-----
Things to do this holiday
-----
Do my homework, for subjects I consider important anyway (Status : As if)
Get all the Live achievements for RE5 (Status : I HATE Professional mode)
Start my Apothecary fanfic (Status : Well...I decided on his name?)
Revive the Perion series (Status : ERROR-No Necronomicon)
Contact Sam and find out when he's coming back (Status : Bro, have you been trying to call me?)
Become an OGL (Status : I traumatized one of my interviewers for life. What do you think?)
-----
With Project Work over, possibly well done, there was only one thing left. OGL interview. You may have recalled that I hated Orientation, so why would I sign up? Change the system from inside, duh.
Yep, I strolled into the interview room with high on coffee, 3 hours of sleep and adrenaline from sneaking into the hall when it was locked. I went with (After what Zongren told me) the balls-out approach to the OGL interview.
I went in as the Cheng Heng who most commonly appears at during Sam's sleepovers at 3 in the morning. The Cheng Heng that the Cracked.com editorial staff would welcome as a long lost brother. It was an all-or-nothing. The Council would either put me at the top of those shortlisted for OGL, or start calling the police.
I heard no sirens in the distance during the interview, but I'm pretty sure they had a silent alarm under the table.
It was going well at first. They asked me about what I wrote on my application form, as well as what a cacophony was. They liked what they saw on it apparently.
-----
Micro : What my greatest skill will be as an OGL? See, like I wrote on my form, I can see the quiet, silent people. People who go unnoticed. There's bound to be a Hinata Hyuuga or a Nigel No Friends in every group. And I can see them very well, because I was one of them. Still am sometimes. I didn't write that because I overshot the word limit already.
-----
Thine moment of eloquence. Then came thine moment of retard.
Then I shot myself in the foot when said I didn't get along with girls well. Can you blame me?
Crush 1 was a tomboy, and now that I think back, possibly a dyke.
Crush 2 was a girl who liked reading and watching yaoi, and swore celibacy at 14 (I had nothing to do with it. I think)
Crush 3 was a probably the bset looking girl in UWC (And a local to boot), but...wait, you all know how this one ends don't you?
----
Councillor : You know, your OG will definitely have girls, what are you going to do about it?
Micro : Erm...play it by ear I guess, like I have been so far. I mean, it's working isn't it? I haven't had any sexual harassment lawsuits brought against me haven't I?
-----
I will have one soon enough after they asked for a pickup line. A higher up in the Council was definitely smoking something when they thought up that section of the interview.
-----
Coucillor 1 : Think of a pickup line for her (Points at Councillor 2)
Micro : Mi scusi, but what rating are we looking at? M18? NC16? PG13? PG? Or family friendly?
Councillor 1 : R21, hit us with your best.
Micro : Say, you've got 306 bones in your body right?
Councillor 2 : Wasn't it 206?
Micro : I'm a PCME student, don't judge me!
Councillor 2 : Heh, so am I. Anyway, yeah, I've got 206 bones in me.
Micro : Want one more?
------
Zongren said he could hear all 6 of them laughing from outside the classroom. He was telling everyone at training later that I definitely in after that. Of course, he hasn't read the comments from their interview.
They said it was original, but the girl certainly looked shell-shocked. And if I hadn't succeeded in portraying myself as a self-centered, misogynistic amalgam of contradictory traits, I might actually make it.
On to the Count of Monte Cristo then
Due to my organization and coordination skills being close to level one, I confirmed with Tim we'd be going to watch the Count of Monte Cristo on Thursday about....thirty minutes before the show started?
Good thing he lives nearby, otherwise I'd have to spend the entirety of the thing stuck next to a guy created from Shen Shin's DNA (Or vice versa) because Jeannel and Shawn wanted alone time. Instead of stalking Bryant, Sam and myself, he stalks Jeannel and Shawn, instead of obsessing with Space Marines, he obsesses with... Jeannel and Shawn it appears (Tim too...), but the same need to constantly 1-up everyone around him and that low, monotone drone which makes it's entry whenever it's most unexpected and least welcome makes me feel secure putting money on the fact that they were related.
