Ry and the mouldy cake.
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Friday, October 14, 2005
In the realm of boys and food...
There are three ways to overcome homesicknesses and depressing weather: MSN, good food and good company.
In my desperate bid to make more deep meaningful friendship with girls and to eat reheated food, I have missed out on meeting up with my guyfriends. And gosh...it feels so good to be able to just chill out with them over non-dining hall related food and get a testosterone perspective about how in Ralph Lauren is, how much carbs is in cakes and why we think Russel Peters is the man.
Plus hardly any girls have seen Russel Peters so I look kinda stupid saying, "BE A MAN! DO THE RIGHT THING" loudly in an Indian restaurant.
But yeah, who ever said meaningful friendship can only be cultivated between people of the same gender is seriously missing out. Sometimes, its just so much easier to hang out with guys, in an obviously plantonic way. We can have a complete debate on this for days, but in a nutshell and from a completely skewed female perspective, guys don't demand that much from a friendship.
1) You don't need to feel as if you have to share your entire history with each other before you can hang out.
2) You don't feel as if you are somewhere on one of the ranks of his "friendship" leader because to them people just come in two catergories: people i hang out with and people i don't.
3) You can sit there and talk about completely inane things for hours and not feel the need to have meaningful conversation.
4) When you ask for a pragmatic advice, you get it.
5) There just seems to be more topics to talk about - from politics to religion to what a fan we were of the spice girls.
6) You can diss them jokingly, and you know they won't take it to heart.
And finally, they just don't judge you. Or if they do, as much.
Like I'm always so amazed at how Ed and I talk, especially since we just kinda bump into each other at transfer dinner. Wednesday night over cocktail, beer and Jack & Coke, we managed to encompass the existence of life, of death, the meaning of religion and the relationship between God and men into our tiny corner in the cyber-unreal lounge,POD, filled with trance music and MBA students. Then we got ditzy and started going crazy over chairs that light up when you sit on them, walls that change colours when you press a button, the most futuristic multi-colour toilet we've ever seen that changes colour when someone is in it, and why this place looks like a space ship.
Ed: On your deathbed, you are not gonna look back and think, damm that kid didn't really like me in college. Man I feel like shit.
Thursday lunch and I finally found Mekong-worthy Vietnamese food at 43rd street with Ry and Di. Five words: Broken rice with charboiled pork. It has been so long. I nearly cried.
We spent the rest of the irritatingly drizzle-plagued afternoon wandering around South street, walking into "interesting" shops and searching for the Italian market. We found better. One word: Cake. I think it's called English Rose Cake Shop and it's frenchness came complete with lace curtains, rosebud printed seats, old-school kitchen and actual teapots. I have not tasted chocolate raspberry cake and lime key pie for so long. We washed down those sins and our fluid ever-interesting conversations about the realm of business and how we feel so pressured to get a summer internship with chai tea. And then we found mould on the raspberries.
Me: I think there is mould on the cake.
Cake shop woman: Are you sure? Maybe its chocolate.
Me: Chocolate isn't furry.
Friday again and my craving for Indian food striked. So Mic and I got into Tandoor, a $5.95 ALL you can eat Indian buffet with a 10% student discount. Oh and free flow soda. We could bearly move after we ate. I don't know the actual names of the dishes, but the spinach and cottage cheese was excellent with the naan. And the balsamti rice and potato curry and curried vegetables was such a heavenly combination. Top it off with lassi and it would have been perfect. The conversation was just beautiful, about P Kang's sermon, the contradictions of sex education in America and why the hell are we in university.
So deep are the relationships to nurture but so little time.
In my desperate bid to make more deep meaningful friendship with girls and to eat reheated food, I have missed out on meeting up with my guyfriends. And gosh...it feels so good to be able to just chill out with them over non-dining hall related food and get a testosterone perspective about how in Ralph Lauren is, how much carbs is in cakes and why we think Russel Peters is the man.
Plus hardly any girls have seen Russel Peters so I look kinda stupid saying, "BE A MAN! DO THE RIGHT THING" loudly in an Indian restaurant.
But yeah, who ever said meaningful friendship can only be cultivated between people of the same gender is seriously missing out. Sometimes, its just so much easier to hang out with guys, in an obviously plantonic way. We can have a complete debate on this for days, but in a nutshell and from a completely skewed female perspective, guys don't demand that much from a friendship.
1) You don't need to feel as if you have to share your entire history with each other before you can hang out.
2) You don't feel as if you are somewhere on one of the ranks of his "friendship" leader because to them people just come in two catergories: people i hang out with and people i don't.
3) You can sit there and talk about completely inane things for hours and not feel the need to have meaningful conversation.
4) When you ask for a pragmatic advice, you get it.
5) There just seems to be more topics to talk about - from politics to religion to what a fan we were of the spice girls.
6) You can diss them jokingly, and you know they won't take it to heart.
And finally, they just don't judge you. Or if they do, as much.
Like I'm always so amazed at how Ed and I talk, especially since we just kinda bump into each other at transfer dinner. Wednesday night over cocktail, beer and Jack & Coke, we managed to encompass the existence of life, of death, the meaning of religion and the relationship between God and men into our tiny corner in the cyber-unreal lounge,POD, filled with trance music and MBA students. Then we got ditzy and started going crazy over chairs that light up when you sit on them, walls that change colours when you press a button, the most futuristic multi-colour toilet we've ever seen that changes colour when someone is in it, and why this place looks like a space ship.
