I was babysitting for a relative not too long ago, and in the olden days, that is when I was a thirteen year old babysitter, this responsibility never seemed as huge as it does now with all the dangers lurking in every corner of my house. The DVD tray must look like a toaster because a piece of bread was shoved into it. My computer’s cord must look like a piece of spaghetti, since it was shoved into the mouth and devoured like a pizza loaded with the works. After an hour, I was completely frazzled and went into the kitchen for nourishment (read: ice cream). I had to climb high up on the chair and then in the freezer (I am now an elongated midget) to get to the secret secret SECRET stash, but lo and behold …

SOMEONE HAD BEATEN ME TO THE STASH.

At this point, I might have uttered an entirely inappropriate word. And in the next beat I hear a two year old breathlessly repeat that entirely inappropriate word.

I froze. Surely he hadn’t really said...

Oh boy. He’d said it all right, laughing now with delight for being ever so clever as to render me nearly speechless. “Okay,” I said (begged). “Maybe you could forget that you heard that word here.”

It was repeated again, with a toothless, cheeky grin.

Oh God. The word was bouncing off the inside of my brain. Now what? How do you UNTEACH THAT WORD? Not five minutes later her momma came and got her, and I tried to shove them out the door before my unintentional lesson in swearing became evident but there is no rushing some people. Mom sat on the floor of my living room while I ran around cleaning up the toys, and damn if the first thing the little rugrat didn’t do was point to me and say IT.

The mom looked up at me as I stood there holding a toy fire truck. She didn’t kill me. In fact, she smiled. “Oh, listen, did you hear that?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Didn’t hear a thing.”

“She said truck.” The mom beamed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

SO wonderful.

1. Treefingers by Radiohead

For some reason, this reminds me of a certain scene in a beautiful mind where John is receiving electroconvulsive therapy at the hospital, and his wife watches through the window. I have no idea why.

2. Theme by Jon Brion

If you've been even slightly alive in the realm of the wonderful world of motion pictures during the past five years, you probably recognize this track as the main theme to the equally wonderful Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Instrumentally, what this track demonstrates is that even within the deranged clouds of a mental illness, a patient will experience moments of clarity. The track however, seems to go on to question whether these moments of clarity are really a positive experience for the patient - after all, would the epiphany of one's own madness and the accompanying sorrow be a better outcome than plain disconnection from reality?

3. It's Oh So Quiet by Bjork

In a characteristic frenzy of lyrical lunacy and vocals, Bjork takes us on a too-close for comfort trip around her own psyche, describing her love life. While this track may not embody any signs of mental illness/sickness, I do believe that the frustration of 'falling in love' is enough to make anyone go loco.


Well this kept me happy.

And that's the point of it all.

I slept for 4 hours yesterday.

Why? Yes I am stoked because it's Hari Raya the day after! Oh how I love Hari Raya! The cajoling of adults who will stuff my tummy with 79 kilograms worth of food, observing nosy aunties cry when they beg for forgiveness from the elderly and new bed sheets! I adore the smell of fresh quilt covers! Oh bless you Ikea! Thank you for reincarnating vanilla scented candles!

The result? I am getting Cortisol tummy, and I know exactly why it's happening. When someone like me doesn't get enough sleep, their body goes into slow-stress mode, and their adrenal glands release adrenocorticoids (ie cortisol). In their maligned attempt to combat my stress, cortisol basically travels to my stomach area and gets all of my body cells to release their blood sugar...

which does nothing and then gets converted into fat. Just in the stomach though.

It is hot as hades here. My family is visiting with a lot of adults, and I am sitting pretty. My goal today is to completely exhaust myself and help around the house (which is both mentally and physically exhausting, cos trust me, with my dad suffering from severe OCD towards dirt and grime, household chores in the Noorman family takes you to a whole new level of patience, dedication and keeping your cool) so that I can get back into something which resembles a regular sleep schedule. Other than that, I am working hard on mama's birthday present.

