Who knew spamming Fel's Wall could be so fun?

To achieve level 2 of the Spamming Book of Records, I spammed Fel's Wall, (who can't physically reach us) by writing a story, which I feel like blogging cos ... I want to lar...

It's really dumb.

Dear Fel, my Commander has given me inspiration. I'll write you a story.
Once upon a time, there lived a flower in a flower pot that sat by the window of a princess's chamber, who's name is Shendirella. Everyday she would shower the flower with water and fertilizer. The flower was happy, because the combination of the two was perfect remedy after a lonely night, as the owl, Jabigail, ate too much ice cream and had tummy aches, so it couldn't keep the flower company.

Continuation...
One day, a vocal trainer Jonnynginny, was so desperate to earn money, he convinced Shendirella to get voice training. Then, as the lessons began, Shendirella practiced by the flower. Soon, the flower began to wilt. Her voice was depresseing, but Jonnynginny needed his wages so that he could invest in a market called Munchkins. The flower was said, so it spoke to Jabigail.

Continuation....
"Oh dear, Jabigail... what am I to do? Sherndirella is draining the life out of me... Help me before I die. Please!" Jabigail the (not-so-wise) owl decided to help the flower. So she sourced out to Rob-a-jon and Yen-d-Wee, both respectively weasels, to carry the flower pot far away from Shendirella. It was all planned out well. One night, as the moon dawned upon the flower, the weasels climbed up to the window and took hold of the the pot... BUT...

(to be continued)

Continuation...
BUT... Yen-d-wee as a racist weasel! Once he found out that the flower was an indian, he got mischievous. He decided it was best, just as Rob-a-jon grabs the pot, he would push it down. And he did, down went the pot, and smashed into pieces!

"What did you do that for?" asked Rob-a-jon.
"For fun! It's indian. i don't like Indian food. Their dhal curry at the mamak gave me diarrhea last week," replied Yen-d-wee.
"Oh. Okay."

So there it sat, the poor flower. Gasping it's last few brathes..

(to be continued)

Last episode.
In the morning, sherndirella went out and saw the flower, wilted and nearly dead. She (or he) quickly replanted it and put fertilizer and water. "Oh dear flower, " she (he) cried, "I wanted to tell you that i've given up singing cos I decided that the windows couldn't take it anymore." She pointed towards the glass pieces on the floor. "So, Ive picked up something new!" Out she pulled an electric guitar. BRANNGGGG!! She sized up a Led Zeppelin like solo. The flower smiled. that's more like it! From that day onwards, the flower and Sherndirella lived happily together. Oh, btw, the flower's name is PINKY!!!!

Go figure out the characters!!!

It gurgles and spews in the cauldron

Tis an inevitable fact that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

ESPECIALLY WHEN ONE THREATENS TO CAUSE MUCH SORROW TO THE ALREADY WORN OUT HEART.

Hear me out. Massa is on a time out. okay, I can take it. I handle it by not knowing who took his place. I don't know what the dude's name is,okay.

Now, they wanna take Raikonen out. Okay, macam aku kisah.. I mean, he's no Schuey.

Now, here it comes. (Calm down, Rowie, calm down)

They wanna put... put... ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

GGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Alonso as a replacement.

WHERE'S THE JUSTICE IN THAT?

WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD PUT THAT DOUBLE CHIN, PROMINENT JAWED @#$%^&* AS A MAIN DRIVER???

DON'T FERRARI SEE THE MISTAKE MC LAUREN DID?

WHICH PART OF THEIR GRAY MATTER IS ROTTING WITH IGNORANCE?

OR HAS IT NOT PENETRATED THEIR THICK SKULL?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!

Whoosh, that went well.

Ding dongs.

Fat ding dongs.

Slap you Ferrari. Slap you. Slap*

Slap*. Slap*.Slap*.Slap*.Slap*.Slap*.Slap*.Slap*.Slap*.Slap*.Slap*.Slap*.Slap*.Slap*.Slap*.

Brooom brooom...zooooom... mati enjin*

It's game time. Time to get out of just driving in the neighborhood. Time to crunch down with the other insane members of Malaysian roads. Time to get a laminated piece of card labeled 'P'. Time to... well, you get the point.

So, I've started my 'Amali' with my very seasoned driving instructor and things have been pretty fine.

Actually,

I FEEL LIKE I AM ON THE TOP OF THE WORLD!!!

I DROVE!!!! There's to you Steven, Baji and all the other ding dongs who said I can't drive... Yes, you to Tiny!!! HAH!

Well, so far I've tackled the most messy roundabout of all times, USJ, (SS19 & Summit roads)... Kesas Highway ( I touched 80 km/h!!) and well, that's pretty much it.

What's so different about my driving this time is that my instructor has all the confidence in me to be behind the wheel... I mean, he sits in a relaxed manner, makes conversation, even scolds the misbehaving ding dongs on the roads. The second lesson, I was made to drive completely, as though to say, "You're ready for the roads!", though my car did 'mati enjin' twice. Okay, trice.