Ed: On your deathbed, you are not gonna look back and think, damm that kid didn't really like me in college. Man I feel like shit.
Thursday lunch and I finally found Mekong-worthy Vietnamese food at 43rd street with Ry and Di. Five words: Broken rice with charboiled pork. It has been so long. I nearly cried.
We spent the rest of the irritatingly drizzle-plagued afternoon wandering around South street, walking into "interesting" shops and searching for the Italian market. We found better. One word: Cake. I think it's called English Rose Cake Shop and it's frenchness came complete with lace curtains, rosebud printed seats, old-school kitchen and actual teapots. I have not tasted chocolate raspberry cake and lime key pie for so long. We washed down those sins and our fluid ever-interesting conversations about the realm of business and how we feel so pressured to get a summer internship with chai tea. And then we found mould on the raspberries.
Me: I think there is mould on the cake.
Cake shop woman: Are you sure? Maybe its chocolate.
Me: Chocolate isn't furry.
Friday again and my craving for Indian food striked. So Mic and I got into Tandoor, a $5.95 ALL you can eat Indian buffet with a 10% student discount. Oh and free flow soda. We could bearly move after we ate. I don't know the actual names of the dishes, but the spinach and cottage cheese was excellent with the naan. And the balsamti rice and potato curry and curried vegetables was such a heavenly combination. Top it off with lassi and it would have been perfect. The conversation was just beautiful, about P Kang's sermon, the contradictions of sex education in America and why the hell are we in university.
So deep are the relationships to nurture but so little time.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
In Noah's Ark...
Hurrah! Midterms are finally over. At least for three out of the four subjects. This is the most unprepared exam I have ever been to since Additional Math in Secondary four. I had to strain for crap to write about since I only studied like two days for three papers. I stared at terminologies I've never seen before and tried to make up something relevant for it. And it wasn't essay style, so I couldn't possibly bullshit my way through. Like "In Johnson's book, would piaget or vygotsky be most interested in the sleeper's curve?" Train of thought: who is johnson? He wrote a book? Ohhhh...that's the red one I have not opened. What's a sleeper's curve? Who cares what piaget or vygotsky thought about it? Ok einee minee maniee moe...
Right. So its over. I'm on a pass fail basis. I gave up trying to get straight As to prove a point. Now I'm sick, sleepy and freezing.
Well I only got myself to blame don't I. But at the end of my exchange, I will remember the awesome church retreat I went to, and J's frat party instead of how many hours I studied right?
Church retreat was such an experience. Being woken up at 1:30am and asked to go up to the attic which used to be an operating theatre and mortury (no seriously, this isn't just an urban legend, my church use to be an old hospital) with 20 other girls while random seniors dressed in black ran out at us freaked the shit out of us. So I had to hold my pee in while i slept because i was too scared to use the bathroom. And there was something about hearing Korean songs at 6am and thinking it was a ghost when it was just the Korean praise and wordship team.
Besides that and how the basement flooded because of the storm, oh and scrubbing sticky rice off a spoon with my fingernails, church camp was renewed my perspective in life. I know the whole spiritual high thing about church camps...this wasn't so much of a spiritual high but a drawing closer and a reordering of priorities in life.
To add to my schizo life, I went to Jonas's frat party after camp ended at 1am. His was the frat house that Donald Trump use to live in and rumor have it that each alumni have to pledge 1% of their income to their house. Imagine how much that would be for Trump? Stepping in just transported us to another era altogether. Lited by candles, the house was decorated with dark wood, Edwardian style furniture and a moose head. About two dozen bodies mingled effortlessly, dressed in fancy cocktail dresses and casual suits, they jived tango/salsa/lindy hop style to a three piece jazz band brought in specially for the party. This felt like being in the movie "Ray" or in a cluedo playset. I half expected butlers and french maids to get our coats. As Stel said, "this is my dream birthday party."
Right. So its over. I'm on a pass fail basis. I gave up trying to get straight As to prove a point. Now I'm sick, sleepy and freezing.
Well I only got myself to blame don't I. But at the end of my exchange, I will remember the awesome church retreat I went to, and J's frat party instead of how many hours I studied right?
Church retreat was such an experience. Being woken up at 1:30am and asked to go up to the attic which used to be an operating theatre and mortury (no seriously, this isn't just an urban legend, my church use to be an old hospital) with 20 other girls while random seniors dressed in black ran out at us freaked the shit out of us. So I had to hold my pee in while i slept because i was too scared to use the bathroom. And there was something about hearing Korean songs at 6am and thinking it was a ghost when it was just the Korean praise and wordship team.
Besides that and how the basement flooded because of the storm, oh and scrubbing sticky rice off a spoon with my fingernails, church camp was renewed my perspective in life. I know the whole spiritual high thing about church camps...this wasn't so much of a spiritual high but a drawing closer and a reordering of priorities in life.
To add to my schizo life, I went to Jonas's frat party after camp ended at 1am. His was the frat house that Donald Trump use to live in and rumor have it that each alumni have to pledge 1% of their income to their house. Imagine how much that would be for Trump? Stepping in just transported us to another era altogether. Lited by candles, the house was decorated with dark wood, Edwardian style furniture and a moose head. About two dozen bodies mingled effortlessly, dressed in fancy cocktail dresses and casual suits, they jived tango/salsa/lindy hop style to a three piece jazz band brought in specially for the party. This felt like being in the movie "Ray" or in a cluedo playset. I half expected butlers and french maids to get our coats. As Stel said, "this is my dream birthday party."