I am such a mean, horrible daughter sometimes. I hope I make my mom enough money in the future to compensate for it all.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand why people say “it’s the least I could do” in response to another person thanking them for something.

To me, this seems like the absolute worst thing to say. You’re basically telling the person that you’re happy they’re happy, but really, whatever you did was based on pure laziness.

You knew you had to do Something, and you decided to do whatever took the least amount of effort on your part. And not only did you do the easiest thing possible, you now feel the need to tell the person that you decided to take that route, as if your Adventure In Lazy Land was something to be proud of.

Why not lie?

When then person thanks you, why not reply that it was the most you could do? You gave them your all! Whatever you did, it was one of the biggest triumphs of your life, and it deserves thanks.

That way the person is left feeling even better about the entire situation, thinking to himself, “That was his finest effort!” instead of knowing that you figured out which option was the easiest, and went with that.

Before you know it everyone thinks they’re getting these super-human efforts out of you, when in reality, you’re still the lethargic slob they’ve known all their lives – only with better phrasing.

Dear Oprah,

I just saw the cover of the April issue of your magazine, and I think I’ve had enough.  I know that you do a lot of good for people and all that, but this is a little ridiculous.

I’m not even talking about how you and Michelle Obama are obviously photo-shopped.  Or the fact that you let the first lady get photographed wearing a belt I’m sure they sell at Wal-Mart or Target. Because that doesn’t even really bother me.

What I have a problem with is that you couldn’t let Michelle Obama have the cover of your magazine to herself.

Is it not enough that you have been on the cover of every single other issue? I guess not.  When you found out she was giving you an interview, you just couldn’t let the first black First Lady ever chill by herself. Nope! You had to be on the cover too!

I don’t understand. What is the point? It’s not like people don’t know who you are already.  When I’m in Starbucks ordering a Caramel Macchiato for myself, and I see you walk in, it’s not like I’m turning to my friend and exclaiming, “Who’s that black lady???”  No, I’m saying, “Damn! Oprah likes frappacino too!”

What I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t make sense. I don’t get how you didn’t think, at least just for a second, “Maybe I could step aside this time.” You do know the damn magazine is named after you, right?

Anyway, I think I’m done with you. This is just too weird.

In closing, now that I’ve voiced my disapproval, please don’t use your special Oprah Magic to turn me into a one-legged monkey.

P.S, I prefer your Doctor Oz episodes.

P.P.S And since you like the power of the human spirit so much, get Nick Vujicic on the show dammit!

Best,

Amalina

*

And...Rihanna tried to copy my look.

It's really funny how her dress looks exactly like my skirt.

Everyone seems to be pretty pleased with this movie, Wall-E.

I’m not.

I’m furious.

Here’s why: Those ass-turds at Disney ripped off the second best robot movie (behind Robocop of course) of all time, Short Circuit.

Wall-E is an exact copy of Short Circuit’s star, Johnny 5.

Of course I have compiled Scientific Evidence to prove my point.

Here is Wall-E.

Awww, he’s so cute.

Look at him playing with that Rubik’s Cube, it only makes me want to vomit in my mouth once.

Now here’s Johnny “Bloody” 5.  I added the bloody for effect. It’s my Artistic License.

Uh, notice any similarities?

Wall-E has the exact same head, the exact same wheels, and almost identical hands.

You’re pissed off right now, aren’t you? I know!

This is bullcrap!

How can Disney so blatantly disrespect 1) A bad-ass robot and 2) Steve Guttenberg???

Steve was in Three Men and a Baby and Police Academy - two additional classic movies! Has the world gone mad???

Are pigs flying?

Did McDonald’s stop making commercials that are just bloody terrible and finally realize that the best ones they ever had starred the Hamburglar?

It’s times like these when I really, really start to question if The End Of Days is upon us.

When I can’t live my life in peace, knowing that gems from my childhood will remain intact and Unscrewedwith, I just don’t feel safe anymore.

I’ll tell you what, this Injustice, this Abomination, WILL NOT STAND. I’m calling Johhny 5 and I’m calling Steve and we’re going on a roadtrip to kick Wall-E’s ass.

