Manual for the perfect British slang:

1. It's "bAllocks", not "bOllocks". It literary means "balls". Like, testicles. Yes.
2. Toilet roll is never toilet roll, it's called "Bug Roll".
3. Words like "good", "great", "nasty", "disgusting" dont exist. It's either "awesome", "excellent", or "awful". And THE way to pronouce those words is AAWWWEEEsome. Drag the "aw" and little emphasis on the "some". That's it.
4. Never greet people with "Hello". ALWAYS, without fail, greet people with "You alright?". And you have to pronounce it, "youral right?"
5. Never say goodbye with "bye". ALWAYS, say, "Cheers, mate."
6. The phrase "Thank you" doesnt exist. It's "Cheers, mate."
7. It's "arse", not "ass".


Cheers, mate.

Just came back on a windsurfing trip/festival. Will update as soon as I am awake.

Economics - A study that is made up of theories that people made up in this made up world.

(I studied ONE page of my textbook in 3 hours. YAY.)

Ok. Here we go -- AGAIN.

"Are you coming for the gathering tonight?" "Have you joined the Singapore Society?" "Give me your email, we're compiling a list of Singaporeans!" "Come on! Everyone wants to know who you are!" "It'll be great fun hanging out with fellow Singaporeans!" "Come next time ok!!" "We had people from Brunei coming for the Singapore Society meetings! So you should come too!" "Do you know other Singaporeans?" "Are you coming for the trip?" "Are you coming for the Pot Luck?" "Are you going to Top Banana tonight?" (Top Banana is a club in school.) "Will you be signing up for the society?" "Which block do you live in? Oh! A lot of Singaporeans live there! It's like a mini-singapore." "You're from Singapore right?"

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHh. it's ringing in my head. it's fucking RINGING. RING RING RING!!!! argh. all my efforts--down the drain. All my efforts to avoid this situation--DOWN THE FUCKING LONG KANG. WHYYYYYYYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy???? *breaks down in tears*

It was so peaceful, even though unhappy, but at least peaceful, until now. MARMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE..

Yea, i'm exaggerating it a bit. But 90% is true. Sigh.

Childishness

and you may die.

One. If you think Singaporeans are kiasu, think again. During the first week of school, as everyone is trying to open a bank account, the queues outside the banks are so freaking long you can die. But mind you, the queue was ALREADY long 45 minutes before the bank opens. Beat that. (remember Hello Kitty? yea that)

Also, during lectures, people are so hungry for attention that they will say the cheem-est things that is currently irrelevant. Just to show off their "knowlegde". What they dont realise is that 90% of the students are A level Economics students. Dumbasses.

Two. If you fall sick in England, and while desperate for a doctor, clutching your aching stomach, and coughing your lungs out, you may just hear the nurse say, in a straight face-deadpan manner, "Sorry, but the doctor is currently taking a dump. Please come back later." It's true, you're definitely not hallucinating.

(Just to give a real life example -- my entire hall is down with the "Fresher's Flu". And one of my mates went to the doctor for a prescription. Not only did she come back empty handed, this is what the doctor said : "The cough is not from the lungs, so don't worry, you dont have pneumonia. Come back at the end of the week if you're still not well--to check if the cough has moved to the lungs." Believe it. Upon hearing that, I didnt bother to go the doctor, I went to the pharmacy directly. I went to the cashier to pay for my cough medicine, and all she told me was "Sorry I can't sell it to you as the pharmacist is not in.". And I was on the verge of coughing my lungs out. I'm not kidding.)

Three. In England, you have two water taps to a sink. One for hot water, one for cold water. Please just use your imagination to see how can I possibly wash my hands. One, you either freeze to death, or two, scald to death. Pick one.




Aye...and there's more to come.

The Way to Getting Drunk:
Mix drinks. Have 2 shots of Brandy, Bailey's, Vodka, then 2 pints of beer, then one glass of red wine. Down everything and within two hours you'll be sprawling on the floor. And give it another 15 minutes and you'll start puking like mad.

