I'd be outside with my pig net, fo shizz.

I am not a fan of the ads on the Sydney Morning Herald website. I always surf the net (the idea of me surfing anything is ludicrous because I am so extraordinarily uncoordinated, but anyway) with like 50 tabs open, so when some weird voices start talking and music starts playing, it's pretty darn hard to figure out where it's coming from. Usually I assume that some demon spirit has taken over my computer and is trying to send me evil subliminal messages and take over my mind. *Head rotates 360 degrees*

My brother and his lover (I have a knack for these badass rhymes) came back from China recently. I received a peculiar but much appreciated gift from the lady; it was a hair comb crafted from authentic yak horn. I must admit, brushing my hair has never been so appealing. If someone got me a bong made of yak horn, I'd probably take up smoking pot as well, just for the same novelty.

Years ago my brother tried to convince me that Yakult was made from yak's milk. It was probably all a part of his well thought out ploy to secure the last bottle for himself. I didn't believe him though; it was far too tasty, and there were no hairs or anything in it. But I did believe him when he said that branches were going to grow out of my ears because I swallowed an orange seed. He laughed and then added that he'd pick the fresh fruits from my ear-branches and make orange juice to drink. It was at this point that I cried and he called me dumb for not knowing that I'd need soil in my tummy for a tree to grow. I didn't know whether to be insulted or relieved.

This is a yak. It is being milked.

Anyhoo, time to rant about the mean bus driver because I don't like mean people. Mean people deserve eggs in the face! And not because eggs are full of protein and minerals which are great for the skin! Mean people deserve salted eggs in the face, so they'll both be messy, and dehydrated. Then when they try to use toner, it'll burn like a fricken biatch. Yeah, in your face! Pun intended! Why am I using so many exclamation marks?

The recount won't be as rivetting as the original because I've already told two people and since then my rage and abhorrence has since simmered down.

So on Friday I had to public transport my way to Parramatta Westfield Shoppingtown (yes, because I'm still on my learner's licence) to buy presents for kiddies. No, not my own. I believe in abstinence before marriage.

Annoying things about the bus driver:
1) He stopped in the middle of the road rather than pulling over to the bus stop. Then all the cars behind him got annoyed. Consequently,
2) When I boarded the bus, he closed the door straight away (almost on me) and zoomed off. I performed the whole embarrassing almost-but-not-quite-stacking-it-and-looking-terrified thing for the other passengers to see.
3) Then he gave me all this attitude for not having my fare ready even though I'd "been sitting at the bus stop for so long already." Twice. Well excuse me, Mr ASSdriver, I've never been on this fricken bus before and even if I had, you shouldn't be so rude because one day you're gonna get punched in the face.
4) When I apologised (for what?) he did not reciprocate, and just told me to cough up the money.
5) I had to pay him while clinging on for dear life.
6) He was ugly.

Man, summer makes my face sweat profusely. I need a balaclava made of terry towelling. Then every so often, I could take it off and wring it into the gutter.

SPOT THE DIFFERENCE!! Love these. (click it if it appears cut off)

I texted my mum and called her baby. T_T

2009-10-07T18:32:00.000+11:00

21st season has come a'rollin around. It's party party party! I really cannot be bothered doing anything for my 21st. It's just another year. What's the difference? I'm just a little older and a little flabbier. Dressing up in pretty frocks in freezing weather isn't really my cup of tea. "Hey there, check out my cellulite!" Hot.

Speaking of freezing weather, I'm in computer room at my uni library and I just had to excuse myself and wander around aimlessly outside for 5 minutes (5 cold, wet, windy minutes, mind you). No no, I did not do this because I thought "Well hey, it's a lovely day to get sick, and I have some spare time on my hands. Why not?" No, no. In actual fact, I was happily typing away about the correlation between young adults and pathological gambling. Just as I was getting to the juicy part about graphs and research methods, my stupid diaphragm decided to spasm. I hiccupped. Really loudly too.

The computer room is quite small, and very quiet; who the hell is going to be here at 6:30 in the evening? Actually, a few people. All within earshot of course. The girl next to me pretended she didn't hear. I'm certain she pretended because she still didn't react after I hiccupped another 6 times. And also when I shook/bobbed trying to hold in the hiccups silently. She's probably still laughing inside and only pretending to Ebay those shoes.

While I was outside I paced and tried to subtly bounce (to surface the air bubble in my throat), slowing down whenever I saw someone. It looked like I had some sort of uncontrollable knee flexing problem. When a girl walked by me, I stopped, suddenly intrigued by the noticeboard on the wall. I guzzled from my bottle of water, looking natural and relaxed. And then I hiccupped again and poured water down my face. Nam = epitome of cool.

I didn't notice that the exterior of the library was painted until my friend pointed it out to me today. Seriously, I think he's the only one that did notice it. Cumbo decided to liven things up by painting the grey cement an eyepopping shade of slightly-darker-grey. Yeah good job, guys. Kudos for matching it so perfectly with the rest of the fugly campus.

On a completely unrelated note, I had to stick my face in a hole today. And then act like a carpet. Being an occupational therapy student does have its perks.

Here is something my friend (not the one previously mentioned. Aww yeah, I'm popular and have two, yo) showed me last night. These days, some things are just too convenient.

Eighteen months and I'm not sick of you yet.

2009-08-29T19:20:00.007+10:00

I was feeling a little sad and lonely today. I figured physiology quiz questions wouldn't do too much to cheer me up. What I needed was a hit. Yeah a sugar hit. What the hell else, man? Cocaine would totally break the bank; I'm an unemployed uni student. I can't even afford lunch.

As I was saying... nothing cheers me up like cuppycakes!

By the end of it, I had to wipe just about every surface in my kitchen. There was lemon cream cheese frosting, cupcake batter and flour everywhere. A lot of it had somehow accumulated on the front of my shirt. I finally understand why people wear aprons. I thought people only wore them to look like Betty Crocker. Nope, no friggin idea what she actually looks like, but I imagine she'd wear an apron.

Uni is slowly sucking the life out of me. For some reason that figure of speech made me think of osmosis. Rad factor: 100.

I miss spotlight. Spotlight doesn't make me fat (mmm... modelling clay). Friggin cupcakes go straight to my thighs.

Got a really cool freebie pen from Westmead Children's Hospital at the careers fair on Thursday. HighLIGHT of my life. It's a pun, see, because the pen lights up.

Someone got rolled near my house on Thursday night and the cops asked me if I saw anything, hahahaah I live in such a lovely area. Come over to my place for cupcakes; I have bandaids and dettol on hand for when you get shot.

To this day, I am unable to eat celery without stopping to observe the xylem and phloem.

2009-06-17T21:39:00.002+10:00

Lately my life has been consumed by wheelchairs, literature reviews and activity plans. Yes, project placement eats away at the soul.

The group I'm working with are lovely though. We consume lots of sugar and coffee together. I don't drink coffee, so I normally just sit and watch. However last night, I decided I wanted to consume a hazelnut latte (I know, I know, Bec, you coffee junkie, instant stuff is inferior and I am risking our friendship by drinking such a caffeinated abomination. Spare me, I'm new to this whole coffee business). It wasn't so bad, you know, because lattes are like almost all milk. I figured I'd be okay. Oh, how wrong I was.

