HALLELUJAH!
Three words: PMB is OVER!!
Let me just say that one more time in case you didn’t catch it, and also because it gives me more pleasure and satisfaction than you can ever imagine. PMB IS OVER!!!
Three years of class, a month of revision, two weeks of torture and twenty hours of head scratching and scribbling down answers. And it’s all OVER. DONE. FINISHED.
YEESSSS!!!! Finally. Praise the Lord Almighty I’ve made it. Freedom, oh wondrous freedom!
Two completely unhindered months. No more teachers droning on and on about boring subjects, no more staying up late finishing homework or cramming textbooks, no more early mornings rushing to school, no dad nagging me to study all the time, no mom telling me I can’t watch tv until I’ve finished studying—no, wait, that’s also my dad.
Nope, none of that. That’s all gone. At least, for now. And you bet I’m going to enjoy every single second of it.
It’s a bit of a strange feeling, I must admit, to finally come upon such a long-awaited moment. Not to say that it doesn’t feel good. Because boy, does it feel good!
Good enough to make me want to break out in song. Not that I’ll be doing so in front of you.
Anyway, I’m off to enjoy my newfound freedom. Starting by going straight to sleep. This free woman needs to catch up on her z’s.
And then, I'm going out for some much-needed retail therapy :)
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Pickles & textbooks.
(Written on 08/09 @ approx 2.10 pm)
The moment I walked in the front door today, my dad announced loudly that my lunch was on the dining table. Just what was “lunch”?
Store-bought spaghetti with sausage (mushy), meatballs (bland), and mushrooms (overgrown). And, wait for it… pickles. Yeah, you heard me right.
Who in their right mind puts pickles in spaghetti? Had I stepped through the looking glass and into the twilight zone somewhere between school and home, without even knowing it?
Because pickles and spaghetti could only exist in the same dish in an alternate universe, a galaxy far, far away (in case you weren’t aware of it, that’s a Star Wars reference. I’ve proved to be a bit of a closet Star Wars geek in recent times. Hi.).
Nevermind that I can’t stand them at all. By that I mean pickles. The smell especially. And the taste too, I suppose. Not that I’ve ever eaten it; the putrid stench alone proved to be way too big a turn-off. So there I sat for the next twenty minutes, diligently picking every last bit of that nasty green vegetable out of my lunch.
Pet peeves aside, the spaghetti wasn’t half bad. A good balance of sweet, sour and salty, with a pinch of spicy. Not what you’d normally expect for B$2. Though I can’t say I wouldn’t have preferred Fratini’s Parfallé Salmon.
Don’t believe the hype about Swensen’s ridiculously overpriced pasta. Everything there’s still even more expensive than at T.G.I. Friday’s (Thank God It’s Friday’s) after conversion. Shame, really. And if you haven’t got a clue as to what T.G.I. Friday’s is, drown yourself, now.
And I think I’ve already warned you against Charcoal BBQ & Grill. Maybe I should change my blog name to ‘Trash Expensive Brunei Restaurants’. It’s not that I don’t like expensive restaurants in general. I do. Ones that actually serve nice tasting food like they’re supposed to, that is. Otherwise you’re just paying too much for disgusting stuff you could cook by yourself.
Assuming you’re an awful cook, of course.
Anyway, completely pointless babbling aside, exams (PMB!!) are… exactly a week away today. Does that scare me? Hell yeah, you bet it does! But in a weird way, I’m also looking forward to it.
Okay, calm down, I know what you must be thinking. But I just want to get it over and done with. And the sooner the better. I’ve got other, more useful things to do with my precious time.
Like sleep.
And... go shopping, exactly.
The moment I walked in the front door today, my dad announced loudly that my lunch was on the dining table. Just what was “lunch”?
Store-bought spaghetti with sausage (mushy), meatballs (bland), and mushrooms (overgrown). And, wait for it… pickles. Yeah, you heard me right.
Who in their right mind puts pickles in spaghetti? Had I stepped through the looking glass and into the twilight zone somewhere between school and home, without even knowing it?
Because pickles and spaghetti could only exist in the same dish in an alternate universe, a galaxy far, far away (in case you weren’t aware of it, that’s a Star Wars reference. I’ve proved to be a bit of a closet Star Wars geek in recent times. Hi.).
Nevermind that I can’t stand them at all. By that I mean pickles. The smell especially. And the taste too, I suppose. Not that I’ve ever eaten it; the putrid stench alone proved to be way too big a turn-off. So there I sat for the next twenty minutes, diligently picking every last bit of that nasty green vegetable out of my lunch.
Pet peeves aside, the spaghetti wasn’t half bad. A good balance of sweet, sour and salty, with a pinch of spicy. Not what you’d normally expect for B$2. Though I can’t say I wouldn’t have preferred Fratini’s Parfallé Salmon.
Don’t believe the hype about Swensen’s ridiculously overpriced pasta. Everything there’s still even more expensive than at T.G.I. Friday’s (Thank God It’s Friday’s) after conversion. Shame, really. And if you haven’t got a clue as to what T.G.I. Friday’s is, drown yourself, now.
And I think I’ve already warned you against Charcoal BBQ & Grill. Maybe I should change my blog name to ‘Trash Expensive Brunei Restaurants’. It’s not that I don’t like expensive restaurants in general. I do. Ones that actually serve nice tasting food like they’re supposed to, that is. Otherwise you’re just paying too much for disgusting stuff you could cook by yourself.
Assuming you’re an awful cook, of course.
Anyway, completely pointless babbling aside, exams (PMB!!) are… exactly a week away today. Does that scare me? Hell yeah, you bet it does! But in a weird way, I’m also looking forward to it.
Okay, calm down, I know what you must be thinking. But I just want to get it over and done with. And the sooner the better. I’ve got other, more useful things to do with my precious time.
Like sleep.
And... go shopping, exactly.
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