You think I get worked up over Things That Don’t Matter?

Just wait until you see Steve Guttenberg get gully - it’s not for the faint of heart.

In one of my previous posts, I have rambled upon Ryan's intoxicating masculine beauty.

Damn right, he's back, and half nekkid.

Word has come down that U.S. swimmer and everyone's Olympic boyfriend Ryan Locte has finally answered the prayers of millions. Sit down, you guys. This is intense. Lochte has decided to follow in the footsteps of landmark hot bitches Mark Wahlberg, Djimon Honsou, and Halle Berry's baby-daddy.

He's going to...I don't know if I can say it! Okay, fine. I'll say it quickly.

He's going to model for... for... Calvin... wait for it...Klein...keep waiting... UNDERWEAR. Shit! I just got uterine cramps typing that up. He's going to be modeling for Calvin Klein UNDERWEAR! (OUCH!) Now, it's not like we haven't seen Lochte in teeny bikinis before (damn, another cramp!), but we haven't seen him in filmy briefs, artfully photographed in black and white. 

And just when you think you can't deal with the Lochtepalooza on the horizon, there he is popping up in a GQ photoshoot (that explosion you just heard was my uterus... she's done. We had a good run of it though) to ratchet up the antici...pation for the main event.

Dolphinman Phelps may have won Sports Illustrated's Sportsman of the Year title, but I think that with Ryan Lochte's upcoming Calvin Klein UNDERWEAR campaign (or crampaign, if you will) we are all winners.

P.S, he's wearing Havaianas slippers.

If you're a faithful fan of Survivor, y'all might recall Elisabeth Hasselbeck from Survivor: The Australian Outback back in 2001. Back then, I was a fan crazed 7 year old who idolises Elisabeth like she's some goddess or something and I supported her ever since Channel 5 aired Episode 1.
7 years later, I, aged 14, discovered the wonders of Google. And Wikipedia. Duh, I googled her. What I didn't know about my "goddess survivor" is that she has a brother, Matt Hasselbeck, who plays as a quarterback in the NFL. I came across a cute picture of him in his Wikipedia page and immediately saved it.

See? Very Cute. He has a very handsome, vaguely preppy appeal and lovely dark teal eyes.
And just as you ogle those rolling hills of biceps, you don't notice that when he takes off his hat and...


AAAAAaahhh! Your cute quarterback to your lame maths teacher in one quick de-hatting. Seriously, use your hand, and cover the top half of his head on your monitor. Now, pull it away. Repeat this move over and over until your realize just how severe the difference is. Baldness is no fun, and it effects many, but the baldness isn't really the story. It's the sheer size of Hasselbeck's head. I theorize that Elisabeth might be feeding him bullshit during family holidays causing his head to swell with poisonous liquid.

The hat clearly tricks your eyes into minimizing the sheer size of Matt's head.

The significant difference between capped Hasselbeck and nakedly-domed Hasselbeck shocked me. A whole lot.
*
Sidetracking...

I bought those Moose ears from Toys R Us (it was only $1.95!!) and of course, I tried it on my darling Pinky.


Clearly, he's very annoyed.

"Oh, I'm so glad he got in! , he really deserves it..."

"Did you know the White House was built by black slaves?"

"Was it? That's terrible! They should tear it down and build it again!"

I kid ye not, that was part of an actual conversation overheard in the train. Well meaning and kind hearted gibberish, of course, but I wasn't about to get involved in the conversation, so I quickly alighted at Tanah Merah before I burst into a fit of giggles.

It's that whole "Aw, isn't it great?, he's so brave!" bullshit. People acting like the guy's a nine year old paraplegic who's just won his first swimming certificate. Wonder what the reaction will be when he gets down to business and displays more of the 'tough bastard' side needed to govern any sizeable country. Maybe I'm not entirely comfortable talking politics with other people.

It'll come.....