It was another night of incessant leg-bopping, humming, and notsleepinguntilfiveinthemorning. And, after 21 hours, my eyelid is still twitching. Ah, the joys of coffee.

Oddly enough, somebody sent me an sms at 2:30. I would have been mighty cranky if I were asleep (thanks again, Latte). Anyhow, I figured it must be a friend in some sort of crisis, or one of the delirious ones who haven't slept in days, sending me panicked messages about studying and exams. It was neither, unfortunately.

I think Mr-Automated-Optus-Robot-Man had too much coffee as well.

There's no smooth way that I can segway onto the next topic of this ever so meaningful blog, so I'll just throw it out there:

Random skin people in shopping centres.

Yeah, you know who I'm talking about. Those kiosk/stall people in the shopping centres, who are all like "Hi there, Miss! How's it going?" *Flashes bright smile* and then as soon as you so much as look at them, they grab your hand, start applying exfoliant and interrogate you about your skincare regime. Well excuse me, kiosky-skin-care-guy-with-the-big-smile, Just leave me and my clogged pores alone, I beg you. I have things to do and places to go. I would tell you this myself, but I just so happen to be a spineless pushover.

"Hi there, Miss! What foundation do you wear?"
"Oh, I don't usually wear makeup."
"Well if you were to wear foundation, which would you use?"
"Uhm, I dunno. Rimmel?"
"Why would you use Rimmel? Liquid, powder..?"
I don't freaking know. I haven't really put much thought into my hypothetical makeup collection and the hypothetical makeup look I am hypothetically aiming for.

Hah, I've become such an angry person.

The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round...

2009-06-03T01:14:00.006+10:00

Funny how I can be so productive during the day, but the moment I step through the door of my own home, the notion of getting anything done becomes almost an impossibility.

My back hurts when I don't sleep enough. I have a hunch (har har it's a pun!) that it has something to do with the discs between my vertebrae not having enough time to imbibe the fluid back in. Might be something more obvious than that though. Perhaps the foreign objects embedded within my flesh.

Teehee, I said "imbibe." Impressed?

Today somebody prank called me. It was a rather bizarre take on the traditional "You kick my dog!" so kudos to the mysterious prankster for their originality. This time I wasn't quite so bothered by my dodgy phone's inability to end calls. The girls and I quite enjoyed the ongoing variety of bird sounds you played for us, dear prankster. My favourite was the pigeon. Shame that you had to go after being reminded of wasting your own money though.

Also realised that I am well and truly incapable of giving directions and/or reading maps. It's at times like these that I'm thankful I don't drive. I reckon if I did drive, I probably wouldn't be able to make it out of my street, let alone find my way home. (Is it concerning that I considered purchasing a caravan just then?)

Smexy rating: 100.

Spock is Sylar with funny eyebrows.

2009-05-26T10:14:00.005+10:00

I miss documenting my thoughts.

I wanted to eat frozen yoghurt for breakfast today, just because. I reckon I would probably get diarrhoea though. Doubt that that would be pleasant on the way to the train station in the morning.

I wish I knew how to play a musical instrument. Or that I had any talent or skills whatsoever. It's not a jealousy thing, I just feel so.. boring. I hate it when you do orientation activities or something, and they ask you to tell them something special about yourself. I fear that I'll be sitting in an interview and the interviewer will be like "So what sets you apart from the rest?" Absolutely nothing at all, Sir. I recommend you hire them.

There's this person I know. I'm not sure if we're really friends anymore. We fight a lot and never seem to resolve it. It's always a matter of pretending that it never happened, just because we can't be bothered any longer. Or because we want to fake a friendship, just so that a mutual friend will be happy on her birthday. I notice a lot of snide comments being passed my way, subtly. And yet, when we run into each other, this person pretends that everything is just fine. I'll play along.

I think I'm a phlegmatist. I back this up with evidence from a facebook quiz, therefore it must be right. I guess that means my stripper name really is Bubbles HardDazzle.

I like my crumpets with honey.

2009-04-28T23:40:00.001+10:00

There was this guy that I saw almost every morning when I power-walked (poor time management on my part) to the train station. I would follow him to the station, to the ticket machine, onto the platform and into the same carriage. If only I alighted at Parramatta too. Yeah, that'd freak him out good.

I don't like the word 'alight' when used in the context of trains or any other transport for that matter. It's only permissible to use it when referring to things that have been set on fire. Otherwise, totally unacceptable and punishable by death.

The other day (and also on approximately 500 other occasions) I was in a hurry to someplace and I nearly slipped and died. I had that panicked my-life-is-flashing-before-my-eyes-I-hope-I-get-nice-flowers-at-my-funeral-I-like-tulips-uh-oh look on my face as I lost my balance. Then I perfectly executed the embarrassing wobble sway followed by the I-know-you-all-saw-me-slip-and-didn't-try-to-help-me-so-I'll-pretend-nothing-happened face. And yet I still insist on wearing those shoes because I'm smart like that.

On a totally unrelated note, I thought it was really funny when one of the patients at the hospital absconded. Mostly because they didn't call it an escape, I think. And because he ran off in a hospital apron. Geez, we only had a few aprons to begin with. Everyone was quite concerned though. I learnt to be concerned as well.

I was cooking today (without an apron because they're lame) and I handled a lot of chilli. My hands were still burning like an hour later. My mother dearest let me in on a handy (albeit wasteful) way to alleviate chilli burn, and that is... to soak the affected area in cold milk. Not too bad I guess. I think Cleopatra bathed in milk to keep her skin lovely and soft. Then again, she smeared crushed beetles on her eyelids too. Beauty Tips 101 with Nam Vuong (who can't apply makeup to save her own life).

"You can boil up the milk afterwards if you feel that bad about wasting it." Way to make me feel like a cheapskate, Mum.

Lastly, I now crave coconut cake. With a glass of milk of course.

Hi, Phyllus, I don't know how to spell your name.

2009-02-06T23:22:00.005+11:00

I never feel like blogging unless I have work to do. I currently have a lot of work to do.

Today a lady drew on my arm with black pen and then cleared me of tuberculosis. She wore gladiator sandals and had neat handwriting.

I don't know if I'm just a nasty scroogey (because 'scroogey' is totally a word) person, or if this happens to other people too. Little children trying to get your attention. Oh, the discomfort of it all. Now for me, I find it very distressing when little kids know that they're adorable, and they totally milk it. Not only do they smile and laugh with despicable cuteness, they maintain solid eye contact with you the whole time. And it's the kind of eye contact that you can feel on you even after you've awkwardly looked away (assured by a quick glance back, but it is crucial that this is executed subtly such that your eyes do not stop at any point on or immediate to the child. Unless you get a thrill out of enraged parents calling you a child-pervert).