Indi turned up apparently, and I even thought I spotted him, but I couldn't be sure it was him. Turns out it was...
ACSian theatre's Count of Monte Cristo was pretty good this time, without masses leaving at the interval like the Odyssey. Of course, Song and Kun were complaining the words and analogies they used half the time were too chim, but meh, that's ACSian theatre for you.
It took some artistic license and didn't follow the original story to the letter, Danglars and Dante do not die in the original.
The former is starved and humiliated before repenting and being released by the Count, instead of killing himself after losing on the stock market, as Andrew Ong hilariously portrayed. The rest of the bits, not the shooting (though everyone laughed at that anyway because he's so damn funny).
Dante goes off once his revenge is exacted, and presumably goes off to live out the rest of his life in quiet, jewel encrusted opulence while boning his hot Arab slave girl/mistress/prospective wife the whole time. He does not do a partial striptease before leaping to his death in a river in a spectacular finale. Though the all white storm coat did set off a few gaydars, so I guess we can forgive Bryant for throwing it off.
By the way Bryant, Wilson asked you to lay off the steroids. At least that scene allowed me to find out that the stage can lower itself. And there's a door when it's lowered. I didn't even discover that when I snuck into the place myself...
Overall, CMC was pretty good. If it can make me forget that I've spent three hours watching it, it's good.
And they had the good sense to make a wardrobe change, compared to what they were wearing in the posters. It was so weird, me and Damien have decided to make a life-sized copy of it and give it to Bryant on his birthday.
It had a large, puffy bowtie. 'Nuff said.
Sigh, all the melancholy after I watch ACSian theater performance, good as they are. I always wonder why the heck I chose to stick with a rugby team where I'd be lucky to be a regular sub, let alone start. I sometimes wonder if things would be better if I signed up with the drama people.... Too late now to change...
All the things that never happened, and never will be...
Sad blogpost is sad... 8 (
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
Just That Bit Closer to Sam Fischer
Instead of falling asleep at the SJI table, I decided to look for more comfortable and quiet lodgings, so I broke into LT1, since the air-con was on there while it was pitch dark.
Wondering where I could buy a pair (trio?) of green-lit goggles to go with my l337 n1nj4 skillz as I lay down in the space below the lecture seats, I drifted off to sleep in the chill air...
Only to be awoken by a "testing, testing" from the speaker system 20 minutes later. Apparently a technician turned up early to test the microphones. Patting myself on the head for having the foresight to stash all my stuff below the chairs as well while picking a row all the way at the back, I lay frozen below the seats until he left before I promptly blew the joint.
The adrenaline rush cancelled the need for any more sleep. Next time, LT4!
Spent most of the day chilling with Shawn and Jeannel in one of computer labs until the final results were released for the whole year. I had a straight flush for my Promotional grades, till moderation came and bumped everything up. So I'm looking at ABCCEE. Not that I'm complaining. Hmm...what can I spell with that?
ABECCE?
CABECE?
Ah screw it, I give up.
The Council found my OGL application form a real hoot apparently, according to Zongren.
Oh yeah, that's right, I applied. Did I ever mention that?
It was a spur of the moment thing, the sort of thing I do when I'm not entirely lucid, but at least this time it didn't result in me clinging onto a rope for dear life 4000 feet above sea level.
A snap decision it was... Chris Khew waiting for me to make up my mind whether to take a form, Kim (and her umbrella, it was raining) impatiently waiting for me to make up my mind...
What disturbs me though, is the fact that the form says "Do not be discouraged by the dedication needed...yada yada yada." It's worrying. When something like that turns up in the official blurbs, well, yeah.