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Uh huh...
It's amazing how Regine and I can be an ocean apart and be flipping through the Alannah Hill Fashion week collection and Vera Wang gowns. Especially when I have three midterm papers on wed. And they are not studied for.
Anyway, I discovered a new way to save money.
Eat less.
Sounds deceptively simple doesn't it. But how many times do we eat till we are just right, look down at the remaining half a hoagie/sandwich/souvlaki/plate of rice and tofu/big mac and think "since its there might as well finish it." So we stuff it down and then feel like shit, or shitting.
So, if we just eat till we are just alright, put the rest in the fridge and eat it for dinner. Or if its not enough, save two days worth of "halves" and you get a whole meal.
Yesterday I had eggplant chicken with rice for lunch. I ate all the eggplant and chicken and left half the rice for dinner. Then I took it out of the fridge for dinner and added soya sauce. Then it became microwaved rice with soya sauce. The best thing you can have on a cold fall day.
I've got half a falafel sandwich and one quarter cup of lentil soup in the fridge waiting for dinner tonight. Then I'll steal the rest of the anoynomous cheesesticks and tea from the communal pantry.
You know you've studied too much when even your eating habits become topics of discussion.
Anyway, I discovered a new way to save money.
Eat less.
Sounds deceptively simple doesn't it. But how many times do we eat till we are just right, look down at the remaining half a hoagie/sandwich/souvlaki/plate of rice and tofu/big mac and think "since its there might as well finish it." So we stuff it down and then feel like shit, or shitting.
So, if we just eat till we are just alright, put the rest in the fridge and eat it for dinner. Or if its not enough, save two days worth of "halves" and you get a whole meal.
Yesterday I had eggplant chicken with rice for lunch. I ate all the eggplant and chicken and left half the rice for dinner. Then I took it out of the fridge for dinner and added soya sauce. Then it became microwaved rice with soya sauce. The best thing you can have on a cold fall day.
I've got half a falafel sandwich and one quarter cup of lentil soup in the fridge waiting for dinner tonight. Then I'll steal the rest of the anoynomous cheesesticks and tea from the communal pantry.
You know you've studied too much when even your eating habits become topics of discussion.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Shhh...
I'm studying...in the roof lounge of one of the high rise dorms....it is so quiet here i can hear ppl writing....i opened a pack of anzac cookies and the whole room looked at me...this is so scary....shhhhhhh...
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
A fleeting thought
I was just musing as I ran along to the food truck to get my chicken scampi over linguine, that mediocrity is worst than failure. If you can't do something, than put your energy and time elsewhere. But if you can, do the best you can.
Then I got my linguine and my fleeting thoughts left me.
On another note, it's my first day at work today at the information centre. Nothing major happened like a shoot out or a fire. Heard that one of the student worker on duty had a fire emergency while she was on duty, only to realise that the "fire emergency" came from her own room because her roomate left her kitchen mittens in the oven and switched it on.
Fortune cookie of the day: bird's tongues get entangled as men's tongues wag on. *blink*
Then I got my linguine and my fleeting thoughts left me.
On another note, it's my first day at work today at the information centre. Nothing major happened like a shoot out or a fire. Heard that one of the student worker on duty had a fire emergency while she was on duty, only to realise that the "fire emergency" came from her own room because her roomate left her kitchen mittens in the oven and switched it on.
Fortune cookie of the day: bird's tongues get entangled as men's tongues wag on. *blink*
Monday, October 03, 2005
I believe I can fly...
As I stood in the middle of a myraid of colours - watery purple scarves, glittering skirts and shimmering tops - listening to music I've never heard before, and watching them dance with the Morocco flag, draping it over each other, I realised why i came here. Because just by walking out of your room, you visit a different country every night. Tonight was middle eastern belly dancing night at MarBar and the whole Arab community was there. The familar smell of Shisha brought me back to the courtyards of IH, smoking in the cold and talking crap till 5 in the morning. Shaking their hips was in their blood and they made it into such an artform. When I see the joy in their faces as they tell me how how this is their favourite Shakira remix back home, and how this Baklva is their favourite dessert back home and how this is how clubs look like back home; I just feel so happy for them. Everytime someone remembers home, they have that silly little grin on their face and that tiny sparkle in their eyes. Sigh....
D: First you eat Arab food at the Arab Society dinner, then ya come for the belly dancing party...you're almost part Arab!!
A: I don't know why, but gals keep thrusting their chest into my hands tonight.
C: (Blink blink) right....
Ooh...and I saw an Angelina Jolie look-a-like at the party...swoon!!
D: First you eat Arab food at the Arab Society dinner, then ya come for the belly dancing party...you're almost part Arab!!
A: I don't know why, but gals keep thrusting their chest into my hands tonight.
C: (Blink blink) right....
Ooh...and I saw an Angelina Jolie look-a-like at the party...swoon!!
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Amish people hate tourist taking photos of them...so this is one really bad shot i got of them..next to the gas station none the less...very convincing
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Sara (the african-american gal) makes the best sushi among us asians...very depressing
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Summer times...
Its not really summer....in fact its far from that...the weather is getting colder and more schizo...today its on prozac so its happy and bright...im quite certain it'll get depressed again tom.