*

In other news, I think I may be a tad lovesick. Or something like that. Not for anyone in particular, you understand, but the symptoms have been manifesting themselves ever more clearly for the past month or two. That inescapable feeling that you're spending too much time on your own and that something vast and important is missing from your existence.

Could it be Rhys?

P.S, I seriously want Kaiser Chiefs, The Kooks, R.E.M and The Verve (God, I'm such a huge fan!!!) to come to Singapore. C'mon guys, make my life easier, make me attain the spiritual concerty enlightenment that I've been missing for these few months.

P.P.S, I'm willing to pay the big bucks...

After a whole week at home doing all the stuff you always say you'd do more of (had my fair share of Little Britain and television), if only school didn't get in the way, I had to go back.

There was some initial resistance but I managed to get my ass off the bed. It was one of the most painful experiences I had to endure this week, especially if you deliberately set your alarm 1 hour earlier.

Waking up at 6.15 a.m. was not only murder, but sweat, blood and tears were involved in the process. Sweat from not turning on the air-conditioning, blood from scratching skin excessively and tears for agreeing to this crazy thing in the first place.

YES! I got myself my usual dosage of female-induced hormones in the group talking about Kimi Raikonnen, Rhys and me, non-stop googling for hot guys, video-taping things and loads of other cool stuffs. Journalism rocks my socks!  

*

On a more serious note, I've been getting more than 300 junk mails per day (the sudden surge!) and it has became from a source of entertainment (it's my pasttime reading headlines that I've won a million pounds) to shitty nuisance. Sorry, but I don't need "250lbs of waste" being "cleansed out of my colon". I am perfectly fine with my arse just the way it is.

I’ve been feeling quite depressed and morose recently. It’s raining every day, it’s cloudy by 4pm, and although I’m struggling with sleep, it’s an uphill battle to get out of bed in the morning.

So, it’s nice when something good happens. Such as me being in the Photojournalism course, meeting Syamim and Sheels, finding good and cheap food at Orchard, SingStar-ing to Ramones, Killers, Rolling Stones, REM, Jane's Addiction, Weezer bla bla bla.

*

All I’m saying is, for this much money, the Kindle better harness nuclear energy to make eggs, do laundry, and drive me to school everyday.

Holy shit. $6,232.00 for an EBOOK?! And that’s 20% off! I mean, I get nervous wearing expensive bags sometimes on the train. Imagine having a SIX THOUSAND DOLLAR ebook on the Kindle?! I’d be afraid to touch the damn thing. It's in Amazon.

*

Although I'm a huge fan of trashy romance reads with their vast description of declaring undying love, all I can say to Rhys is that I like him. A whole lot.

I'd be lying if I said I vaguely recalled how we met.

Maradona has been confirmed the new Argentina coach. Oh dear. It's a bit like the FA announcing that Gazza is the new England boss. It will end in tears. He's not a manager, he's a circus.

*
So last year when the writer’s strike came, nobody bitched and moaned and groaned and missed their scripted TV more than me. I was hooked on so many shows, I didn’t see how I would survive the loss.

But somehow I did. And you know what? After a few weeks, the most shocking thing happened.

I found I didn’t miss TV anymore. I read more. I actually vacuumed. I played with my cats. Did babysitting for my nephews and nieces while their parents were away for D&D.

When September rolled around and the new TV season hit, I shrugged my shoulders. I was so over Private Practice, Lost, House...over all of it. I wasn’t going to get hooked again, no siree...

And then I caught House and fell in love all over again. I saw Desperate Housewives and was hooked. I watched the Starworld line-up of Friends, My Wife & Kids, Grey's Anatomy, etc...

And it happened.

My addiction was back. I even have a few new ones.The Moment of Truth (oh God, I love controversial game shows). Dirty Sexy Money (don’t even try to tell me it’s a sleazy soap, I realize this and LOVE it anyway).

My point? I’m once again a TV ‘ho and proud of it.

I'm currently in school, jacking shit up with Photoshop CS and here are my final products!

