That Pittsy Fellow

A conversation that arose the other night, after seeing the TROY trailer on Channel V's Ticketeer program.

DAD: That Troy movie looks pretty interesting.
LYNN: (With much enthusiasm) Oh yeah, it's a fabulous film.
DAD: You've watched it already?
LYNN: Yep.
DAD: Well, maybe when your mom gets back from Europe, we can all watch it together.
LYNN: (Thinking to self) A double dose of Brad Pitt? Yay.
JASON: But mom always falls asleep in the middle of movies. She fell asleep in the middle of The Return of the King and slept through the entire battle scene with the orcs.
LYNN: That's because she got all the hobbits mixed up and couldn't tell which was which, and so she got bored, I think.
DAD: Well maybe she won't fall asleep in the middle of this one. (Pauses) Since there's all those muscley men. Like that Pittsy fellow.

~*~

Haha, Pittsy fellow. Good one, Dad. So anyways, after watching it last weekend, here's the obligatory Troy review. Hey, you knew it was coming.


Firstly, I knew from reading the blogs of some fellow Xangans that Brad Pitt's behind was going to be rather, um, exposed in this film. But I didn't expect to see it three minutes into the movie! Not that I'm complaining or anything, mind you. Siri and I may have nearly spilled our popcorn because of the early and very abrupt appearance of Brad Pitt's buff behind, but I'm not complaining, nosiree. Anyways, moving on. I know that there has been a lot of controversy and complaints surrounding the movie and how it doesn't follow Homer's Iliad word-for-word, but c'mon, people. What were you expecting? I don't think very many 21st century viewers would really buy into that whole "Ho ho, I'm feeling vengeful, so let's strike everyone down with thunderbolts" attitude of the ancient Greek gods, now, do you? This film's an adaptation, not a precise recounting of the longest poem ever to be written in all of history. I don't think any director would have been able to condense an epic poem of the Iliad's proportions down to a 3-hour film, and manage to satisfy everybody. Besides, I think having Greek gods in the film would have made it rather cheesy, what with the thunderbolts and excessive CGI effects. So if you were highly disappointed that there weren't any sea nymphs or sea serpents popping out from under the sea, tough luck. Go rent The Little Mermaid, if you want to see that sort of stuff.


I've never really cared much for Eric Bana (maybe because I've never really cared much for The Hulk), but I really like how he portrayed Hector's character in the film. What an ideal hero figure. Loving husband and father, devoted son, honorable warrior - he's the sort of guy all Trojan dudes must have endeavored to be like. Too bad I can't say the same for his wimp of a brother, Paris. I feel kind of bad for Orlando Bloom, having to play that Paris character. As if people don't give him enough crap already for being a pretty-boy type actor, he went off and starred as Paris, the nauseatingly naive, rather selfish, and "Oh, I'm so in love with you, Helen. Let's run away and live off of nuts and twigs, and the fruits of our loins!" character. Sorry for the biting comment, but Siri and I were seriously irked by Paris. I suppose this means that Orlando Bloom played his character really well, then, if he was able to irk us that much. After all, under normal circumstances, we generally heart Orlando Bloom's characters very much. (But have no fear, Orli, we still heart you!)


Yes, Brad Pitt has a nice behind. Yes, Brad Pitt looks great in a skirt. And yes, Brad Pitt is hot. But we all knew that already, now didn't we? What surprised me was that he acted really well in this film. He literally WAS Achilles. He totally nailed that holier-than-thou arrogance and in-your-face conceitedness, yet he still managed to bring a certain sense of humanity to his character, something that I think is missing somewhat from Homer's Achilles. And what about that duel scene between Achilles and Hector? Talk about some seriously cool footwork!




Peter O'Toole is a living cinematic legend. And man, does he have a pair of really, really blue eyes. I think my favorite quote by him in this film was when he and Achilles are talking after Hector's death, and Priam asks Achilles for a proper burial for his son. Yeah, I'm talking about that "And I am your enemy tonight" quote. Quite a powerful one, me thinks.