But it's okay, we can all rest assured; for I have a solution, and what a grand solution it is! I do that thing where I pretend to be really focused on something far, far away, off in the distance. I also like to alternate this with pretending to be thinking really hard about something. I bet I look like I'm making a life-changing decision. I'm that good. All so that I don't have to interact with the rosy-cheeked, pig-tail flaunting infant chortling at my feet. Pshh, like the kid isn't faking the whole thing. I know you just want attention, you manipulative little person. You just want me to coo at you and gush to your mummy about how charming you are. Well it's not going to happen, so suck on that.

I don't hate kids though. I rather like them. I just have an overwhelming urge to spite everyone I meet; it's one of my delightful quirks. By the way, I totally disagree with what you're thinking right now.

While we're on the topic of eye-contact (because my blogs have such a seamless flow to them), I must comment on the topic of 'awkward eye contact with strangers.'

I don't like it when strangers look at me for longer than necessary. Necessary, in my books, is minimum the amount of time that it takes to glance at the surroundings and then continue to walk. Often, this helps to avoid walking into walls, trees, cars and other such pesky hindrances in one's path. What I do not appreciate is when the said stranger continues to walk, yet their eyes do not leave my own. And being the person that I am, I will of course engage in a staring match with them, purely to see who will hurt themselves first. However, I have found that this game does not work when both parties are stationary.

My name is Nam, and I don’t know the password to access my own wireless network.

2009-01-18T23:07:00.007+11:00

I’ve been feeling bad for that last blog post where I was whinging like.. uh… someone or something whingy in a situation that warrants lots of whinging (best analogy ever, no?). It was only my second day home without anything to do, and I've been keeping busy since.

I typed out a whole paragraph explaining what I meant by busy, but it made zero sense so I deleted it.

Being the Nammykins that we all know and love (this is where you imagine me prancing around in circles and basking in your deep love and affection for me, which of course is so strong that it will have materialised into the form of confetti, falling like glittering, coloured snow from the heavens) I shall be a big ol’ lazybottoms in recounting what’s been a-happenin.’

In order to be as succinct as I can, I will paraphrase the highlights of the summaries of some of the excerpts of my favourite selected adventures as of late:

PAIN: Months back, I slammed the distal phalanx of my right index finger in the lover's car door. It hurt; I fainted while he was picking out bandaids to buy me (before settling on the Simpsons ones. Score!). The black dry blood that had pooled under my nail has recently grown out as a new nail formed beneath it, and now there's only a little bit of deformed nail left 'til it's all gone!
LOVE: Three circles of friends banded together to shout me dinner and shower me with gifts for my birthday. We ate cake with chopsticks, which was okay because we were all Asian and knew how to use them. Except Simon, who often relies on spearing.

DEATH: Kelvin made a convincing dead body, lying on the ground behind a building at 10pm dressed in a garbage bag in an area closed off by caution tape. I took photos as he cried “Hurry up!”

GLUTTONY: I stuffed myself silly on potato salad, meat and trifle at Mel’s house and learnt not to buy the cheap brand of balloons because they are ridiculously crap. (Imagine a photo here)

MELANOMA: I went to the beach and returned without getting any sand in my underwear. Now there’s a story to tell my grandchildren.

BARGAINS: I took my first trip to Flemington markets but did not achieve my lifelong goal of learning how to distinguish a ripe watermelon from an unripe one. I could be tapping freaking boulders and I wouldn’t notice the difference. They probably wouldn’t even have to be green. (My camera had no batteries, so here is a boulder I googled.)

This blog has reached that familiar point again; the point where it goes from being moderately boring to extremely boring. So boring that, as Kim put it, one lies on the floor, as one's body contorts in agony.

And so I will end it now.

Okay now.

/Edit:
Today I hid behind an acquaintance's house and made her scream when she came out expecting to see visitors. I'm so good at making friends.

I also walked into another acquaintance's bushes and it knocked me into their car.

I hate (if there was a way to double, no, triple italicise, I would have so used it on the word ‘hate’ just now) that song by that Australian Idol winner guy with the glossy hair. “You can have what I got cos I don't got nothin’ worth havin’ if I--”Argh, shut up and go sign a contract with Herbal Essences already.

Urgh, mung bean and carrot smoothie.

2008-11-28T14:27:00.002+11:00

GARHGHGG.

I'm at that stage. You know when you first start your holidays and you're all like *reclines and exhales* "Ahh, this is the life"? Yeah, after that. After all the initial relaxation and chillaxing gets old. When the boredom sets in and you just want to stab someone.

BY GOLLY, I'm so bored. I feel like it's some sort of chronic disease I can't shake off. I'm so restless and agitated and everybody else is busy doing something or other infinitely more exciting than writing a blog entry.

Stupid blog, I hate you. GO DIE!

Man, I need a job.

Find bargains on tupperware at Ebay.

2008-11-21T00:32:00.008+11:00

My butt hurts so I moved to my bed. Mmm, cushiony.

Sometimes I like to think about where I will be in 10 years time. Will I be successful? Will I even be pursuing the same career path? What if I become a transgender.. I don't know, frying pan salesman or something. What if I lose those who are dear to me? Or goodness... What if I have varicose veins? If only there was such thing as a "what-if" machine like that episode of Futurama. Only then would all my questions would be answered. Although come to think of it, I kind of like the idea of not knowing what my future holds. Uncertainty scares me and it's that fear of losing everything that makes me appreciate all that I'm blessed with. Oh wait, I don't.

Moving right along.

The past couple of weeks of painful exam after painful exam have left their mark on me. Two marks actually. Two dark, puffy ones - in the form of eye-bags. I will soon have to tuck them into my pants so that I don't trip over them when I lazily shuffle my feet to 'walk.' The lover tactfully commented on them the other day, saying "Have you been punched in the eyes or something?" and then proceeded to scrutinise over which eye-bag was purpler. Ah, ain't love grand?

Speaking of love, I hate the Disney vault (I'm not really sure how I associated the two, but whatever). How dare they deprive me of my favourite movies for so long? I miss you, Aladdin. Do send my regards to Genie and Princess Jasmine.

The other day I was YouTubing Disney songs (because I am cool like that, yo) and I got to 'Part of Your World,' you know, that really sweet song from The Little Mermaid. There's this Miley Cyrus version of it. I strongly encourage you to have a listen.

Wow, what sheer talent that Miley Cyrus has. Now I finally understand why so many young girls idolise her.

What??
Seriously, I hope your ears bled the way mine did.

I've had a stomach ache for the past 3 hours or so.

2008-11-04T14:43:00.003+11:00

Dear Jen,

I don't really know how to tell you this, but our romance is over. I think I realised it when I changed tennis shoes at the mental hospital and I saw you drive out my avocado plant. I'm sure you're man enough to understand that your Honda sucks. I'm returning the couch cushions to you, but I'll keep your suicide note as a memory. You should also know that I never openly mocked Oprah Winfrey imitations.

Go burn,
- Nam.

I tag Jen, Jen, Jen, Jen and Jen. Because I don't know enough people who blog and have not been tagged already.

LOL; instructions posted as a comment.

Oh.

