Santa is Watching You

While I work on the war diary documenting my travels to the Land in the East, like a shameless commercial popping up just as the hero hangs precariously from a cliff hanging precariously from a cliff, I send you this message with great concern. Pay heed to this warning.

But not to worry! Because in these dire times of need, Santa is watching, and will be there for you. Whatever the place, whenever the time, Santa is always watching.

And so I learnt.

When I arrived in China, I was under the assumption that the regime was over. I was, in fact, correct. The first regime was over. The age of Mao is over. The age of Santa is rising.

It should be noted at this point of time that according to our tour guides, the chinese aren't particular about religion. But instead of turning to Dawkins and his il- like, they have chosen a more Samaritan way of life, or more fittingly, a more RPG way of life: always pray at altars, no matter what they might be.

So in other words, they can be likened to a house wife trying out five different brands of detergent, but never really deciding on one in the end.

This means that they will not hesistate to sing of the birth of Christ in the very same room where sticks are burned in front of tablets with dead people's names writen on them. Subsequently, this led to the same five Christmas songs being blasted at me in the hotel corridors and dining areas for five days continuously.

So perhaps the only thing that could send me into a berseker fury after such an ordeal would be the words:

Hey, Listen!

Pride comes before Fall, and so does Spring

Well, in just a few more days or so I'll be flying over to the land of Tim Sum and... you're going to have to give me a minute or two to figure out what else there is in China.

Well , there's not really much to talk about at this point of time. The orientation 2008 planning sessions have come to a standstill so far (which is ironic because Steph is in charge. No really.), but the possiblity of a meeting tomorrow stills exists as a waveform, and before the waveform collapses, I'm trying my best right now to gather as many people involved so that we can all assemble at school tomorrow and complain about the weather before going home and wondering what we came out for in the first place. Which of course, was for the purpose of coming to school and compla...

Before I hit Ctrl Alt Del, I'm going to announce the possibility of the existence of a waveform that I may document the whole China trip thing, just for the hell of it and because presumably the moment I stop typing, I stop thinking, and you can't get much of a rush from typing qwerty over and over again.

Don't call me. I'll call you. (*sniggers* right...)

Plot vs Themes

A warning to those of you who do not relish the thought of killing Covenant scum and saving the universe at around midnight: You may be the only people who actually bother reading this entry. Amazingly, today you will find that this entry is a discussion. Not just any discussion, but something you don't really find these days: an intellectual discussion (at least, not on youtube).

If you'll pardon me for my excellence in the previous paragraph (alright, i'll try and stop that now), I've just finished reading Douglas Adam's Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, and if you've read the appraisals on one of his books, you'll notice that all of them will indeed contain at least one synonym for "insanity" or "lunacy" and other mean words.

It should probably be noted that Adams' books have sold over eight million copies worldwide (I'm assuming that's worldwide, just to give the other authors face.). And the reason for this, in my humble and unworthy opinion, is the absolutely ludicrous yet brilliant plot that he magically conjures up everytime he writes a book. Whenever some power unknown entity possesses you to pick up one of his books (that was its end of the bargain), when reading it you will tend to go through the following process:

1. Read a few chapters, and find that they hardly have any connection with each other whatsoever.
2. Read the whole book, and nurse the wounds on your face when you finally realize the connections that the events in the first few chapters have with each other, and realize the great plot that Adams' has orchestrated.
3. Marvel at the great plot Adams' has orchestrated.
4. Finish the book and sigh in relief.
5. Read the book again, this time without the marvelling but still with a certain degree of sighing.
6. Marvel again after reading the book again and go online in a valiant attempt to actually understand the whole plot.
7. Marvel again when you find that you enjoyed the book regardless of the fact that you missed at least one major plot element.

Congratulations! Welcome to the Adams family!

But here's the question (yes, after half the entry):
Can Adams' work be considered literature, or just a smashing novel that's fun to read?

In other words, is a novel defined as a good one by its plot elements or by the themes it discusses?

Look, I apologise for this whole thing, and I realize that the holidays are here and you need a good rest from all this literary nonsense, but it should be noted that I'm suffering right now and you're all my friends. Right? (Where's my handgun?)

Anyway, back to the main point... Adams' works don't discuss many themes in detail. Rather, what he does during his novels is bring up a subject, muse about it a little in a very amusing and insightful way (is there anything else I could say, seriously?), then move on to the plot. In the end, what really matters is the smashing plot. But with such grand orchestrated plots, it seems far too unjust to say that Adams' works are not literature because they don't discuss themes into such a great depth like the works of Dickens' and the like.

Comments on the tagboard please.

The Occasional Blockade

It would seem that after what appears to be a writing spree for a week or so I have finally encountered the dreaded and nearly mythical entity that would make the Ring video seem like it was in full color with cheesy Flash effects. It seems to happen to every writer (or anyone who calls himself a writer) where at some point of time they simply can't get any words out as fast as they used to, and even telling people that they used to be able to get out some words faster seems to be a lot more difficult than the last time, whenever that was.

It would seem that I'm getting somewhat of a demo of this whole thing. My whole mind has seemed to be getting foggy somewhat of late, so much that a London weather girl could take one look at my cranium and sink into a deep depression at who anything could possibly outsmog London.


In other words, what I'm really trying to get across here is that my writing may not have been what it used to be, whatever it used to be, and that may or may not be a bad thing or a good thing respectively.

But meanwhile, a pre travelogue.

Knowing me (and if you don't, then well done), most people might already know that I"m flying over to China at popular request of the Japanese. And while all the negotiations and such are going at this time, I'm simply getting ready to fly over, and no cybernetically enhanced super soldier in green armor's going to stop me.

Anyway, not two days ago, I, accompanied by my mother (damn! mixed up the order again), graced a Winnings winter ware wearhouse sale with our presence.

I should probably say that at this point, I was rather charmed by the selection of coats that they had, that is to say, completely gobsmacked and on my knees. And while I could take this opportunity to make an even greater homage to the Queen (I mean, the QUEEN), I'm going to have to describe the coats now, so I have no choice but to move on to the next paragraph and let the QUEEN have this one.

The place could only be described as a coat hangar (yes, with an "a"). And while there were plenty of coats that were actually useful, the ones that I really grew partial to were the trench coats. Well, not so much trench coats as they were the kind that you would wear while trudging through the night streets of London with a smoke that was almost burning out, and with a case on your mind. It was simply beautiful, and would have descended from the heavens if it wasn't for the damn ceiling.

I would, at this point of time, like to say that I had gotten the coat.

While I'm wishing, I'd like a time machine.