MY NAME --- Amalina
1. Four letter word ; Ohio
2. Boy name ; Rick DiPietro      
3. Girl name ; Mary Jo Lisa
4. Occupation ; Pest Control Woman
5. Colour ; ROYGBIV
6. Something you wear ;
7. Beverage ; Coke Zero
8. Food ; Thai Green Curry
9. Place ; Bali, Indonesia
10. Something found in bathroom ; Terrycloth robes.  
11. Reason for being late ; Late for what?
12. Something you shout ; HAHAHAHAHAHA
13. Font ; Arial
14. TV show ; Little Britain!!
15. Song Title ; Knncb (tribute to Syamim) - Amalina Noorman

1. Do you have secrets?
Who doesn't?

2. Would you fall in love with a boy younger than you?
Aha, love has no boundaries....(cliched!)

3. Do you enjoy going to sch?
I don't hate school though homework pisses me off.

4. What would you do with a billion dollars?
Donate to organisations in need all over the world. HAHA! I'm serious. The more you give, the more you receive. I'll end poverty first though.

5. Would you fall in love with your best friend?
"I am the only gay in the village!"

6. Which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?
HAHAH! BLESSED! BLOODY BLESSED PEOPLE!

7. List out your current 10 favourite songs:
1.Breakfast At Tiffany's - Deep Blue Something
2. Did You Get My Message - Jason Mraz
3. High And Dry - Radiohead
4. Somebody - Depeche Mode
5. Losing My Religion - REM
6. Sweat (Ah la la la Long) - Inner Circle
7. High & Dry - Jamie Cullum (cover)
8. Are You Gonna Go My Way - Lenny Kravitz
9. Sunday Morning - Maroon 5
10. Womanizer - Britney Spears (!!!!!!)
11. Open Arms - Journey (hehe extraaa)

8. If the person you secretly like is attached, what would you do?
Who cares? "There are plenty more pebbles on the beach!"

9. Is there anything that has made you extremely happy?
Yes, my cats.

10. List the artists you listen to.
Adele.............The Zutons.

11. How would you see yourself in 10 years time?
PARTYINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG (and making another legal trip to The Arena yet again)

12. What is currently the most important thing(s) to you?
Unconditional love from family, friends and cats.

13. What is the kind of person you think you(I think this is supposed to be who) tagged you is?
Syamim and Sheila are only human. Yes they are are are are are.

14. Would you rather have an ugly but rich or handsome but poor husband?
Handsome and poor husband duh!!!! There are many means of getting rich easily nowadays!!

15. What are your favourite colours?
ROYGBIV (did i get the 7 colors right?)

16. Would you give an all in a relationship?
if you don't give your all in the relationship, THEN WHAT'S THE POINT OF HAVING ONE GAL???
.
17. If you fall in love with two people simultaneously, who would you pick?
Whatever!

18. Would you forgive and forget no matter how horrible a thing someone has done?
HAHAHAH WHATEVER (nothing funny about it but still...whatever)

19. Do you prefer being single or being in a relationship?
Whatever makes me happy.

I'm interested in American Football. I am doing a research with Lars Cantzler, my South African pen pal, about some famous american football team (National Football League: NFL) and some ice hockey teams there.....HAHAH! THE GUYS ARE FREAKIN HOT!

Ok good die! (as quoted from Little Britain!)

Well the Formula 1 fever is over. I saw Felippe Massa and his wife! I stalked them to the restroom in Paragon and Faris pretended to pee while actually he was looking at Massa urinating. And of course the Olympics was waaay over....I think it has been made clear to everyone in the US and all over the world: Michael Phelps is a god. He shits gold diarrhea. Women (like me) go "OMG! He's hot!". BUT!

Being the pessimist that I am, here are some reasons why I wouldn't want to be his girlfriend.


10. He's a celebrity.
Are you ready for the paparazzi, gala events, glamourous life? Are you ready for the tabloids headline to say "Phelps' New Women"? Would you want to be known as his kept woman?

9. He eats 10,000 calories per day.
Financially, you'd be bled dry trying to keep him fed. Plus, there's no way you wanna spend time waiting for him to finish his meal after....1 hour? And that's just breakfast ladies.