It's like writing "Don't give bungee jumping with nothing but some dubiously withered looking vines just because you might plunge to your most horrible and gruesome death as you are impaled on the jagged rocks below. Like the last fifteen suckers before you."
Wondering where I could buy a pair (trio?) of green-lit goggles to go with my l337 n1nj4 skillz as I lay down in the space below the lecture seats, I drifted off to sleep in the chill air...
Only to be awoken by a "testing, testing" from the speaker system 20 minutes later. Apparently a technician turned up early to test the microphones. Patting myself on the head for having the foresight to stash all my stuff below the chairs as well while picking a row all the way at the back, I lay frozen below the seats until he left before I promptly blew the joint.
The adrenaline rush cancelled the need for any more sleep. Next time, LT4!
Spent most of the day chilling with Shawn and Jeannel in one of computer labs until the final results were released for the whole year. I had a straight flush for my Promotional grades, till moderation came and bumped everything up. So I'm looking at ABCCEE. Not that I'm complaining. Hmm...what can I spell with that?
ABECCE?
CABECE?
Ah screw it, I give up.
The Council found my OGL application form a real hoot apparently, according to Zongren.
Oh yeah, that's right, I applied. Did I ever mention that?
It was a spur of the moment thing, the sort of thing I do when I'm not entirely lucid, but at least this time it didn't result in me clinging onto a rope for dear life 4000 feet above sea level.
A snap decision it was... Chris Khew waiting for me to make up my mind whether to take a form, Kim (and her umbrella, it was raining) impatiently waiting for me to make up my mind...
What disturbs me though, is the fact that the form says "Do not be discouraged by the dedication needed...yada yada yada." It's worrying. When something like that turns up in the official blurbs, well, yeah.
It's like writing "Don't give bungee jumping with nothing but some dubiously withered looking vines just because you might plunge to your most horrible and gruesome death as you are impaled on the jagged rocks below. Like the last fifteen suckers before you."
Wednesday, 21 October 2009
The Bachelor's Life
----
Micro : Dude, Yahtzee is right, Sheva is not African! Listen to that, that's a British accent, right there!
Bryant : No way!
Micro : She sounds just like Mrs Creffield!
Bryant : Sssh! Don't ruin the fantasy!
Micro : Of what? Sheva or Mrs Creffield?
Bryant : What do you think?
Micro : Mrs Creffield it is then
------
Surreal is staggering back to an empty house through the dimly lit streets, bumping into bushes at 5 in the morning after playing Resident Evil 5 with Bryant. And training for 4 hours with the ACSI old boys before that.
Been living the life of a bachelor for the last few days, since my parents and sister are in Vietnam. No limits, a suitable stash of cash, and all the time in the world for weekends. Awesome, is it not, that I beat Majini up with my friends until we both pass out and drop the controllers, thereby activating his OCD and hence our collective common sense?
No, Sir Cliff Richards, you should NOT stay a bachelor boy until your dying day, no matter what your daddy says. Zongren, if you ever read this, listen to Song! Find a nice girl and settle down, because I'd rather be running diamonds than having to do my own laundry or scour my own food...
Which coincidentally, leads to the worst sort of laundry to do (Running diamonds, not finding food, unless it's a really hot day). Not that I'm incapable of doing the said tasks, I'm capable of a lot of things, but really, getting home at 10, proceeding to wash clothes from running diamonds and waiting till 11 to hang them up, then trying to get up before 6 is not possible for this bachelor...
And I've got to babysit my brother. Well, not really, since he's content with watching Naturo from 3 to 10, so it's more like looking after a plant, just keep it watered.
Micro : Dude, Yahtzee is right, Sheva is not African! Listen to that, that's a British accent, right there!
Bryant : No way!
Micro : She sounds just like Mrs Creffield!
Bryant : Sssh! Don't ruin the fantasy!
Micro : Of what? Sheva or Mrs Creffield?
Bryant : What do you think?
