~ Tim Kring, creator of Heroes
~ Tim Kring, creator of Heroes
Mine would be the ability:
To heal by touch alone.
Shrug. That just popped into my head on the way to work this morning. And it's strange because well, everyone knows how I'm reallyyy into things like blood-spurting-from-hole-in-head, blood-flowing-from-slit-across-throat and bloody-beating-heart-cut-from-live-sacrificial-man.
But I guess everything else, like superhuman strength, flight, the ability to read thoughts and invisibility, just seem . . . frivolous. I'm speaking for myself, of course.
I think the younger Peter Petrelli has the coolest super power of all the heroes. But that's just the fickle can't-make-up-her-silly-mind female in me speaking. Heh. That I think Milo Ventimiglia is cute helps A LOT too. Giggle.
PS: Yeah, I'll unplug from WoW for two weeks if I could go out with someone like Milo.
PPS: Oh wait, I prefer Asian. Awww...
PPPS: CirCe says she would like to have the ability to eat without gaining weight. (What the hell, how is that going to save the world???)
PPPPS: Laugh. Ok, after some thought, CirCe decided that she would like to have the ability to change a person's mood.
Over PS Cafe's House Special plenty-of-BANANA-and-broken-cookies-but-where's-the-damn-MANGO CRUMBLE at a working dinner, I found myself explaining to an associate (who to his credit, either had a poker face like mine or was simply used to confessions of the most intimate nature - occupational hazard) how I managed to spend an average of 20 hours a week playing World of Warcraft.
"So it's one of those real-time games that never 'ends'?"
He smiled knowingly and listened with genuine interest, nodding patiently all the while, as I rambled on about how in addition to "killing monsters" (good grief, did I say that's what I do for leisure???), there were A LOT of other things to do, like dressing up my characters in better armour (no, he doesn't need to know about the UN-dressing - bad enough that he now knows I have a violent streak), mining for precious metals and sewing clothes to sell at the auction houses for money . . .
. . . I guess it's a good thing that my work doesn't bring me in contact with him much. And he's probably thinking the same thing now too, and making a mental note to ban his two young boys from WoW. Heh. Heh.
Anyway, PS, PS Cafe: That silly wooden boardwalk has got to go. It's a killer for ladies' heels!
PPS: Heyyy, now I know where Tantric "I-Last-More-Than-2-Minutes" Boy brings his dates! Laugh.
This is especially so when you have to dump, like, A LOT of your hard-earned money at one go, you know? I mean, nobody likes to be thought of as "tight", right? More so if you have a very big wallet.
You have your good days and you have your bad days. And philosophically speaking, today was just a little dip in the circle of life.
It wasn't even as cold when it was raining for days a few weeks back. Someone said it was the CNY wind - it comes every year.
Even the air feels different just walking around the house and I'm reminded of my wintry holiday in Hanoi - albeit muchmuchmuch chillier over there, of course. I've never been much of a cold climate kind of person, what with the frozen nose and feeling like your head is going to implode. I guess . . . it's just not much fun being cold unless there's someone to warm you up . . .
And as I draw my arms close, I wonder how long more . . . if ever . . . again . . .
Halong Bay, 29 December 2006
blood-spurting-from-hole-in-head when bad guy spins around mid-battle and gets brained with a spiked club and drops to his knees as blood sprays from the side of his head in a fine red mist for several seconds during which the camera pans around to show the gaping and bloody hole in his head;
blood-flowing-from-slit-across-throat when aforementioned bad-guy-before-getting-brained pulls a dagger very slowly across the throat of an elderly captive who falls to his knees as blood pours down his chest while his son watches haplessly;
blood-oozing-from-spear-in-neck when fleeing captive is hit in the back of head (not the neck) by a spear which comes out through his bloody mouth;
blood-gushing-from-spikes-in-torso when another bad guy triggers a spring-loaded trap and is hit with several wooden spikes, one of which comes out through his bloody back;
blood-flying-from-bludgeon-across-face when an assortment of good guys and bad guys are hit across the face with bludgeons resulting in an assortment of bloody emissions and bloody faces;
bloody-beating-heart-cut-from-live-sacrificial-man when tribal master of ceremonies drives bloody dagger into chest of man held down belly-up on altar, and digs out his heart which he then holds up to the cheers of the crowd, after which the executioner chops off the man's head which bounces down a long, long, longgg flight of stairs, followed by the headless body, and all these to the cheers of a frenzied crowd below.
And oh yeah, not to forget:
an escaped captive stumbling onto a mass grave of headless bodies;
a jaguar pouncing onto a man and mauling his face for several seconds;
and many many more here.
B U T B U T B U T . . .
How come my stomach held down my Japanese Curry Donut and Fruit Bar? In fact, I went home still feeling hungry and made myself a huge bowl of instant noodles! So much for starting that diet.
And oh yeah, CirCe wants to complain too - I said she should blame your public service announcement for having to sit through the movie with her eyes behind her hands (and yeaah, harrassing me for live commentaries on the action).
As we were neighbours, the adults hung out quite a bit. Sometimes, Uncle PP would come over to our place with a video cassette or two for movie night. And the adults - Mum, Dad and Uncle PP - would go into the bedroom and settle onto the bed to watch the movie. Sometimes, they would tuck me into bed with them too. I was probably about 4 or 5 then.
There would always be these ang moh men and women who warbled in some strange language and made a lot of strange noises. And these strange ang mohs often went about in various stages of undress. I remember, in particular, a scene involving a woman and a Donald Duck figurine with a BIG yellow beak which made her very, very, V E R Y V E R Y H A P P Y.
