I’m an Ang Mo Kian! (carrying on the irritating tradition of adding “ian’ to the back of everything to make it an adjective). The house’s pretty good, except for the fact that half of it is in some box or black trash bag or other. Moving house is one of the most harrowing experiences I have been through so far, way up there with going to school.
I have a strange urge to go to some random coffee shop in Ang Mo Kio and be all (in British accent, naturally), “Oh, look, how cute! A native peddling his little foods! Uh, good morrow, sir! Have you any, hmm, chicken chow mein?”
In other news, my Rafflesian spirit is finally wearing off. I feel highly lethargic in school (except in Chem) and it seems as if my only ambition in school nowadays is to flick schoolmates in shorts at the back of the head, dismissing it carelessly as “senior’s right”. But, weighing all the factors, I decided not to.
I mean, what if the juniors make a habit out of it?
And what am I talking about? I have no idea.
Shihang is severely twisted. I have no idea why he wants to sit next to me.
Shihang: I like bagels.
Me: Mmm. They’re much better than bay-boys, no? I like them with the hole in the middle.
Shihang (catches on): Mmm yeah… I like them slopped in jelly.
Which pretty much set the tone for the rest of the day.
Me: I like my bagels with lots of toppings!
Shihang: No thank you, I like them bare!
Me: Ah, you must mean without any of the, uh, salad dressing.
I was late for school today, having overestimated the speed of the buses at Ang Mo Kio. I had to wait ten minutes for the bus, and seven minutes for the MRT. Murphy is my friend. Whenever I have a PSP on hand, I just have to drop it screen-down. Whenever I use a pen-knife for more than fifteen minutes, I will eventually cut myself. Both of these happened yesterday.
*uses penknife to cut open a cardboard box*
Mom: Be careful!
Mom: Don’t scratch the floor!
Uh, yeah, love you too, Mom.