Scool No More
It seems incredible that I should be at last out of the grip of the Slimy Purple Muck, although it did turn out as evil as its name. The Biology test was a killer, and I mean that wholeheartedly. Half the class was in a daze after the exams! It just goes to show the amazing ability of the teenage mind that less than four hours later, most of my class and the next few classes were at a prom at Silk Harbour.
Yes, I went to the prom, notwithstanding the numerous objections I put up to it in my last post. (Incidentally, I’ve noticed that I have about three ‘last posts before SPM’. Wonderful how resolutions can never be stuck to, isn’t it?) And I did, surprisingly, enjoy myself somewhat, so the 40 bucks wasn’t totally wasted after all.
I went with Wolf. He, also, had planned not to go, but when he found that he was going to have a dinner with his extended family, he suddenly remembered that he had to go to the prom. So he went in my car, since he lives near me and didn’t have other transport. (His parents were taking the only car to the dinner, and he can’t drive legally yet.)
It turned out that Jack wanted me to go because I know English and therefore could be a good emcee. I doubted it, and said so emphatically. He doubted what I said, and insisted equally emphatically that I could be a good emcee. I gave in, since I thought that even if I embarrassed myself like [expletive deleted], I’d not see any of my classmates again, so it wouldn’t really matter. Of course, when the Pig, Kelvin, and Herr Robson found out, they started hypothesising on the method in which the microphone would destruct. The charitable ex-classmate suddenly decided to go, to (in her own words) ‘see me make a fool of myself’. The milk of human kindness evidently just went sour in them, or maybe they just got irritated by me.
Anyway, I got to the venue around 6.30 pm. I and Wolf were the earliest ones, barring the Pig, Nil, and the Midget. The Pig had obviously taken advantage of his mother’s occupation as a hairstylist, and gotten his hair bleached a most unbecoming shade of yellow. Being from Canada, I suppose he feels the need to look like a gweilo more acutely than the average person. In any case, he looked awful. It was a formal occasion (the ticket said ‘Dress: Formal’ in large, 2-inch type) but the dolt was wearing a singlet and windbreaker! All that was missing was the placard proclaiming: Will Work for Reading Lessons.
The prom was supposed to start at seven, but at that time, less than one-eighth of the people who were supposed to come had come. Typical Malaysian time, I’d say, or maybe they wanted to be fashionably late. Lacking all sense of fashion and being extremely time-conscious, I was on time. My fellow emcee was not. I suppose this irritation showed in my terse greetings; the reactions were…explosive.
By seven-thirty, the prom had just begun—half an hour behind schedule. Terrible, but then one can never expect mere teens to know what their timepieces say, can one? After all, it must be so difficult (one must have empathy for mere mortals) to read numbers when they have to think at the same time! The above rant is just my schedule-loving opinion, of course. I like things to work, or go, or happen as planned: unscheduled chaos is most certainly not for me! (That is probably why I dislike sports and war movies.)
At least the food was good, although the beef was a little tough. Well, maybe not just a little. A lot!! The time it took me to chew my way through one piece of beef would have sufficed me to read a ten-page book twice! And the seasoning! Three chunks of that fibrous mess and I was experiencing capsaicin overkill! But apart from that minor glitch, I had my 40 bucks’ worth of dinner. Macaroni, mixed vegetables, salad, fried rice, what looked like Alpo, spaghetti, blueberry cake, muffins, soup, and various other edibles went the same way. I felt a little bloated after that, but hey, buffets are for people who like eating, with me among them. The best way to enjoy food is to eat it, after all!
After dinner was an unscheduled mass of photo shooting. Flashes went off everywhere; if they were all of different colours, one would have thought that one was seeing a fireworks show. I got into a few shots myself, surprisingly; I would never have thought that a face such as mine would look good on glossy paper. (The best place I can think of for my face is Halloween.) Anyway, I waddled around (yes, waddled. Try eating a tonne at a go and see how you walk!), being taken photos of and generally doing nothing in particular.
The performances, at least, were good, even if the performers were occasionally off-key or forgot their lines. They obviously enjoyed themselves, and the audience (the true Chinese part) found offering singers potted plants strangely amusing. And the hired help enjoyed it, too. We were paying them to just stand around for most of an evening listening to some of us belt out songs that the Bananas among us couldn’t understand! Or maybe that’s just the influence of the half-glass of alcohol I consumed. A schoolmate sponsored it, and I drank it and enjoyed it; it was, after all, a good wine. I daresay it had some influence on my behaviour, but I don’t think so; alcohol mainly affects the mind before one’s actions. And one’s breath, of course; Herr Robson told me several times that I stank of red wine. (Don’t ask me how Aaron drove home last night; his passengers probably became heartily carsick from his constant weaving.)
