I'll be going KL again tomorrow! YAY! This time with Kak Yana and her family. I hope I get to do some shopping because the last trip was really horrible. We went theme parks all the time, and the very convenient location of the hotel only proved as a disadvantage, as the parents all prefer leaving the kids at the hotel, saying that it's not appropriate to bring kids to Petaling Street. And of course, who would be taking care of the kids if not us, the ones stuck between the ages of childhood and adulthood. Even entry tickets for theme parks and all that sorts either classify people as adults or children. HEY! WHAT ABOUT US TEENAGERS?

Which reminds me. During my last trip to Sunway Lagoon, which had just been renovated and looked so so so GOOD, my parents accidentally bought one more child ticket instead of adult. So either me or Asy had to take the child ticket. My very supportive parents told me that since I was shorter and I look like a kid, I should take the Child ticket. I just gave my very sweet innocent smile, and I got past the gates as a CHILD! Which also means, I cannot enter the Surf Pool under a child's ticket, and I therefore am not able to witness hot guys surfing. I only remember doing loads of breaststroke and taking care of the kids in the baby pool. I DID NOT EVEN QUEUE UP FOR THE THRILL WATER RIDES. I AM THE BIGGEST LOSER. Then it rained, and we headed to the dry park. We got wet at the DRY PARK. I really loathe the misconception. I mean, after I queued so long to wash up and get dry, I got wet again.

I still have yet to inform Cik Mamat that I'm going KL. He's going to flip.

I hate the sound of tyres screeching when the bus comes to a halt.
I hate the fact that I am a non-smoker, but I passive smoke so much I might as well be smoking.
I hate it when buses drive past me.
I hate it when the person sitting beside me in the bus keeps squirming.
I hate black-outs.
I hate vegetables.
I hate rude hawkerants.
I hate it when I feel so hungry and there is simply no food to be found in the kitchen.
I hate it when my MP3 dies on me.
I hate it when my prepaid balance runs low.
I hate it when I just can't hate someone or something.
I hate it when people manipulate me.
I hate hollow words.
I hate empty promises.
I hate sweet nothings.
I hate it when my parents get angry.
I hate it when I'm constantly at fault.
I hate it when I do something wrongly.
I hate mistakes.
I hate the slightest blunder, the slightest imperfection.
I hate waking up early.
I hate routines.
I hate watching people make the same mistakes.
I hate watching myself make a mistake.
I hate it when I am not able to do anything about it.
I hate it when my heart overrules my mind.
I hate it when I lose my conscience.
I hate it when I trip over a stone.
I hate it when I fall.
I hate it when butterflies attack me.
I hate the sound of loud music blasting from someone else's speakers.
I hate it when I'm not the one blasting the music.
I hate talking to multi-taskers.
I hate baking for the wrong reasons, and the wrong people.
I hate schemes, plots, conspiracies.
I hate everything that I cannot wrestle.
I hate it most when people tells me things they know I want to hear, because they know that's the answer I want, and not because they really mean it.
I hate it when people think they can buy some things in life.
I hate it when I am made a scapegoat.
I hate being a catalyst.
I hate being made to feel so small and inferior.
I hate people who are ruthless.
I hate people who hate me.
I hate believing in scams.
I hate believing a lie.
I hate believing in a cheat.

Nobody changes. Nobody stops doing something they started.

I woke up to an text message from my aunt asking me to write a complain letter about a rude and lazy cab driver, who refused to help her load her stroller into the boot even though he saw that she was carrying a child in her arms. Before this, I had also helped her write a complain letter to some established bistro here in Singapore. Let me paint you the gruesome picture. She was happily eating her salad, which was adverstised to be FRESH and HEALTHY, when she saw a tiny tiny snail between her lettuce. GRUESOME RIGHT? A week later she received vouchers from that bistro. SEE? I'm just really gifted at complaining. It's latent. WOHOHO.

I knew those wise men were right when they said everyone is gifted.
I AM GIFTED! (at complaining.)

THERE WAS A MASSIVE BLACKOUT JUST NOW. I was happily pressing numbers on the fax machine, when all source of electricity was cut. I was shocked, but nevertheless, happy that I can finally take a break. My neck was aching! It was super cool being involved in a black-out. But I was devastated when I realised there won't be any reporters coming in to write a report.

The toilet was beyond scary.
There was barely any sunlight coming in, and I had to use my handphone's camera's flash to get my way around. EEEEK, disgusting. I'll spare the details.

Because it was dark, I keep bumping into men in long-sleeves, walking so suavely. You might think I intentionally bumped into them the way Tasha bumped into the very hot NS guys, but I didn't okay! I genuinely didn't see them coming. So it was good, bumping into very smart looking men in dark suits.
They all looked young to me. But then again, it was dark, and I am not one to be independent of spectacles. I am in fact, very dependent on my other pair of eyes to see, so I'll let the matter rest.

Okay I'm so so so excited to be going tomorrow.
BUT I'M JUST SO SCARED THAT THE TRAIN GETS CANCELLED.
AND GOD. I MISS MY MOTHER.
HAVEN'T SEEN HER FOR DAYS NOW.

MUM! PLEASE CALL ME AND NAG ME! I MISS YOUR IRRITABLE VOICE.

And I'm conducting a massive search for Wala.
Where is she?
I just put up posters around my block.
Posters that read, "WHERE'S WALA?"
It's a phenomenon, I swear.
Everyone's going "WHERE'S WALA?"
And I just ask them the same question back.
WALA, WO MISS NI.
(Sorry. I never got to taking Mandarin lessons even though I keep saying that I would.)

To my very uncontactable friends,
please find me where I have found you.

It's a secret. SHHH.
I love secrets. Don't you?

EH BILE NAK KELUAR?