And with that, I have nothing more to say on this subject that could possibly pacify anyone (or entertain, if that's what's popular these days), and I therefore must adjourn this session with a few pictures, along with some loose commentary.

Together, we can fight cancer. And fashion.

I'm afraid the Boss isn't in at the moment...

I don't have to tell you what I was doing in the wool socks section. (Yes, the ones for your FEET.)

Ad-versity

Anywhere, here I am sitting outside of the grease factory Burger King about to embark on a journey of linguistic rampancy and make fun of advertisments.

Yesterday I was feeling extremely lethargic but went out anyway, only to realize that the moment I got to my favorite spot at the library (the one the turrets can't reach) I immediately got bored and proceeded to pack up and go home.

But today my forgetfullness has given me a purpose in life, that is, to get a present for Damien tomorrow because it's my birthday and Gan reminded me just one hour ago. Now Leroy and I, I mean, Me and Leroy (sorry about that I know you own me) are in a frantic rush to get something for him (preferably appealing to both him and his tiny alter ego) from Comics Connection and make up an ad hoc party tomorrow.

But first, as is the custom with all of my blog entries, I must make fun of something.

Just ten minutes ago I was passing by an OSIM shop in Westmall (that is to say, not coming out of it), and as a result, an advertisment on one of those LCD screens. I immediately turned around to get more information on Hellgate London when I suddenly realized I really didn't need a remedy for snoring at night, so I immdiately resumed my original course.

Anyway, the wireless in this place is totally f-ed up, and so am I (without the dash), so I'm typing this thing out on notepad while I wait for Leroy to come over and ask me what I have in mind.
Anyway, lately I've sort of lost my tempo. (Austin Powers had it lucky) I really have idea what to do, even though I know I'm supposed to be making up a schedule for the Orientation Dinner (in or caps) or studying Trigonometry or something along those lines. But right now I'm really just kicking it (and managed to disappear in time during the commotion) and doing things like playing Halo or leading the Toxin Rebels to glory.

There's probably going to be a meeting tomorrow and so I really need some ideas up to appease the almighty Stephanie, so I would appreciate anything you can dump on the tagboard. Tell me whatever you'd like to have during an orientation dinner and i'll try my best to bypass the Smartfilter.

Cool, Calm and Compost

Over the last few days my routine has been pretty much the same: Wake up two hours after the time I expected and wanted to wake up at, get up, have some coffee, read a textbook or go online to blog about my daily schedule, then pretty much do the same thing over again the next day, with some random push ups thrown in here and there.

The last event that was actually different took place last Friday, during the Orientation 2008 Dinner discussion, but pretty much ended up becoming a game of very heated Monopoly, with alliances that granted each other immunity from others' rent and so on and so forth, with me and Shudder barely surviving throughout the whole thing. (nothing personal, rashidah)

Anyway, I call upon the people who actually read this damn blog and are feeling the same sort of thing is going on during their holidays to unite against boredom sometime next week, and get together for a board game session or something.

Rain of Terror

I am currently sitting in my cousin's house, blogging about something that has been the subject of debate since twenty minutes ago.

The angels are taking their time in there...

The rain right now is simply abysmal. I can only describe it as a hydro-bombardment, with thunder coming along every ten seconds or so. According to my uncle, you're supposed to be able to see the Punggol HDB branch from here. You can't now. Whether that means the rain is heavy, or the world is a better place, only HDB knows.

It must also be noted that just ten minutes ago, I was playing a 5 player FFA game of Zero Hour with everyone playing Nuke Gen. I would like to compliment EA LOS Angeles for their technological breakthrough. It has been a thoroughly immersive experience and I would like to know how they got this power.

A lot has happened over the week. There was the Arts Fest, and... damn. Alright, there was the Arts fest.

Well, as with every event that happens in the school, I'm going to document it and then rate it. I'm afraid that my rating system goes somewhere along the lines of a fraction, like 3/5, and has nothing to do with alphabets and sex scenes.

It has been a tradition of mine to make a title for the whole thing in big bold letters everytime, so following the cliche:

Arts Fest 2007

There. Happy?

I would first like to clear up the whole toilet cake thing. Yes, we won the first prize for the Visual Arts category and won a printer worth $200. We've decided to eBay the thing, split the cash, then use the remainder to compensate LC (we told him it was a week old).

The Arts Fest covered two days. The first day could only be described as... (It should be noted at this point that due to the uneventful- wait... damn! That's the word! Anyway, due to the uneventful nature of the whole first day, I am referring to the Arts Fest programme schedule as we speak to try and get a rough recollection of what the hell happened and why it was so bad.)

Alright, according to the schedule, the first event was the opening speech by Dr Hang.

...

It looks like I've made a mistake here. The first event that mattered was...

Alright, I'm being mean here. Dr Hang raised a few points on how rigid the system used to be, which no one can deny (I mean, he's the principal.). He brought up a personal example: How he wanted to learn both Art and Technical stuff but could only choose once and how he went up to the principal (look, he was only a kid at the time so there shouldn't be any confusion here) and asked for an exception and he got one in the end but with the principal doing a "The Coffin is Too Big for the Hole" ripoff on him and so on and so forth and how fortunate we are to be *BREATHES* able to get the best of all the bloody worlds avaliable to us.

*Two shocks to the chest later*

Anyway, after the speech we all applauded (I'm assuming it was in appreciation of the speech) and the Chinese Orchestra came up and played a song. Yes, a song. In other words, they played a different song. Not that funny Golden Dragon Chasing Tail thing. It was actually a different song. But I would like to point out something here:

The Chinese Orchestra came up first, right?

The music they played was suprisingly Western. It sounded like something along the lines of Western Opera music. The following exchange then occured between me and an equally confused brother:

Me: It's freakin' western opera.

Darryl: Damn, yeah.

M: I'm thinking handmaid right now.

D: Say what?

M: Aristocrat woman, handmaid following behind...

D: *Insert hysterical laughter here* OH my god, yes!!! (Asthmatically)

Nonetheless, it was all very interesting as to how they were able to achieve this sort of Western effect using instruments that pledge their alliegance to the Emperor at the age of two. It was a nice refreshing change from the same oriental music we get every year.

*Stares demandingly at Band*

Speaking of the Band, they didn't play. I really don't have a clue why, but it could have something to do with the Chinese Orchestra and the bad economy.

And then a speech by Dr Wong on how wonderful the number 1 is. I've given up trying to appreciate these speeches.

And here we get to the cake stealing bastards of the day. Nick Wong, Random Guy 1 and Random Guy 2 come up on the stage, hang a 1 UP mushroom in front of them, and then play the Mario Bros. Level 1 Theme using percussion (xylophone, drums etc).