I can't remember if Uncle PP's second wife ever joined us. I do vaguely recall the younger sister (the one who likes gay men) was there - but she would have been too young to remember anyway. Besides, it was a really long time ago . . . and we were so young . . . and it was a huge bed . . . and there were so many people on it . . . and it was dark except for the strange blue glow coming from the TV at the foot of the bed . . . and all these nekkid ang mohs . . .
Of course back then, it did not occur to me as unusual since I used to wander around the house without a shirt. And Mum did not seem to mind that other people would see me thus. You see, whenever I was naughty, disciplinary action would begin with Mum chasing me around the house (and assorted pieces of furniture) with a cane. After she had gotten me a few (or more, depending on the severity of my naughtiness) times across the arms and legs, she would then half-drag and half-carry me down the stairs and throw me out of the house - half-dressed.
So there I would be, banging on the front door, crying my eyes red and bawling my lungs out, as staring strangers passed me by on the public walkway outside the shophouses. I would be let back into the house after some time though.
Mum continued doing that until we got too heavy for her. But at her prime, Super Mum could throw TWO of us out at the same time.
Notwithstanding their nocturnal group activities (and NO, there was NO swinging and everyone kept their clothes on and NO one tried to touch me), Mum did not like Uncle PP very much. She said he was always taking advantage of us and Dad was stupid because he let Uncle PP use our house and TV for PrOn Nights. Funny she never said anything about the indelible mark that prOn has since left on her then 4 or 5-year-old.
Anyway, come to think of it (many years in retrospect, obviously), the prOn then was pretty tame - well, compared to the hard-core triple (and plus-plus-plus) X-stuff you get these days.
Still, I do think I had a mostly ordinary childhood by all OTHER accounts.
It's just too bad that I've started to remember . . . things.
For all his bluster, it is the sad province of Man that he cannot choose his triumph.
He can only choose how he will stand when the call of destiny comes. Hoping
that he'll have the courage to answer."
For all his bluster, it is the sad province of Man that he cannot choose his triumph. He can only choose how he will stand when the call of destiny comes. Hoping that he'll have the courage to answer."
Between Burning Crusades and catching up with Season 1 of Heroes, I've not had much sleep the past week. Heh. Anyway, Season 2 begins tomorrow! As Hiro would say, woo-hoooo!!!
The self-importance of Mr-Everything-I-Also-Want was evident from the word GO when
he kept harrassing our PUG Undead Rogue about returning the leader to him so he could
do the "hard" pulls even though she had already done the run some 9 times and knew
what she was doing. And of course, there was also the typical
Anyway, I did get to keep a Codex: Prayer of Fortitude III (selling for more than 500g in the auction house) since most of the group passed. Yay, me.
And in other news, I just found out that Kirsten Dunst is the voice of the female even-more-bimbo-than-human Blood Elf. I am loving my charming BElf Warlock even more now :-D I can't wait to level to 40 so I can run around on my oversized chicken.
Yeah, and you can take all my guai lan retorts and eye rolls and shove them up your royal fucking ass. I don't give a flying fuck who you are or what the rest heard and saw or that I was the smallest thing around.
All I know is that the stakes are no longer worth whatever we expect to gain at the end, if at all we do. And that self-satisfaction is going to be the only thing keeping you company - after everyone else has packed up and left.
Well, if you don't see updates for a while, you know why, yes?
# No, SERIOUSLY, it's only
# I will be punctual.
# Sleep more.
# WOW less.
# . . . . . . . . .
# Aaarrrgh, screw that! I'm starting a Blood Elf Warlock when The Burning Crusade is released next Tuesday!
# I will go for yoga at least twice a week and hit the beach every weekend.
# I will lose 5 kg - so its equivalent around my waist will not be greeting the whole world when I slip on my tailored Ao Dai :-D (which my clothes mule has agreed to carry back when she returns end of the month).
# Stop procrastinating.
# And get my lazy ass down to Ikea to pick up new curtains and a bigger shoe rack before Chinese New Year.
# And bring my work skirts to the tailor for alterations.
# And drop off my bags at the leather repair shop somewhere in Middle Road.
# I will smile back the next time I look up from my book to find a nice man smiling at me - instead of quickly dropping my head and spending the entire train journey ignoring the nice man. (But, but, I was wearing glasses and had unwashed hair post-yoga!)
# But first, I need to find someone to teach me how to flirt. Help???
# Actually, "fuck the resolutions and just concentrate on getting the fucks." Sure beats getting fucked at work.
# But in the meantime, I will try to
But I guess there's really no need to keep up this silly moping - not to mention having to commit to another, oh, 358 days? Heh.
So here's to better days. (Otherwise known as Day 8 of Just Another Year. Ha. Ha.)
Fine. I'll go work on my new year resolutions then. Mutter darkly.
I got me some TLC tonight alright - the unexpected sort that makes me need to indulge in twice the amount of good o' virtual violence.
Unfortunately, tonight's ZG raid - which is usually a breeze - seemed 'off' from the get-go. Maybe it was having less seasoned players who weren't familiar with their roles or simply didn't understand the importance of following instructions. Or maybe some of us were still experiencing network problems after the recent Taiwan earthquake.
The raid ended with an uneasy silence after a very loud and a very offensive barrage from just ONE person. Déjà vu, in retrospect - though fortunately, I wasn't at the receiving end this time. Sigh.
I guess I'm not the only one having it bad today. Yay.
So I'm just counting down to the weekend - for now - to indulge in some physical activity and then some pampering at the hair spa. And oh yes, some vile humour from Borat certainly seems in order too. Sometimes, you just have to laugh at the absurdness of it all - Borat, work, people, and just about everything else - no?