People & All That Funny Stuff

So two month hiatuses would usually lead to a long and detailed entry about what I've been up to, but I'm too tired. Travelling the world is not the wonderful thing it's made out to be: it more often than not involves conjunctivitis, a susceptivity to the swine flu, getting conned and being very very tired. 

Several things I've learnt through my supposedly fulfilling, very exhausting journeys in India and Indonesia:

1) Do not underestimate the power of sunblock. Three weeks of Indian sun and my face vaguely resembled the underside of a camel's butt, with my nose noticeably browner, for some odd reason. It starts bordering on ridiculous when you can look a different race just by getting tanned.

2) Insect repellent is essential to all who do not want to shrivel up and die within the first few nights in Indonesia. The mosquitoes there are single minded little bloodsuckers with only one purpose in life: to make the lives of human beings a living hell. Not only do they raise welts the size of quarters that don't fade until days over, they also enjoy whining in the ears when one is trying to get some much needed sleep. Which leads me to my third point-

3) Earplugs are the greatest creation known to man. They deafen you to the sound of hungry mosquito, keep you sane when you have to sleep in the same room as one who snores, and most importantly, protect you from the enthusiastic test runners next door who've just bought that new karaoke set. Of course they might also prevent you from hearing the screams of 'fire' and 'murder' but then, that's all a matter of priority.

4) Toilet paper is one of the most important accessories you'll ever come to possess in life. Apart from existing as a rather essential tool in your daily ablutions, it also comes in very handy as a bargaining tool when others have run out. You'd be surprised to discover what some people will do to get their hands on toilet paper, and better still, what they'll promise you in that single moment of urgency. 

In the past six weeks I've met a multitude of people. So far the human race amazes me with its penchant and capacity for selfishness, greed, ignorance and naivety. They amaze me with their strength in surviving day after day, alone, never needing to know, never wanting to know. Yet I've also met people in whom exists kindness and philosophy, ideology and morals.

New people have the ability to surprise me.

If only the old ones did too.

 

I tried reliving history today. 

It hurt.

Do you remember toilet rolls and starbucks, trailing after people from McDonalds, slowly, so slowly so we could speak and not be heard, could feel and not be hindered? Do you remember beaches at night, the quiet splash of sea on shore and the annoyingly incessant shutter sound of your camera? Do you remember long phone conversations, so long ago, when you'd call just because? Do you remember arguments, so silly and naive in nature, and the apologies, so innocently sincere? Do you remember when we were friends - the kind other people looked at with envy and wondered why we had what they did not. Do you remember when you were still you? 

I do.   

The Woes Of The Female

I don't want to be unoriginal and blog about something someone already has, but it would be a supreme shame to let this one pass me by without ranting about it. So Manda my dear, at least you called dibs on writing it first. Credit to you.

I decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to get in touch with my inner female, (who has been conspicuously absent the past nineteen years of life) while I was away in Bangkok for the week. 

Having only recently - about as recently as oh, say, the 13th of February - acquired a taste for paying obscene amounts of money to have someone paint your nails and file away dead skin and clip away unnecessary appendages and all manner of delightful things like that, I wanted more. Especially since after monetary conversions from Thai baht to the Singapore dollar had me weeping in ecstasy. Pricings for a full set of acrylic nails, manicure and nail art came down to about SGD$33, which, as the manicurist informed me with horror, was almost a third of what they charge here in Singapore. 

So I picked the most unlikely color to match the unlikely nails and spent the next hour or so trying to breathe through my butt so I wouldn't get poisoned by the fetid funk of liquid acrylic. Big mistake. I should have killed myself so the eminent suffering would have ended right there and then, but no. My self-professed friends all failed to mention that the acquiring of acrylic nails culminates in the most degrading form of sexism ever known to the female race. And that's saying something if you take into consideration menstruation and pregnancy and blahblahblah. 

Apart from having trouble dressing myself - I have a couple of holes to prove it - I was also compltely incapacitated when it came to: typing, bathing, washing face, inserting and removing contact lenses, washing dishes, locking doors, buckling seat belts, zipping bags, writing, texting, putting jewelry on and off, eating chicken wings, unscrewing bottle caps, opening retainer box, washing hair, oh here's a good one, EATING MY BLOODY RUFFLES, etc, etc. Basically, erhmm anything that involves me using my fingers.  

I cannot believe the females of this world put themselves through this kind of misery for the sake of beauty. It says something of them, that they've been indoctrinated into thinking that beauty is all that they're good for and this is a prime example of that because - YOU BLOODY CANT DO ANYTHING. Know this, that when you see a woman filled with poise and elegance, think freaking Audrey Hepburn, Eliza Doolittle after, Queen Elizabeth, and if they happen to have nails that exceed their cuticles by unnatural means, that their poise and grace is a facade. Because if they feel the need to suffer for the sake of beauty, to con men into thinking that they're hapless females that need protecting and cosseting, then the suffragettes will all have been for nothing. 

I've never been so glad to see my own fingernails. I can now return to life as I know it. 

I'll say something for long nails though, they look good and more importantly, are the shit when it comes to peeling rambutans.

Starbucksing

Starbucks has been my faithful companion for the past week. Upon my heady return from the westcoasts of Malaysia, I logged into my Hotmail to discover - about a hundred emails which, after much cursing and throwing of things, I found I couldn't reply. The procedure of attempting to use the internet in the Boks' house is as follows:

1) Click reply and wait for page to load.

2) Page is still loading.

3) Get bored and try Firefox in the hopes that it'll be faster.

4) It's not.

5) Attempt to open the latest episode of Gossip Girl through the link on Amanda's blog.

6) Fail.

7) Go back to Hotmail page and find that it's stalled.

8) Click refresh.

9) Try limewire. If I can't watch illegal movies, why not listen to illegal music?

10) FAIL.

11) Go back to Hotmail page and find that it's stalled AGAIN.

12) CURSE CURSE SWEAR SWEAR THROW THINGS AT THE WALL PACK UP BAG AND LEAVE FOR STARBUCKS.

Upon reaching Starbucks, I realize I've left my Ruffles at home, something I need to function through the impossible emails, and have to buy another one from 7/11, which is freaking extortion and exploitation of those-in-need. 

Kill me now before I die of caffeine overload.  

The Greatest Love Affair.

My worst nightmare has come to pass. 

RUFFLES HAS INFLATED!

And I don't mean inflated in a -drop dead gorgeous jumbo sized packet- kind of way.

You know in all my history with Ruffles, I've never seen such a bad price. Humph. Maybe I'll switch to something cheaper. Like Pringles. 

Meanwhile, I met the man I'm going to marry, if I ever marry. Only problem is, he's attached. Life sucks balls dude. I'll just continue my love affair with (the increasingly expensive) Ruffles, and make myself happy.