Now, for the ladies. Ooh la la, they were tres hot, indeed. Diane Kruger (with her excessive eyeliner and all) played Helen well, but Siri and I were really taken with Rose Byrne, who starred as the thankfully non-sterotypical, non-Hollywood-A-List-actress-looking Briseis. We felt that she was really befitting for the character and couldn't imagine anyone else playing her. I know, I know, Achilles isn't supposed to fall in love with Hector's cousin in the Iliad, but if Achilles was able to be at peace with everything in the end because of Briseis, then so be it. Lalalala, and they could've lived happily ever after, too. But too bad Achilles had to go and die in the end. Damn you, Paris. It's all your fault. I hope you and Helen rot in the middle of the River Styx for all eternity. Boooo.


In a nutshell, Troy rocked. Who cares if it didn't follow the Iliad one hundred percent. It's a movie, not a documentary. Go read the Iliad, if you want historical and literary accuracy, but watch Troy if you want some good ol' popcorn entertainment (and lots of eye candy). So hoorah for Troy... and that Pittsy fellow, too!

~*~

I finally developed my really old roll of film from last November when I met Malachi Cush at Emporium. I look positively anemic.



Oh hey, and isn't this Crazy Beautiful song by Hanson just awesome? I can't seem to get it out of my head.


Doo doo di doo da doo.

Where is the Luuurve?

I just re-read my last entry and realize that it's pretty much all about puking and pooping. Sorry, folks. I can assure you I don't talk about puke and poop on a regular basis, just in case any of you were wondering. I hope no one was too grossed out or anything, especially with the green poop bit. Thanks a lot for the well-wishes, by the way! I'm feeling much better now, thanks. But jeez, stupid crab! Because of it, I wasn't able to attend my cousin's wedding on Tuesday, and I also ended up missing out on an uber-fun trip to Hua Hin with Caro and her Singaporean friends. Ah well. I'll have to make sure and find time to see P'Nuch off at the airport before she leaves for Houston.

(That's Sebastian the Crab from The Little Mermaid, by the way. I always thought he was really cool, what with his really swinging and Caribbean-esque version of "Under the Sea", and really cheesy grin. So while I may harbor a strong aversion towards crustaceans in general right now, I still really like good ol' Sebastian. Yeah, me and Sebastian, we's real tite, yo. Ahem.)


The newlyweds!
Apparently, my dad got a little teary-eyed when P'Nuch came out in her wedding dress, and my mom said that they looked very much in love and wouldn't let go of each other's hands. Everyone thought they'd never get together, since they're both really shy when it comes to the whole dating gig, but just look at them now!

(All together now, "Awwww...")

~*~

I went to pick up my brother from his last dance of the school year today. It's always nice to go back to my old school and have that big pang of nostalgia hit me. This is his last year of middle school, and the kid's going to be starting high school next year. HIGH SCHOOL! Seems like just yesterday I was busting my gut laughing at him when his 2-year old self went and pooped in his pants the last time we went to Yosemite. Oops, poop-talk again. Sorry, I promise no more poop-talk henceforth.


Anyways, good older sister that I am, I waited for that sucker for nearly an hour. Fifty-three minutes to be exact. A lot can happen in fifty-three minutes, I tells ye.


While walking from the parking lot to the Godbout Hall, I passed by a large group of guys, who I suspect were in the eighth grade, since one of them I believe is a friend of my brother's. A couple of them were carrying rolled-up posters in front of their crotches and were singing Kelis' infamous Milkshake song. Except, well, they'd fiddled around with the words somewhat, thus changing the lyric to:

"My hot dog brings all the girls to the yard, and they're like, it's better than yours. Damn right, it's better than yours. I can teach you, but I have to charge."

I don't think I've ever seen anyone cavort before, but those boys - with their rolled-up poster paper and Kelis-morphed song - were doing some mad cavorting and frolicking. Pretty funny stuff, people.


Later, while waiting by the benches outside of Godbout Hall, I saw a Khun Ying-type mother barking into her cell phone. ("Khun Yings" are women who are members of the Thai royal peerage and are given their titles by HM Queen Sirikit. They dress and act ostentatiously, and are notorious for their REALLY BIG HAIR.) She was yelling at some poor person LOUDLY and with much flair, I must say. Every time she jabbed her huge diamond ringed fingers into the air, her head would shake and her wide, hair-sprayed hair would sort of bounce and jounce along too, thus making for a rather entertaining spectacle.