8. Going to the beach is out of the question
Who doesn't love to swim, right? But once you become Michael Phelps' girlfriend, swimming is completely off the table. Every time you throw on a really cute Speedo bikini, everyone's going to be all, "I bet that sweetie of yours taught you to swim, huh?" And you'll be all, "Bitch! I passed my swim test in Primary 6, I can float on my back for days!" But they'll just smile and pat your head and believe that Michael Phelps is somewhere training your arm span and grabbing you a kick board to practice on.

7. He has eight gold medals.
What the fuck have you ever done? Try and top that.

6. He would destroy your womb with his sheer awesomeness.
He would just jack your shit up. His swimmers would power straight through your uterus and destroy everything in their path. Leaving nothing but tears and world records in their wake.

5. He's friends with Ryan Lochte.
You would be continually confronted with the delicious forbidden fruit that is Ryan Lochte. Lochte is so hot that the pope would endorse gay marriage solely to propose to Ryan Lochte. How are you supposed to say hi to your boyfriend's BFF when you find yourself humping BFF's leg? Can't be done.

4. He's the greatest American hero in the history of America.
By swimming through water, very, very fast, Michael Phelps accomplished more than US best presidents, Founding Fathers, and childhood icons could ever dream of. Right? That's what the television says. Anyway, if you're the wife of the Greatest American Hero, believe it or not, you will NOT be walking on air. Mary Todd Lincoln went Looney Tunes, TJ's wife died of consumption, and Kelly Kapowski ended up gaining a lot of weight and moving to Beverly Hills to terrorize Kelly Taylor. You don't want to suffer the same fate.

3. He's uber rich.
This is unfair because every women wants a rich husband....right? Wrong. By saying "I do" to him in the altar, he just put on a 40k gold ring with precious rubies and sapphire gems by Tiffany & Co. You would also get an endless supply of Bvlgari diamonds because he endorsed it. Surely, you'll be the envy of other woman and you are BOUND to get raped/molested/kidnapped for the sake of your $1billion diamond collection.

2. Affairs.
Face it. Guy Ritchie cheated on Madonna. Jennifer Aniston divorced Brad Pitt. Dita von Teese cuts it with Marilyn Manson. Courtney Love turned bonkers after Kurt Cobain committed suicide. Moral of the tragedies? Nothing lasts forever.

1. He's a mama's boy.
If you've ever dated any boy ever, you know all to well that nothing can vaporize a relationship with more stealth and ill will than a too-close bond between a boy and his mother. And I get the feeling that Michael Phelps's mom still reserves a portion of each week to ironing Michael's socks and cutting his toenails. If you catch my meaning. While that kind of family devotion is heartwarming. Of course Debbie Phelps is bound to tell her dear Mikey that she's hardly seen him since the two of you got together. Plus, he has sisters. Sisters! The judge, jury, and executioners of girlfriends everywhere. Bad news, you guys. Bad news.

The weather is to blame for everything.

Except for the fact that my jukebox's battery is dead. That is my fault for forgetting to charge it up. It seems to need an awful lot of charging up these days. Even Syamim's charging her (oldie but goodie) technological&musical love more frequently. But then, neither of us is getting any younger.

Under the circumstances I am feeling extraordinarily tranquil.

*

It has been a long time, hasn't it?

I grow old. Soon it will be Ramadhan, bloody exams, Hanukkah and before I know it we will have entered another year. I have tried swimming backwards in time, like a salmon, leaping heroically against the flow, but it is useless... time carries me onwards. I remain the same, but the world changes my reflection.

I am getting thinner - my jeans no longer fit me, and T-shirts don't fit me snugly no more. I am a superhero of bones. I have shrunk from a waist size of 26 to a 24. My diet lies by the trash; unwanted, revolting and disgusting.

I shall clothe myself in fat. In swathes of inpenetrable flesh. I shall armour myself with cholesterol and kingly jowls.

I shall become a blob of power.

The becoming is soon: I must leave.