Important note: One, Tendency to roll on the floor is really strong, so never wear mini skirts unless you are giving out invites to your pussy. Two, Tendency to start kissing people is really high, SO, please make sure the party you're kissing is equally drunk and will probably not mind sharing bodily liquids. Third, ALWAYS hang out with people who get pissed drunk themselves. (It felt great that everyone around me were laughing at me rather than getting pissed at me and my drunkeness. Not that I will continue this behaviour, but really. It felt good.)


The Receipe to the Perfect British Accent:
1. Never pronounce your "t"s. End it of with a silent throat sound.
2. Pronounce all your "a"s with a deeper "o" sound.
3. Speak really fast, with a slight tendency to mumble.
4. Most of the time, speak as if you have a fat tongue.
5. (Optional) Top it off with great blue eyes and pants hanging down half your arse.


Btw, my webcam MIRACULOUSLY came to life. 3 weeks of it being mysteriously "unplugged" despite it being "built in", it finally got "found" by my laptop and now it's working perfectly fine. I swear it's the weirdest thing. So well, yea, request webcam on msn if you please. Although I seriously look the same. But you can take a peep at my room. :D

As of now, wish me luck with me surviving university. ciao.

Love,
nene with a bit of british accent and who is suffering from the incurable and extremely terminal "maths and econs" disease.

In a pair of army printed male-cut bermudas, and a Donald Duck tshirt, I strut down the streets. Armed with loads of chocolates, music and cigarettes, in search of La La Land. Fluffy clouds and innocent trees line my pathway, with no apparent danger. Then suddenly, sparkles start to form in one small area above my head, and before I realised, my butt starting floating upwards, bringing the rest of my body along. The force increased and I was sucked into the air, higher and higher, butt first, right into the centre of the sky. Wind zoomed passed me, birds stopped by to say hi, but I couldnt return the greeting because I was gone with the wind in a split second. It was almost as if a pair of tongs picked up a dirty tissue - me. I reached the peak. The ceiling of the sky. The pair of tongs unclenched me. And i started drifting. Drifting downwards.

This time the journey was more relaxed. I took various positions; lying on my back with my feets crossed, resting on my tummy with my head in my palms, sitting on my butt, hanging on my arms. There were different species of creatures up there - clouds and birds. There were dragon clouds, shark clouds, beauty queen clouds. Lesbian birds, pink birds, and human-like birds. I said hi as I passed them by. Then the scenery started changing. Fluffy stuff disappeared. Big words that read "Economics", "Statistics" and "Mathematics" appeared. They were charging my way! I flapped my arms and peddled using my feet to get away - harder! Harder! They were RIGHT behind me!! During my escape, another huge word swished passed me - "Theatre". Then another! "Literature", "Cultural Policy", "Art History". Zoom zoom zoom. I was so tired, but it was too cold for me to sweat. So I went, zoom, zoom, Zoom.


Love,
Dirty Tissue.

P.S. Check this out: Nomiart

Warwick is a weird place. Well, England is a weird place. Hmm, then again, the world is a weird place. Or not. The British accent is HOT. But I can barely understand it. I go "huh" like a million times before I understand anything. Boo.

My first night out. Finally got a decent date--a singaporean guy. HAH. How pathetic. As in, urgh. He's a nice guy, just that I had to fall back on a Singaporean to get anywhere. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. I should shut my big fat trap and go to bed.

The party was pretty awesome. It was PACKED FULL. Held, at the Student's Uinion, at the heart of the University, it barely felt like a school. Inside, there were TWO fucking dance floors, one for oldies, and one for ancient-ies. Yea. All hail British pop rock.

Argh. I have nothing better to say, other than, it feels fucking good that I can come home anytime I want. And just plop on my bed without anyone nagging at me. WHEEEEEEEEEE.....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Love,
the nene who is drooping.