I'd forgotten to bring a book along with me, and so to kill time, I wandered off towards the cafe by the swimming pool. I bought some bubble tea, and just as I was turning around to walk out the door, I just so happened to spot my middle school PE teacher on the way in. So, I had to duck and stealthily slither away. Why? Well, you see, way back in the eighth grade, my girlfriends and I all had a big fat crush on the same guy, believe it or not. Mr. PE Teacher eventually found out who it was we all had a big fat crush on, and well, seeing as how it was the eighth grade and all, it was all really embarrassing to us, darnit. It hadn't been so hard for him to figure out, actually, because every single time le crush would walk past the volleyball court during PE class, we'd literally stop whatever it was we were doing to stare at him. Tenderly. And with much fondness. Ugh, how embarrassing. So anyways, this means that we got hit on the head with the volleyball on many, many, many occasions. Perhaps said hitting might have even inflicted permanent neurological damage. God knows that sure would explain a lot.


~*~

In other news, Blogger is awesome. First it goes and gives me a free Google email account (which, in case you haven't heard, provides you with 1 GB of space), and now it has this new, nifty little program called "Hello!", which allows me to upload unlimited pics to my blogger space. Sweet.


And hey, hey, hey! The Black Eyed Peas are coming to town, and guess who just got tickets today? "Where is the love"? Right here, baby, right here!

Oh Pernicious Crab, How I Loathe Thee

On Saturday, we took my parents' Floridian friends to Somboon Restaurant, which is located along Ratchadapisek Road (right at the Huay Kwang subway station). If you didn't know already, Ratchadapisek is a long avenue that's somewhat notorious for its great abundance in clubs and discos, massage (sex) parlors, and karaoke (sex) lounges. Ahem. So anyways, along the way, we passed by Major Cineplex (a big cinema conglomerate here in Thailand) where a humungous Troy banner, portraying Brad Pitt (!) and Orlando Bloom in full-fledged armor, was waving triumphantly in the afternoon wind. This gave the striking impression of rippling muscles a la Popeye after taking a big gulp of spinach. Or maybe it was just my imagination. I don't know.

LYNN: Look over there. It's a massage parlor called... Poseidon?
JASON: Poseidon was a Greek god.
LYNN: I know that.
JASON: He was God of the Sea and went around seducing all the sea nymphs.
LYNN: I didn't know that.
JASON: Yeah, apparently he had a lot of love affairs and was very popular with the ladies. You know how those Greek gods were like.
LYNN: Yeah, well, Poseidon Smosheidon. Brad Pitt is thee only bona fide Greek god as far as I'm concerned.


If you look to the image at your left, you'll see a map of the variety of establishments along Ratchadapisek. Now, what's up with all those Roman/Greek-inspired names? Poseidon? New Cleopatra? Caesars? Hmmm...


So Somboon Restaurant makes really good seafood. So good, in fact, that Japan's Prime Minister Koizumi has even dined there in the past, and they even had a couple of pictures of him (hip hair and all) and other members of Bangkok's social elite shaking hands with the restaurant owners. I noticed that there was a large number of Chinese and Japanese people there (mostly tourists, I believe), and so it was kind of surreal hearing more conversations in Mandarin and Japanese than in Thai. In fact, with the exception of the waiters and waitresses, I didn't hear anyone else around our table speaking Thai at all.


The fact that Somboon Restaurant is located amidst bright, flashing massage parlors and other such joints is quickly forgotten as soon as one gets a taste of their pad pu pong karee. That's crab meat with eggs and curry powder, in case you were wondering. Now, doesn't that sound just dandy? My parents' friends loved the food, and in between shoveling food into our mouths, we also shared a lot of good conversation and laughs. Unfortunately, their son and my culinary partner in crime, Chris, couldn't make the trip this time because he was really busy with school. (He just got accepted to Harvard Business School! Mr. Smarty Farty Pants!)