The only problem I have with this performance is this:

School Uniform? Seriously, come on.

Anyway, on to the Preg- I mean, You've Got It! competition. Most of the performance acts were Ad Hoc, come up with people who were bored of not seeing people perform any Ad Hoc.

Some pretty good performances out there, like the ad hogue monoloc between Ying Zhen and Mom, and... I'm going to need help on this one, since I skipped almost half of the performances. Brenda and somebody else's duet was pretty good.

And that's all I'm going to say regarding the performances.

Alright after all that fiasco I went outside to attend to the toilet cake (*slaps forehead*), then pretty much went inside at random intervals, then came out again.

Not much I can say here, but we won the Visual Arts competition and now have ONE printer and THREE very happy team members.

And yes, toilet cakes are made with love, son.

Anyway, I skipped the museum visit so I can't say anything about the place (damn).

Now here comes the more "controversial" (aka hated) part of the whole Arts Fest.

It is widely known that before World War 2 Hitler was very mean to the Jews, and while this has absolutely no relation with the Arts Fest whatsoever and no one has a rectangular mustache, I must say that during the Mass Perse- er... Dance I rather felt like one of the Chosen People of God (with a capital G).

See, some little bugger on the planning team decided to have us all dance to Hip Hop instead of music. (Oh come on, i mean seriously, you can't expect me to not hate the stuff.) It should probably be revealed at this point of time that Hip Hop isn't like cake (and sadly, isn't a lie as well), and that not everyone likes it. However, this didn't stop the clever person (*twitch*) who planned this whole thing from making everyone line up in neat rows and flounder like total idiots while some people dresssed in baggy shirts and equally baggy or baggier pants do some funny actions that seem similar to scratching one's unmentionables.

Frankly we would all have been fine with this whole thing (aka not have hated it as much) if we weren't forced to line up in neat little columns and dance for the Emperor, or the Fuhrer or whatever. And so a couple of other comrades (I shall not name them here so as not to implicate them) and myself decided to sit at the side of the Hall and watch everyone else scratch their crotch or do something that looked like it. At that point all we could do was just shake our heads and that have another dose of the good ol' stuff, because not only was it totally unfashionable (coming from ME), it just looked plain ridiculous, so much that even people who listen to Hip Hop would have put off listening to it altogether.

Later, under the watchful eye of Dr Wong we all had to do it together as a school again. So when the time came for the Year 3s to get rid of that nasty itch I simply blended into the crowd. (I almost won that game of chopsticks!) It should be noted that the only ones who actually tried to scratch their unmentionables properly were the Year 4s (or 5s. I couldn't look), probably because they like this sort of thing.

Then at last the War was over and we were all allowed to go home to our families.

So what happened? How did we lose the War?

Well, firstly the guys who planned this whole thing probably didn't get the revelation that not everyone likes Hip Hop (Hi there!).

Secondly, not everyone enjoys dancing to it or even dancing in public for that matter, which puts the whole concept of a Mass Dance at risk. But the main point here is that not everyone may enjoy dancing to the stuff, either because they just don't like it or they don't think they could do it properly to look acceptable enough.

Thirdlee, it should be noted that from watching what the people in the funny baggy clothes were doing, the moves they were (trying to) teach us weren't very Hip Hop-ish, which usually involve some sort of breakdancing, which you don't put in the same room as the average NUSHs student. So really, trying to look punk and being punk are in entirely different buckets.

Anyway, I'm running out of coffee now so I'm going to have to put off the second day (aka the good day) to another time.

I better leave now. I hear them coming. Farewell comrades.

Of Ten Year Olds and Teabagging

Whlie I work on that post that makes DBZ seem moderately long, I'm going to pretty much document whatever has happened so far and relate to you all the very interesting sequence that happened about a few days ago.

Alright, it's Friday, and so SexyBlend (Darryl) and friends (Assorted people such as Mom, Cancy, Gan, Yuting, LC and so on and so forth) head to JP to Stepmania. That is, everyone except LC, who was actually just going for lunch, and realized we were headed to JP about ten minutes into the whole trip. This led to Darryl having to take his left arm while I apologized for the window.

Alright, so while everyone is busy stomping the life out of a poor platform (except LC of course), I head over to the free 360 and play a little Halo 3 (How anyone can possibly play a little of Halo 3, I'm still trying to figure that one out).

Anyway, I play co-op with this seemingly ten year old kid who seems to get the main idea of co-op pretty well: You nuke everything except the guy with the words floating above his head. Simple, right? But here comes the big problem: He leaves. He is then replaced by a six year old kid (or a very bad flash clone) who needs to jump to reach the controller.

The little bugger has no idea what's going on and decides to nuke the bad person with the words floating above his head using the very convenient rocket launcher. I decide to respond to this by walking up to him and introducing the butt end of my assault rifle to his cranium, then proceed to engage in the wonderful activity of teabagging.

Just in case any of the few innocent people in the world are reading this, allow me to completely change that and explain the process of teabagging.

Teabagging has its origins all the way back to first Halo game. Basically, if you kill someone in multiplayer and decide that the utter humiliation you have caused him is worthy of respect and you should rub it in his face (quite literally), you proceed to stand on top of his corpse and press and let go of the crouch button periodically, thus initiating one of the most wonderful acts of life.

Anyway, the little bugger had no idea what was going on and promptly respawned, eager to get revenge. So the whole process repeated itself a total of five times before I realized I was having too much fun and that my Creator was watching. So I left to watch the others stomp the platform, and went back after a while to see the little bugger still try and figure out what was happening.

I claimed my destiny.

Your Cake will Probably be Edible Inc.

It was a moment of folly. We stared at that piece of inviting yellow paper, and in our brashful youthfullness, simply decided to sign up for the damn thing. Which is how I find myself to be in the living room of Yuting's House sniffing the vague smell of cocoa from the kitchen/storeroom/sanctuary, with that son of a b*tch who seems to have some sort of blood feud with my dark colored clothes outside barking like a... son of a b*tch.

We have signed ourselves up for the Visual Arts exhibition, and in her excitement (there was only one person excited here), decided to make pretty cakes. While this isn't something I do everyday (I'm not a heavy eater most of the time), I thought it would be amusing. Turns out, it's more of a health hazard.

The design is something I'd rather not reveal right now, because some of you are probably eating as you read this. And if you are, you're probably going to need a new keyboard if I told you, so I'm going to tell you. It's a toilet.