It has been one crazy week so I haven been quite on the ball with updating my blog. In fact I haven been quite on the ball with much....so from my little diary i say:
Last Sat - Potter's House mission at Lea Elementary School.
My first time in an American public school. Kids there were like under 17 but they were the most talented ppl I've ever met. We thought them performing arts and improv games but it looked like we were the ones with the rusty grey matter. These kids are such a riot. We played some "Whose line is it anyway?" type theatresport games and they kicked ass. If they were at our theatresports they would have whooped our ass, IH, Medley and all. Morbid, ghetto, punk and a poker face renditon of forrest gump, it was such a good afternoon. And how 5 year old Coshi told me I was doing the "Speak to the hand" thing wrong. I tried.
Last Sun- Church at ECF
A couple of us were sitting at the playground bench behind barbed wired fence when seven police cars came speeding down in front of us. Sirens ringing and all.
Me: Hey, is this a dangerous neighbourhood?
J: Erm...well in Philly there are pockets of dangerous neighbourhoods.
Me: Well is this one of them?
J: Erm....yeah.
Last Mon - Penn-for-Unicef
You know how in orientation they told all of us never wander off 40th street into the ghetto cuz they will mug you and stab you and then rape your dead body a few times over. Yeah I got lost on the 52nd street today. I've been on 47th and 48th street the last two days but that was ok cuz each time I was either with a large group of people who knew where they were going, or in a yellow school bus. Today i was officially lost with4 other asians and one spanish in a sketchy neighbourhood, in the evening. We were trying to look for the afterday care house to look after the kids while their parents went through re-training. Except we couldn't find it. So we walked around and around, threading through broken concrete laced with weed and smashed beer bottles. The overcast sky threatened to rain onto rotten brick buildings with barbed wire and prison like protective covers over windows. In the old rickety houses, screams could be heard through the boarded up windows and nailed in doors overed with graffeti. Little children ran around playing football next to the busy street. Their frail legs swamped under their dad's old pants, bunched up at their waists so it wouldn't fall off. When we finally found the the day care centre, I played with the children, whose mother was younger than I was. Families sat, overcrowded on little porches, looking aimlessly to pass the night away. 8pm. It was dark, we were soaked in the rain and terribly hungry. But most of all, as we stood in the bustop, we were scared. Scared that perhaps those stories about getting shot and mugged was true. For 10 minutes in my life, I caught a minute glimpse of how a child living in the inner city felt. Without ever feeling safe, ever feeling warm, ever feeling full, and ever feeling the sense of security that we take for granted, in our lives cramped with security guards, well-to-do friends and health insurance.
Last tuesday - Sushi party
Three japanese gals, one dutch chinese guy, three hongkongers, one african american gal and me the lone singaporean tried to make japanese food. Except none of us could. It was such an entertaining night. We terrorized the pseudo-japanese sushi chef at fresh grocers to sell us wasabi and seaweed and made sushi out of very unfresh salmon and poor cut vegetables. We bug friends for rice cookers and attempted to make our sushi decent. We made fake tempura out of egg and flour and basically fried everything we could get our hands on. And since we cooked the food, it had to be nice. It's psychological. Now we are thinking of starting a sushi-tempura restaurant on campus.
Yesterday - Lancaster
Went on an International House tour to Lancaster to see the Amish people. These are suppose to be a community of people who do not believe in technology and who wear old bonets and dresses from the middle ages, ride horses and buggys and make excellent quilts and jams. Except when we got there, we realised that this particular village we visited has its on website that sells stuff. And alot of SUVs. And the buggys have that triangle sign behind it that you only find on cars. And they shop using credit cards. And the clothes they sold there has the Made in Mexico tag on it. I was telling my friends that perhaps there is a little sweatshop hidden somewhere under one of the house's here cramped with little chinese people sewing those quilts frantically.
It has been one crazy week so I haven been quite on the ball with updating my blog. In fact I haven been quite on the ball with much....so from my little diary i say:
Last Sat - Potter's House mission at Lea Elementary School.
My first time in an American public school. Kids there were like under 17 but they were the most talented ppl I've ever met. We thought them performing arts and improv games but it looked like we were the ones with the rusty grey matter. These kids are such a riot. We played some "Whose line is it anyway?" type theatresport games and they kicked ass. If they were at our theatresports they would have whooped our ass, IH, Medley and all. Morbid, ghetto, punk and a poker face renditon of forrest gump, it was such a good afternoon. And how 5 year old Coshi told me I was doing the "Speak to the hand" thing wrong. I tried.
Last Sun- Church at ECF
A couple of us were sitting at the playground bench behind barbed wired fence when seven police cars came speeding down in front of us. Sirens ringing and all.
Me: Hey, is this a dangerous neighbourhood?
J: Erm...well in Philly there are pockets of dangerous neighbourhoods.
Me: Well is this one of them?
J: Erm....yeah.