On the way home, we split up with my dad because he had to drop his friends off at the Westin Grande Hotel along Sukhumvit 19. Traffic was a killer on the way back, and as we sat motionless in traffic, listening to one of my self-made teenybopper CDs (hey, just don't tell anyone else, OK?), a rather sketchy-looking fella with a very unsteady gait came toppling towards us. He held up a dirty rag and tilted his head to one side - a wordless inquiry as to whether or not we wanted our windshield wiped down. My mom shook her head since our maid, P'Sai, had just washed our car that morning. Evidently, this pissed him off. A lot. He went to the front of the car, wrapped his hand around the Mercedes logo, and glared at us, as if threatening to yank it off. Whoa! "Money! He wants money!" I screeched, stating the obvious. My mom opened the window, called out to him, and he snatched the 50 baht bill from my mom before tumbling on over to another Mercedes parked a couple of cars behind us. The exact same thing happened, with Mr. Sketchy grabbing the Mercedes logo and threatening to yank it off again. Well, apparently the owner of the car didn't fork the money over quickly enough or didn't take the guy seriously enough, because this time Mr. Sketchy really DID rip off the Mercedes logo! And then he ran off and disappeared into the night.

Sheer craziness. But alas, it's just another night in Bangkok.


Gloomy, rainy Saturday evening clouds and traffic along Viphavadee-Rangsit and Ratchadapisek Road.


It's the elephant building! Check out his tusks.

~*~

On Sunday, we had dinner at the Menam Riverside Hotel along the Chaophraya River. As expected, the view of the river and glittering lights were splendiferous. I, however, cannot say the same about the food. While it tasted ok-ok, the crab gave me food poisoning! The Menam Hotel's famous for their excellent dim sum, but avoid the crab at all costs, people! As a result, I have wasted the entire day today puking and hurling my guts out, and my face is presently a faint tint of green. Yeah, not very attractive at all. I'm trying to be all optimistic about it, like the way Bridget Jones was when she came to Thailand, had a bad case of food poisoning, and cheerfully figured that it would help her shed any unwanted pounds. But such mentality isn't working with me. I'm sorry, but vomiting just isn't my idea of a good time, even though such a prospect would make some bullemic girls joyous beyond belief.


Speaking of green things and the state of being green, this reminds me of a conversation I had with one of my younger nephews a few weeks ago. You see, I have an aunt who is a devoted drinker of chlorophyll, which is apparently supposed to be really good in, uh, helping with fecal movement and all that... stuff. So, anyways, one way or another, by which I haven't the slightest clue, she managed to get (con) my nine-year old nephew into trying it. I have personally never tried the stuff before, because, dude, it's... CHLOROPHYLL. Anyways, the conversation:

NEPHEW: P'Lynn, my poop's green!
LYNN: Green?
NEPHEW: Yeah, because I had the chlorophyll stuff that Sa Kow told me to have.
LYNN: Well, uh, congratulations?
NEPHEW: It's so squishy when it comes out now, but it smells bad.
LYNN: You don't say? Well, maybe if you go stand outside in the sunlight for a few hours, you'll be able to photosynthesize.
NEPHEW: (Pensively) I know what that is. It's when plants make their own food.
LYNN: That's right!
NEPHEW: (Excitedly) I think I'm going to use that idea for my science project next year! Thanks P'Lynn! It's going to be sooo cool! I'm going to have the COOLEST project!

(Silence)

LYNN: Honey, I was joking. I don't think Sa Kow's chlorophyll drink will be able to help you photosynthesize in the sun.
NEPHEW: What? Oh.

Man, the kid looked so crushed. I felt so bad; it was like telling him Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy aren't real.

~*~

On a final note, I finally got broadband! Feel that breeze, baby! I'm practically sailing through cyberspace here! Wheee!

If anyone needs me, I'll be in my little virtual vortex, downloading my ass away with my best friend, Kazaa. Or I'll be in the bathroom with my face hovering precariously over the toilet bowl, puking my brains out, no thanks to Menam Hotel's baneful crab, consarnit.

Vroom, Vroom!