Micro : Mrs Creffield it is then
------
Surreal is staggering back to an empty house through the dimly lit streets, bumping into bushes at 5 in the morning after playing Resident Evil 5 with Bryant. And training for 4 hours with the ACSI old boys before that.
Been living the life of a bachelor for the last few days, since my parents and sister are in Vietnam. No limits, a suitable stash of cash, and all the time in the world for weekends. Awesome, is it not, that I beat Majini up with my friends until we both pass out and drop the controllers, thereby activating his OCD and hence our collective common sense?
No, Sir Cliff Richards, you should NOT stay a bachelor boy until your dying day, no matter what your daddy says. Zongren, if you ever read this, listen to Song! Find a nice girl and settle down, because I'd rather be running diamonds than having to do my own laundry or scour my own food...
Which coincidentally, leads to the worst sort of laundry to do (Running diamonds, not finding food, unless it's a really hot day). Not that I'm incapable of doing the said tasks, I'm capable of a lot of things, but really, getting home at 10, proceeding to wash clothes from running diamonds and waiting till 11 to hang them up, then trying to get up before 6 is not possible for this bachelor...
And I've got to babysit my brother. Well, not really, since he's content with watching Naturo from 3 to 10, so it's more like looking after a plant, just keep it watered.
Saturday, 3 October 2009
Zen...And Comforting
*Begin deep, meaningful and insightful section here*
"There is no mystery to happiness.
"Unhappy men are all alike. Some wound they suffered long ago, some wish denied, some blow to pride, some kindling spark of love put out by scorn -- or worse, indifference -- cleaves to them, or they to it, and so they live each day within a shroud of yesterdays. The happy man does not look back. He doesn't look ahead. He lives in the present.
"But there's the rub. The present can never deliver one thing: meaning. The ways of happiness and meaning are not the same. To find happiness, a man need only live in the moment; he need only live for the moment. But if he wants meaning -- the meaning of his dreams, his secrets, his life -- a man must reinhabit the past, however dark, and live for the future, however uncertain. Thus nature dangles happiness and meaning before us all, insisting only that we choose between them."
-- Jed Rubenfeld, 'The Interpretation of Murder'
Much thanks to Bryant for having introduced me to that quote. It's stuck with me since the day he posted it.
Reverting back to the old day cycles I used to have. Study, then TF2. Study, then read TRC manga.
Love this cycle. It's simple, it's calm, it's comforting, and most of all, it's familiar. Two years of living it, two awesome years. The best bit is, I don't have to choose between happiness and meaning because of it.
What I do, I enjoy, and conveniently happens to take care of the future, and since I'm good with the past, well, I've got myself a pretty good deal don't I?
Might be a little late to save your dream of finally getting a chance to see what the hell John Nash was up to in Princeton isn't it?
Well, I lost heavily before the dark ages ended didn't I?
*End deep, meaningful and insightful section here*
Okay, that's over! They should read stuff like that during chapel.
Instead of the usual did to spur us on to
The chaplain ACJC has is kinda like this one.
Why, why, why can we never have a Chaplain/Priest like this one!
I mean, he doesn't even have to be an Interrogator-Chaplain! Just think about it, a Chaplain who gives sermons in full power armour! Reads quotes from the Bible he wears around his waist with a chain! Blesses people using a crozius! Partitions the wafers and wine with a power sword! Come on, this would bring the flock back from those "charismatic" churches! Or at least draw the fa/tg/uys into attending Mass on a regular basis.
Which reminds me, right after the Promos, I'm getting started on my newest fanfiction.
This one will be about an Apothecary who's expelled from his Chapter (Iron Wolves) for losing the gene seed of ten marines because he stopped to rescue a group of Guardsmen from Traitor Marines. Until he performs a great deed of service to the Emperor, he will have to wander as a Lone Wolf across the galaxy. So he joins up with the regiment of the Guardsmen he saved as a medic, looking for the chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the Emperor.