Yes, you heard (read) me right, the cake we're making is a toilet, or rather based on the visual image of a toilet. There were several prototypes thought up, like having a chocolate fondue fountain in the bowl of the thing, but we thought it would be better to save costs here and just make a toilet cake out of sponge, then fill the thing with chocolate Hershey's Kisses. Following that, the whole thing will be encased in a sanitary coat of white icing, and will be subject to several days of refrigeration till the hour of truth comes.

At least, that was the plan.

Right now I am stuck in the living/dining/study room waiting for the first cake to finish baking while our second cake mixes. The first cake was mostly chaos. The second cake is mostly chocolate.
We can probably throw that whole "Present Vice/Assistant Principal with first slice" thing out of the window (together with the cake). I mean, they didn't offend us or anything...

*10 minutes later*

Quick update. It turns out that that first cake I mentioned, the one in the oven, it's disappeared. In its place we have an observatory. It's a very beautiful observatory, but its occupants are still a bunch of slimy bastards, so we're going to nuke it for 15 minutes more.

*15 minutes later*

The observatory is highly stubborn, so we decided on a peace treaty. The observatory shall be mostly unharmed as long as we can slice off that slimey portion and eat it without any ill effects (on me).

*About 1 or more hour later*

The second cake was turned out to be a lot better than the first.

*A week later*

Well, all's gone pretty well, save for a few ammendments to the whole plan:

1. The cake can no longer be eaten.

2. The Hersheys can be eaten, but they won't be in the toilet bowl.

Besides all that, the cake's gone pretty well. Over the several days of construction the thing's holding up pretty fine, except for the flushing box which seems to teeter over at random intervals.
I gotta hand it to the folks who invented gelatin icing (alright, and maybe Yuting too. sheesh). It's hard, like plastic, until you take the thing out of the fridge. Then it's susceptible to all sorts of injury. Anyway, that thing makes up the toilet seat and the toilet cover, and both of them hug and all is well.
The cake's going to be judged first, so there's no gurantee it'll go up for exhibition. But come on, seriously! If a toilet cake doesn't work, seriously!

Seriously, man!

Hol's well for now...

And once again, we are back to the days of being idle. Or not?

The exams are finally over... again. Like the last time. It's funny, but one often criticizes movies, books and the like of having such repetitive storyline, when we're really not bothering to look at our own damn lives. This is probably season 6 by now, but there's no indication that we're going to lose any screentime anytime soon.

It seems that 308 (for now) will be in charge of planning next year's orientation. Which brings us to the topic of the day:

This is probably just deja vu, but haven't we had orientation before?

Besides having to know which routes the Year 1s usually take, I don't see why having orientation every damn year for every damn level is needed. I say we just rig the stairwell and get it over with.

And I should probably go see what my mom is doing to my door now...

Exblesso

It had to come sooner or later. It's happened to just about every newspaper, or magazine, or internet personality, talkshow etc... A very sensitive and personal editorial about something seemingly practical yet imbued with a great amount of emotional hoo hah and passion. It might not be the same thing I'm about to mention, but the general theme is as mentioned.

Today, in the ultimate of cliched articles, I shall be discussing coffee. I'm sorry, it's spelt Coffee, right? My bad.

Le Coffeh

And while I have absolutely no idea what that means, let's get on with it before my non existent editor comes along and notices it.

They are many opinions concerning this humble brown liquid (alright, would you all of you just grow up already?). Some have elevated it to the height of the mysterious smiling woman that probably wears braces, while some aspiring Duchamps have managed to actualll dislike (God forbid) the beverage. Others are more in the riddle of the road, sitting on the fence etc (other painful euphemisms for remaining neutral) about this subject, and prefer to see coffee as a simple beverage, liked by some and launched out of the mouths of others.

Those who place this humble bean water solution on a pedestal often say that one has not experienced the true meaning of coffee (and thus can only access 50 percent of its power) until they drink it with their mind being totally focused on the sensual experiences that come with drinking it. You must sit cross legged on a mat, or perhaps at a roadside cafe on the streets of Paris, and slowly take a sniff of the wonderful aroma that wafts out of the cup. Then you must slowly sip the coffee while irritating everyone around you (this is very enjoyable), swish the coffee around your mouth for a while, then swallow and enjoy the mellow sensation wafting up your throat to your nostrils.

To those who place it on the negative pedestal (aka pit), they say that in order to experience the true meaning of coffee (note the lack of italic for the word "true") one must gurgle it violently and then share the coffee with the person sitting in front of you.

Others just say pour it down your damn throat already.

And this is the part of the entry where I bore you with my opinion. Breaking the tradition of saying "none of these opinions are correct", I agree with numero three.

Coffee can be likened to that of love. While this comparison may be seem a little unfair (I won't do something like this again, Coffee. Sorry.) It isn't about sitting by the streets of Paris with your adept tongue work or sitting on a mat. It's about It being there whenever you need it. When you feel you just can't go on *cough* masteringphysics *cough*, it's there for you. Coffee is something humble yet sacred.

*End of article*

Bring it ON, critics.

Hard Times



Greetings, all who would dwell on this side of the internet. Once again I come to you all bringing news. What else is new?



Yesterday I went to various bookshops in an effort to locate Hard Times. Yes, even in the midst of exams, I still ask for more. Three Popular stores and I got everything that Charles Dickens every wrote except for Hard Times.

(I would like to ask Ms Koh how she got all the money!)(Disclaimer: The mentioned joke was for the pure fun of it and is not a commentary on our beloved literature teacher's monthly income.)

It turns out that Borders had two copies left. Naturally, I got the cheaper one aka the one with the more reasonable price tag. I later noticed that the book contained things like two contents pages and Dickens' working notes. The store owners pointed out that little kids were nearby and I promptly left the area.

On my way out, I noticed that some guys in weird black T-shirts were given a presentation on something called the Cold-Spot theory. Turns out that these people here call themselves the Society of Paranormal Investigation Singapore (Which suggests that they are only a few of the many resistance fighters). Essentially, what this means is that these black clad, non pipe smoking fellows are the Ghostbusters without the cool gadgets, the Exorcists without the Innocence, and Elvis Presley without his hair.




It seems, from their presentation, that they investigate the presence of paranormal activity, but don't do a thing about it. They may monitor it, but that's as far as they go, using stuff like infrared cameras and the like. In other words, a scientific and observational approach to the like.

But how far one can remain scientific when it comes to such things is questionable. Meanwhile, I think it's best to keep that little Cross hanging from your neck.

I also think it's important to note that there was a Fantastic Four banner behind them, with Jessica Alba as the Invisible Woman right in the foreground:

Nus High Research Constress 2007



This is the sort of effort put in that makes Carnot Engines blow milk into their handkerchiefs. But it was still mildly enjoyable.