Though many people may beg to differ, I have been safely and proficiently driving the streets of Bangkok for nearly three years now. I remember how, way back in the day, I would crawl through Bangkok traffic, terrified of knocking over one of the dozens of newspaper and garland sellers as I'd clutch the steering wheel in white-knuckled terror. I used to sit with my nose about three inches away from the windshield and would squint with hawk-eyed acuity at the traffic before me, trying to keep a look-out for all the whizzing motorcycles. Nowadays, however, I slither through it all like a regular pro. But lemme knock on wood before continuing any further.


I got my very overdue driver's license renewed the other day. It was about time, goshdarnit. After all, I've been cruising around Bangkok on an expired driver's license for the past seven months now. Yes, that's right, seven months; that baby expired way back in October! Oooh, what a wild life I live, huh. Yeah, baby. Lynn c'est une tres wild punk rebel, constantly living on the edge with her seven-months overdue driver's license. Ooooh.


Blue, pink, and yellow lines are not part of actual driver's license, though it'd be cool to be able to decorate and beautify one's license as one sees fit. Those lines were scratched in by yours truly, courtesy of Microsoft Paint's wonderful little paint tool. What, didn't your mother ever tell you not to give out your address and personal info to strangers? Yes, I thought so too.


I realize I look a bit like a convicted criminal in that pic. OK, A LOT like a convicted criminal. All that's missing is the tousled hair, black eye and height chart behind me, and this might as well be my mug shot.


The pic was taken a couple of months ago on a bad-hair-day during exam week (obviously, since I'm still in my university uniform and all ). I remember stumbling out of the exam hall and heading towards the Kodak shop across the street from my uni to take the pic, intending to head to the Ministry of Transportation afterwards to renew my license. Obviously, I ended up heading for bed instead, putting the whole renewing my license thing on hold for many months as I am apt to do because I am the world's biggest procrastinator. Anyways, exams... that obviously explains my listless, rather apathetic expression - a sort of, "Hello! Anyone alive in there?" look (and telling from this picture, obviously not). Well, hey, don't look so smug. You wouldn't look so hot either if you'd only gotten thirty minutes of sleep the night before. Humph.


Oh well, everyone has been victim to the crappy ID pic once or twice (or more) before in their lives, right? Everyone knows that passport pics and driver's license pics are SUPPOSED to be unfair representations of oneself. It's like, a rule... or something. In fact, I bet Britney Spears and all the other beautiful Hollywood people have sucky driver's license pics, too.


(Well, except for maybe Nicole Kidman. I don't think she can even take a bad picture. It's, like, physically impossible for her.)


Anyways, I filled out the little renewal form, took a number from the counter, and waited patiently for my number to be called. Because I was bored, I let my nosiness get the better of me and ended up killing time by pretending to mind my own business whilst coincidentally overhearing stealthily eavesdropping on other people's conversations.


There was this chick about my age who was sitting with her dad in the row before me. Telling from their conversation, they were waiting for the results of the written part of the examination to see if she was all set to go for the practical part of the exam outside by the parking lot area.


(Note: Their conversation wasn't in English or anything, but I've just translated it for your convenience. See how nice I am?)

Terrified Chick: What if I didn't pass?
Terrified Chick's Dad: You did pass. Don't worry.
TC: But what if I didn't?
TC's Dad: You DID.
TC: Okay, but even if I passed the written part, what if I fail the practical part?
TC's Dad: You won't. (sounds rather irritated at this point)
TC: But WHAT IF?
TC's Dad: Then we'll bribe one of the officials.
TC: You will?!
TC's Dad: Of course. (smugly) I have connections.
TC: (whining) Then why do I even have to TAKE the practical part? You can just bribe them now and save me the hassle of having to take the practical exam.
TC's Dad: (appalled expression on face) Because then it'll look bad if you don't even try!

Ahhh, Thailand, the land of bribery and rosy-tinted shadiness. I know this sort of thing goes on all the time, but I couldn't help but feel slightly peeved with TC and her father's corrupting ways. I mean, most people have to take that stupid practical exam over and over and over again before they can finally pass it and receive their very hard-earned license (well, for me at least), and here comes Miss TC with her father who's filled to the ears with connections. She can waltz right through the practical exam, knock over a dozen cones, run through ten red lights, park a meter away from the curb during the evil, EVIL parallel parking bit of the practical exam, and pass just like that. How unfair is that?