But all said and done, it's the fear of driving I have to overcome because sooner or later I have to drive on my own to school, to church (I don't need to depend on Titus and Peter anymore), to the mall, to the beach, to the highlands, to Penang, to Paris, to Alaska.....

The week in a nutshell

WE DID IT!!! THE GALLERY IS COMPLETO!!!

Kudos to our head, Pav for taking the all the bullets for our lazy bums!!
It's Lady power yo!! Got men also lar.. but see the main frame of the army...
Celebration at AC (if you can call it that). Weird duo.
Ah, potentials in training...

Laughing over some joke I completely missed out on...
Smile!!!

__________*****__________

Madame Joyce showing off her new hairdo!

Her pretty face.. speak of Literature in blood... some are born with silver spoons in their mouth... some with lit books for faces... :)
Chester, a dedicated lit student, and I have a love-hate relationship. I hate cats, he hates.. well, everything.
Nat and Kian Yip... the two of the other three rajin donkeys who decided to go for tuition on a holiday.

The FAT Story.

"Mum," I said, glancing up and down the looking glass, "I am FAT!".

"No, lah Rowena," came her reassuring reply, "You look better now, last time you used to look (fills cheeks with air and uses her hands to shape a rounder version of me), now you're so much better looking."

"Really?" I ask her, quietly, almost in a whisper, (simply because I am definitely not reassured and I did not believe the image in the mirror, looked any less different than before).

__________#$#$__________

Isn't that always the case? We women are never (at ease/satisfied/happy) underline your desired choice of answer with our bodies. NEVER. My case is rather pathetic as I really do put some effort into it... REALLY. Don't laugh, I am quite sad now.

So much so, I decided to run a few observations as to why, (despite working my body to wits end) I never seem to lose weight effectively.

I BLAME HERITAGE.
Yes, its all in the genes. I do have reasoning as to why I say this. I observe. I shall now compare the Indian and the Chinese body because, I haven't observed the Malays yet. I am not racist. Just selectively observant. They're usually quite decently dressed. So, we're talking heritage, right?

Chinese bodies.
Chinese bodies are divided into two.
Body type 1.
- THEY'RE FREAKING SLIM!
Not an ounce of extra fat, and you're like, "Where are those yellow, squishy hell-givers?" They look up and down themselves, look at you and say, "Got meh?"

Body type 2.
- or they're plump but evened out.
Yes, there are plump Chinese girls, shocked? But they still look really good... and they have no stretch marks... not one! Maybe got lar.. since I don't observe them in their birthday suits.. only in shopping malls.. I am not hamsap lar!

Time to bring out our Madras friends.

Indian bodies.
Guess, what? They're also divided into two.
Body type 1
-THEY'RE FREAKING SLIM
Oh boy! Slim to the bone. And when you ask, "Don't' you have those yellow, squishy hell-givers?"
They look up and down themselves, look at you and say, "Yenna di paeseringae?"

Body type 2
-or, listen carefully, their calves and elbow to fingers will be slim, the other parts? PLUMP IT UP BABY!!!
Which makes, of course, slimming down and finding outfits a hassle and a downright chore. But, WAIT , hold it. STOP RIGHT THERE. They have something nobody can deny. CURVES. The stuff guys want to grab on to but can't cause they're expensive, yup... them curves go well on those bodies.

Conclusion: We're all according to God's design, so learn it, live it, LOVE it.

__________#$#$__________

I decided, I must find some comparison, to prove my loss of weight a fact or fiction. I grab my saree blouse, pop it over my arm and feel the space. Was there SPACE! I happily show my mum, flagging about the change in size of my arm... she, busy on the phone, simply looks past me, serious faced, a simple nod. Acknowledgement. Rejoicing with me.

Deaver,oh Deaver...

This book... is GOOD. Period.

So much for a review but many salutes to Deaver for being such an excellent master of twists to a point where the reality or should I say the possibility of such a situation taking place literally dances on a fencepost, hand-in-hand with insanity.

I shan't mess up the story for you, so I shall not say a thing about the book.

But, there's something I can incorporate from a previous conversation from two rather passionate persons.

Topic of discussion: Calling a guy for no reason is a reasonable act.

I am of course against this stupid notion, but the other two were quite okay with it.

Their argument was that its okay to call a guy that you like without having anything to talk about, or specific person, because, somehow... conversation will come about, and you can go on and on.

My argument is that it may be really embarrassing when you have nothing to talk about and the whole conversation ends abrupt and pathetic.

But according to this book, if Amelia Sachs did not switch on her phone to get some follow up from Lincoln Rhyme... the three would have been dead in minutes!!

Oh, Lincoln Rhyme. I hope I meet someone real like you... though you quite remind me of someone. Sometimes.

Thus,

Conclusion: It's okay to call up the guy you like if and only if he's gonna save you from being shot to death by a tattooed maniac of a hit man. Go ahead and call.

WARNING (again)

Holidays mushroomed again.

