The Epitome of High Culture - The Diarrhea Song

There are four types of people in the world.

Those that get drunk, all the time.

Those that look after people who get drunk, all the time.

Those that do an equal amount of both.

And those that don't drink.


And now, a drinking song, from the US.

When you're slidin' into first
and your pants are 'bout to burst
Diarrhea, (Pfff. Pfff)
Diarrhea

When you're slidin' into second
And you need a disinfectant
Diarrhea, (Pfff. Pfff)
Diarrhea

When you're slindin' into third
And you drop a wet turd
Diarrhea, (Pfff. Pfff)
Diarrhea

When you're slidin' into home
And your pants are filled with foam
Diarrhea, (Pfff. Pfff)
Diarrhea

It's easy to tell what's on my mind these days eh.

Can you tell an Aussie-Asian from an Asian-Asian?

After reading the a blog post about Australian Born Chinese (ABC), I sat in the tram today and tried to pick out who was an ABC, and who was an asian international student, just by looks. And somehow, it is possible to tell an Aussie-Asian from an Asian-Asian. What puzzled me was that I wasn't able to pinpoint what that differentiating factor is. And so I am forced to make some grossly generalising assumptions.

Perhaps it's the dressing? Perhaps Asian-Asians wear stuff that I know they can only get from Asia, while Aussie-Asians dress like your regular aussie. Something along the lines of skinny jeans in boots, with many light layers on top. Coupled with chunky necklace and heaps of mascara. Asian-asians on the other hand are more fond of just one thick jacket, and a light tee inside. I mean, if you are just going to spent four years in a cold country, why buy many light sweaters (which are still too warm to wear in the tropics) when you can just buy one massive jumper, and dump it once your graduate. And of course in some obvious cases like hello kitty handphone accessories that blink, it has to be bought and made in Asia. Or sold in chinatown, which doesn't seem to be the hangout place for Aussie-Asians.

Maybe it's the way they carry themselves? Aussie-Asians have the "this is my country and I'm very comfortable here", and have a more open body language while Asian-Asians look slightly more defensive and have a "shit don't deport me" look.

Or is it facial features? Do Aussie-Asians have a particular look? In such a multi-cultural society like Melbourne, can we judge a person's nationality just by the way they look? Could an Asian-Asian fool you into thinking they are Aussie-Asian and vice versa?

Nonetheless, I was quite pleased that a guy I spotted as definitely Aussie-Asian picked up the phone and answered it in the most natural aussie accent ever. Definitely Australian.

My Slice of the American Pie

Back to the topic of weird dreams, last night I dreamt that I took a flight back to Penn. I had only 2 days there and was desperately trying to look up old friends. Whao I wonder what that means?

But it got me thinking. Besides a very small handful of people, I have virtually lost contact with everyone else. I blamed it on my lack of the american version of MSN, my sudden departure, my sudden dive into my internship which gave me no time to do much except work and salsa, and my new salsa friends, which filled the void I had very quickly.

I made some great friends. Had hours of great dinners and good conversations. But after one year of that, it seems sad that many have disappeared from my life completely. And yet I know that this is the way it is. It's hard to be friends with people you don't see a future with.

Are some people in our lives meant to be just memories in photographs? While others run, direct and are in the videos of our lives?

The Malaysians Are Out to Kill Us

My brain must be on a row or something, but it has been vomiting bad dreams one after the other every night.

Two nights ago, I dreamt that i was on the game show " LET'S KILL THE SINGAPOREAN"

Basically it was a game with Malaysians, Indonesians and Singaporeans in it, and no one knows who is from where. The hosts will have to guess who is Singaporean from the way they talk/dress/run for free food/talk about the army. Then they will be killed off. That was the scariest shit I've ever faced. I was the last one standing and kept saying "I'm not Singaporean, really!! I'm Malaysian. i just can't speak malay. really. not singaporean. look my boyfriend is malaysian. arghhhhhhhh!!!!" Charlene analysed that maybe it's my repressed urge to be Malaysian. I just blame the government.

Last night I dreamt that Bob and another random guy were english knights and the one that wins the duel will be my husband. However the duel involved kicking pigeons. Whoever kicked the pigeon wins. Regine thinks its stems from my conversation with her about puking penguins. I think its my repressed tendencies towards pigeon cruelty.

The Reunion Part Five

Met Vietnamese girl while going for my internship interview.

Invited her for dinner at Paul's place.

Turned out, she knows Paul's brother, because she was trying to take a photo of St Paul's and his brother kept interrupting the photo.

What are the chances that you bring a friend to another friend's dinner party (and they have never met before, one is malaysian the other is vietnamese), and they apparently have some next of kin connection.

Melbourne is way too small.

