Alexander.

I jumped onto the bandwagon. I watched Alexander. It was goddamn long. It finished at 3.am. I love Troy better. Collin Farrel looks permanently constipated. Angelina Jolie’s is about the only hot chica. The rest either look bapok-fied or like under-developed boys. I thought in ancient world, curves were revered. Oh well, maybe I was just being naive – skinny has always been trendy, even 2400 years ago!

The movie did not once mention he’s a Moslem. Oh my…you mean our history textbooks have been lying to us? Eii, but it’s just a typical whitewash movie. Okay, so I will continue to believe that Alexander was a devout moslem eventhough the religion only came about like what….1000 years after the Great died. Bah!

There were some ahbengs behind us who kept yakking throughtout the movie. They were like (in crass cantonese), “Who’s Ptolemy?”, “Who’s this old junk?” (whenever he’s on screen), “Eee gay! gay!” (whenever the Great and Hephaistion (or Bagoas) gives each other the CFM look), “KAKAKAKA” (when the Great’s new wife asked him whether he loved Hephaistion with the most hideous, over the top expression) and the likes.

I made this nai shu spread yesterday cause I was so bored. I haven’t actually tasted it with toasts yet, but it was good on its own. I was nicking it throughout. Hehehe.

Musings on a Saturday.

2 down, 1 more to go. Finals are after Xmas :(. Such horrible timing. I’d rather have everything finished now than getting exam jitters for a whole bloody month. Sigh.

Mom’s in Malacca. Dad’s at work. The two Nicks are busy with their own stuff. Wow, the house is actually quiet. No TV. No annoying PS games jingles. No yakking.

Hrmm, perhaps I should start on the 3rd paper. I’m starting to like completing my work early. Firstly, I can eat and sleep like a normal person. Secondly, I’m not so cranky anymore. Thirdly, I can blog and chat without guilt. Forthly, I can drive to college singing along songs than cussing slow cars. List goes on and gawd I hope I could maintain this.

No more classes from Monday onwards; just consultation and being present is optional. My heart skips a beat when I think of next week. I’m very much looking forward to it and I can’t wait for the hours to pass. I just know that it’s going to be a great one.

He called me yesterday’s afternoon. After asking me how I was doing and before I could answer, he’s already started to babble about where he has gone to for the past 2 months and how much goddamn fun he had. Then he wanted to ‘see me’. At that point, I wanted to stab his two eyes and kick his sorry balls. But I couldn’t so I told him I’m quite busy and that I will call him. I told Mom about it and she’s like ‘Way to go, girl’. Eventhough just a couple of months back, she was planning our wedding. That’s right, every mother wants only happiness for her daughter. Right, MrsTweety? I love my Mom.

I have watched Bridget Jones 2 and Butterfly Effects. BJ2 was not up to my expectation but it’s entertaning nevertheless. In the 1st movie, I thought Zellweger was flawless, she played a believable pathetic 30+ yr old woman (the opening scene where she sang All By Myself, my gawd…it gave me shudders!). The sequel however, I felt like she had overacted and BJ reminded me of a bimbo, albeit an ugly one. Hugh Grant was awesome and I wish he had more scenes. Colin Firth made me cry because under that stiff demeanour there’s a sensitive, loving soul. Only in movies though, men like that in real life are fuckedups.

On the other hand, Butterfly Effects was awesome. The 1st CD was a ‘lil cocked up so I missed pretty much all the conversations but I sat through it. And I wasn’t dissapointed at all. Who would have thought Kutcher the punker could make me cry like a girl. Right, I am a girl. The movie got me thinking. Don’t be surprised cause I do that sometimes. Anyway, everything that happens in our lives are repercussions of our prior deeds. There really shouldn’t be any regret or grudge because well, we fucked ’em up ourselves. So people, think before you proceed because even the tiniest action counts. And yes, never try to defuse a bomb with your bare hands.