i bet you didn’t know they had Australian milo

A Quote.

“Thank goodness for the inventor of the stir-fry. I’m not sure, but I think his name was Larry Wok. Before stir frying was invented, all the food got burned on one side. Cooking food evenly worked so well, people started to apply the same technique to sun tanning (only instead of soy sauce, they use sun tan lotion.) As a rule, moving food around while cooking it is a good idea. The food loses a lot of fat from all the exercise it’s getting, which makes it healthier. “
Ellen DeGeneres

I have this routine now, usually on Wednesdays/any day my mom’s not home- sit down in front of the new telly and drink a mug of Australian Recipe Milo (love! super chocolatey and milky).

James Blunt: I’m very effiminate.
Ellen: Yeah. Really? But I’m in a relationship, it’s not gonna work.
James Blunt: Okay.
Ellen: Thanks for trying. ‘I’m very effeminate’, ahhh that’s hilarious. I’ll pass the word around though.

:D check it out here. http://ellen.warnerbros.com/EllenMediaPlayer/?id=james_blunt2 please, do. it’s so funny.

/edit noel is hilarious.

speak out of turn says:
i find most acsi guys are tall, but overweight.
   `Shillie’    (   PSL    ) amber light says:
!!!!!!!!!!!!!
   `Shillie’    (   PSL    ) amber light says:
D:
speak out of turn says:
hahahah really!
   `Shillie’    (   PSL    ) amber light says:
very few of them are overweight!
speak out of turn says:
oh rly?
   `Shillie’    (   PSL    ) amber light says:
but they’re quite tall in general.
   `Shillie’    (   PSL    ) amber light says:
yeah
speak out of turn says:
all of my friends are overweight.
speak out of turn says:
excluding you and tim tang
   `Shillie’    (   PSL    ) amber light says:
okay i dunno maybe the seniors are pudgy and stuff.

hahaha pudgy! :D

/edit, again i went to visit some people’s blogs, and discovered that 1. i update very frequently and that 2. my style of blogging is rather undisjointed compared to other rgs people :D also it contains (mostly) interesting content that’s fully explained. like it said inside the brackets, mostly.

but you know, i think parentheses sounds so much cooler than brackets. :D something about the difference in the number of syllables. and how you can say “parentheses” in either a snobby way or a plain way- i’m not entirely sure about the correct pronounciation):

it sort of confuses me why i do stuff better at home than outside. stuff like, singing and playing my violin, to be specific. i guess with my violin it’s because my living room has pretty good acoustics, and i’m less nervous at home. with my singing: HAHA I’M SHYYYY. FOR SERIOUS. REALLY.

i realise i get very nervous very easily. i get nervous in front of my violin teacher. i wonder how the heck i manage to survive perfomances/exams. there was that time they practically pushed me into a competition and i was so nervous, i broke down halfway through and they had to ring the bell on me. most embarassing. people were asking me why i did so badly because “usually you’re pretty good”. the thing is, people think i’m good but i’m not- i just happen to be able to improve a lot in a short amount of time. that’s why it’s hard to communicate my exact level of fuckedupness to other people, eg. Keith (violin friend, has this awesome tan and an eight-pack hahaha):

*approximate transcript of latenight msn convo*
me: “i’m really fucked up for my ATCL”
keith: “wow, since you’re swearing, it must really be bad.”

IT IS. It’s weird because I should be stressed (12 FREAKING DAYS LEFTTTT) because I haven’t practised properly AT ALL and my teacher says I’ll fail and I know there is like a 90% chance of failure. I know my accompanist is just putting up with me for the money): if i were her i would refuse to accompany such a completely horrible player who’s obviously doomed. but I’m not stressed. and that’s the part that really worries me. am i so apathetic about this whole thing?

the only reason that I’m worried about failing is that i’ll waste my parent’s money, and my teacher will be really disappointed in me. my mom will probably have chopped off my head and hands with a cleaver by that time. but i’m not expecting anything out of myself. so basically, i’m stressed about the fact that i’m not stressed.

If I still wrote letters to Santa, this is what I’d write: 

Dear Santa, I don’t think you can give me what I want this year. It’s quite sad because I used to write letters to you proclaiming my need for a Power Rangers shirt, and trust that I’d find one in my stocking, eventually. Also I used to think that you actually existed for real, but then I Grew Up and I discovered that no matter what they proclaim, most parents lie to their kids about the role they play during Christmastime.

So I want two things. Firstly: direction. A sense of what I want to do with my life. How can I worry about whether I’ll make money doing what I like if i don’t know what I like? How can I plan for my future, if I don’t even know my perfect future, let alone what the future itself really contains?

Secondly: Trust, or faith, or friendship, or love. I laugh a lot and I have fun when I’m with my friends, but I’m so confused with myself that I don’t let myself get close to any people in my life. Hence I have no friends, if I consider it from my truthful opinion-and I like to think I’m the most realistic person out of anyone I know. I talk to my schoolfriends in real life, and my supposed outside friends at home, through msn or whatever happens to float our boat at the moment. Those aren’t friends. I don’t have anyone I can talk to anytime, anywhere, about anything. And peculiarly, I don’t feel very upset about this. At least make me feel upset that I’m a complete loner inside my huge smile and disappeared eyes, thanks.

That’s about it, Santa. I don’t have a stocking this year, though, so you’d just have to melt through my window and shove what I want down my throat. Then maybe I’ll take a hint.

Loves, Sydney
P.S. Oh yeah, and I hear you’re better with the material stuff, so a Lexus while you’re at it would be nice. It’s for my stepdad. And also, on the side, endless money and a finance consultant or whatever you call those fancy shmucks who tell you where to put your money. :D

-

God, I’m so pathetic. I used to think I was a better person. Now (i hate to use this word because it’s so fake emo) I’m just disillusioned. I hate to think about how my midlife crisis will be like. Disastrous, probably.

/edit, yet again this is the 123rd Post! how cool is that yo.

~ by sydney on December 5, 2007.