Initially supposed to be a serious one to explore how Space Marine-human relations (Still is), Bryant and I couldn't help but think of all the awkward scenes a Space Marine medic used to healing superhuman warriors would have babysitting normal human soldiers.
----
Bryant : Apothecary! Private Jenkins had a heart attack!
Micro : Bring him to my operating table. Now administering the Rites of CPR.
*Crushes Guardsmen to death due to his superhuman strength*
Micro : Oops...Erm...Emperor watch over your soul brave soldier?
----
----
Micro : Emperor's peace be with you fallen warrior, as I take the Chapter's due.
Bryant : Apothecary, why the hell are you mutilating Forester's body for?
Micro : I am extracting his gene seed, so that his legacy may live through another.
Bryant : Oi! We're not Marines, we don't have gene seed!
Micro : Really? Then what are these two glands that I just extracted from Corporal Forester's midsectio-
Bryant : PUT THEM BACK!!!
----
Well, if you've been doing the same thing for the last 100 years, you tend to get a little too familiar with the routine wouldn't you?
PS : Sam, sorry we couldn't meet up! It's not so easy for us any more... We'll make up for it when you get back in December, I promise!
PPS : Before I forget. You mah hoe! (It's Friday)
"There is no mystery to happiness.
"Unhappy men are all alike. Some wound they suffered long ago, some wish denied, some blow to pride, some kindling spark of love put out by scorn -- or worse, indifference -- cleaves to them, or they to it, and so they live each day within a shroud of yesterdays. The happy man does not look back. He doesn't look ahead. He lives in the present.
"But there's the rub. The present can never deliver one thing: meaning. The ways of happiness and meaning are not the same. To find happiness, a man need only live in the moment; he need only live for the moment. But if he wants meaning -- the meaning of his dreams, his secrets, his life -- a man must reinhabit the past, however dark, and live for the future, however uncertain. Thus nature dangles happiness and meaning before us all, insisting only that we choose between them."
-- Jed Rubenfeld, 'The Interpretation of Murder'
Much thanks to Bryant for having introduced me to that quote. It's stuck with me since the day he posted it.
Reverting back to the old day cycles I used to have. Study, then TF2. Study, then read TRC manga.
Love this cycle. It's simple, it's calm, it's comforting, and most of all, it's familiar. Two years of living it, two awesome years. The best bit is, I don't have to choose between happiness and meaning because of it.
What I do, I enjoy, and conveniently happens to take care of the future, and since I'm good with the past, well, I've got myself a pretty good deal don't I?
Might be a little late to save your dream of finally getting a chance to see what the hell John Nash was up to in Princeton isn't it?
Well, I lost heavily before the dark ages ended didn't I?
*End deep, meaningful and insightful section here*
Okay, that's over! They should read stuff like that during chapel.
Instead of the usual
The chaplain ACJC has is kinda like this one.
Why, why, why can we never have a Chaplain/Priest like this one!
I mean, he doesn't even have to be an Interrogator-Chaplain! Just think about it, a Chaplain who gives sermons in full power armour! Reads quotes from the Bible he wears around his waist with a chain! Blesses people using a crozius! Partitions the wafers and wine with a power sword! Come on, this would bring the flock back from those "charismatic" churches! Or at least draw the fa/tg/uys into attending Mass on a regular basis.
Which reminds me, right after the Promos, I'm getting started on my newest fanfiction.
This one will be about an Apothecary who's expelled from his Chapter (Iron Wolves) for losing the gene seed of ten marines because he stopped to rescue a group of Guardsmen from Traitor Marines. Until he performs a great deed of service to the Emperor, he will have to wander as a Lone Wolf across the galaxy. So he joins up with the regiment of the Guardsmen he saved as a medic, looking for the chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the Emperor.
