Hello, I blog!
I share all my sporadic and toilet thoughts in here, because I am random like that.
Standby and counting, 8 hours to go.
Oh em gee. It’s 17th December already? Really?! The weeks just flew by, didn’t they?
And considering that today’s the 17th December, it means that I’d be leaving for New Zealand in just about … 8 hours or so.
Quite apprehensive about this trip. Travelling in a large group means that it’s much harder to coordinate stuff.
Props to my younger cousin who arranged everything. The dude practically planned the entire itinerary single-handed and even prepared loads of documentation for us to refer to during the trip itself.
I do feel quite a bit for him at the same time. Despite his efforts, there had been much difficulty with the travel agency. Not to mention the fact that more than 50% of the group couldn’t show up for the pre-trip briefing.
Even though the response from the group has been less than positive, I really appreciate everything the younger cousin has done. Like, seriously. Thanks, dude!
As you can see, it’s been a pretty bumpy ride so far.
But my reservations about this trip aside, I’ll just try to enjoy myself and and at the same time, bury my nose in my DSLR.
I’d be away for fifteen days. See you all in 2011.
On a different note, I have a red streak in my hair now.
The red streak!
And I’ve gotten it re-shaped and re-styled. I love my hair. Quite strange how I have this strange obsession with my own hair now. It scares me. I usually don’t really bother.
I am such a murderer
As soon as the creature set its beady eyes on me, I knew I had to get rid of it.
Getting my stuff out of harm’s way, I mad a mad scramble to my room and grabbed what I knew was the most toxic weapon I could find. Grasping the canister (filled with said toxic weapon), I blasted the creature with all my might.
The creature panicked and ran as fast as its little legs could carry it. Unfortunately, it was too slow for its pursuer. A provoked Brenda is an angry Brenda. And once she decides she wants to get rid of you, escape is almost futile.
The creature scurried under the toilet cistern in a desperate attempt to hide, while I continued to blast the (two) openings to its hideout with my toxic weapon. The air in the tiny bathroom was beginning to reek from the stench of said weapon, but I didn’t care. I just wanted the creature dead, now.
Sensing how I was slightly distracted at one moment, the creature made an attempt to escape – by climbing on top of the toilet pump. A movable object. How smart.
I picked up the pump (with said creature on it) and dunked it into the shower. Following which, I grabbed the shower hose, turned it to full water force and rained it on top of said creature.
Well, well, well. Any attempts to escape will most definitely fail now, as a small creature most probably can’t fight against a shower hose at full blast.
With its little legs flailing wildly against the force of the water, the little lizard breathed its last breath as it was washed down the drainage system.
I stood in the middle of the bathroom, grinning a little too manically to be considered normal, before I blew lightly at my weapon(s) – the shower hose and the canister of pesticide – like a superhero would do to his gun.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing should come along and disturb me when I am in the midst of one of life’s simplest pleasures.
Especially. When. I. Am. In. The. Midst. Of. Taking. A. Dump.
Possibly Gran’s most interesting birthday
My grandmother turned 88 today.
After a huge dinner with the rest of the extended family – including my 9 uncles and aunts with their spouses, children (my cousins) and their children’s children (err, quite a number of my cousins have their own families too) – we gathered around a row of tables for the mandatory (out of tune) birthday song and cake.
And that was when the drama began.
Little Luke – my older cousin’s three-year old son – bounced happily on my grandmother’s lap, clapping and waving his hands around wildly while the rest of the members of the new generation (more of my cousins’ kids – comprising another three-year old boy, two one-year old girls and one eight-year old dude) looked on.
Till now, I can’t get over how noisy little kids can be. They look so cute and innocent in small, bite-sized packages, until they open their mouths and … OH. MY. GOODNESS.
Oh yeah, I digressed.
Little Luke eventually couldn’t hold back the sight of the huge cream-filled cake in front of him, leaned forward and glomped down an entire mouthful of strawberry cream straight off the cake.
The response from the rest of the extended family looking on was a mixture of surprised yelps and some laughter. Little Luke, obviously pleased with the response he got, flashed a cream-smothered grin and proceeded to bend over the cake for a second mouthful.
My older cousin eventually responded (where was she the first time round?!) by running forward and grabbing the little fellow before he could attempt a third round. But alas, attempting to restrain Little Luke was a major struggle. Even with her firm grip on Luke, the latter had still managed to brush the tip of his tongue against the cake for his third helping of cream.
The extended family had eventually decide to ignore the little cream-obsessed monster and launched into an off-tune version of ‘Happy Birthday’, followed by a shower of saliva spray as members of the new generation (the little kids) blew out the candles.
Little Luke continued to bounce around on my grandmother’s lap, clapping his hands happily and flashing his (still cream-filled) grin at everyone around.
In the midst of the din around, my grandmother suddenly gave a yell. This was soon followed by another yell, and finally an extended call of distress.
Some of us dashed over, only to spot a huge wet patch of I-don’t-know-what on her right pant leg. Some of the sliminess was dripping off Little Luke’s right arm. Puke? We didn’t know. Little Luke was still happily bouncing around on my grandmother’s left leg while my grandmother continued to whine.
A few seconds later, Little Luke flashed another grin. This time, his grin was peppered with a mixture of strawberry cream and some remnants of puke. Plus, the stench was beginning to diffuse around the room like wildfire.
I could no longer see up-close what was going on at the scene because by then, I had already backed up at least twenty-feet away from the source of that offending stench (Little Luke and my grandmother’s soaked pant leg). Geez, I totally hated the stench of puke.
The birthday lady and the little puking machine were quickly escorted to the toilets for a quick clean-up while the waiters at the restaurant took the cake away for slicing.
Considering Little Luke’s close proximity to the cake, nobody actually knows whether he had puked on the cake or not. But from the looks of it, everyone is assuming he did because everyone was suddenly so reluctant to eat the cake after that.
Me? I didn’t touch a single slice.
Um, Happy Birthday to my Grandmother anyway.
And what’s an extended family gathering without some drama?
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