Last Mon - Penn-for-Unicef
You know how in orientation they told all of us never wander off 40th street into the ghetto cuz they will mug you and stab you and then rape your dead body a few times over. Yeah I got lost on the 52nd street today. I've been on 47th and 48th street the last two days but that was ok cuz each time I was either with a large group of people who knew where they were going, or in a yellow school bus. Today i was officially lost with4 other asians and one spanish in a sketchy neighbourhood, in the evening. We were trying to look for the afterday care house to look after the kids while their parents went through re-training. Except we couldn't find it. So we walked around and around, threading through broken concrete laced with weed and smashed beer bottles. The overcast sky threatened to rain onto rotten brick buildings with barbed wire and prison like protective covers over windows. In the old rickety houses, screams could be heard through the boarded up windows and nailed in doors overed with graffeti. Little children ran around playing football next to the busy street. Their frail legs swamped under their dad's old pants, bunched up at their waists so it wouldn't fall off. When we finally found the the day care centre, I played with the children, whose mother was younger than I was. Families sat, overcrowded on little porches, looking aimlessly to pass the night away. 8pm. It was dark, we were soaked in the rain and terribly hungry. But most of all, as we stood in the bustop, we were scared. Scared that perhaps those stories about getting shot and mugged was true. For 10 minutes in my life, I caught a minute glimpse of how a child living in the inner city felt. Without ever feeling safe, ever feeling warm, ever feeling full, and ever feeling the sense of security that we take for granted, in our lives cramped with security guards, well-to-do friends and health insurance.
Last tuesday - Sushi party
Three japanese gals, one dutch chinese guy, three hongkongers, one african american gal and me the lone singaporean tried to make japanese food. Except none of us could. It was such an entertaining night. We terrorized the pseudo-japanese sushi chef at fresh grocers to sell us wasabi and seaweed and made sushi out of very unfresh salmon and poor cut vegetables. We bug friends for rice cookers and attempted to make our sushi decent. We made fake tempura out of egg and flour and basically fried everything we could get our hands on. And since we cooked the food, it had to be nice. It's psychological. Now we are thinking of starting a sushi-tempura restaurant on campus.
Yesterday - Lancaster
Went on an International House tour to Lancaster to see the Amish people. These are suppose to be a community of people who do not believe in technology and who wear old bonets and dresses from the middle ages, ride horses and buggys and make excellent quilts and jams. Except when we got there, we realised that this particular village we visited has its on website that sells stuff. And alot of SUVs. And the buggys have that triangle sign behind it that you only find on cars. And they shop using credit cards. And the clothes they sold there has the Made in Mexico tag on it. I was telling my friends that perhaps there is a little sweatshop hidden somewhere under one of the house's here cramped with little chinese people sewing those quilts frantically.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Not to sound like a complete bimbo, but really, the only thing that made sense to me through the entire game were the cheerleaders
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Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Hmm...
It just struck me, in the middle of the uni library, while supposedly studying religious violence and cults, that Araluena is not dong. Cause' you left a message helping me with my spam prob, and I thought you were my friend dong, for no apparent reason. So as procrastination, i logged onto my uni internet, and tried to trek down who you are. Your blog doesn't give out much clues...but i think i can sort of figure it out. sorry...just one of those random tuesday afternoons.
Ok back to religious violence and cults.
Ok back to religious violence and cults.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Someone say Chinatown...
Another really random night...i find myself on a friday night 10pm standing in front of the mineral water section with S discussing which is the best mineral water in town....we deliberated over the cost of water, which water taste better and how tap water here taste like my puke after 6 shots of vodka. Trust me, I know.
So there we were discussing the final details of our water drinking habits and whether the size of the bottle matters when E calls and says "What ya doing guys?" And I said "Checking out the mineral water section." And he cracks up. Because who wouldn, that is after all the lamest thing two girls can do on a friday night.
So after we got him to carry 24 bottles of mineral water to my room, we went over to the all- asian frat party. We were basically looking for the house with alot of asian people outside. It could be a gambling den for all we knew. We finally hit the house with the skinny girls, straight black hair and eye-liner eyes. And the guys who had spiky dragon-ball hair and one ear studs. Such a crack up. Its funny when you are in another country looking for your own race. Kinda feels like baby zebras looking for mama zebras in a herd of goats. '
What's funnier is when asian people go to an asian party and exclaim, "whao there are so many asian people here." What were you expecting, romanian clowns?
So we danced for a while in the oven of a room and got shoved in and packed when the police came around and we all had to cramp in.
But the best part of the night was still when E and I sat at the entrance and played the "would you sleep with him/her/it game?" It kinda went like...
E: How about him..yeah the short guy in the glasses
Me: NOOOOOO!! Comeon, even my brother looks hotter than that. How about the girl in the red skirt.
E: Are you kidding, thats a face my mum would love. How about first guy on the stairwell?
Me: No way. in fact, no to that, and that, and ...actually...no to everyone in the stairwell. And on the ledge. That guy looks pretty decent....no wait...thats disgusting, he's wearing visors...thats a no....no...no...no...no...you know what Eddie, there are no decent looking guys in penn.
E: That girl looks kinda cute......from far. Like really far.
That was one hell of a superficial night. But you know what, we were at a frat party, it was 1am, i have one stuffed up nose with a flooded depressurized nasal cavity and people there were dressed up to be judged. So I'll let that one slip for the night. And tomorrow i'll wake up and tell you that beauty is only skin deep.
So there we were discussing the final details of our water drinking habits and whether the size of the bottle matters when E calls and says "What ya doing guys?" And I said "Checking out the mineral water section." And he cracks up. Because who wouldn, that is after all the lamest thing two girls can do on a friday night.
So after we got him to carry 24 bottles of mineral water to my room, we went over to the all- asian frat party. We were basically looking for the house with alot of asian people outside. It could be a gambling den for all we knew. We finally hit the house with the skinny girls, straight black hair and eye-liner eyes. And the guys who had spiky dragon-ball hair and one ear studs. Such a crack up. Its funny when you are in another country looking for your own race. Kinda feels like baby zebras looking for mama zebras in a herd of goats. '
What's funnier is when asian people go to an asian party and exclaim, "whao there are so many asian people here." What were you expecting, romanian clowns?