We, the denizens of the VR project, were persuaded by the nice man with the gun to present our projects at the NUS High Research Congress 2007.



Basically, the Research Congress is a like a fun fair. Without the fun. Many people at booths in concourse, with many people who are not at booths in said concourse at the catering area.



So anyway, many a student broke the sound barrier is we struggled to set up our booths by the 1.30. Most of us failed, but it didn't really matter since the people in the auditorium were struggling to finish their presentations on time. So this either makes both groups very well organized, or second only to OBS rojak.

It was suprising that we actually had time to go down after setting the booth up and actually get something to eat, all the while talking about the density of Jun Wei's home as negligible, and the number of cars and parents he had (the parents lost miserably), and whether Jie Hong would be okay up there manning both booths. The conversation about Jie Hong went something like this:

Me: You think Jie Hong's gonna be okay up there?
Gan: Probably not.
Me: You think maybe we should go up there?
Gan: Yeah...
Me: Are we actually going to get up and go there?
Gan: *thinks*
Both: Nah...

Later, we saw Jie Hong struggling with the contents of a Portugese to English dictionary, and an English to Chinese dictionary.

All of the above is true except for the crap about the dictionaries.

When the Parasite finally attacked (Halo fans should get my meaning about the number of people coming out of the Audi), we were strangely disappointed. We got a few visitors here and then (all teachers, with Mr Chua Aik Boon drawing first blood), so I told Leroy to man the booth while I shamelessly snuck off to get some food. Not suprisingly, Darryl was there, all too happy that there was free fried bee hoon.

Me: *Looks at the crowd* Quite a variety, huh?
Darryl: Hm. Yeah. *Eats more bee hoon*

We need to get our hands on those Babel Fishes. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Babel_Fish)

I hijacked Darryl's snake (I can explain, girls), which he got from Fishie (Nevermind, girls), and walked back to the booth to find that the VIP is there. I boggled for a bit then walked up to him, and was relieved to see that Leroy was already stealing the limelight. Halfway through the explanation I manage to butt in in a courteous manner, and explain the remainder. He then asks me where I'm from and I tell him "NUS High".

*insert chuckles from VIP here*

Then I conclude then I am from Singapore and was schooled in TV. He claims to get my meaning, then comments that our project has plenty of potential (aka it still sucks now) and walks away without giving any sort of funding whatsoever.

Ah well.

People-o-pedia picked a pack of...

Yes, I have been away for a while. You guys might have been wondering precisely what happened to me. All I can say is that Luke had better buy me a drink or two, and I'm running out of tissue.

And with that quick reference to carbonite suspension, I shall now proceed to introduce the second most reliable source of insights in the world. The first being m-, of course.

People-o-pedia has touched down, and it comes in peace:
http://people-o-pedia.blogspot.com/2007/09/letter.html

A wonderful little blog in the middle of nowhere, the writer (referring to itself as Sardonic) gives its perspective opinions on issues such as the true definition and nature of bimbos, the Adolescent Conjecture, and the smiting of Birthday Parties.

Revel in its glory.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to practice saying ten different versions of "I've got a bad feeling about this."

Sick Heil!

It is tempting to start this post with the words "Hello sick people", but i have not yet obtained all the artifacts.
As a result, this post will mostly contain bitching about the recent necessity for an Ark, mostly because of workload. I shall now attempt to relate the sheer mass of the amount-ain of assignments.

The following have graced my desk over last week:

1. Mechanics 2 project, with our lovable little cytoplasm as a group member (i refuse to say group MATE)

2. Chinese test revision. Nothing more to say here, since I met my lawyer yesterday.

3. Lit Journal entry, which has caused nothing but calamity. It was postponed a total of four days, and for no good reason in particular, except maybe House seems like a real fortunate guy now.

4. Math additional exercises. The principle in these is the famed Zerg Rush, where spamming multiple questions in almost Megatron amounts eventually wears your defences down, thereby exposing you to all sorts of mental and emotional rape.5. Silly little Chem assignment due here and there, as well as the lab notebook.

And that's about it. Let's move on to what's ABOUT to grace my desk:

1. A really cu- i mean, Chinese compo, with the topic being the virtues of friendship. Joy.2. That VR survey that gives other surveys of the same king funny looks (gay), with a presentation on the results due by the last week of Septe-... shit.
And let's not forget that I've been out of action for two days now. i've missed a chem prac, couldn't do that bullshit compo, and missed our wonderful 1000th day celebration. I hear it took a while to come off, Shudder.

Banner than ever!

It's finally done! Steph's emo blog picture is now transformed and ready to be uploaded. Thousands shall ignore the picture, and the day shall come where it would be as if it never existed. But still!



Revel in it's insignificant glory.

Deprived by Logic

It's official. The last week has been dubbed the infamous "Disappointment week". Lam Day was a total letdown. Which reminds me...

Where the hell were you guys? Only people who showed up:

Timo
Steph
Cedric
Joyce (didn't watch the movie)
Damien (Wait... what?)
Beryl (I don't get this anymore...)
Kay Wee (O-Kay...)
Kay Wee's Henchmen

And thanks to those who could have shown up but didn't, you're helping us bury these puppies! The movie wasn't any better either, which shows that the most intelligent of all the people in the above list is Joyce. As for the rest, you bloody geniuses.

It was putrid. Check it out on Rotten Tomatoes and you'll get an overall rating of 20%. You'll also find that the story has a happy ending, which is totally unrealistic, as portrayed by this incident.

The holidays before that were also hideously disappointing. As ugly as a fat suit with no John Travolta in it.

Which reminds me...

Hairspray!!!

Exsteptions!

Sometimes, ACSI doesn't seem that gay. It's just a testament to how screwed up this place has become. Apparently, it's a manafacturing plant for logical fallacies.

Brother's laptop was confiscated yesterday, on the grounds of him playing Stepmania. I shan't say who, because I value my pistachois, but let it be known that it was 5, and no teacher has really stopped anyone from playing Stepmania.

While the above isn't really a valid point, neither is the following.

Mr Png took the opportunity to add in after a very amusing Fruit Salad song by Mr Sun, that it's important to have a healthy diet as well as a healthy mind. (Just like those Star Wars slide transitions)

He also took the opportunity to tell us to stay away from violent video games. (Give him nothing... but take from him... everything!!!) Now let it just be known here that I hve nothing against this stand. He wasn't forcing this on us, so we don't need to see his identification here...

But just before that, he had mentioned the confiscation of three laptops, confiscation for playing games in school.