Initially supposed to be a serious one to explore how Space Marine-human relations (Still is), Bryant and I couldn't help but think of all the awkward scenes a Space Marine medic used to healing superhuman warriors would have babysitting normal human soldiers.
----
Bryant : Apothecary! Private Jenkins had a heart attack!
Micro : Bring him to my operating table. Now administering the Rites of CPR.
*Crushes Guardsmen to death due to his superhuman strength*
Micro : Oops...Erm...Emperor watch over your soul brave soldier?
----
----
Micro : Emperor's peace be with you fallen warrior, as I take the Chapter's due.
Bryant : Apothecary, why the hell are you mutilating Forester's body for?
Micro : I am extracting his gene seed, so that his legacy may live through another.
Bryant : Oi! We're not Marines, we don't have gene seed!
Micro : Really? Then what are these two glands that I just extracted from Corporal Forester's midsectio-
Bryant : PUT THEM BACK!!!
----
Well, if you've been doing the same thing for the last 100 years, you tend to get a little too familiar with the routine wouldn't you?
PS : Sam, sorry we couldn't meet up! It's not so easy for us any more... We'll make up for it when you get back in December, I promise!
PPS : Before I forget. You mah hoe! (It's Friday)
Monday, 14 September 2009
Lock And Load
Had an awesome day once again in the CWC. Only for it to be ruined tonight by them.
Jezebels and vagabonds. And while neither really applies to what they did tonight, it fits the way they go about anyway
In the act of forcing a burden on me, they have relieved me of another. Now, hatred is acceptable. Conflict can be justified. Confrontation is reasonable.
Not once, but twice this has happened now. I longed for a truce or equilibrium of some sort. No more, but I still weary of this stalemate. I've done enough giving. Time for some taking.
So awaken the Eversors and unchain Khorne's servants, for he thirsts this day.
And we shall gladly slake it.
Jezebels and vagabonds. And while neither really applies to what they did tonight, it fits the way they go about anyway
In the act of forcing a burden on me, they have relieved me of another. Now, hatred is acceptable. Conflict can be justified. Confrontation is reasonable.
Not once, but twice this has happened now. I longed for a truce or equilibrium of some sort. No more, but I still weary of this stalemate. I've done enough giving. Time for some taking.
So awaken the Eversors and unchain Khorne's servants, for he thirsts this day.
And we shall gladly slake it.
Thursday, 3 September 2009
Meh, Shut Up and Reload Already
----
Micro : Some days Tim, I just feel like quitting the team and turning in my badge so I can get back to basics, so I'd have nothing to annoy/sadden/worry me. I mean, when I try to do everything, I'm rubbish on the field and the classroom.
Tim : That's not true... You are trying to move from C to A, people like me are trying to get promoted. And you're a still a senior player, even if you don't act like it. Besides, how's quitting going to help? If you hand in your badge, you can't get it back, and if you quit the team now, you definitely won't be able to make it to the first team. Really Cheng Heng, quitting now won't help, you'll end up with even less than you started with.
----
True dat. No point folding if you've already bet big. Tim's right, I can't quit. Truth be told, I'd go mad without training. It'd be like taking a vow of silence.
Before having that conversation, I was going to whine about how it isn't fair that I know exactly what I'm doing, but I can't do well because I get careless, at *everything*. But now I'm not.
Crazy fool that I am, I decided to prescribe myself the DOW2 campaign to remedy sleepless nights. On Primarch difficulty, and now I require Prozac after I spent half an hour finding and killing the Lictor Alpha for the stage, but get killed by fucking SPORE MINES ten seconds after that. Three times in a row. Basically, the difficulty curve works like this
----
Recruit - Your Marines are made to Shen Shin's proportions. They only need to sneeze to take out a Fire Prism. And those are just the scouts.
Sergeant - Your Marines have as much plot armour as fluff Marines. Able to stand in the middle of an open field and gun down Looted Tanks without getting seriously hurt.