2008-10-25T22:00:00.000+11:00

Hm, today the lover proposed a trip after my graduation. He reminded me that I shouldn't repeat (ie. fail) any subjects. And that's when I realised. I can't afford to fail any more subjects after failing Functional Anatomy A. And by "can't afford" I am referring to both senses of the word:

1/ I cannot fit any failed subjects into next year because semester 1 is all clinical placement and semester 2's space has been taken up by the subject I had to defer this semester. Both semesters in final year are placement, and even then, I'll be cramming in electives.
2/ Repeating will cost money that I don't have, or won't have.

So... I'm totally screwed over if I don't pass everything from now on.

Golly, my blogs are boring.

I don't feel like recounting the things that have taken place since last time. I don't really feel like doing anything to be honest.

Grumpy me.

I hate the following:

- When family members do not squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom of the tube. I swear, it ruins my day.
- Rude people. Yeah, I'm talking about you, mean-window-ticket-guy-at-station. At least pretend to be nice.
- Never ever remembering which way to swipe my library card for printing.
- Menstruation.
- Knowing I can prevent crap things from happening, but not bothering to.
- Reflecting on my day and concluding that I've done nothing at all. Again.

...

So here's a photo of Judy in her birthday pyjamas at uni.

There are specific requirements if nylon carpets are to be used in health care buildings.

2008-09-10T14:17:00.000+10:00

Whinefest.

Woke up at 5:30 this morning to cram for Functional Anatomy A exam. Didn't really work, but it's not like it ever does, especially when you try to study in the comfort of your bed. With your eyes closed.

I thought I'd get to uni a little early today rather than being right on time or late, as per usual. Exam was at 10 and I was ready to go at 9; ample time to get to uni. I trotted out the door, notes under my arm, a thick layer of sunscreen clogging my pores.

In front of my house I have a brick fence with a metal gate in the middle. I always opt to jump this gate unless somebody is walking by, in which case I pretend that I am civilised. There was nobody around this morning, so I thought I'd save myself the trouble of opening the gate and just jump it instead. Now this normally works out quite well. One (or two if I'm in an non-exerting mood) swift movements and I'm on the other side of the gate, all set to walk to the station.

Ah, but not today. Rather than gracefully vaulting over the gate, I smashed my knee into the corner of the brick wall. Expletives flowed through my mind as I limped slowly to the station with my knee bleeding through the fresh hole in my pants.

By the time I was on the train, I was too busy trying to recall the attachments of the brachioradialis to mope about my grievous knee injury. I peered out of the heavily scratched windows, pretending not to notice other passengers staring at the diagrams in my book.
"Proximal two-thirds of the humerus, styloid process of the radius..." I mumbled to myself. Maybe I'll remember this one, I thought.
And then some guy with unusually pointy work shoes kicked me in the ankle.
"Sorry." He said, not even looking at me.
I peered out of the window again, pretending it didn't hurt and forgetting everything about the brachioradialis.

On the bus ride to uni, I was seated in front of two people who were also doing the Functional Anatomy A exam. It was like they somehow knew all the objectives I hadn't studied, and decided to mention each one just loudly enough for me to hear and cringe with dread.

Everybody knows I failed FAA last year. That's why I'm repeating it this year. Judging by how horribly the exam went, I suspect I shall be repeating a third time.

With the exam over, my day was brightening up. I went to meet my friends for two group assignment meetings and had a good laugh about everything. My friends always make me feel better.

On Wednesdays I leave uni earlier than my friends because I am not enrolled in Kinesiology (you have to pass FAA in order to do it) so I usually walk to the station alone. Call it lonely silence if you will, but I like the quiet sometimes.

I was nearing the station, pondering deep and profound thoughts and taking in the environment around me. I was still limping slightly as I turned one of the last corners. While passing under a lovely shady tree, I swung my backpack around to fetch my earphones to listen to some music.
"That's odd, why is my hand wet all of a sudden? Did something leak in my bag?"
Nope. A bird had just decided to poop on me.

I'm sure the bird didn't have any sort of personal vendetta against me or anything; it was probably just minding it's own business and I just happened to get in the way. But unfortunately, knowing this doesn't make me hate the bird any less.

They say that a bird pooping on you brings good luck, but considering the bad luck I've had today, it'll only be evening things out.

The hem of my right pant leg is stuck in my wheelie chair wheel.

2008-07-16T11:48:00.008+10:00

On the 6th of June I started a blog titled "I will cram until my brain haemorrhages." I am ashamed to admit that I did not cram until my brain haemorrhaged and so, have let myself down yet again.

I was definitely not the super-nerd that I said I would be and I struggled with a couple of subjects. For one of these subjects, I achieved ('achieved' isn't an appropriate word because it denotes success) an overall mark of 50.0. As I slowly (very very slowly) scrolled down the list of marks, revealing one result at a time, I held my breath. Pass. Pass. Pass. Pass. Credit. Distinction. Pass. No fails? ... What? That couldn't be right. Perhaps there was some sort of mistake and USyd got my results mixed up with someone elses? Perhaps this was all some sort of crazy dream and when I'd wake I'd find a big fat FAIL staring me in the face? ... I read over the results again and again, unsure of whether it was safe to be happy or relieved (because apparently, being both was not an option). Then I got distracted. The internet always does that to me.

On a brighter note, my clinical supervisor made me cry.

MANNN, I love holidays. I get to sit on my ass and do nothing for hours at a time. Look! I'm sitting on my ass and doing nothing right now. Have you ever experienced such a display of sheer talent?

Speaking of my flabby backside, I don't know if it's just me, or if anyone else experiences this too. I find that over wintery period I accumulate extra flab around the stomach region. In it's worst stage, when I'm seated and I slouch a bit, it's like *ROLLLL.* HAHAHA GROSS.

Anyway,

Jennifer has been blogging. I love Jennifer. Be miiine, Jen, I LOVE you! And I am also a fan of her blog. Go read it, because we have already established that I am so totally the boss of you.

Oh oh I almost forgot to ask, (I make it sound like it's such an important matter) what is your standpoint on Arnott's Chicken Crimpy Shapes? I am familiar with those who believe it is an embarrassment to the Shapes range of baked-not-fried savoury biscuitty crackers with "flavour you can see!" They argue that Chicken Crimpy Shapes are both bland and have flavour that is very difficult to see if not totally indiscriminable to the naked eye.

To this I say, GO GET YOUR EYES CHECKED OR SOMETHING. I like Chicken Crimpy.

One bladderful of V.

2008-05-17T03:17:00.013+10:00

I have a weakness for all things crafty. I think it may soon become so serious that it could potentially ruin my life. Like how some people fall into a gambling rut and practically live in the casino and leave distinct impressions of their ischial tuberosities in the slot machine seats. I on the other hand will be hiding out in Spotlight stores prior to closing time and as soon as everyone has left, I will run around the store buck naked (however, I may drape some colourful, sparkly organza over my shoulders depending on the season), throwing stickers, ribbons and paint from the shelves, leaving a trail of glitter and sequins in my wake. The following morning I will be arrested, but it'll be so worth it.

Chop.

