Hello, I blog!
I share all my sporadic and toilet thoughts in here, because I am random like that.
Blast from the past
We were childhood friends waaaay back in Kindergarten. Her parents knew my parents, and that was how I got to know her for the first time.
We even travelled to Genting Highlands together in July 1991, along with her little brother.
During one particular day of the trip, we were even decked out in similar sailor outfits with red jackets. And on the first day of the trip, we both wore dresses. Plus, I could also remember vividly a certain incident where she got locked in the hotel room by accident, and I was standing outside wailing at the adults to help her get out.
Boy, fun times!
Then, we somehow lost touch. Although we were both still aware of each other’s existence.
Only today, 26th August 2008 – did I realize … that for my past three years in SMU, she and I were in the same course, taking the same modules and even shared classes together quite a few times.
Only that she knew that it was me and I didn’t – and she didn’t bring it up because she thought I’d forgotten.
Ohmygoodnessgolly.
How could I? HOW COULD I? How. Could. I?
Plus, I also discovered that we were in the same Secondary School for three years without realizing it. Maybe it was because we were in different levels. But still … how can one tide through four years of Secondary education without recognizing an old friend from there?
I seem to be walking through life in a daze, aren’t I?
Girls make better men than … men.
If my friends and I were born male instead of female – I swear we’d make far better men than the existing men around. One phrase to describe today’s men, to sum them all up – chivalry is dead.
M and I reported for our exam invigilation duties and somehow found ourselves holding the glass doors open for one another at a 7-eleven store. (Imagine a glass door with two panels – me holding open one side and M holding the other side, basically staring at each other dumbly, unsure whom should go first.)
It happened again when we had to enter the building via another glass door.
That was when M concluded the whole situation with the title of this post – that girls (ahem, us) make far better men than err yes, men.
Why? Because we hold the doors open for each other (girls will most definitely appreciate that), offer to carry stuff for each other (again, another characteristic appreciated by girls) and the last quality that M swears I possess – that I swear like a bullet train. (Hehehehehe.)
In fact, it wasn’t just M and myself who would make good men.
A few days later …
Stef and I found ourselves stranded at the library after a sudden downpour. We had to part in different directions. but I offered to walk her to the bus stop since I had the good ol’ umbrella ella ella with me … or so I thought. (Okay, still about Brenda the MAN here but continue to read on!)
Realized later that my umbrella was nowhere in my bag (oops) – which means that I can’t walk Stef to the bus stop, which also means that both of us were back to square one – still trapped at the library. So much for being chivalrous. :(
Had to sit around and wait for the rain to stop in the end.
Later, Stef offered to walk me to my destination – which was a considerable distance away. I agreed after a slight tussle. (Because it means troubling her, but she insisted she was fine with it.) So, she walked me to my destination. (See? Chivalrous Stef!)
And in return, I walked her to the nearest bus stop at my destination.
Basically, we were walking each other to and fro. (Which I thought was rather hilarious.)
Will be away for the next two and a half days or so. Will be at Pulau Sibu, Malaysia with several crazy people from early morning tomorrow, trekking (yay!), soaking up the sun (yay!), watching them snorkel and participate in water sports (because I can’t swim) and capturing photographs like mad (sunrise/sunsets there are supposed to be spectacular).
So … until then! (:
Guess who got locked in the toilet?
Had a family reunion-cum-hangout session at my aunt’s hotel room in Fairmont Hotel this evening.
Decent place, lovely view and the toilet was like whoa – white, classy and modern. Cousins settled on the bed with their eyes glued to the television set, while the adults settled at a nearby table for a round of cards.
That was when I decided to use the toilet. (For obvious reasons.)
Closed the door, latched it, did whatever I had to do, washed hands and then proceeded to unlock the door and get out.
The last two steps failed.
Stupid door refused to unlock. The stupid latch was jammed in place.
That was when I yelped, and sent everyone outside scurrying over to the toilet door. (At least, that was what I thought – because all of a sudden, I heard a lot of talking and footsteps outside my door.)
Then, I heard Aunty Olive yell.
“OH SHIT! I FORGOT TO TELL BRENDA NOT TO LOCK THE DOOR! THE LOCK IS SPOILT!”
Now, she tells me.
More murmurings could be heard from outside and I heard that apparently – my cousin David had been locked in this very same bathroom in the afternoon, and all efforts at prying the door open using normal means failed. Engineers had to be called in to force the door open with a screwdriver.
My Uncles then began using metal spoons to open the door in a similar fashion – but failed. The stupid door just refused to open.
Housekeeping was called to report the issue.
Ten minutes later, no one had arrived and I was starting to get really agitated. (Yes, I know that the toilet is all modern and classy and all, but I wouldn’t like to be stuck there for an extended period of time with nothing to do except for when I need to have a good shit, thank you.)
Uncles continued to fiddle with the door, and even my mum and my grandmother attempted to have a go at attempting to open the door. Of course – likewise, all attempts failed.
Housekeeping was called again.
Still, no one arrived. Those bums were taking their own sweet time to tend to this issue.
Cousin David attempted to keep me company from outside the door (and likewise, also attempting to pry the lock loose), but it’s hard to have a normal conversation with someone when you can’t even see his face. (Perhaps the same reason why I hate phone conversations.)
Then, one of my relatives dialed for the manager.
The doorbell rang within five minutes. More footsteps were heard as my relatives scurried over to the door. Then, I heard someone jiggling the handle, sounds of scraping metal and the next thing I knew – the door flew open.
Unfortunately, that’s not the end of the story.
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