Hole

Whenever I try to explain myself,
And it does not sound right,

My secondary school friends will laugh,
My sister will roll her eyes and frown,
Walt will hand me a shovel,
Pat will animate and subtly go,


Chug,



Chug



Chug


Lately I have been given an upgrade.
A 16 year old girl offered a better solution,
The services of an excavator,

Should help me dig my own grave. Faster.

Pwnd?

Food

Warning: Contains ugly photo. Really.


In protest against the Architecture Faculty's expensive Bollywood-theme dinner ball, we decided to have our own little dinner after a long talk by a Professor Jane Rendell, who gave a rather extraordinary and profound talk on Decentralising and Recentralising. Which happens to mean... z.zzz.z .z.z z. 


Anyway, she does have a website which renders a picture of what her talk meant to a Level 2 architecture student's mind. That is definitely more interesting than the previous link.


Returning to the topic, we (Malaysians) invited our (2 Nepalese and 1 M'sian) friends over for dinner. And since they cooked dahl (something like this), it made dinner multicultural. For dessert, we had a round the table talk of different types of vegetables we hope to plant in our garden, and, Nepalese dishes that they should cook for these culturally unaware Malaysians. 


Anyway, this jolted a haunting memory of a dished cooked a few days ago when a house mate decided to spice up the rice we usually have. If indeed you are a brave soul to have stayed so long, take a guess of what ingredients were used.

The end result is scary. The smell, downright deceiving. The taste, marginally poisonous. The texture, semi-liquid, and the sight, nightmarish.


Which incidentally, dug up a memory once thought lost in the cobweb filled corner of the mind, of a cross-continental fight with United Airline back in 1999 from San Francisco to Orlando, Florida. And since it was nearly a 5 hour flight, they served passengers something to eat. Indeed it is something as it did look similar to the photo above. And the "plopping" sound it made when pressed with a spoon echoes somewhere in the ear.


Of course, it has been nearly 10 years ago since then. I am quite sure they have improved their menu significantly. There was no way of verifying this since I never flew with them since the return trip...

Hazardous Combination

Father's Day, Pastor, Pride and Prejudice, Bicycle Seat. That is.

A few weeks ago in one of the Uni's Christian Group meeting, we had a fervent discussion about watching classic movies. The Pastor's wife (of this Christian Group) gladly recommended that we watch Pride and Prejudice (not the 5-hour 6 episodes version, although she has it) to the silent protest of the Pastor. He prefers a more 'manly' movie.

Poster above: Taken somewhere from the Internet.

And thus, to celebrate Father's day last Sunday, we gathered at the Pastor's house for dinner and classic movie on top of the hill.

Not a bad idea.

However, a combination of bad planning and being a cheapskate, it was indeed a challenging journey from my house at the bottom of the valley. The alternative to walking at that time was my friend's bicycle.

Pic above: Father Killer

A bad bicycle seat can make one relive the journey even after two days it has ended. The sensation still lingers at the back of your mind and at the crotch. My friend told me upon returning his bike, was to get used to it.

The movie was indeed interesting. Sure, Keira Knightly was in the movie, which is a huge plus, but the beautiful Georgian and Victorian architecture. Makes one wish and desire the opportunity to reside in one of those babies.

Perhaps I should watch the movie again. This time I would pay more attention to the story. And Keira Knightly.

If you don't know Keira Knightly, click here.

If you don't know where I stay, click here.