When I'm bored at home with my iPod (or another similar music playing device which requires earphones), I sometimes enjoy turning it up to maximum volume just to hear that rattly sort of headphoney blasty sound from afar. And of course, to see how loud it will go. Whether or not I am the only one who enjoys ruining perfectly good earphones is not a matter of significance right now, dear friends. What matters is that every single time I play this game, I turn off my music-player with the volume still set on maximum. Now this is all fine and dandy, until I forget and shock myself into deafness by blasting one million decibels of music into my head the following morning.

Chop.

Over the past few months, I have been receiving a number of calls from strange men. They say things like "Are you available?", "How much do you charge?", "When will you be able to come over?" and "I found your number in the newspaper." I have gathered from such calls, that either:
a) A Japanese hostess has accidentally inserted my mobile phone number into her advertisement, or
b) I have a secret identity as a hoebag. And regular amnesia.
It could be both.

CHOP.

Phuong is cool because she shares a common name with me. Mel is not cool, because my name does not include Meliza and only names which belong to me are cool. That, and Mel is mean.

NERRD POWWAH!!!

2008-03-14T17:50:00.014+11:00

My mum bought me goi cuon on the way home from work today. "What? Why buy goi cuon when you're Viet and can make perfectly good goi cuon yourself??" I DON'T KNOW! It sure wasn't because I had a hankering for ultra-sour dipping sauce and bland rice paper rolls filled primarily with rice noodles. But I'll sleep soundly tonight, knowing that if I ever do have cravings for such culinary abominations, I'll know how to satisfy them.

University life resumed last week. There was something comforting about settling back into routine again. But all that initial comfort melted away as soon as I realised that I'd have to study hard to avoid a repeat of last year.

Those who are close to me (or are close to those who are close to me) will know that this year, I have vowed to become a nerd. Man, I gotta say, it's harder than it looks. I thought all I'd have to do would be to don a pair of thick framed spectacles, cultivate some more acne vulgaris on my face and wear tall socks. To my astonishment (and disappointment) I found being nerdy entails much more than that. But alas! This does not deter me, dear friends. Rather, I now aspire become some sort of super nerd master (I shall have a fancy cape with 'SNM' embroidered on it, and I will swish said cape dramatically before each exit). It will be like that evolution drawing I did for the yearbook, only in reverse order and compressed into a shorter timespan!

"Introducing the predicted tween bestseller of the century;
'Nerdimorphs' by accomplished author, Nam Vuong."

I'll be rakin' in the cash, suckers!

Irritable bowel syndrome. (Yes, he does bear striking resemblance to Tamarind-Man.)

Mud Between My Toes Make My Havaianas Cry.

2008-02-19T19:02:00.005+11:00

I don't feel like recounting what's been happening of late, though chances are I probably will anyway because I never have anything better to say.

I watched 'Hard Candy' today. I didn't really take anything away from it, except that castration is a remarkably easy procedure to perform. That, and one shouldn't drink beverages mixed by someone else. But I already knew the latter, so it doesn't really count.

Since we're on the topic of movies, the other day Juliabulia and I were on our way to Broadway shopping centre's Hoyts and we passed a church of Scientology. I took a photo of the sign and MMSed it to Lisapisa, who promptly messaged back, advising me to "burn it." I'm not sure whether she meant destroying the photo (by burning my phone?) or committing arson. Also, it's likely her paranoia will flare up and she'll make me remove this paragraph. I can always set fire to her house if she makes any such requests though.

That didn't have much to do with movies at all. My bad.

You know what's bad? Criminal even? The way they fully fully jack up the prices of snacks at cinemas. Haha, I sound like a tightwad but assure you that I am nothing of the sort. If anything, I am a loosewad. (What?) ...Anyway, the price of those MnM's was so ludicrous that if the air conditioning wasn't on so high that it was capable of evaporating a small pond, I would have been crying tears of rage.

Hey what happens when bottled water goes beyond the 'best before' date? Actually, is it even 'best before', or is it 'use by'? It just says a date. Or maybe the date is just a gimmick to FOOL US ALL INTO BUYING MORE WATER!! ... So does water even go off? Does it just get 'stale' tasting? Or does it turn a violent shade of purple and burn off your skin upon contact? Ha, that would be pleasant. "Hmm.. I'll just take a sip of this -- AARRGGHHGGH!!!!!!"

The way to a girl's heart is through lame puns and fruit.

I Love it When the Milo Powder Rises to the Top and Gets all Frothy.

2008-01-21T20:27:00.002+11:00

Funny how there’s so much I could have blogged about. So much that I “saved” for my blog. For you see, in my mind, there’s this green cardboard box (apple or lime green, with silver accents on the corners and maybe cream coloured ribbon or lace. Yes, lace.) and whenever I see or experience something worth sharing with my friends, Inner Nam adds the idea into 'the blog box.' Ah, but alas my friends, this seemingly perfect box has one fatal flaw (well it would if boxes could die); and that is.. it is self disposing. The longer anything is left in there, the more likely it is that it'll disappear into nothingness, never to grace Nam's blog for her minions' hungry little eyes (or big ones; I hear an eyelash curler and mascara can work wonders..) to devour.

And that is how I justify forgetting.

I do vaguely recall some events of note that occurred between my last post and this one though. I believe that over the thirty-six day period, Christmas, New Year's.. and some chilling with the homies took place. Naturally, in the spirit of blogging, I shall recount these in a reminiscent tone and also record my accompanying subjective observations. However, because you are not the boss of me, I will be super-duper daring (lazy) and do so in haiku form.

//Christmas Eve//
Spent with my darlings
wrapping gifts and eating stuff.
It was so awkward.

//New Year's//
The phlegm was quite thick
but that didn't deter me-
'cos fireworks are great.

//Homies//
Sefton buddies and
Cumbo ones are now equals
in terms of my love.

Hahahah those were so crap.

Speaking of which, I've started learning to drive. Oh gosh. My driving is horrendous. I don't even need to be holding a grudge against you, and I'll still run you over. But I guess it's alright as long as you stay clear of all roads (also footpaths, trees, electricity poles and generally anywhere outside of the safety of your own homes) until I've improved. Judging by all the progress I'm making so far, I'll only need another gazillion lessons or so. Let's see now... 50 dollars per lesson; 1 gazillion x 50 = 50 gazillion dollars.

Ergh.

Anyway, I have an apple green hole-puncher. I think it would go nicely with Inner Nam's box.

Great; the Super Glue Lid is Super Glued On.

2007-12-16T00:08:00.002+11:00

So did anybody else notice some inaccuracies in my last post? I sure did. Let us critique then, shall we?

"Customers walking out of change rooms and forgetting to put their pants back on."
We only have the one 'change room' so the notion of customers walking in and out of change rooms is absurd. Besides, it's just a (colourful and striped) curtain in a corner anyway; it doesn't even have walls. At least having no door means that if silly boys try on pants and pose for their mothers, the door won't lock shut behind them.

"The lady trying out jeans, unaware they are actually man pants."
Hmm.. from what I recall, I work in a children's clothing store. And for some inconceivable reason, despite my constant suggestions, the women who shop in our store don't seem to like the idea of trying on clothing for children size 7 and under.

"The regional manager reckons my marketing skills are pretty awesome."
I think she hates me.

"Just the other day, I hid in the clothes rack, and as a shopper walked passed, I called out "Pick me, pick me!". "
I'm not crazy. But I know who is.