But such is life. No one ever said life was fair.


And in case you were wondering, no, I didn't knock over a dozen cones, run through ten red lights, or park a meter away from the curb during the parallel parking part of the practical exam. At least not the second time, I didn't. (I might've done so the first time, though.)


Yes, that's right, folks. I had to take the practical exam twice because I plain sucked at parallel parking. Imagine my horror when the instructor dude actually took out a RULER and measured to see just how far away I was from the curb.

Mr. Anal Instructor With Wooden Ruler: You're two centimeters over the limit.
Lynn: Wha?
Mr. AIWWR: Two centimeters. You gotta retake the test next week.
L: (sputtering) B-b-b-but!
Mr. AIWWR: (tapping wooden ruler against thigh with dictator-like severity)
L: But it's TWO centimeters!
Mr. AIWWR: One centimeter I might be able to overlook, but two? No, sorry.
L: (thinking to self) I hope your stupid, baneful ruler falls apart into a million pieces and gets scattered to opposite ends of the earth. No, scratch that. I hope they scatter to opposite ends of the universe! HA! Let's see you try to measure how far away from the curb I am now!
Mr. AIWWR: Can you move along now? There are people waiting behind you.
L: (sulkily) Ka, yes sir.

So I failed the parallel parking bit the first time, but I totally rocked it the second time. I practiced, and practiced, and practiced. I scuffed my tires a million times against every single last curb in my moo ban that week, but it was all worth it in the end because I finally passed the second time. HA! Take that Mr. AIWWR!


~*~


This sort of swerves off topic, but yes, this verifies my theory about Hollywood people being capable of possessing crappy ID picitude.


It's the infamous mug shot.

"Child molester?? Wha, me?
Ape in disguise as pop star? That sounds more like it."


How did oh-so-hip-and-happening Michael of the Thriller and Beat It days mutate into this terrifying freak of nature? I mean, freak of plastic? He looks really surprised, or maybe his plastic surgeon stretched his skin and eyebrows a little too far north? Sigh, poor Michael. Anyways, the moral of the story? Don't feel bad about your heinous ID pics, everyone. You're not the only one out there suffering such an injustice.

Tick-tock, tick-tock

Hmm, May is going to be a pretty busy month for me. Some family friends from the States will be arriving in a few days, and we're planning on taking them around Thailand to some fun, family-friendly tourist spots (this means no stops to horny-German-tourist-infested Pattaya). These particular family friends have been friends with my parents since forever. Because of this, their son Chris and I have shared many eventful childhood moments together. Indeed, every time our families went to dine at Chinese restaurants, Chris and I would hone our culinary skills at the end of dinner by mixing a variety of condiments - soy sauce, sesame seed oil, sugar, vinegar, chili - into wonderful concoctions of chunky gloppity gloop. We carried on with this grand tradition until we were about eight, I believe, upon which I gave up with the whole culinary arts thing altogether because I couldn't beat Chris' Peking duck a la gloppity gloop sauce. Mmmm. He was a regular Martha Stewart, yes he was. Oh wait, I probably just insulted him. What guy wants to be compared to Martha Stewart? Scratch that Martha Stewart bit and change it to Jamie Oliver. Yeah, he can't pummel me now because everyone wants to be a naked chef like Jamie Oliver! Because Jamie Oliver is so ADORABLY COOL, yo. And all that other good stuff. Ahem.


After Chris and his family head back to the US, I'll be off again to Korat this time to attend my cousin P'Nuch's wedding. She and her hubby-to-be met in Texas, where they were delighted to find out that they both hailed from the same Isan province in Thailand. And because P'Nuch is an absolute doll (not to mention awfully purty), he of course couldn't help but fall helplessly in love with her. ;-) As expected, my aunt has been over the moon because of this. Two daughters married off in one year, and one son the year before that - what more could a wannabe grandma want? I know she was slightly worried about P'Nuch's non-married status a few years ago, what with P'Nuch's being in her early thirties and all, but now that wedding bells are in sight there has been nothing but a ginormous smile on her face. Awww. Anyways, thank God I still have about seven to ten years to go before the we-better-marry-her-off-in-the-event-she-ends-up-a-spinster-with-five-pissy-cats radar gets tagged onto me. ;P