So we danced for a while in the oven of a room and got shoved in and packed when the police came around and we all had to cramp in.
But the best part of the night was still when E and I sat at the entrance and played the "would you sleep with him/her/it game?" It kinda went like...
E: How about him..yeah the short guy in the glasses
Me: NOOOOOO!! Comeon, even my brother looks hotter than that. How about the girl in the red skirt.
E: Are you kidding, thats a face my mum would love. How about first guy on the stairwell?
Me: No way. in fact, no to that, and that, and ...actually...no to everyone in the stairwell. And on the ledge. That guy looks pretty decent....no wait...thats disgusting, he's wearing visors...thats a no....no...no...no...no...you know what Eddie, there are no decent looking guys in penn.
E: That girl looks kinda cute......from far. Like really far.
That was one hell of a superficial night. But you know what, we were at a frat party, it was 1am, i have one stuffed up nose with a flooded depressurized nasal cavity and people there were dressed up to be judged. So I'll let that one slip for the night. And tomorrow i'll wake up and tell you that beauty is only skin deep.
Monday, September 12, 2005
My favourite part of Chicago, the big bean! It is the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen in my whole life. It reflects the cityscape and looks like a giant UFO.
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And all that Jazz....
Chicago in 42 hours. Who could ever believe?
Besides the fact that we stayed in a suburban hotel with the closest railway station to chicago being a one and a half hour walk away, and no taxis in sight, Chicago was amazing.
What was initially a crazy impulse trip where we would arrive back in Philly one hour before my first class began (I made it with one minute to spare), the trip became a fantastic teaser of the great Chicago. To me, Chicago felt a bit like a freak show, a city with the most unique architecture, with air thick from pollution and pathways lined with jazz musicians. Home to numerous jazz musicians and Al Capone, Chicago was beautiful and scary at the same time.
Although we never made it into the Chicago Institute of Art, or walked into a single shop along the Magnificiant mile, or found the Playboy building or the Leather Museum of S&M (trust me, we were looking hard), or eat the famous deep dish pizza at Gino East, our crazy breakneck speed around Chicago was ambitious and successful enough.
We saw the sears tower, shopped in the shop opposite the institute of art, went to the millenium park, got up the John Hancork building (we realised once we were in the building on the 96 floor that it was Sep 11), appreciated jazz at Jazz Showcase where Ray Charles and other famous Jazz musicians used to play and had the worst tasting pizza ever at Uno Pizzaria. We ogled sailors at Navy Pier, marvelled more architecture, made slit eye bug teeth faces in Chinatown (i was almost certain we were gonna get shot) and finally woke up t 4am today dreading school because none of us prepared for class (that's why I'm here blogging and not in class, because my lecturer WILL kill me).
So all in all, it was a great trip. Packed, crazy and random, it made me realise how hilarious guys can get when confronted with one bed, and three guys in the hotel room.
Besides the fact that we stayed in a suburban hotel with the closest railway station to chicago being a one and a half hour walk away, and no taxis in sight, Chicago was amazing.
What was initially a crazy impulse trip where we would arrive back in Philly one hour before my first class began (I made it with one minute to spare), the trip became a fantastic teaser of the great Chicago. To me, Chicago felt a bit like a freak show, a city with the most unique architecture, with air thick from pollution and pathways lined with jazz musicians. Home to numerous jazz musicians and Al Capone, Chicago was beautiful and scary at the same time.
Although we never made it into the Chicago Institute of Art, or walked into a single shop along the Magnificiant mile, or found the Playboy building or the Leather Museum of S&M (trust me, we were looking hard), or eat the famous deep dish pizza at Gino East, our crazy breakneck speed around Chicago was ambitious and successful enough.
We saw the sears tower, shopped in the shop opposite the institute of art, went to the millenium park, got up the John Hancork building (we realised once we were in the building on the 96 floor that it was Sep 11), appreciated jazz at Jazz Showcase where Ray Charles and other famous Jazz musicians used to play and had the worst tasting pizza ever at Uno Pizzaria. We ogled sailors at Navy Pier, marvelled more architecture, made slit eye bug teeth faces in Chinatown (i was almost certain we were gonna get shot) and finally woke up t 4am today dreading school because none of us prepared for class (that's why I'm here blogging and not in class, because my lecturer WILL kill me).
So all in all, it was a great trip. Packed, crazy and random, it made me realise how hilarious guys can get when confronted with one bed, and three guys in the hotel room.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Huh? Say that again?
People here actually study.
People here actually do their readings.
People here actually pay attention in class.
People here actually raise up their hands to answer questions in class.
Lecturers here actually ask you questions in class and insinuate that they remember me and I'll be next.
Shit.
People here actually do their readings.
People here actually pay attention in class.
People here actually raise up their hands to answer questions in class.
Lecturers here actually ask you questions in class and insinuate that they remember me and I'll be next.
Shit.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
I got hit by a car
No really...i really got hit by a car. I told my american-chinese friend and he said "Welcome to the united states, home of reckless driving."
Was heading out in a car to the 66th street for Korean dinner with a couple of church friends I just met at Tenth this morning. Was salivating over bibimbap and kimchi soup and talking to Arlene and Mel about .... alot of stuff. One minute we were talking the next there was a violent jerk, a crashing sound, the windscreen shattered, the airbags opened and the car started smoking.