"And oh how I'm so madly in love with Sim...ians, and um, the space monkeys."
Simians? They're actually kind of cute. You know who's cuter? Sim...ba. I love the Lion King.

"On a heavier note. Constipation. Bridie Carter, who won Dancing with the Stars, looks constipated. She's good at looking constipated."
Actually, yeah. She does. She is. Yeah.

So now you're all "Like, oh my freakin' GOSH! Nam's finally lost it! I knew she was insane all along. She's behaving as if someone else wrote her blog. That's like soo stupid. Like totally. You know what I mean? Totally."

Yeah, that's right, I think you're all bimbos.

And I suck at Go Fish, SIMON.

I'm tops at Snap and Go Fish

2007-12-15T00:43:00.001+11:00

I think I'm in love. There's one thing that has been on my mind these past few weeks. Work. Very sexy work. It's such a thrill. Customers walking out of change rooms and forgetting to put their pants back on. The expressions customers pull as they leave the store with clothing they don't need. The lady trying out jeans, unaware they are actually man pants. Loving it.

The regional manager reckons my marketing skills are pretty awesome. Just the other day, I hid in the clothes rack, and as a shopper walked passed, I called out "Pick me, pick me!". The shopper then drew their attention towards me, subconsciously selected an item of clothing from my direction, and proceeded to the counter with their credit card. AMAZING huh? Okay, I lied. The customer may have used Eftpos. But hey, it's still a sale.

I love work so much I've also been doing some charity work, by gift wrapping. Gift wrapping for Christmas! I love Christmas. I love helping helping people. And oh how I'm so madly in love with Sim...ians, and um, the space monkeys. Anyhow, I am so totally looking forward to gift wrapping this Christmas Eve. Something special is gonna happen. I can feel it. I can feel it in my bones. What is this amazing sensation? Oh wait. I farted.

On a heavier note. Constipation. Bridie Carter, who won Dancing with the Stars, looks constipated. She's good at looking constipated. She should be on one of those constipation commercials. And yes, I was rooting for Anh Do.

Ergh... I mean YAY, work is in a few hours. I'd best better go gets some sleepums. But I am asleep. Or am I? Who knows. Go fish.

I Like Shiny Things.

2007-12-14T23:35:00.000+11:00

I have much to say. In my next entry.

Mr Bloggles, oh how I miss thee.

I'm Still Alive.. Sort of.

2007-11-11T15:31:00.000+11:00

The past few weeks have been dedicated to studying for exams. I haven't slept. I haven't eaten. I haven't even showered. I'm so determined to get high distinctions in each and every exam I sit. I reckon I'm well on my way too.

Ngahaha! Did I fool you? Because if I did, then you my dear, are a sucker. For you see, this is Nam we're talking about here. Come on now. Admit it, you fell for it.

I'm meant to be cramming riiight now. I have Occupational Roles Across the Lifespan (which I labeled in my ginormous uni folder with the acronym "ORAL," but apparently it's actually "ORL") tomorrow and I'm far from prepared for it. Then there's Anatomy. Oh don't get me started on Anatomy..

I don't know about you guys (should I even be using plural?) but I am so SO looking forward to this holidays. It's not like I have a life, or any plans or anything.. but still. Any time away from uni is a good time, right? .. Gee, I don't sound very studious. Oh but then again, I'm not studious anyway so it doesn't matter.

Right. Well, I miss the beach. And my gorgeous non-Cumbo friends (gorgeous? Since when do I talk like that, daarling?). Anybody who's ever been to the beach with me would know that I quickly turn lobster red before going charcoal black. Okay okay maybe not CHARCOAL black.. but I look like I decided to crawl into the oven and bake myself at 300 degrees Celsius overnight. Oh how I love it so.

And I need new swimmers. My other ones were so.. eugh. I didn't have enough boob for them and I was super paranoid about leaning forward. I was also afraid of going deep underwater and then resurfacing to discover a 'wardrobe malfunction,' only without the celebrity status.. or the boobs.

... YEAH WELL ANYWAY, I have a job now.

HURRAH!

Do you like silky blouses? Me too.

2007-10-19T00:54:00.000+10:00

Man, it's kind of scary to think that this time last year, I had so many butterflies fluttering around in my stomach that they were threatening to burst out of my nose and mouth. And possibly my butt too.

(I don't know why I put labels on my blogs if pretty much all of them are "random" anyway.)

The year has gone by so quick, it's pretty hard to believe. I remember at the end of September 06, I blogged (on ye olden msn space) about the ending of high school and how important it was to me.

I can’t help but feel like.. really helpless because I know for sure that there will be some people that I’ll never see or talk to ever again and I won’t even know that I've forgotten them.

I wonder who I've forgotten already. And who's forgotten me?

Blah. Uni sucks balls.

I like to eat rockmelon.

2007-10-09T01:32:00.000+10:00

A lot has happened in the last .. however many months it was since I last blogged. But I can't distinguish the blog-worthy events/ideas from the non-blog-worthy ones, so rather than talking about every single thing, I'll talk about none.

Summer is nearing. Yay. I love summer. If it were a person, I'd so totally be best friends with it. We'd have matching friendship bracelets and everything too. Ah, summer is awesome. Except for the flies and mozzies. I'm not sure what attracts mozzies, but whenever its mosquito season, it's like I'm a freakin' all you can eat buffet or something. And FREE too. Think of all the Asian mosquitos! Omgoanna. Last year there was a hole in my screen door and I woke up the next morning with.. I think 27 bites on me? More than half of those were on my face too. Oh but don't get me wrong - I'm not complaining. I still love summer. It was just ridiculous of me not to have bathed in a tub of aerogard before bed, that's all.

I told people that I was going to bed ages ago. So I think.. I should be going, before I feel any more guilty.

Oh wait wait. What about energy drinks? I know my brother has tried just about every single energy drink available in NSW including this one I think might have been Thai. It looked like a really shoddy bottle of medicine that could potentially kill you.

That reminds me, you know those MAMA noodles? The super-spicy ones? Whenever I try to eat them, they make me cry like 5 litres.

Anyway, I've only ever had V. I consumed my first bottle when I was studying (to no avail) for neuroscience a month or so ago. At first I thought it tasted like tangy cough medicine but then it started tasting better and better with each gulp. I think I was about a third through the bottle (and probably only a third through neuroscience too) when I decided to take a nap. It wasn't so much because I was tired, but more because I didn't want to get addicted to V. They say (who exactly is "they" anyway? How vague) that if you consume caffeine before you sleep, you end up having turbulent and freaky dreams.

I dreamt that I was yelling and threatening a pack of strangers with my shoe.

Because the Japanese dish told me to.

2007-08-20T18:41:00.002+10:00

So here's another blog entry, Akatsukukaikaitikoakuki.

Right now, I'm meant to be writing my Functional Anatomy A notes. But of course, I am not. The radio is singing a song about HBA insurance and getting to know your dentist. I don't think it's a very effective advertising ploy.