~*~

The girls and I met up with Patrick on his last day in Bangkok last week. In between our hearty slurping of bah mee ped (duck noodles) at Siam Square's Hong Kong Noodles, we ended up straying and talking about a plethora of very random topics. I think it was me who started raving about Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ", which then caused us to launch into a full-fledged debate over religion, politics, and the current Middle East situation. We are such nerds, yes we are. There we were in hip Siam Square, surrounded by stylishly-dressed tweens, talking about anti-Semitism, the differences between Catholic and Christian practices, and whether or not it is sinful to think that half-Irish Jim Caviezel is hot (the guy who stars as Jesus in "The Passion"). Anyways, back to Hong Kong noodles. They make good bah mee and gek huay (chrysanthimum tea). Go, I adamantly say, should the occasion ever arise and you find yourself in Siam Square without the faintest idea where to eat.


All this talk about bah mee ped is making me hungry, which isn't such a hot idea since it is nearly 2 AM in the morning. A quick jaunt down to the kitchen for a middle-of-the-night snack is inconceivable, seeing as how I am a member of the female species, and as everyone knows, such indulgences of the aforementioned activity will undoubtedly guarantee that the resultant pounds of middle-of-the-night gorging will fly immediately to my thighs. And hips. And arms. And waist. Gosh freakin dammit, it's so hard being a girl.


Anyways, as if Aparna's tales about her European escapades hadn't made me envious enough, Paddy told us about the time he went gallivanting off to Prague, Austria, France, Switzerland, and just about the entire European continent with his friends from uni. I want to live out of busses, trains, and hostels, get blisters on my toes, shop for tacky, insanely over-priced tourist souvenirs, and take obligatory touristy pics in front of all the major European landmarks, too. But until then, I must sit in silent torture as my mom flies off to Russia, Sweden, Denmark, and Norway next week without me. After the trips she made to Italy, Spain, China, Japan, Korea, Singapore, Malaysia, Cambodia, and Myanmar this past year, she now has so many stamps in her passport, I get dizzy just looking at them. She wanted me to go along with her on her upcoming Russsia/Scandinavia trip, but I can't, what with my thesis presentation coming up in a few weeks.


Speaking of which, I so have to start hauling major ass for my super-duper-mondo-huge-very-badass thesis presentation that's tentatively scheduled for late May/early June. Me is freaking out, not because I haven't finished the report yet (I've finished writing about three-fourths of it, which isn't too shabby, I think), but because I'm scared shitless of presenting it in front of the panel of judgessss! Judges who are Thai professorssss! Thai professors who are from various unis like Mahidol, Thammasat and Phra Mongkut who scare the bejeezus outta me because they like to get really beady-eyed and discerning about every itty-bitty-witty thing that comes out of your mouuuuth! To demonstrate their anal retentiveness, they like to hack off points if your university pin isn't pinned on straight! Yes, no kidding! Dude, I can't even FIND my university pin! The last time I wore the stinkin thing was in Freshman year when it was new and glowing and filled with luster. The last time I saw it, it looked positively rusty, and then it sort of vanished into thin air with a fiery *POOF*. Looks like I need to buy a new pin, just for the thesis presentation. (At least I still have my university belt and silver buttons.) =X


While I'm dreading the thesis presentation, I'm still excited about it because once it's done and over with, it means that I will have officially graduated! Yay, and I will be on my way to med school. In the UK. Me is excited. Very excited. However, January is still ages away, and so in between now and then I have to find a way to keep myself busy before I fall off the cliff of insanity and mutate into a shiftless (albeit chocolate-loving) amoeboid. So here's the plan: I plan to busy myself by finally learning Mandarin, and by picking up where I last left off on my violin lessons, oh, I don't know, about ten years ago.