After the performances by the Sumo, She Kylie, and the Waiter, I announced the lucky draw winners, the Pig included. In fact, half the people at my table got prizes at the lucky draw. Somewhat defying the statistics, I’m sure, but that was what happened. And that’s not all: two people drew the ballots, one male and one female. The female drew only male names, dominantly from the right of the hall; the male, Jack, drew mostly female names, from the left half. He was particularly delighted when he drew the charitable ex-classmate’s name, and clamoured to be in the photo-shoot. Crushes are inexplicable; Roger, for instance, was in an agony of waiting until Meow appeared, but when she finally came, half an hour late, he didn’t dare to go within five feet of her. I had to forcibly push him to her side; and even then, he ran like she was a Zombie Queen or something. The pheromones must be working the wrong way now. Andy and Vanessa was the opposite end of the scale: every time I looked at them, they were holding hands, except during dinner. Even then, Vanessa scarcely moved from the table, as Andy went running all her errands: taking appetisers, main courses, refills, refills, more refills, desserts, etc. I never want to be like that! Then again, considering my looks, I won’t ever need to worry about that.
After numerous more group photos, during which the cheek muscles of every single person in the place got cramps, the prom was nearly over. That was when the Waiter got a surprise birthday party, complete with cake. It was a pity that several people had already gone home, so the cake couldn’t be eaten right away. My gluttony is apparently well-known; he gave me roughly one-fifth of the cake to paper bag home! (It is in my fridge as I write; somehow birthday cake doesn’t seem quite right as leftovers.)
I went home around eleven and slept till 8.30 this morning, which is highly irregular behaviour, because I normally wake quite early. I blame it on the red wine. Wolf went home earliest of all, I think; he apparently didn’t enjoy it.
Anyway, today is the first day of the holidays, and I just finished clearing out five years’ worth of junk paper from my cabinets. I’m a collector of sorts; where most people take circulars and throw them, I keep them. I found a five-year old list of Valentine’s Day items for sale! It amounted to a pile of paper of about twenty cm; the school gives out many circulars, as well as a large number of exam sheets. Well, I’ve thrown it out, and given myself a weight-lifting exercise in the process. Oh, my aching back!
I’m going to Shanghai tomorrow from Brunei; it’s a transit flight. I’ve finished packing most of the stuff I’m brining there, except for toiletries, which I can’t pack yet for obvious reasons. So far, my Buy-for-Schoolmates list has one person on it: Wolf, who wants me to buy books for him. Anyone else who wants something had better send me an email, along with directions on how to give it to them; I’m not buying a thing for anybody unless I know how to get it to them! No junkyard sale for me, thank you!
So this is my last post for the year, since I certainly won’t be posting anything once in Shanghai. So Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad, Happy New Year, etc, etc, all! And may God bless us everyone!
Yes, I went to the prom, notwithstanding the numerous objections I put up to it in my last post. (Incidentally, I’ve noticed that I have about three ‘last posts before SPM’. Wonderful how resolutions can never be stuck to, isn’t it?) And I did, surprisingly, enjoy myself somewhat, so the 40 bucks wasn’t totally wasted after all.
I went with Wolf. He, also, had planned not to go, but when he found that he was going to have a dinner with his extended family, he suddenly remembered that he had to go to the prom. So he went in my car, since he lives near me and didn’t have other transport. (His parents were taking the only car to the dinner, and he can’t drive legally yet.)
It turned out that Jack wanted me to go because I know English and therefore could be a good emcee. I doubted it, and said so emphatically. He doubted what I said, and insisted equally emphatically that I could be a good emcee. I gave in, since I thought that even if I embarrassed myself like [expletive deleted], I’d not see any of my classmates again, so it wouldn’t really matter. Of course, when the Pig, Kelvin, and Herr Robson found out, they started hypothesising on the method in which the microphone would destruct. The charitable ex-classmate suddenly decided to go, to (in her own words) ‘see me make a fool of myself’. The milk of human kindness evidently just went sour in them, or maybe they just got irritated by me.
Anyway, I got to the venue around 6.30 pm. I and Wolf were the earliest ones, barring the Pig, Nil, and the Midget. The Pig had obviously taken advantage of his mother’s occupation as a hairstylist, and gotten his hair bleached a most unbecoming shade of yellow. Being from Canada, I suppose he feels the need to look like a gweilo more acutely than the average person. In any case, he looked awful. It was a formal occasion (the ticket said ‘Dress: Formal’ in large, 2-inch type) but the dolt was wearing a singlet and windbreaker! All that was missing was the placard proclaiming: Will Work for Reading Lessons.
The prom was supposed to start at seven, but at that time, less than one-eighth of the people who were supposed to come had come. Typical Malaysian time, I’d say, or maybe they wanted to be fashionably late. Lacking all sense of fashion and being extremely time-conscious, I was on time. My fellow emcee was not. I suppose this irritation showed in my terse greetings; the reactions were…explosive.