You know I'll be bored.

I am going to write spin-offs, whether you like it or not.

I AM GOING TO WRITE!!!

(Note to Thiru and Albert, don't worry I won't make fun of THAT issue).

Note to: The OddBalls, Jonjon, All-Butt-Man (and friends), brace yourself.

Consider yourself warned.

Effete under tutelage.

Some remedies come in glasses, some in shoes...
Sigh.

I have not felt the feeling of being chained down at all. Never felt it literally, but the other day, as I sat down, I felt ropes, at my neck. Every rope had a name, regardless of whether it was a person or assignment, burden or vice it yanked hard.

Suffocation, was present, despite my ability to breathe and remain composed and able. Suffocation took place in my heart.

The Revolutionary War replayed itself there, Principals in red coats, Freedom in blue.

There were raging seas and storms hurling their wicked blows, threatening to knock me over. I remained a Wobbleman and rose up with a smile. It hurt, excruciatingly, like a 1000 needles piercing a constantly bruised wound.

Alas, the cry of the heart shall not be heard, for once again this balloon that beseeches to blow succumbs to pride and dignity, returning to its dark corner, until one day it is addressed and bursts bringing forth lashes from a brandished sword dripping with pent-up bitterness, an escapee from the labyrinth of darkness itself.

Once upon a time...

...we played pool.
Jonjon with his funky moves, hitting my black ball into the hole. Darn it.

I am such a horrible photographer. they're really pretty, its just my handling.

A massively horrible picture.

I think we were going at about 80km/h, look what the speedometer shows. Hillarious, this car.

Our driver. Thiru.

Delayed yet missed and loved.

One day, Mama and Dada said, "Let's go to CAMERON HIGHLANDS."

So we set off on a journey, to see highlands, strawberries and tea. We stopped for a while to see old NS camp, where we had to walk uphill a little. So that's why Dada's helping mama!

Upon our arrival, (sorry, i didn't upload the on the way pictures. Too many lor..)we sat down to lunch. Meet the shutterbugs, Princess and the Sister. They had some updating to do!

These is the cool Brother. He's swinging his swagga' into the cold mood. Y'all get what I mean?

After battling out psychology strategies and being completely 'lan si', Brother, Sister, Mama and Princess got their way. We were to live here!

Pretty stuff huh? Princess was contented. She considered it one of her future Summer Vacation Homes.

Brother, Sister and Princess, of course, made themselves at home.

The name of their residence.

The view from Princess's favourite window.

Different areas of the place.

Staring out of Princess's window, so emo. Especially with the rain.

Then, Brother, Sister and Princess decided to go out and see the area, scout it and enjoy it. The tea are.

The chalets up stairs.

The camera women take a break.

"Check out the bird house," they chirped.

"We love bird houses," they cawed.

Then Brother said," Do I not look cute?"

They came to a point where they lost their way. While the Princess as composed as she is tried to figure it out, Brother got into a frenzy. "AAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!"

Then, Sister thought, "Hmmmmm.... if only there was a signboard," as she stroked her non- existent goatee.

Princess and Brother were forced to pose in front of the sign board. Hence, the fake smile.

Then came Sister's turn, to pose with Her Majesty. "What an honor. I feel special," said Sister.

Along they went to find many paths. On and on they went. "Oh, why? Why?" asked Brother. Sister just smiled.

Sister suddenly had the notion to pretend she was a mermaid. Princess granted her her request.

Princess and Brother had fun times along many a staircase.

Suddenly, Brother had to make a visit to the loo.

Princess had really no idea what to pose like, so she resorted to Betty from the Archie's Comic Books, however Brother went for a more dramatic "Please, Don't Go!' style.

The siblings then made Mama and Dada take a picture. How difficult it is to get one good picture.

Oh creativity, thou maketh a picture painteth a thousand words.

Lady Mama and Mother Nature.

Dada and Brother times.

Mother inspired by scones.

Viewing and stuffing.

See what scones do to you. Make you feel British temporarily. Ah, family.

Dinner bell has rung. The Family called for a Chinese dinner. In cold weather, hot tom yam soup was mother's milk to us.

"Na rombe pasikithe...." said Brother, putting on some doe eyed drama.

End of trips end with picture, Mama wanted mist.

And the chalet's signboard. They loved the place.

Just a few more.

Princess and Brother acknowledged the cold weather, to keep in the diplomatic relationship between Royalty and Botany.

At the (closed for the day) Boh Tea Plantation, there was more to see. A rock provided much inspiration for photography.

Princess loved the rock. She named it 'Rock'.

Dada and Mama took their time, making way through the tea.

"Lush green leaves," exclaimed Princess, "Ah beauty, marry me!"

The siblings. A pact of psychological strategies to obtain minisucule yet significant benefits in view of family happiness.

Finally, a good shot!

Brother got a little excited.

In all seriousness, (if the word exists) he was on a golden platter.

Alas, good vacations come to and end, but good memories live. Till the next time.