Of Chamber Pots and Strip-Cut Doughs

I will now forever crave the wonderful homemade lasagna that has been served to me by my bestie's mother. Ounces of cheese topping a masterpiece of layers of pasta sheets flooded in delectable meat and tomato sauce, steaming hot from the oven, adept for a toothsome lasagna experience unparalleled to any I've ever had thus far.

Was it, perhaps, the amount of cheese scattered so excitedly, by so many hands? Was it the perfect combination of hot pasta and sauce which melted so willingly in one's mouth? That will remain a mystery of what is, undoubtedly, the closest encounter one would have to an authentic Italian dining experience.

Looking back upon it, I'm becoming quite the Italian food connoisseur.

Comatose

Rainbows and unicorns, oh how I would LOVE to feast my eyes upon them. On a field of wildflowers the pure creatures gallop undearneath a perfect multicolored arc, whilst leprechauns laugh cheerily, throwing faux gold coins just for the heck of putting on a serious show of glimmering gold in the bright smiling sunshine; children whistle and sing and play, laughing joyfu-

Oh wait. I'm getting ahead of myself. And the paragraph has no structure, which pisses me off.

SO. Yesterday saw me going to the movies to watch Underworld: Rise of the Lycans. I would say the movie was amazing, with really immersing fight scenes and all that tragic forbidden love going on, but here's the thing: I was unfortunate enough to be seated in front of a couple of moronic buffoons who do not quite grasp the whole 'silence while in the movies' etiquette code quite well. And while they weren't being rambunctious enough to attract the attention of the ushers and whoever, they certainly were loud enough to irritate people several rows in front and behind them.

The thing is, I wouldn't have half minded if the comments weren't so half-assed. By that I mean plain, OBVIOUS stuff being exclaimed out loud by both parties- like stating that there were 'SO MANY WOLVES!' when they were littered across the screen. We GET that there are a TON of those wolves, you blithering idiots!

And to make matters worse, they not only say these obvious stuff extremely loudly; they even REPEAT those statements at LEAST 4 times! I mean, of all the WTFery that you could accomplish in the cinema! Not to mention laughter in all the necessary places and excited 'ooh's and 'aah's in all the wrong places... In the middle of the movie I had squished my empty popcorn box into the size of my fist, achingly trying NOT to chuck it on the head of at one of the perpetrators while dumping the whole content of my Sprite drink on the other. Ladies and gentlemen, I have never been SO pissed in the cinemas in my entire life of watching movies in this country (There were a lot of worse movie-goers in UAE, but those are Arabs and are known for their terrible manners in the movies and almost every other public place there is).

So it pretty much ruined the whole day yesterday; I went home (I meant to my bestie's) and tried reading Physics but ended up sleeping for a long, LONG time, to wake up in the middle of the night, when everyone's beginning to retire to their beds. Miffed at the ruined state of my otherwise-supposed-to-be-enjoyable-day, I then wrote the whole unicorn scenario, because I can. Because not for the first time, I wish I was living in a world filled with magic, enchantments, beautiful fairy castles, mythical creatures and, of course, miracles and happily-ever-afters for the kindhearted.

Having my fill of a traditional lunch, I now await the arrival of delicious homemade lasagne. Yazzay!

F*** the System...!

Hm.

I wonder where the word 'internationalization' and the integration of that came sometimes, in this place that boasted so proudly of it. I am glad that it's religious enough to amaze most people outside and quite a few inside, even after all the time they've been here, but I've had the opportunity to experience an international environment and believe me, this place lacks 'international' as much as a dried fish lacks water.

Honestly. Does age demand respect? Up to a certain level maybe we should all ascertain that we cannot talk the way we do to those the same age as we do to a person as old as our parents, and that I would understand, but that does not mean we should revere a sane older human's every opinion and have to consider them the right choice all the time, does it?

That's a rhetorical question, to which most would of course, agree to its rhetoric quality, but many would fail to apply to younger people. And those latter masses are not in the least bit 'internationalized' because being global would mean you'd accept an opinion of an adult person if it seems right, even if the adult person happened to be more than a decade younger than you.

Three layers of ice are breaking, and not in a good way.

Feuer Frei!

Partly to do with the current situation in Gaza, the abovementioned title is born. Ironic how I got hooked to the song by Rammstein (more than a few years late, btw) around late December when the situation became much more critical. Accursed, powerful world figures who have nothing better to do with their time treat humans worse than stray dogs, and those who could actually help are turning their cheeks away because they do not want to feel the heat of the now-out-of-control furnace that they ignited to warm themselves.

Fact is, the world is full of irony. Sooner or later we would come to terms with that fact and either come to accept it as Fate, or adopt a 'Life's a [INSERT EXPLETIVE NOUN HERE]' attitude towards... Well, Life. Of course, quite a few waver between these two phases, myself included. I must say I'm not pleased with myself but I'm not here to judge anyone, since anyone who's reading this and understanding all of its contents would, naturally, possess enough common sense to know what's logical and what's not. Opinionated, but that can't be helped, and so can't a certain world leader who looks and acts like a baboon. Watched Mercury by Bloc Party and I was all 'Daaamn they got that one right, how baboons MUST be behind it all. Makes sense too, seeing how they look SO related.'

...