I told Brother I that there were too many students in the way.

Mr Png had somehow managed to say that such games are violent, and detrimental to the mind and well being of a student. And while this issue is still debatable, what is more apalling is the application of this argument as a Red Herring. (Power to Ms Lam!)

Games being violent have nothing to do with playing them in school.

But fortunately, all three students have received their laptops back, and have vowed to quit their murderous hobby of Stepmania.

The day has come where arrows may breathe easy.

Boredoom!!!

Hey there. As we all know, it's the "holidays". Even as we speak it's coming to an end.

It's about time.

It's strange, but I think over all these years, I've become addicted to work. Holidays make me feel like a potential dengue threat. It's as if not working kil-

...................

Sorry about that. Anyway, as I was saying. Oh yeah. Not working kills me. And by work I don't mean staying at home revising for that upcoming ting xie (cough cough). I mean going to the campus and wrecking havoc at the drinks stall.

That's what life's about. This is nothing like a holiday.

Anyone who wants to send the government a message on Saturday, call me up or post on the tagboard will ya. Or just msn.

doodlelikecrazy@hotmail.com

I give you, The Mometer!

It's getting to be a pain in the ass, this one. I have no idea how it works so far, and neither does anyone. Johannes seems to be the only one who has a clue. *insert blue puppy here*

It's been a pretty generic holiday. Sitting at home doing nothing, then rushing out to school for projects. Of course, there are some perks to this kind of life (hint hint qio bu hint hint).

There's nothing much going on now, so I'll try and get some potential earth moving news to entertain you guys.

Sigh-lence is golden?


I don't think so. Kylie, Cancy and Rashidah weren't so sure though. After Kylie went to watch an extremely... peculiar movie called Little Miss Sunshine, she proceeded to debate on the effects of taking a vow of silence. And so they did. Cancy still holds a place in my... ah nevermind.


Their hair should grow back soon enough.

The following interview has been edited for.... readability. And with commentary.

Me:hey there. you okay if I interview you now? (Here I demonstrate giving her the illusion of choice.)

Kylie: hey. yeah it's okay

Me: ah... yeah. anywho

K:( interviewing me for what btw? just for fun yeah?)

M:indeed

K:okay

M:a man needs to update his blog reguarly (*cough* appreciation *cough*)

K:hahaha. i've read your blog

M:alrighty. first question. my blog's awesome, right?

K:the blogging is good yeah (There is hope for my debut yet.)

M:okay... now for the first real question. why did you decide to carry out this experiment? oh and by the way, this convo will be recorded

K:because i saw it in a movie. haha. joking.

M:silent hill?

K:the idea was from a movie, but the reasons are different.

M:what movie was it?

K:why, would be to discipline myself as well as to learn more about the effect of spoken words. Movie: Little Miss Sunshine. (Might I comment that it's a rather... unique movie. It's also pretty funky. The character that she got the idea from was somewhat of a side character, though all of the characters in the movie are more or less equally emphasized on.)

M:do you think then, that discipline is the act of restraining one's voice? that seems rather oppressive, don't you think?

K:it's not the act of restraining one's voice. but in doing so you can train discipline

M:ah. okay. another one here. why did cancy and rashidah do the same? they watched the movie too? (I've got to learn how to make them do that!)

K:nah they didn't. i kinda watched the movie and thought about doing it one day. then i told them (Oh.)

M:and then they just did it with you for the hell of it? (I've got to... nevermind)

K:they havent watched it. but they know about it and yeah
you think they found it weird? here's the movie trailer http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iNWRblcfoFw

M:aye. so how do you think your environment responded to your experiment? you think they found it weird?

K:yeah they found it weird. because well firstly my parents didn't allow me to do it at home. because they thought it was antisocial behaviour. and that it would ruin my reputation in sch.(They obviously haven't been here yet.) and that they just didn't like me daoing them.

M:did you explain that it was an experiment?

K:and they didn't think that doing things for the "experience" or to "experiment" was a good enough reason. (This could be a problem...)

M:okay... here's a pretty personal question.
have your parents ever considered you to be "lacking discipline"? (Whoa whoa we wah!)

K:hahaha no they have not. i don't know.

M:there was one time I saw rashidah using a notebook to communicate
and cancy too. you think this defeats the purpose?
what was the aim of your experiment? in one sentence.

K:to find out how one's self and the people around me respond to silence. (In other words, just sound, not communication itself, as she elaborates later.)

M:do you think that silence is just verbal silence, or simply not communicating at all?

K:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYDQEmHqth4&NR=1
oh verbal silence. that link is a collection of scenes of that guy who took the vow

M:for how many days?

K:6 months or more i think. it's a movie (let me just say here that this guy is completely unrelated to me in any way whatsoever.)

M:so do you think your experiment was a success? (I fail to understand this concept.)

K:hurm. success as in i did learn a lot of stuff from it
not success as in i broke my vow a lot of times (Celiba- nevermind...)

M:oops . chinese oral, eh?

K:french (Ooh, kin- nevermind)

M:oh. that sucks

K:lol

M:ah. it's all greek to me. anyway, what do you think you learnt from this experience?

K:i leanrt that being silent makes people more emo (This here is very interesting. Emos tend to think that red fur is the fashion these days, and that no one understands them. Personally I think this is due to a lack of communication, or lack of attempts at communication. So much for being misunderstood.)

M:around you, or yourself?

K:hurm. myself. not the people around me because they kinda think it is quite cool

M:huh. alright. you would recommend this to anyone?

K:hurm. just about everyone. except people who really well like talking

M:i aplogise but I must refuse

K:hahaha. hurm. but it allows you to appreciate talking
but also gets you to like the silence (Interesting point here, about not talking allowing you to appreciate talking.)

M:ouch. thanks for the interview
anything else you like to say?

K:like there will be moments where i'll just not want to talk at all hurm. not much else?

M:alright. and by the way. everything you just said can and will be used against you
http://www.pressbackspace.blogspot.com/ (She still pleads not guilty.)

K:okay. see ya (in court)

M:thanks

And so there you have it. The complete interview with Kylie on her vow of silence for one day. There are some interesting topics up there that I would like to rant about.

For instance, how most people regard verbal silence as complete silence, Kylie's parents' reluctancy (and in fact, complete disapproval) towards her vow, and the appreciation of talking through silence.

This is all very interesting and I would like to discuss this with you, but I'm bored and needs me entertainment. Goodbye.

Fisherman's Fiend

I'll make it short and sweet. My bag got stolen today. Once again, I would like to thank Nintendo for making their consoles so resistable.