Captain - Your Marines will need to learn a concept that's very foreign to them. It's called cover. Marines actually get killed on this level.
Primarch - Terminators will get killed on a regular basis by (Dear Emperor...) Hormagaunts
----
Then, there was this guy on the Starhub servers who---
Wait, run that by me again!
Uh-huh...yeah...okay...WTF?
You can't be bloody serious...
Breaking news people, there are actually people going for the rugby outing tomorrow. Which unfortunately, is the also the time period which I intend to return to SJI at.
Ordinarily, I would be stuck here indecivisely, afraid of the consequences of either choice. Look bad to the team, or not return.
Then again, I've always prided myself on being able to elicit a "WTF?" response from people.
Micro has decided to be decisive today. I R going back with the rest. Sorry ACJC, but you should have put the celebrations on Monday.
Finally learning to stand up for yourself are we?
Indeed I am my friend, indeed I am.
Got the presents yet?
D'oh!
Meh, they won't expect one from you anyway, you never were in the habit of doing that.
Well... I handed up my lit homework to the BAng on the last one, does that count?
No
Really? Fine... Is there anything else I'm forgetting?
Clouds and supersonic aircraft. CWC email. Now.
Micro : Some days Tim, I just feel like quitting the team and turning in my badge so I can get back to basics, so I'd have nothing to annoy/sadden/worry me. I mean, when I try to do everything, I'm rubbish on the field and the classroom.
Tim : That's not true... You are trying to move from C to A, people like me are trying to get promoted. And you're a still a senior player, even if you don't act like it. Besides, how's quitting going to help? If you hand in your badge, you can't get it back, and if you quit the team now, you definitely won't be able to make it to the first team. Really Cheng Heng, quitting now won't help, you'll end up with even less than you started with.
----
True dat. No point folding if you've already bet big. Tim's right, I can't quit. Truth be told, I'd go mad without training. It'd be like taking a vow of silence.
Before having that conversation, I was going to whine about how it isn't fair that I know exactly what I'm doing, but I can't do well because I get careless, at *everything*. But now I'm not.
Crazy fool that I am, I decided to prescribe myself the DOW2 campaign to remedy sleepless nights. On Primarch difficulty, and now I require Prozac after I spent half an hour finding and killing the Lictor Alpha for the stage, but get killed by fucking SPORE MINES ten seconds after that. Three times in a row. Basically, the difficulty curve works like this
----
Recruit - Your Marines are made to Shen Shin's proportions. They only need to sneeze to take out a Fire Prism. And those are just the scouts.
Sergeant - Your Marines have as much plot armour as fluff Marines. Able to stand in the middle of an open field and gun down Looted Tanks without getting seriously hurt.
Captain - Your Marines will need to learn a concept that's very foreign to them. It's called cover. Marines actually get killed on this level.
Primarch - Terminators will get killed on a regular basis by (Dear Emperor...) Hormagaunts
----
Then, there was this guy on the Starhub servers who---
Wait, run that by me again!
Uh-huh...yeah...okay...WTF?
You can't be bloody serious...
Breaking news people, there are actually people going for the rugby outing tomorrow. Which unfortunately, is the also the time period which I intend to return to SJI at.
Ordinarily, I would be stuck here indecivisely, afraid of the consequences of either choice. Look bad to the team, or not return.
Then again, I've always prided myself on being able to elicit a "WTF?" response from people.
Micro has decided to be decisive today. I R going back with the rest. Sorry ACJC, but you should have put the celebrations on Monday.
Finally learning to stand up for yourself are we?
Indeed I am my friend, indeed I am.
Got the presents yet?
D'oh!
Meh, they won't expect one from you anyway, you never were in the habit of doing that.
Well... I handed up my lit homework to the BAng on the last one, does that count?
No
Really? Fine... Is there anything else I'm forgetting?
Clouds and supersonic aircraft. CWC email. Now.