Ah, Prom. The pinnacle of high school, where it all ends and starts. Where expectations soar, to either rise to a steady height before a graceful landing or- in most cases- plummet sharply to the ground barely a few minutes after take-off. And why is this suddenly popping up in this post? Heaven help me, I have NO idea. Forcibly reminded of my prom after all this talk of irony, I had to let it out. Girlish giggles, fantastic food, dazzling dresses and a lonesome lady amidst a throng of gutted guys. Uh-huh, sounds like my prom indeed. My shoes lasted on my feet for about ten minutes after my entrance into the ballroom before they were chucked off underneath the table (and I regret telling my Mom that), in favor of my more comfortable barefoot state, running back and forth between the buffet table and the round table where my friends and I were located. It's no wonder how people come to assume how fat I am, with the amount of foodtalk I spout... And then some dancing with a few hyped-up friends. The memory of a very, VERY drunk close friend who shouted out how my ex didn't deserve me to the rest of the people attending (thanks a lot for that) after vehemently saying 'I'm not druuuuuunkk~!' and stumbling over her heels trying to hug me. The smell of alcohol on her breath and on the floor ten minutes later where she threw up and passed out... Ahh, good times. Good times indeed.

To be honest, prom was no more fun than a farewell party we (okay, a good friend of mine) organized for a terrific English and form teacher about a year beforehand. It was THE Farewell Party of all farewell parties ever to be organized by any high school class in the region. The roar of emotion after a thirty minute wait, when she opened the glass doors leading into a fancy restaurant on the top floor of a hotel and we all yelled 'SURPRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISE!' was something I never managed to experience afterwards. The deafening roar of the very, VERY long surprise- the single word itself lasting about half a minute- resonating, pounding in my ear until five minutes later when we were hugging her; the tears that welled in everyone's eyes as hers flowed freely down her cheeks out of elation and gratitude as we rushed over, clambering to be the first to receive a warm embrace from the greatest mentor and friend, possibly for the last time. The friendly, enthusiastic chatter and ominous clicks and flashes of camera that made her, and every one of us, feel like a star... And the food, the delicious, scrumptious food that got me bloated and wishing I could pump it all out of my stomach only to indulge in more... All leading to the farewell-present-giving, nearly the end of the night, which she handled all too well and made me, for the first time, pine to be a teacher. Just to feel her joy on that day; the gratitude she received from her students, which she understood and conveyed back to us, like an effective recycling system of human emotions in one room filled with fabulous food, teary girls, and a few males in the form of husbands, chefs and waiters. The aforementioned drunk girl at my prom, which takes place around a year later as I had stated in the opening paragraph sentence, did have beer beforehand and asked me for a few bucks for another. I refused, politely saying I had no money on me. I'm glad I did, since her breath reeked of beer at the time and another wee sip would probably lead to the ugly incident at prom, which no one wanted to remember- particularly her.

Just-ifications

MORI-SENPAI!

I do not own the picture above, so props to the wonderful persons who made it available on the net!

I just realized how long it's been since I last updated before today.

I also happened to just come across the first comment for this year in one of last year's posts just now.

And I just realized I only have one comment from another person for last year.

I just made up my mind to laze around before going 'laboratorious' today.

Mehh I just wanted to post a picture in a post and wish myself a late happy new year ^^

The Girl Who Leapt Through Time

It's an 'anime movie'... I don't even know the proper term for japanese cartoons that aren't serialized (does the word 'serialize' even exist?); I'm assuming they're still anime. But anywho, I stumbled across it on one of my leisurely walks through a few hundred gigs' worth of movies, under the English (not necessarily from the Brits, mind you) Movies folder- and was quite shocked to find out that not only was it NOT, in any way, English; it didn't even contain real actors/actresses. So I went ahead and watched it, since I was feeling mighty pleased to have finished my assigned work in one go and felt like I deserved a form of entertainment right then (which I totally did not, seeing the progress I made for my exam revision remaining, but at least the assignments are over with, right? RIGHT?) ...

The Japanese sure have a way of making tomboy girls endearing, lemme tell you that. Made me wish I could be somewhat guyish to appeal to the more macho, less idiotic men in this world (hey hey hey, at least I don't just condemn all guys on earth)... And yeah, like any other sap for most Japanese material, I found the movie far beyond tolerable. At least it reignited my passion for non-reading material since two weeks ago; my head cannot tolerate anymore Naruto fanfiction... for the next few hours anyways.

On second thought... *eyes the fanfic tab*

But yeah. On one of my reruns through one of my most coveted anime series, I found myself cursing my failed logic to understand that Ouran is not, indeed, over where the anime left it. DUH! There's ALWAYS extra material in the manga! Bakabakabaka-!!
So yeah. Trying to read 60+ manga episodes online in one shot always gives me a migraine and a case of pseudoaccomplishmentitis, so I'm *TRYING* to restrict myself to only a few volumes of the thing, and ONLY after I've done something worthwhile.

Oh 5417.

LAUNDRY!

I fell in love with the Hitachiin brothers again, Kaoru in particular, but I've also come to the conclusion that Haruhi would be better off with Mori-senpai. Because... it wouldn't happen? Heh, mostly because when there are scenes where Haruhi was shown a bit closer to Mori than most, they always seem to fit together. Like the strawberry cake scene and the scene where he carries her in the 'jungle' (damn the uber-rich Ootori geniuses) and when he danced with her at the end (as of yet) of the anime series... Yeah, they seem alright together. And yet it's almost written for her to be with Tama-chan, because... well, if Tama-chan does not end up with Haru-chan, who else would? They're pre-destined to be together! Yes, I pity the others who would like her but seriously, Tamaki needs Haruhi more than the others. It's a shame for the brothers since they love her so much as well, but they can't either have her, and Haruhi isn't the type to be shared like that. Maybe if Haruhi came with a twin...

Okay no, it's cause I want Kaoru for myself >=D

Er, yeah.
Why the hell have I not done my laundry?
Right. The abrupt water shortage earlier this evening.