Ironically, it happened on a Sunday. But that's the part responsible for indigestion. Wait till I get to it.

Left bag at table. Went to buy food. Bag focuses chakra around body. And I was like "Whoa! You have learnt well!". That didn't last long though.

One family noticed me evading nitrogen, so they asked if I was looking for my bag.

Me: Yeah.
Man: She said one indian man came over and took it. (points to daughter)
Me: Whoa.

And we couldn't find him. However, there is an upside to all this. This guy won't get much out of the loot. There are several reasons for this.

Firstly, recent market analysis has shown that the value of erratic, half broken violet umbrellas has gone down. Therefore, a second hand, half broken violet umbrella (pant pant) will fetch negligible profit.

Secondly, recent religious devices, such as white-beige colored bibles, have included a search and destroy protocol that allows it to carry out the work of God. aka, totally anhiliation of the one who stole it.

Thirdly, recent studies have shown that not many citi/deni-zens of singapore are fans of Hitchiker's guide to the Galaxy.

Finally, market projections have shown that the value of half eaten Apple and Cinamon Fisherman's Friend lozenges have dwindled greatly. However, they do still serve the purpose of soothing the thief's throat.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"

Amen to that.

I will sur-wife!

The title is simply a tribute to all those who sacrificed themselves in run- battle. They will be remembered, and flowers shall cover their graves forever.

Plus, Gan is allergic.

Alright. I've been trying to get more sleep these days, instead of *cough* blogging about the damn problem. So I'm going to retire soon, and settle down in the countryside, then wake up tomorrow and study. Isn't life great?

The reason why my cracks lately haven't exactly been of World Trade Center standards is because of this. I'm going to have to be-itch about it sooner or later. Here it is:

I was attacked by Damien.

This is pretty old news. I'm also trying to keep it that way.

But I just find it kinda gay. Guess what else I found? Ah nevermind...

The thing is that, I've been giving puppies the gift of flight lately because of this matter. It's not so much what he did but rather why he did it. Damien's reasoning is that he's very stressed, so when I gave him the VR (we do this cool stuff in place of IR...... this window looks high enough) assignment for our group, he could only do one paragraph. alright. here it is... gave him one week. okay. he forgot... so er... gave him one night after I called him again.

Gave me on paragraph the next day. It was kind of a personal introduction more than it was a list of interview questions. After *cough* confronting him on this matter... er...

Did you know the throat is needed for breathing? It's true! Sigh....

Yeah. He kinda gave the jump on me. What also bothers me is that I was pwned in front of everyone in the concourse. Of course, the security guard has a gun, so I was saved. (*insert bullet deflection joke here*)

Now the disclaimer. I understand he is stressed. That's bad. What I don't understand is why I should get a piece of the pie. After this incident, we've grown so dist- er... I kinda think of him as the more stabbable sort, you see where I'm going with this?

Recently he attacked David because of an erased Pokemon savegame.

Damien, use Vice Grip!

Learn to relax buddy... I can't say it's not partially his parent's contributions that caused this though. They really have been crossing the line lately. He had a fever, then was just recovering, and still had a cough and BURNT HIMSELF in the shower, and his mom wouldn't take him to a doctor. No, a private doctor. Not that either.

There's one thing we can learn from this though.

"Sheesh."

Fic-ture Perfect



The days of the canon are over, and it is time to usher in the age of fanfiction. Or is it?



Let's face it. Fanfiction has been around for as long as any series ever existed. It started even with classics such as Alice in Wonderlan and Sherlock Holmes. And that it proceeded to infect just about every popular series ever published.



Internet, you didn't exactly make matters better.



And whilst it can be pretty much agreed that most fanfiction really sucks arse, there are several few that stand out among the crowd, sucking even more. This is especially true when it comes to anime and manga fics.



We at http://www.pressbackspace.blogspot.com/ have scoured the land for the most revolting, sh*ttiest and "rinsed and repeated more than Beryl could ever hope to do" ideas and fanfiction types across the internet (mainly just fanfiction.net). Behold, risk your eyes. Here they are:



1. High School fics- An insult to the holiest of holiest of anime and manga, behold, take the greatest cause of suicide in the world and plug in your favourite anime characters. Now watch as your favourite anime characters struggle to avoid drowning in a sea of homework, teenage romance, and high school fanfics.

The problem with High School fics is that, like many others, there are so damn many of them. Most of them usually include pairings, and the remainder ALWAYS includes pairings. And the problem is, that's just about it. Your sword wielding hero, or your orange jumped suited ninja living the life that you don't want to know more about, and just grabbing the ass of the nearest..... PERSON. (You know what I'm talking about, you bloody Yaoi fic writers)

2. Crossovers- Well, you've already bastardized one anime? Why not do two, or something of an entirely different genre? This one appears most often when the author doesn't know which one to mutilate first, so settles it via Democracy.

Viva la Revolution.

3. Script fics- Yes. Sometimes your favourite fan fiction authors out there are just too lazy to think of anything besides dialogue. So they settle it by doing this.

Samuel: They simply type the character's name at the front of every dialog, er... every sentence and proceed to type NOTHING but dialogue.

S: Sometimes, your authors are so lazy, they just type the name once and proceed to use a vague initial for the rest of the series or fic. This can lead to confusing situations sometimes.

*** naruto fan boys cover your eyes ***

N: You cannot change, Ramen. It is fate.

K: Asuma, don't go, I love you!

S: I love you, Naruto!

So there you have it. Three of the most overused ideas in the fan fiction universe. This has been Samuel persuading the prisoners, signing off.

Customer Com-pains

Hello there everyone. Regarding the last one hour, all I can say is: "What the Hell was that?". My bad. I meant "What the hell was that?" Slight religious error there.

Alright. My lappy's been known to be very erratic for the last year or so. It's currently been one and a half years since I first got it, but lately, we've grown a little distant. She's gotten all erratic. There was the first time, where her battery just fried for no reason, and she refused to go out with me. After a while, we got a new battery, and she was happy.

Today, she decided that it was futile to go on. You could say she stopped pressing charges. The charger screwed up.

It's been that way for a few days now. My screen would flicker now and then, because me com's display dims when you start charging it (like my face that time I was in court).

Then one day, it stopped working on the usual port. So I switched ports, and it worked.

Today, it just stopped working. And no, my hair didn't turn blonde.

I went into a frenzy, and having no respect for God, I swore a lot. I decided to back up my data but stopped halfway, and decided "you know what, screw you. I'm turning you off right now.".

The manual is a piece of shit. It tells you to turn off the computer and try again. I still can't believe that even though I was saving gas, I said "I've turned my computer on and off so many times we're going to have a divorce, you bloody piece of..."