By seven-thirty, the prom had just begun—half an hour behind schedule. Terrible, but then one can never expect mere teens to know what their timepieces say, can one? After all, it must be so difficult (one must have empathy for mere mortals) to read numbers when they have to think at the same time! The above rant is just my schedule-loving opinion, of course. I like things to work, or go, or happen as planned: unscheduled chaos is most certainly not for me! (That is probably why I dislike sports and war movies.)
At least the food was good, although the beef was a little tough. Well, maybe not just a little. A lot!! The time it took me to chew my way through one piece of beef would have sufficed me to read a ten-page book twice! And the seasoning! Three chunks of that fibrous mess and I was experiencing capsaicin overkill! But apart from that minor glitch, I had my 40 bucks’ worth of dinner. Macaroni, mixed vegetables, salad, fried rice, what looked like Alpo, spaghetti, blueberry cake, muffins, soup, and various other edibles went the same way. I felt a little bloated after that, but hey, buffets are for people who like eating, with me among them. The best way to enjoy food is to eat it, after all!
After dinner was an unscheduled mass of photo shooting. Flashes went off everywhere; if they were all of different colours, one would have thought that one was seeing a fireworks show. I got into a few shots myself, surprisingly; I would never have thought that a face such as mine would look good on glossy paper. (The best place I can think of for my face is Halloween.) Anyway, I waddled around (yes, waddled. Try eating a tonne at a go and see how you walk!), being taken photos of and generally doing nothing in particular.
The performances, at least, were good, even if the performers were occasionally off-key or forgot their lines. They obviously enjoyed themselves, and the audience (the true Chinese part) found offering singers potted plants strangely amusing. And the hired help enjoyed it, too. We were paying them to just stand around for most of an evening listening to some of us belt out songs that the Bananas among us couldn’t understand! Or maybe that’s just the influence of the half-glass of alcohol I consumed. A schoolmate sponsored it, and I drank it and enjoyed it; it was, after all, a good wine. I daresay it had some influence on my behaviour, but I don’t think so; alcohol mainly affects the mind before one’s actions. And one’s breath, of course; Herr Robson told me several times that I stank of red wine. (Don’t ask me how Aaron drove home last night; his passengers probably became heartily carsick from his constant weaving.)
After the performances by the Sumo, She Kylie, and the Waiter, I announced the lucky draw winners, the Pig included. In fact, half the people at my table got prizes at the lucky draw. Somewhat defying the statistics, I’m sure, but that was what happened. And that’s not all: two people drew the ballots, one male and one female. The female drew only male names, dominantly from the right of the hall; the male, Jack, drew mostly female names, from the left half. He was particularly delighted when he drew the charitable ex-classmate’s name, and clamoured to be in the photo-shoot. Crushes are inexplicable; Roger, for instance, was in an agony of waiting until Meow appeared, but when she finally came, half an hour late, he didn’t dare to go within five feet of her. I had to forcibly push him to her side; and even then, he ran like she was a Zombie Queen or something. The pheromones must be working the wrong way now. Andy and Vanessa was the opposite end of the scale: every time I looked at them, they were holding hands, except during dinner. Even then, Vanessa scarcely moved from the table, as Andy went running all her errands: taking appetisers, main courses, refills, refills, more refills, desserts, etc. I never want to be like that! Then again, considering my looks, I won’t ever need to worry about that.
After numerous more group photos, during which the cheek muscles of every single person in the place got cramps, the prom was nearly over. That was when the Waiter got a surprise birthday party, complete with cake. It was a pity that several people had already gone home, so the cake couldn’t be eaten right away. My gluttony is apparently well-known; he gave me roughly one-fifth of the cake to paper bag home! (It is in my fridge as I write; somehow birthday cake doesn’t seem quite right as leftovers.)
I went home around eleven and slept till 8.30 this morning, which is highly irregular behaviour, because I normally wake quite early. I blame it on the red wine. Wolf went home earliest of all, I think; he apparently didn’t enjoy it.
Anyway, today is the first day of the holidays, and I just finished clearing out five years’ worth of junk paper from my cabinets. I’m a collector of sorts; where most people take circulars and throw them, I keep them. I found a five-year old list of Valentine’s Day items for sale! It amounted to a pile of paper of about twenty cm; the school gives out many circulars, as well as a large number of exam sheets. Well, I’ve thrown it out, and given myself a weight-lifting exercise in the process. Oh, my aching back!
I’m going to Shanghai tomorrow from Brunei; it’s a transit flight. I’ve finished packing most of the stuff I’m brining there, except for toiletries, which I can’t pack yet for obvious reasons. So far, my Buy-for-Schoolmates list has one person on it: Wolf, who wants me to buy books for him. Anyone else who wants something had better send me an email, along with directions on how to give it to them; I’m not buying a thing for anybody unless I know how to get it to them! No junkyard sale for me, thank you!
So this is my last post for the year, since I certainly won’t be posting anything once in Shanghai. So Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad, Happy New Year, etc, etc, all! And may God bless us everyone!
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