My train of thoughts:
Shit
I think we hit something. Or got hit by something.
Everyone alive and kicking?
Get out of the car.
image of car exploding hollywood style.
Yeah.....everyone was fine except for David. His cheek was a little bruised up with scratches and he had a ringing in his ear. Ambulance came, brought him to the hospital and we stood around waiting for the police to take our statements.
Apparently, we were waiting to turn at an intersection and it was our turn. We took a left turn and this car just came right at us and smashed into us. They know they were in the wrong. They were trying to tow away the car before insurance could get to it.
So yeah, one smashed up car, alot of curious neighbours and a million cars driving past our smashed up car and honking at it (for goodness sake, thats like kicking a corpse and saying get outta my way, like that would so happen), we finally got our Korean dinner.
Hope everything is alright with the car. Heard it didn't belong to the driver.
Yeah, so that was highlight of the week. Arlene and I rode back in someone elses car completely pertrified that we were gonna crash again.
Was heading out in a car to the 66th street for Korean dinner with a couple of church friends I just met at Tenth this morning. Was salivating over bibimbap and kimchi soup and talking to Arlene and Mel about .... alot of stuff. One minute we were talking the next there was a violent jerk, a crashing sound, the windscreen shattered, the airbags opened and the car started smoking.
My train of thoughts:
Shit
I think we hit something. Or got hit by something.
Everyone alive and kicking?
Get out of the car.
image of car exploding hollywood style.
Yeah.....everyone was fine except for David. His cheek was a little bruised up with scratches and he had a ringing in his ear. Ambulance came, brought him to the hospital and we stood around waiting for the police to take our statements.
Apparently, we were waiting to turn at an intersection and it was our turn. We took a left turn and this car just came right at us and smashed into us. They know they were in the wrong. They were trying to tow away the car before insurance could get to it.
So yeah, one smashed up car, alot of curious neighbours and a million cars driving past our smashed up car and honking at it (for goodness sake, thats like kicking a corpse and saying get outta my way, like that would so happen), we finally got our Korean dinner.
Hope everything is alright with the car. Heard it didn't belong to the driver.
Yeah, so that was highlight of the week. Arlene and I rode back in someone elses car completely pertrified that we were gonna crash again.
Best frat party ever!
I had absolutely no idea where we were, which frat house we were in, which street we were on, but last night was the best frat party experience to date. The free alcohol (aside from beer), aka the screwdriver that tasted like vodka spiked with orange juice must have been the drawing factor. Besides the DJ that can't multitask taking requests and pressing the button on his mac, the crowd was terrific. Mainly international students, it made me feel like being back at one of those basement parties in IH again.
I always wondered how frat parties were like. The types we see heaps of on trashy teenybopper movies of blonds, tits and jocks. The first two i went for were: in two words, scary shit. Totally swarmed by upperclassmen who i have never met before, everyone was drinking out of trashcans and getting a cheap shot at watered down beer. No one danced. There wasn't even music. Everyone kinda just bobbed around looking drunk and exclaiming " OH MY GOD!!! THAT'S TOTALLY AWESOME!" Twice two girls screamed and i thought someone got hit by a car. Turned out they were just excited.
So i left. Bitched on the phone. Thought, will i ever grow to appreciate true american greek life. Not that i have to. But i might as well experience it well I'm in the states.
And thus came this party, which i suspect was at an international frat house. And I'm ashame to admit it, but I bloody loved it.
Thus the three singaporeans, two moroccans, one american and one dutch partied the night away.
The photos will have to wait. I can't find my card.
I always wondered how frat parties were like. The types we see heaps of on trashy teenybopper movies of blonds, tits and jocks. The first two i went for were: in two words, scary shit. Totally swarmed by upperclassmen who i have never met before, everyone was drinking out of trashcans and getting a cheap shot at watered down beer. No one danced. There wasn't even music. Everyone kinda just bobbed around looking drunk and exclaiming " OH MY GOD!!! THAT'S TOTALLY AWESOME!" Twice two girls screamed and i thought someone got hit by a car. Turned out they were just excited.
So i left. Bitched on the phone. Thought, will i ever grow to appreciate true american greek life. Not that i have to. But i might as well experience it well I'm in the states.
And thus came this party, which i suspect was at an international frat house. And I'm ashame to admit it, but I bloody loved it.
Thus the three singaporeans, two moroccans, one american and one dutch partied the night away.
The photos will have to wait. I can't find my card.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Adventures of the midget in giant land
Things that should go on America's funniest home video: A picture of a 5'1 dwarf wrestling with two suitcases, one that is almost her height, while trying to get onto the Amtrak train to Philadelphia. Suitcases were exceptionally naughty that day. They refused to sit in the overhead compartment, refused to fit into the luggage closet and insisted on being a fire hazard.
But yeah, I survived. Cut to picture of midget dragging two plastic bags, once again almost her height, across K-mart and back home.
Home is a dodgy rotting brick building that look like one of those shell-shocked Eastern European mansions that have been blasted and plundered. Room looks pretty neat though. Kudos for the quasi walk in cupboard. Of course as God's little joke, it couldn't have been given to me at a better time, now that most of my possessions are either in Melbourne or Singapore.