Sorry God. If you have an internet connection, I'm really sorry for swearing all the time. Amen.

Then for no reason at all, I just kept the charger and put the lappy back where it belonged. (R2-D2 saves the day!)

Then for no reason, again, I tried to use the charger on the com without the battery. WTH it worked. It was underage, but it worked! And then I turned it off and tried it with the battery. WTH it worked! None of them got caught and they worked! It's amazing. Two possible things I could have said at that moment:

1. What the hell.
2. Hallelujah!
3. 1 + 1..... that's a good one...

Regardless, I'm glad that she's working again. Now I can spend some time with the kids.

I've been reading Ju- er... NIGHT WOLF's blog for some time now, and I can see that's he a very emo person. Either that, or I'm not the father. P'raps I should interview him?

Which reminds me. I got damned pissed about Gan and Darryl winning the 24 hr competition. in different teams. yeah. It's rather complicated but here goes:

1. Competition announced. I ask if they want to join. They bue song.
2. During VR session, Yuting comes and hands up forms to Ms Tan. Me=WTF
3. Interro- Ask Brother wa si mi? He say he no choice. I say, like that, I also no choice liao. He oso say comp IT club only one. Still not explaining situation.
4. Ask second brother Darryl wa si mi? He say, brother, I don't want to join one leh. I say, then you tell me then I join mah. He say *insert funny face here*. IT club only thing still does not explain situation.
5. Weeks later, word comes in both teams win comp. Kills brothers second time. Later starts killing innocent balloons.
6. Wait a while everything okay again. But IT club only thing still does not explain situation.

Anyway, Yuting tells me there's a Roving DV competition coming along soon. By a cruel twist of fate, the comp is limited to certain clubs only. This is just bullshit. Or so I thought. I found out the comp is hosted by MediaCorp.

This is bullshit. Why are we sacrificing innocent paparazzis?

The Roving DV comp makes students do MediaCorp's work for them by making documentaries about anything they want, submitting them, and if they do win the comp, they get to have their documentary put on air.

And the comp is limited to the IT and Journalism Clubs only. Joy.

Don't get me wrong here. While I am glad that the two clubs are finally doing something, I still don't think it's entirely fair that only they get to participate. After all, the competitions are open to anyone, right?

They don't say " Teams of students from your school's IT/Journalism Club", right?

It's been this way for a while now. It was that way during the SVA, and it's stil this way.

I'm still pondering about whether to join or not. Anyone else out there thinking of joining? it'll still take some negotiation (or as JS would say, parley) to enter the comp.

This is the day you'll always remember, as the day that you almost......... no wave? no wave? okay.

Marrage is a horrible thing.

Hello there everyone! Are you ready to sing? Come on... let's go!

I would seriously like to start revealing the conspiracy about the House of Horror, but it seems that the tongue was meant for tasting after all.

Plus, its up again. So I'll have to wait till its over. Again.

I would just like, however, to make an honorable mention for the Horror House. I'll try to minimize the spoilers in the **** part, but then here's the main deal.

The Horror House isn't some open ended deal. In other words, these guys are the complete anti thesis of exams. In fact, the whole Horror House is rather like a play, but with you as the main character. (For those of you who get water from the strange metal tubes sticking through your walls, the Horror House is run by the Drama Club)

The first thing you'll notice about the Horror House is the decor. Very cliched, but it works. Dim orangeish light fills the first room, and cobwebs and dissected animals are suspended in glass jars. (Anticlima-tip : Comment on how dusty the place looks. Try to sell them a some detergent or floor cleaning agent.)

I won't cover any decor on the second part of the Horror House, since there's not really any decor in there.

The second thing you see are the characters. As I've said before, the whole layout of your Horror House adventure is highly innovative. You're simply a character in the story, instead of going into some linear maze with sexually confused ghosts, there's actually some goal for you in this HH.

The characters manage to bring that out perfectly. With an Adam's Family-esque cast, you are presented with a vague storyline that somehow works, even though there are plenty of dark pits in it. Not that it bothers you, since you'll probably be thinking of whether ammonia comes off in clothes detergent.

The costumes are just spot on. The characters in the first part of the HH wear costumes with a distinct Gothic style. It's all down pat. Laces, frills, that sort of thing. It all creates the proper atmosphere. Without these costumes, the HH would be just the Drama Room... After the holidays.

And the third thing I can tell you without making you a clairvoyant is the music. The music in a certain part of the HH distinguishes itself as the main enemy of washing machines. It sounds like a drunk choir, and it actually works. Nothing is scarier than a drunk choir...

Spoilers HARRY end POTTER here DOESN'T .DIE

Well there you have it. I've been wanting to review the HH for quite some time now.

This score isn't based on the previously written stuff, since it's incomplete, and my score may not be very accurate, since most of the time I was "persecute(ing) those who would try to steal my Millenium Key", but here it is.

We at Ex-Play give this Horror House 5 Goths out of 5.

Stale haven't updated yet?

Greetings there, fellow earthlings.

It has been a while since I even bothered to open Blogger, and I can explain this. It's not what it looks like. Youtube is just a friend...

Alright, So I haven't been blogging on Youtube. I have, however, been watching the videos of this bearded fellow who calls himself Blunty3000. A very perspective guy, or at least, he used to be. I went back in time and took a look at his older videos. Those are, for some weird reason, a lot better than the videos he makes now.

Somewhat angry these days.

He did, however, mention he was suffering from clinical depression after a work-related... ACCIDENT, so that could be understandable.

Enough about Blunty3000. These few days, I've been feeling a little bit... Unsamuel these days. I can't seem to make a good reference, and I only pull off a good one occasionally.

I figure this is one of those sleep deprivation problems.

I hope she understands... (Score, baby!)

Alright... These few days have been rather hectic. First, there was the silly Art Camp, which I'd rather not talk about (They're watching, after all).

Then there was school.

And Brother is running for council. Do not ask me which Brother, because it doesn't really matter. It seems like everyone I know is running for council......

I wonder why mom isn't home yet?

And the most unexpected people too. The kind which you expect wouldn't give a sh*t about stuff like politics and changing the face of the school.

It's really amazing.

I've requested that Darryl let me be his campaign manager.

While I've been low on laughbohydrates lately, I've had a lot of marketing ideas. Like ideas for chocolate flavoured milk, and random assorted stuff.

The choc flavoured milk thing involves Hitler. See how sleep deprived I am?

I figure that while my brain is low on wit, I'd just relatively shut up for a while.

Mom broke my telegram.