YSaturday, March 17, 2007

A Voyage Into Familiar Territory. (Part One)

Today marks a milestone in my "career" as a writer. No, I haven't signed any contracts, neither have I sold my soul to corporate investors, nor have I shouted out to the whole world my shallowness and materialism by publicly gloating that I received a free nose job.

I'm not that stupid.

Anyway, I vaguely remember in the past I stated that I wouldn't, to a large extent, talk about my life, because I'm boring. But today is different. I must talk about how I spent Friday 16th March 2007. I simply must. It was exceptional. It was astounding. It was spectacular. Hearing about it will change your life.

Please don't be angry if today's post sucks. I just hate being criticized. I hate it so bad. It makes me hurt inside.

Anyway, I had training in the morning. It started at 830. I reached school at 900. Training was pretty uneventful, except for two things. The first thing was that I learned how to spin and throw the discus. Like the way the pros do it at the Olympics. Except without the obscene shouting and groaning and other noises. And without the distance. It's quite difficult. (I guess I'll talk about this another time. I realize I'm quite long winded.) The second interesting that happened was that we had a "Throwers' Meeting". Our coach is from China, and hence he can only converse fluently in his first language. Unfortunately, his first language isn't my first language. You see, SJI and AC have made me into a person who loves English with an undying and everlasting passion.

I'm the type of person who goes: "HuaYuCool? What does FlowerFishCool mean? Are you high?"

Hence, with my pathetic inability to communicate in my native tongue, combined with the coach's thick Chinese accent, I was rendered utterly clueless. But I do know he wasn't happy. I can see people's faces. I can interpret people's expressions. Later I found out from (I swear this is true. I don't make the stereotypes. I just see them.) my friend who was from RV, that he wasn't scolding us, and that he didn't say anything that we couldn't observe on our own, or didn't already find out for ourselves.

After training, I rushed to Vivocity for my OG outing. It was interesting, to say the least. When I first arrived, there were 5 people, including me. Four of them were girls. I was not. Am not. Will not be. I had to admit, it was somewhat awkward. They would girltalk, I would walk a few paces behind. Trying hard to think about something else. Anything else. They negotiated about where we would have lunch. I stared into space impassively. Contrary to Javier's belief, I'm not fussy.

Fortunately, a guy soon came. Unfortunately, that guy was Elson. For those of you who don't know Elson, he's the stickman in ACJC. He's from SJI as well. So he's weird. And gay. We all are. Because you see, SJI injects every new boy with their special SJI serum. (Don't tell anyone. It's classified information.) It makes us weird. And gay. This is all in our plan for world dominations. We shall be the founding fathers of a magnificent new society. We will topple the oppressive tyrants who dare proclaim themselves defenders of democracy. Onward! For Glory! SJI! SJI! SJI!

It was a sight to behold. Two boys. One was bony and angular, the other, fleshy and curvy.

After that, I'm horrified to admit, we went shopping. It was a harrowing ordeal. 2 guys, following 6 girls around a shopping mall. I did learn several things though. Girls are weird. Some like to hang M&Ms on their ears. Others prefer to have mismatched biscuits dangling from their earlobes, completely unaware of the danger of hungry hobos just running up to them and biting their ears in a desperate quest for stray morsels of food. Some like to wear shoes with belts on them. Don't ask me why. Then there are those who, in their desire to look good, have taken to slaughtering countless mermaids and mermen, for their shiny and reflective scales, to make shoes stained with blood. The blood of fictitious mythical creatures.

I didn't know this, but guys and girls shop differently. For a guy, like a normal guy, not Javier, he will go shopping when he needs to. He goes into a shop, sees something he likes, tries it on, and pays money for it. Simple as that. There are certain variations, including buying things without trying them on, (I'm guilty) or maybe even heading straight for the discount racks.

Girls on the other hand, shop for fun. I cannot comprehend that. They walk around, rifle through the hangers, touch everything, feel the materials, look at the price tag, make comments, and then, walk out.

To stave off the fast approaching insanity that would engulf our minds and turn us into zucchinis, Elson and I came up with ingenious idea. In order to keep the retard sickness at bay, we would act like retards so the retard molecules would think we were already retards and not try and inject us with their retard seedlings which would spawn and multiply and make us into retard drones that are retarded.

Ya. We doed that.

Polka dotted dressed were just old and moldy. Tops became dresses for really short girls. Dresses became singlets for really tall girls, and they needed to be tucked in. Purses turned into pencil cases. Skirts transformed into curtains. And necklaces and bracelets were candy.

Though it may seem unlikely at this time, I do have a point. However, that is for the second part of this post. I remember someone said my posts were too long. This is my solution to it. Cut the essay into half.

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