Home home home. I realised now that though I orgasmed in Jimmy Choos (alse seen in Sex and the City), fainted in front of Tiffany's $1.8 million dollar engagement ring (also seen in Breakfast at Tiffany's), ate at Joe's Pizza (also seen in Spiderman), posed in front of the Arch (also seen in When Harry met Sally), kissed the steps of Carrie's apartment (also seen in SATC), ate an 8-cm diameter crabcake from mexican-japanese fusion restaurant Zamba Sushi (also seen in SATC, I went for the SATC tour dammit), licked the rice pudding- encrusted spoon at Rice to Riches (also seen in Hitch), watched a broadway show (also seen in Broadway), briskwalked Central Park (also seen in all american movies involving a park and new york) and gaped at the White House (also seen in the background when Bush makes a speech), HOME is not where my Hollywood fantasies are. Even though their Elizabeth Arden shop actually had the signature red doors.
New York and Washington were *with an American accent* FABULOUS. It was like someone put a magnifying glass over Melbourne or Singapore and sprinkled alot of good shopping and food into it. It was like the world has conglomerated into one place, where every race and every brand and every crusine could be found.
Cultural schizophernia? Hell yeah! I arrived in New York, lived with an Indian family, went to an Indian festival, ate Thai food, moved in with a Jewish family, had Mexican-Japanese food and now is living with a Polish-Mexican-American roomate and meeting people with the most exotic mixes (taiwanese living in Brazil, Chinese living in France, Hong Konger living in Agentina and Peru ). The Chinese are seriously everywhere. This place is a melting pot. Cliched but true.
But I miss home like crazy. But which is home? I miss holland village and orchard road as much as lygon street and brunswick. I miss my house in Singapore as much as I miss international house. I miss my friends both in Singapore and in Melbourne. I miss my family. It sucks to miss one place, and now I miss two.
When I introduce myself to people, it doesn't just stop at "Hi, I'm Singaporean." It's " Hi, I'm Singaporean but on an exchange from Australia."
Whoever said home is where the heart is, is obviously an idiot. The heart doesn't see geographical boundaries.
And as for now, its back to the philly cheesesteaks, cheap levi's and upsized Macdonalds that look genetically mutated. If 6ft big tall Chris from Australia says, " Damm things here are big", yeah, take my word for it, things here are not just big because I'm a tiny person.
But yeah, I survived. Cut to picture of midget dragging two plastic bags, once again almost her height, across K-mart and back home.
Home is a dodgy rotting brick building that look like one of those shell-shocked Eastern European mansions that have been blasted and plundered. Room looks pretty neat though. Kudos for the quasi walk in cupboard. Of course as God's little joke, it couldn't have been given to me at a better time, now that most of my possessions are either in Melbourne or Singapore.
Home home home. I realised now that though I orgasmed in Jimmy Choos (alse seen in Sex and the City), fainted in front of Tiffany's $1.8 million dollar engagement ring (also seen in Breakfast at Tiffany's), ate at Joe's Pizza (also seen in Spiderman), posed in front of the Arch (also seen in When Harry met Sally), kissed the steps of Carrie's apartment (also seen in SATC), ate an 8-cm diameter crabcake from mexican-japanese fusion restaurant Zamba Sushi (also seen in SATC, I went for the SATC tour dammit), licked the rice pudding- encrusted spoon at Rice to Riches (also seen in Hitch), watched a broadway show (also seen in Broadway), briskwalked Central Park (also seen in all american movies involving a park and new york) and gaped at the White House (also seen in the background when Bush makes a speech), HOME is not where my Hollywood fantasies are. Even though their Elizabeth Arden shop actually had the signature red doors.
New York and Washington were *with an American accent* FABULOUS. It was like someone put a magnifying glass over Melbourne or Singapore and sprinkled alot of good shopping and food into it. It was like the world has conglomerated into one place, where every race and every brand and every crusine could be found.
Cultural schizophernia? Hell yeah! I arrived in New York, lived with an Indian family, went to an Indian festival, ate Thai food, moved in with a Jewish family, had Mexican-Japanese food and now is living with a Polish-Mexican-American roomate and meeting people with the most exotic mixes (taiwanese living in Brazil, Chinese living in France, Hong Konger living in Agentina and Peru ). The Chinese are seriously everywhere. This place is a melting pot. Cliched but true.
But I miss home like crazy. But which is home? I miss holland village and orchard road as much as lygon street and brunswick. I miss my house in Singapore as much as I miss international house. I miss my friends both in Singapore and in Melbourne. I miss my family. It sucks to miss one place, and now I miss two.
When I introduce myself to people, it doesn't just stop at "Hi, I'm Singaporean." It's " Hi, I'm Singaporean but on an exchange from Australia."
Whoever said home is where the heart is, is obviously an idiot. The heart doesn't see geographical boundaries.
And as for now, its back to the philly cheesesteaks, cheap levi's and upsized Macdonalds that look genetically mutated. If 6ft big tall Chris from Australia says, " Damm things here are big", yeah, take my word for it, things here are not just big because I'm a tiny person.
Time Square while queuing for over an hour for half-price tickets to watch Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
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Little Italy....its getting smaller with each passing year because Chinatown, which is right next to it, is expanding and eating into its space...
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New Jersey shore with the biggest scariest looking seagulls I have ever seen....they actually have to pay to get onto the beach...
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On the steps of Carrie's apartment, no where near where they claimed she lived in the show
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One of these apartments cost a couple of million dollars. Grotty looking? Not if you have the view of Central Park, also seen above.
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