The sudden inspiration to parlez Mandarin is because I want to broaden my Mandarin horizons, especially since my current Mandarin skills are limited to Jay Chou, F4, and Wang Lee Hom (my new fobby obsession) lyrics. I want to be able to visit the motherland in the future and have more than Jay Chou's lyric of "wo xiang jiu zhe yang qian zhe ni de shou bu fang kai, wo xiang dai ni qi dan che" to say to the vendor at the morning market when I ask him how much his bananas are, lest he think I am some insane loon who is obsessed with holding his hand and riding bicycles with him. I hardly expect to become fluent in Mandarin, what with it being an extremely difficult language and all, but I would like to be able to carry on a decent conversation without having to blush and worry whether I just mutated a seemingly innocent word into an embarrassing one. But in all seriousness, learning how to speak Mandarin Chinese holds a great deal of significance to me; my grandparents were Chinese, and so I want to be able to pass that on to my kids one day, in addition to my Thai heritage.




Okay, between all this talk about weddings and kids, I must say, enough sappiness already. I think someone must have surreptitiously wound my biological clock ahead of time by ten years. Excuse me while I go and wind it back to normal.


Okay, all done now. =)


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Hardy har har! Let's share some Internet funnn...

Okay, I think I have finally calmed down. In case you are wondering, I have just spent the last five minutes screaming my head off like a stark raving mad lunatic. DAMN YOU JOB!!! He scared the FREAKING BEJEEZUS OUT OF ME by sending the following link with a little comment saying that "it's a really chill, romantic song that [I] have to check out."


Here's the link: http://humor.kaatopaikka.com/flash-animaatiot/romance.swf


Click at your own risk. Don't say I didn't warn you.


Because I was expecting a sappy love song, I wasn't prepared for the image that transpired on my computer screen. I was so utterly terrified, I fell out of my chair. Yes, that's right, you heard me. I FELL OUT OF MY CHAIR. Not a pretty sight, people. Then I ran screaming out of my room and smack into my brother who just so happened to be walking up from downstairs. As if he doesn't think I'm nuts enough already, I went and screamed in his face out of sheer terror because the image of a certain demon-possessed girl was still very fresh in my mind. Thank the lord almighty for brothers who aren't scared of little demon-possessed girls, and who are willing to close Internet browser windows for their cowardly big sisters.


Sigh. I am such a wuss.


~*~


But onto lighter things.


Most Bangkokian bloggers are probably already very familiar with the infamous Mango Sauce blog, which is written and maintained by a British farang (Caucasian) guy. Much controversy surrounds this particular blog, seeing as how it talks about Thailand, sex, and Thai women in a somewhat less than flattering manner. But whatever the case, while I don't agree or appreciate many of the things on his site, I still have to admit that every now and then it provides for some great laugh-out-loud moments, as seen from the snippet that I have copied and pasted from one of his entries. And now, for your viewing pleasure:


     PERVERT STALKS THAI GIRLS ON BANGKOKCHAT
    Bangkokchat bans naughty boys who break the rules. This bloke must have slipped through the net.

     >> HornyGuy has joined room #bangkokchat
     ThaiGirl> Hello ka
     HornyGuy> Hi
     ThaiGirl> i from Thailand
     HornyGuy> I know that, stupid
     ThaiGirl> sorry honey :-(
     ThaiGirl> u want talk with me?
     HornyGuy> Why should I?
     ThaiGirl> forget it mai pen rai
     HornyGuy> Hey wait a minute
     ThaiGirl> what?
     HornyGuy> Sorry I'm just a bit paranoid.
     ThaiGirl> ???
     HornyGuy> I 'think too much'
     ThaiGirl> why honey?
     HornyGuy> I'm hiding from the cops
     HornyGuy> The boys in brown
     ThaiGirl> LOL
     HornyGuy> Don't fucking laugh at me
     HornyGuy> It's no joke
     ThaiGirl> what u do?
     HornyGuy> You don't want to know
     ThaiGirl> i do
     ThaiGirl> pleeeeeease honey na na na ;-)
     HornyGuy> I fucked an elephant
     HornyGuy> Hello?

(Click here to continue with Mr. Mango Sauce's hilarious insanity. Mind you, this particular entry of his later veers into X-rated territory, so if you are offended by such things, you might want to steer clear of it.)


This is so, so wrong, but c'mon, don't tell me you didn't bust your gut guffawing over it. I know I did.


Har.


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