You know what ad freaks me out? The one on TV about drugs. I think it's pretty old but it shows all these people's effed up (lol) lives and there's voice-overs from little kiddies and their happy little aspirations, but NO, LOOK WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU TAKE DRUGSSS!!! You become a prostitute who bag-snatches, and fights with your own MOTHER.

Oh and I hate Clark Rubber ads. Stupid Clarky. I'd attack him with a chainsaw if I had one. And if he were real.

I bought little wooden (?) shapes and I'm going to paint them and decorate my "workspace" with them. There's a pig, a whale, an elephant, a dinosaur and a frog.
Oh gee whiz, I love painting. I still have a burning hatred for HSC Visual Arts though.

The other day, I was lying in bed (rather than studying, yet again) and my mind started wandering. I started exploring good ol' Sefton High in my mind. The playgrounds, each and every block. I think I had to go through every single part of the school because I was afraid that I'd forget it and I really don't want to.

That was lame.

I noticed on the way home from uni today that Sefton kiddies look at you oddly when you're an ex-Seftoner. They give you that look, like 'I know you were a year or two above me but I'll just look at you awkwardly until you give me the acknowledging smile and are out of my field of vision'. It felt peculiar to be on the receiving end.
I also had a slow conversation with this cognitively impaired guy on the train. His name was Wayne.

On Friday we had a uni excursion to the Independent Living Centre. It wasn't very exciting. It was really far from the train station. And to think, I was going to walk. Anyway, after that, I went shopping for my brother's birthday present and bought myself some shoeses (which look a bit spastic, I must admit. People keep looking at them. I was considering walking barefoot to avoid their curious glances) and, I bought Harry Potter 7. Why? I was curious to know what all the hubbub was about.

Man, it was the cat's pyjamas. But I had the (hardcover) book on my lap while I was doing my uni work (yes, I was) and it slipped, so naturally, I with my superduper reflexes, slammed it back up again. The cover corner made a FREAKIN' HOLE in my hand. I took a photo to show Julia (who'd undoubtedly enjoy that sort of thing) but then I decided it was a bit of an odd thing to show someone, so I slapped a bandaid on it (after excitedly showing my brother the blood).

Happy?

I wonder how much a 4 litre bucket of sour cream costs.

2007-08-07T16:40:00.000+10:00

So I thought I'd sacrifice my precious nap time to blog. Actually not really, I kind of just went online and got distracted for an hour and then thought "Hey, might as well waste some more time by blogging." The sad thing is, after this, I'm probably going to waste some more time sleeping. Actually, that's not really sad at all.

Lisa just called me and randomly started talking about eggplants and haircurlers. I don't remember what eggplants taste like. I don't eat them often. They remind me of mangosteens. Actually, it's probably more like the other way around because I discovered (the joy of) mangosteens after I had experienced an eggplant.

I think I'm saying "actually" too much today.

There's nothing very exciting to blog about. Not that there ever is, considering my totally mundane life, but today it seems like things are especially dull. As always, I went to uni and used up a bunch of A4 loose leaf papers, and then went back home again. Usually, during that stretch of time between waking up and going home, I'm mentally checked out. And maybe for another 3 or 4.. or 5 hours after that too. Oh but I was surprisingly awake today! (Yes, I am aware that that was not worthy of an exclamation mark, but I was desperately clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe if I punctuated my sentences with exclamation marks, I could trick someone into reading it. !!!!!!!!!!) I wasn't tempted to doze off even once. Now that, that my friends, is studiousness at it's best.
Then again, I did sleep in and miss my first lecture. It was a crummy subject though, I promise. But let's not tell my dad anyway, okay? Okay.

I wonder if anyone has bothered reading this far. Someone.. let's call him Cough, just said that nobody reads my blog. Cough is mean. I remember the first time I did the online driver knowledge test (without studying, mind you) I failed and he said that everyone passes and suggested that I sucked. I was so cut. Damn you and your straightforward truthfulness.
Yeah I'm bitter. Get used to it, or I'll hold a grudge against you too.

You know what?

I don't know.

I have enough textbooks to build a sturdy fort.

2007-07-25T17:09:00.000+10:00

My bottom lip is on the verge of cracking any second now. I think if I smiled, pouted or yawned (or even a combination of the three, if I was feeling especially daring), it would break open and blood would erupt (much like a volcano, only with no pumice) everywhere and my chin would be dripping with blood and my top would be drenched and my eyes would pop out alarmingly and I'd screech in a very chilling manner and it would echo slightly for an extra creepy effect.

Anyway, I've been meaning to get something off my chest since Saturday morning. I think.. I think it's time for me to reveal the truth to the world.

I have the worst haircut ever.

EVERR.

Girls, remember the Asian-straight-across bangs we all sported when we were four years old? Yeah? Well I have a shorter, ultra-dodgy version of that. And so my friends, the fringe will henceforth remain bobby pinned away from your discerning little eyes.

"This is the first time I've cut hair." She said as she hacked away at my fringe.

Today, Yesterday, the Day Before That, and the Day Before That.

2007-07-16T10:39:00.001+10:00

Today I'm finally getting rid of that enormous pile of high school textbooks (and notes) that has been clogging up my (extremely small) room for the past.. 6 years or so. For you see, my dad's friends always seem to have kids that are in need of such nerdy things and of course, I am always super-obliging and more than happy to lend a hand in the kid getting a 99+ UAI.

I felt so deprived; handing over that massive stack to my dad, a part of me squealed "But Nam! You spent forever writing those notes!" and my hands were reluctant to let go. And then another part of me interjected "Hang on, you did pretty poorly in that exam, didn't you? So who cares." Then I smiled and slammed them down (they were heavy), wondering whether or not it was normal to argue with myself.
I did keep my bio and ancient history notes. However, I don't see how ancient history could possibly come in handy for OT. Maybe I just have a soft spot for good ol' ancient history. *Nam strokes her folder of ancient history stuff lovingly*

Moving on.

Yesterday, I went to IKEA with my brother and my dad. My Goodness, that place.. is like.. MY HAVEN. WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS HOW WONDERFUL IT IS. Yes, I have been there before, but it's still the cat's pyjamas. (Yeah apparently that's old school slang for something remarkable. I shall use it from now on because it's like so the cat's pyjamas)
BythewayIloveBananasinPyjamas.

I bought a new bin for my room, a pretty jar (which will soon contain colourful candies) and a plush rat. Why? Because large, grey rodents are oh so cool. Duh.

The last few days, all spare time (ie. every waking hour) has been devoted to reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Shut up. I bought it on Friday, as well as a cardigan-ish thing that makes me look like a man. Manly cardigans are almost as cool as large, grey rodents, you know.

Deborah is cool too. Thursday was her birthday. The youngin' finally turned 18. Let us all go out and celebrate this momentous occasion by getting drunk. Psh, get lost.

Anyway, we met up with Deb after workums and went to Wagamama (over-priced, under-heated Japanese goodness). The people working there are very nice (even if they do have bad handwriting and don't close the circles they draw). All was good, except our laziness resulted in a melted cake (sorry, Deb). Then.. we just wandered around.. and also released our pent up silliness in one of Capitol's many photobooths (the one that Lisa, with her photobooth expertise, deemed worthy of our use). Because everybody knows that being ridiculous is funner when it costs 12 dollars and is available in sticker form.

