I hate school.

I hate school! School sucks. BIG time.

I am supposed to be doing some readings. Something involving TIVO and mass marketing. But I can't get anything into my head. Grrr..

Summer school is turning out to a big pain in the ASS! 4 weeks. 12 classes in total. It's only the first week and 1 class down. Somebody save me please!

The Cursed Necklace.

I know most of you has watched The Ring where the video is cursed. Whichever poor soul watches it, they are cursed and doomed to meet a long hair woman and be frightened to death.

But have you watched The Necklace yet? The necklace is cursed. In this yet-to-preview production, the moment the ill-fated chap touches the necklace, it breaks apart. And the storekeeper lurking in some dark corner and watching you like an eagle swoops down at you demanding you to pay. Sad to say, I was the female lead in this horrific flick.

What was supposed to be my joyous shopping trip to purchase some back-to-school treats for myself turned out to be a horrible nightmare. Okay, so here was what happened. I stepped into a shop in Heeren. The name for which I shall not name in case I get sued for defamation. I was searching for scrunchies and that was when I saw a pink necklace hanging on the shelf. So I am a sucker for pink. I love anything pink. Therefore, the moment I saw the pink necklace I lifted it up. To my horror, the moment I lifted it up, the string snapped and the stones crashed into the floor. It was deafening to a certain extent. And downright embarrassing. But the most infuriating thing that could happen was that before you could even comprehend what had happened, the salesgirl descends upon you. "Sorry, you have to pay."

Okay, so I am not really an advocate of the "Goods broken considered sold" policy. But this was simply too much and unprincipled. So what was I to comprehend from this? That it was my fault for touching the necklace. I am sorry. It was my fault for loving pink. I am sorry. But it was not my fault that the necklace broke. At all. Do you bloody know how heavy the stones were? They were 200 grams. At least. And you know what? The string that was supposedly holding these stones together was a flimsy fishing spool. It was evident that the necklace was already tampered with. Just waiting for the poor fellow touching it to pay for it! If it was my fault, I would gladly pay for it. But why would I pay $16.90 for some poor imitation that I would only laugh at?

Furthermore, I wonder how many of such acts had been conducted because the necklace was the last one hanging on the shelf. Pretty suspicious, right?

Thinking back to what happened, when the girl brought the remnants to the counter and asked whether I still want the broken necklace and stones, I should have thrown those stones in her face. "Take that! You dimwitted moron!" Sticks my tongue at her. Make an ugly face at her. Pfft.

Now let me give you an inkling of what the cursed necklace looks like. Ready?

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Taddah! Presenting to you the CURSED necklace.

Blah. If I was Wilma and lived in the Flintstones era, maybe I would have loved it.

The only commendable effort was that, the girl at the cashier at least offered me a new flimsy string and strung the entire thing back again.

Nevertheless, I have made a resolution never to step into the shop again. As they say, once bitten twice shy. The entire incident only served to destroy my mood for the entire day. I was only pouting and sulking the entire time my sister was sitting in the hairdresser. And when I got home, I poured out the whole grieving to my little sister again.

So, do you believe in curses now? I do.

Dear sis's BIG day.

20th July 2005. The day my parents had been anxiously anticipating. The day my sister had been longing for. Her BIG day. Her graduation! After 4 years of education at SMU, she now has an official Bachelor of Accountancy title under her name.

All in all, we had to sit through 13 speeches. Interesting part of the ceremony was when the graduands trooped into the ballroom. The only thing that flashed through my mind besides searching for that familiar face was the uncanny resemblance between them and the first year students at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry. The part where the wizards and witches entered the Great Hall and were to be sorted by the Sorting Hat. Serious. Give them the broom any time. They look just like they had stepped out of the set of Harry Potter. Or maybe it was just me being too obsessed with Harry Potter.

We took many pictures.

My parents and my sis.












A very beautiful Stamford ballroom at Swissotel (The Stamford).




This one has prawn in it. Delicious is simply an understatement. I ate 10 of it at a go. Burp!


The Stamford provided an awesome view of the new SMU City Campus.

Meanwhile, the fact that Summer classes are starting next week only serves to make me depressed. I am suffering from pre-school reopening syndrome. I am completely inconsolable. *Wails loudly* I don't want to go back to school so soon. I am perfectly happy chilling out at home. Doing nothing but sleep at 2am. Napping at whatever time I want. Watching whatever television drama I want. Chilling out with my friends. I hate school. It deprives me of whatever freedom I have.

Bidding. I hate!

Everytime I blog, I will think of how to begin my first sentence. Around 99% of the time, I would come up with some very cheesy and overused line "Haven't been blogging lately". As a result of this first-sentence-opening block, I will just click on the small cross at the top right corner of the screen.

Anyway, I haven't been blogging lately. Because I have been busy entertaining my aunts and cousin who came over to stay for a couple of days. And at the same time, engaging in a very arduous and vexatious affair - bidding. In case you don't know, all SMU students have to bid for their own classes and plan their own timetables. Make sure that exams do not clash. Blah, blah.

According to Merriam-Webster's Dictionary,
bidding: an authoritative direction or instruction to do something

According to Ang's Lexicon,
bidding: an extremely mind-boggling affair, often culminating in the result of hair pulling and distress

Just in case you didn't know, Ang is my last name. I am doing it the American way. But hey, my version of bidding is longer than Merriam-Webster's! And probably, more accurate too.

After BOSS 1 and BOSS 1A, I emerged from this apathetic and cruel bidding system with 5 classes. Not exactly all the classes that I had in mind. And definitely not the timings which I desired.

Monday

1200-1330 Management of People at Work 1

Tuesday

1715-1845 Marketing 1

Wednesday

1200-1515 MCRER

Thursday

0830-1145 Technology and World Change
1345-1515 Management of People at Work 2

1715-1845 Marketing 2

Friday

0830-1145 Quantitative Methods

Joy. My extremely screwed up timetable. 2 of my classes are split up into 1 1/2 hours. And worse of all, one of them starts at 1715 hours. Double joy. I am so.. INPROFICIENT when it comes to planning my own timetable.

What happened to my Finance? Now I have to do this class next semester. I blame my extremely, super-duper Kia-su peers. Kia-su with a capital K. People who bidded so much for the class. For round 1A, where there are supposedly 20 plus vacancies, my $28 worth of bid amounted to nothing. All bids came up to more than 30 dollars. What the hell.

What happened to my legendary 3-day week? A tradition that I have been firmly abidding with since I entered SMU. Not that I really have a 3-day week, given the number of ultra-meanie project mates (Did I call them meanie? Urphs! No. Nice, I mean) who firmly demand to take away your 3 days by arranging for project meetings on your holidays.

Great. So I am going to be mean. I am going to make my project mates come back.. EVERYDAY.
I am evil. I know. But I like it.