Monday, 17 August 2009
Told You I'd Be Back
Arsenal played the perfect game (6-1 against Everton) and Usain Bolt ran the perfect race last night, and I did the perfect experiment for Physics SPA today. That anagram still scares me these days, after unbelievably crap luck with them at O-Levels. I arrived in school at the usual time so I'd get a ride to school despite being in Shift 2, and tried not to die of anxiety while reading Duma Key until 10. Damn you Steven King, now you've made me go from dreamless sleep to "WTF?" dreams. The last one involved Robbie Keane dying and China nuking the school. The dreams of a man missing half his brain due to a car accident and a supernatural island are contagious.
Such a weight off one's chest...Chemistry won't be as finicky as Physics, and Chinese test on Wednesday, meh, when did I start caring?
Anyway, while I was dying of guilt for not going for any CWC meetings earlier this year due to training, being faced with the prospect of stoning yet another 4 hours before it started left me in the age-old problem here. Too little time to go home, too long to waste. The successful SPA more than made up for it of course.
So after Sam Wang and Tim K had to return to class at 2, I was still left with much time to burn. So back to Duma Key it was, at the risk of my subconscious pulling another Piccaso on me, to watch Eddie Freemantle slowly crawl out of insanity.
Finally at 4.30 I met up with Sam again to find our way to the meeting room.
That's when I heard her...
A shrill roar is volleyed at poor Tim for forgetting to unlock the room from somewhere in the candeck. The source of the noise, standing at 5"2 in all her glory, the self proclaimed Madame Dictator Kim.
Okay, so she isn't so evil once you get to know her, but I still spent the next five minutes taking cover behind Sam because Tim was too small to provide ample protection.
Unfortunately, this appeared to be one of the sessions involving labour and admin st00fs, so half my mind was spent thinking up suggestions for the outing they were planning, and the other half was spent thinking of a name for the dead cockroach taped to the wall with a "OMG, help me!" speech bubble next to it after Mr Woolhead mentioned it was important to know "the name behind the face". I eventually pasted a "Hi, My Name is Llewellyn" sign next to it. Madame Dictator was not pleased.
On a absolutely random note, I must watch Up. I have never missed a Pixar film before, and I don't intend to start now.
P.S : Two years are up Bryant, what does that anagram stand for!!??!?!
Such a weight off one's chest...Chemistry won't be as finicky as Physics, and Chinese test on Wednesday, meh, when did I start caring?
Anyway, while I was dying of guilt for not going for any CWC meetings earlier this year due to training, being faced with the prospect of stoning yet another 4 hours before it started left me in the age-old problem here. Too little time to go home, too long to waste. The successful SPA more than made up for it of course.
So after Sam Wang and Tim K had to return to class at 2, I was still left with much time to burn. So back to Duma Key it was, at the risk of my subconscious pulling another Piccaso on me, to watch Eddie Freemantle slowly crawl out of insanity.
Finally at 4.30 I met up with Sam again to find our way to the meeting room.
That's when I heard her...
A shrill roar is volleyed at poor Tim for forgetting to unlock the room from somewhere in the candeck. The source of the noise, standing at 5"2 in all her glory, the self proclaimed Madame Dictator Kim.
Okay, so she isn't so evil once you get to know her, but I still spent the next five minutes taking cover behind Sam because Tim was too small to provide ample protection.
Unfortunately, this appeared to be one of the sessions involving labour and admin st00fs, so half my mind was spent thinking up suggestions for the outing they were planning, and the other half was spent thinking of a name for the dead cockroach taped to the wall with a "OMG, help me!" speech bubble next to it after Mr Woolhead mentioned it was important to know "the name behind the face". I eventually pasted a "Hi, My Name is Llewellyn" sign next to it. Madame Dictator was not pleased.
On a absolutely random note, I must watch Up. I have never missed a Pixar film before, and I don't intend to start now.
P.S : Two years are up Bryant, what does that anagram stand for!!??!?!
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