"Look at our cool drawn-on party hats. We're so the cat's pyjamas."

And by the by, I have no idea whether or not I am using the cat's pyjamas thing in the right context.

Hip Hip HOORAYY!

2007-06-30T00:24:00.000+10:00

Exams are over, and I can't say I did very well. But I didn't do that badly either (did I just write that as a preemptive measure to avoid Tung yelling at me if he reads this? I think so).
I was expecting myself to be totally stoked the moment I stepped out of the exam room, but seeing as I stepped out alone and there was nobody to squeal and bellow "FINISSHEEDDDD" to, it was more like *cricket noises* and by the time anyone I knew came out, all my post-exam relief had run out.

After leaving uni yesterday, I promptly went to Bankstown and bought felt. Terry misunderstood me when I told him "I need to get felt." HAHA.

Thenn.. it was time to celebrate Lisa and Tuyet's birthday (late for Lisa, early for Tuyet) but unfortunately Tuyet was unable to make it last minute. Nuts. It was really fun though. We went to Carne Station in Parramatta and came out smelling like a Korean BBQ. I was afraid that stray dogs would follow me home.

Oh oh, and Sophia lent me A Walk to Remember and The Notebook. I think A Walk to Remember was a bit of a letdown. I had such high hopes and it turned out to be outrageously lame and overdone. Then again, it's not so bad compared to some other movies I've seen.
The Notebook though.. Oh dearie me. It made me CRY. ME. NAM THE EVER-COLD WITCH WITH A HEART OF BLACK STONE. I like that movie. I couldn't help but think that there was excessive making out though. Or maybe other movies don't have enough making out?

I also got my learner's licence today. A bit late, I hear you say? WELL SCREW CONFORMITY, OKAY? I'll only get my L's to evade the law changes.
I came about 10 minutes late though. Possibly because I woke up 15 minutes before my booked test time.
I don't think I gave the impression of being a responsible driver because I seemed really lost and distracted. I never knew who the RTA lady was talking to; I'd listen when she told somebody else to do something, but when she talked to me, I wasn't paying attention.
She also didn't sound very genuine when she said "Congratulations, you passed" either. It was so monotonous that I thought I had failed. Can't blame her though, Fairfield RTA was fully packed, bro (there was this guy I was waiting with and he was on the phone and I counted that he said "bro" 17 times within a span of about 40 seconds).

Wooo.

Exponential Growth and Decay.

2007-06-22T00:51:00.001+10:00

I've noticed that the amount of comments I'm getting are decreasing. Maybe I should graph the changes? No.

Being distracted from my studies yet again, I've been blog hopping. Landhead was talking about mangosteens. They're yummy. I've only ever had one.. maybe last year? I asked my mum to buy me one when we were walking past some fruit shop in Cabramatta. I'm not sure if it was ripe though, because when we asked which ones were tasty, the fruit-man responded in Cantonese.

I think it might have been Lisa that made me go through my I-want-to-eat-a-mangosteen phase. She told me that these mysterious purple fruits tasted sooo good and that if she could go to Vietnam, she'd eat them all.

Here's one I prepared earlier.

Okay, that's it. I officially ban myself from blog hopping and blog writing until exams are over. Boo.

I Like Pasta. Snow Peas Too.

2007-06-20T16:44:00.000+10:00

It took me a while to sign in because I didn't know what my username was.

Well today was the first day of exams. I was really hoping that it'd kick off really well, you know? ... I'd be on a roll for the rest of them, and I'd finish the exam period with a big smile on my face and if anyone asked how my exams went, I'd proudly (but not so proudly that it's cocky) respond, "Yeah. Mine went well, even the first one!"

Oh how my hopes were crushed.

Everyone was sick today. According to the Social Medicine model, this is all society's fault.

I think I really need to go out and buy some winter clothes because wearing 50 layers of summery things just isn't cutting it anymore. Clothes. Delicious clothes.

When I was digging through my wardrobe for clothes this morning, I happened to see my reflection in the mirror (yes, I survived it too) and my right eye was SUPERRR puffy, like SUPERDUPER puffy. Maybe if I wasn't so busy cramming, I'd take a needle and try to pop/deflate my eyelid.

Speaking of embarrassing facey things, a good friend of mine got chicken pox today. Or maybe it was yesterday? Poor thing, having to defer all those assessments. Not to worry though, calamine lotion is wonderful. And if you're bored, you can pretend to be Aboriginal and make pretty patterns on your skin with some lotion and a cotton bud.

Was that disrespectful? =/

My nose is peeling. It's like nostril dandruff.

2007-06-07T20:05:00.000+10:00

Man, I have nothing to say really.

My mind is just like.. random thoughts flying randomly this way and that.

I hate how people judge others based on their looks. Not being dashingly handsome or drop dead gorgeous does not make somebody less worthy. No, this is not from personal experience.

I like SPC peaches and pears.

Oleic acids are monounsaturated fatty acid found in olives and corn.

Sometimes, like yesterday for instance, I feel overcome with this nagging stress and I don't know why. I don't know what it is that is making me feel uncomfortable or how to make it go away. Then I distract myself.

What the heck is a carboxyl group?

I have phlegm. It was green yesterday.

I'm sick of you already.

2007-06-04T18:33:00.001+10:00

I want lollies right now. Colourful ones. Preferably semi-translucent.

And that big too.

I remember in primary school, if anybody liked liquorice, they were immediately shunned.

But I don't like liquorice. (Please be my friend?)

It was like that with pickles too. Like in Kindy, back in the day when MacDonald's parties were so awesomely cool. There was this one time when we got to go on a tour through Bass Hill MacDonald's.

I remember it like it was yesterday. The Macca's employee was desperately trying to make light-hearted conversation with us by asking random things.
"Who here likes Ronald MacDonald and his friends?" He asked cheerily, beaming down on us.
"MEE!!!" We squealed, bopping up and down.
"Okay. Who here likes pickles?" Macca's-employee asked as we walked/bopped past a stack of sliced pickles.
One girl shot up her hand. "Me! I love them!" She squealed.

Silence.

"EEWWWW" We whined in unison.

Oh, the look in her eyes. She was so hurt. So embarrassed. SHAMED TO THE GROUND.

Only now can I admit.. I LIKED PICKLES TOO.

I'm sorry, acquaintance-whose-name-i-have-long-forgotten. I'm sorry you were subjected to the taunting alone. I'M SORRY, OKAY?!!?

I'm sorry I was such a coward.

..Oh and the ginormous jelly babies were by Mauro Perucchetti.

Eyebags are all the rage.

2007-06-04T03:39:00.000+10:00

It was 3:30 on Monday morning and Nam was huddled in front of the laptop, her assignment papers and textbooks scattered around her.
"Oh gosh, my assignment is due today, and I am far from finishing! What ever shall I do?" She asked herself, that nasty panicky feeling beginning to rise within her.
"Of course! I shall go blog hopping! and create an account of my own too! That way I'll surely get my assignment done, quick smart!"

Nam was always good with prioritising.