I was actually damn sad to leave, and so were the students. They wept, they begged, but I told themeven if this had been my chosen career path, I'd need to go to NIE.

And so I left for greener pastures...

And the good thing about my work place is that there isn't any stupid males around. Everyone in my office is a female. Noobody is ugly, and nobody is stupid. They can speak well, conduct themselves very well. Because I am really allergic to stupid males.

For a 22-year old woman, it is very disturbing when she doesn't seem to be able to attract anymore men, but instead, intrigues the fantasy of underaged boys (all under 16 can?!? like how sick right?) ...

This is what I call gua gua gua....

OMFG!

I just signed up for an exotic dance class which spans over 6 weeks. When I was a kid, I used to pout and try to wriggle my way out of ballet and chinese dance classes when my mother signed me up for them, but now I signed up for an exotic dance class on my own accord. So I think I'm really crazy, because as I type this, i still can't believe that I've actually forked out $150 for 6 sessions of 1.5 hour Exotic classes for beginners. And I remember that every first dance lesson that I was forced to go to, the teacher would take alook at my limbs and automatically grouped me with the more graceful girls, thinking that I can dance the cheemer stuff. Budden, I always get kicked out of dance classes due to inattention, too much giggling, or get reprimanded for being 3 counts behind the rest of the class. Aiya because it's embarrassing to do those monkey poses in front of a mirror mah...And it's not seh like when you do a catwalk. To me, I look goofy when dancing.

People who knows me knows that I own 2 left feet, and I can only do a semblance of a dance when I'm slightly drunk.

And I just found out that I've been writing "Enclosed is my resume for your preview" Instead of review in all of the recent cover letters that I've sent out. Duh-uh...this is damn fucking emabrrassing, for who'd wanna have a PREVIEW of my resume...

Ahh I'm returning to the blogosphere again...A proof of a stale life.

For once, ever since I start teaching, I am looking forward for the weekends to end and for school to start... ...

That is like how retarded right?

She looks like she don't care
Smooth as silk
Cool a air
Oh it make you wanna cry

She doesn't know your name
And your heart beats like a subway train
Oh, it makes you wanna die...

Maria, You've gotta see her
Go insane and out of your mind

I feel like 13 again and I think I'm going crazyyyy

The Fucking entry

Of late, my blog has been the only fucking place where I can scold vulgarities with no fucking restraint.

A month plus or so ago, the word "Fucking" comprised allmost all of Yours Truly's adjective usage, A person who thought very highly of himself would be called a "BIG FUCK", people were referred to as "Fuckers" or "FUCKTARDS" and I begin almost every other sentence with "nabeh".

But now, I have to show a grerat deal of restraint because I am teaching in a Secondary school, and secondary school kids have a looong memory when it comes to things like that

There was once when the noise-level of a class rose to unprecetended levels, and I was arrowed lots of shit by the HOD. Feeling extremely in need to vent if not I'll go crazy, I mouthed a slient "fuck you". But apparently, the boys sitting in the front row saw that and went into an excited flurry, discussing amongst themselves trying to come to a conclusion if I had indeed said that "F"-word.

So if anyone wants to have an ah lian conversation, please call me on my mobile...And allow me to fuck you upside down with those glorious words,

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!

I know this may seem like a silly present, but I actually suggested to the BF to buy a giant 6 litre bottle of Camphor Oil (or commonly known as the yellow colour liquid that you pour on cuts and wounds before you paste the plaster) as a Bday present. And then Genie granted me my wish...



It'll be good if I actually become the spokesmodel for this brand of herbal oil, because I'm so accident prone, that I manage to finish in a year, what the bf AND his family took 25 years to finish. Somehow. And I apply it on any fucking place that I feel like applying it on. I think I might be addicted to this grandfather's ointment.

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So I demanded for a Yam cake from my dad the weekend before my birthday, for my birthday.

SO the silly BF went around Singapore to search for the PERFECT Yam Cake because he know I luuurve Yam cakes. He googled, checked forums bla bla bla, and finally found "The Best Yam Cake in SIngapore", and placed an order for a huge one.

So on the day of my birthday, while I was still snoozing in bed, he went out to fetch the "Best Yam cake in SIngapore" hoping to surprise me.

When he picked it up, he saw a small container of chilli sauce nestled comfortably in one corner on top of the box with the "Best Yam Cake". The box was lavishly wrapped, with maroon ribbons that had gold borders. It was after all the "Best Yam Cake" So he catiously asked the auntie there "Auntie ah...why is there chilli sauce? I thought I ordered Yam cake?"

And Yam cake it was... But not the sweet, creamy Western type that I craved, but the savoury, Chinese steamed yam cakes that our ah ma will make occassionally, or what we call the Or Kuey.



The silly baby was so afriad that I'll be angry, that he sweetened me up with a bit of "Singapore's most famous crepe"
Waiting...



then plied me with wine until I was silly, then he asked the staff at Fish & Co. to sing me a birthday jingle immediately after they brought out the cake.


Maybe it was the wine, but I found the whole thing immensely amusing. But I also thought that the Mao is the sweetest mao on earth....

....Despite the fact that he bought me ugly hello kitty (or idunno what cartoon is that) pyjamas from Pasar Malam.
Okie la...to give him credit, he also bought me a nice book, and the Estee Lauder Vinyl Lipstick set that I was searching all over the place for, and brought me to watch a musical. :P

DAMMIT I so wanted to upload my bday video of the people singing the bday jingle with my steamed chinese yam cake

I wonder why the majority of the teachers are so damn fat. I've been screaming out lessons everyday, and I fully utilized my diaphragm and every single biological voice projecting tool in my body. And I scream lessons from 8 to about 1:30pm almost everyday.

I scream history lessons to 5 classes of brats, English class to 1 class of brats, and 1 more history lesson to 1 class of older brats.

And I totter on my usual high heels, carrying tonnes of books to climb up flights of stairs everyday.

I get so exhausted by the end of the day, that I have no appetite for anything for the rest of the day.

Unless I'm the only one being over-worked, I don't see why teachers should be fat. But almost everyone of them are.