The Reunion Part Two: Only Available in Theatres

I sit at Norsiah's Kitchen with my new friend I just met from tute.

I tell her about my life, my ex relationship, my year abroad.

She tells me about her current French boyfriend, her life and her family.

My ex-boyfriend walks past. Says hi. Both of them seem to have seen each other from somewhere.

Ex-boyfriend exits.

I tells her that he is my ex.

Ex-boyfriend walks by again.

Turns out, they do know each other.

He is her boyfriend's friend.

Ex-boyfriend leaves.

Girl who told my ex-boyfriend and the whole world about my relationship with my current boyfriend walks out.

Tell me this isn't a script from a movie.

I Have Ralph Perfume Up My Nose

I must have been so distracted for the last couple of days. Two days before, I left half my bag in the state library locker, went all the way home, reached my front door and realised that my key was still in the locker. And of all times, the tram at a major intersection chose to break down, leaving me dragging a laptop in the rain, through the city.

Today I left my phone in my driving instructor's car. Best part is, I don't even remember my own number. I ran into the nearest convenience shop, looked a bit like I was planning to rob the poor guy at the counter, and ask to borrow his handphone. Bob's phone no reception. Dammit. I dragged myself through uni hoping I'll bump into someone who knows my number. No such luck. So I went to Rowden White library, told them the situation, and they very kindly searched up my number for me. Called my cell. No one picked up. Dammit dammit dammit. Ran in to Houston and Kai yau in Union House, called Bob for Regine's number, called Regine, got my driving instructor's number, and finally got my handphone back.

It's times like these when you realised how intimately woven your network of friends are. You know someone that definitely knows someone. And also how dependent my life is on my cell phone. I have only committed four numbers to memory. And three of them are in Singapore.

And today I tried to spray on some perfume. I misfired and now I have perfume all over my face. Why why why??!!

Tip toeing to the Edge and Peering over

Everyday I am fighting to overcome my fears and experience things I have suppressed interest for over a decade. I'm learning to drive and realising I can, despite what others have said. I'm learning to salsa and dance, despite how often I was told I couldn't coordinate. I'm learning to take up positions and say yes to responsibility, despite my fear of failure. I signed up for an outdoor program alone, just to give it a go. I went on a short road trip with a bunch of church friends, even though I have acute phobia of spending more than half a day with people I know from church. I'm in a cell, and fighting back my reflex instinct to run, not because I want to, but because I always felt I had to. And I will, soon enough, learn to play a musical instrument and a sport, and maybe stroke a dog. I think, finally, I am ready to explore how much I can push my personal boundaries, and fight real hard against my omnipresent sense of fear, of failure. I might not do all these well, but at least I gave it a go. All I wish is that I had this epiphany much earlier than when I'm 22 and in my second last year of uni.

The Final Closure

After a year of anticipating the "bump into" of a particular ivy league uni, I finally did. Of course it had to come at the time when I'm sweaty from dance, wearing three-days old clothes I threw together in a hurry, had no make up on and was carrying a massive tumour looking back pack stuffed with 2 weeks worth of clothes. ALL girls want to look good in front of their ex. It's a " Look I'm still doing well without you" kind of thing. ALL girls. Trust me.

It turned out pretty well. Before the meeting I was trying very hard not to throw up out of sheer apprehension. I was bracing myself for five snipers, poisoned hot chocolate and a verbal onslaught that I've screwed up. Well, because I have.

But we made alot of small talk, and other more heartfelt ones. We gave our reasons. We said our sorries. We ended on a pretty positive note. We don't have to be friends. But all we want is to be able to walk on the street, bump into each other, say hi, make small talk, and move on, unaffected by the meeting.

It was quite a beautiful moment that has finally released a huge weight from me. I said things that I had kept in for a year. I can finally stop imagining what the response is, because I have heard it for real. And I can finally stop whimping around swanston street paranoid that il bump into the ex.

Miss Marples Tea House in Dandenong  

Bob's first tea party! 

Me at Miss Marples having scones! 

Pie in the Sky!! 

Second Week Back and Six Bottles of Wine

I spent most of the week trying to find a closure to my exchange. The exchange student debriefing. The meet-the-new-exchange-students party at Puggs. And finally, the housewarming/we-are-back party last night. Lots of knock-out strong Sangria (red wine, white wine, vodka, rum, orange juice, lime juice, apples and oranges...almost every substance we can find in our kitchen), chips, dip and bread. Met up with old friends, people that I haven't seen for a year. Talked, laughed, scoured and shared my past one year with them through a scrapbook show and tell session.

The night culminated to drinking and dancing at Croft Institute, a neat little club that looked like a science lab, and a bathroom like a sickbay in school. Oh and grass for a bar top, that was special. So down the dodgy philly ghetto like alleyway, and party away we did. Just like one year ago.