Galvean Style

Making Plans Is Such Good Fun

2007-01-02T15:49:00.000+08:00

I am now going to jinx the future of this blog by making all kinds of plans for it.

In the future this blog will (probably) be divided into these sections:

1. Galveanstyle: All the random nonsense about my daily life and general reader-abuse will go here.

2. ZOMG, BOOKS!11!11!: This is where I do some, erm, light blogging about my adventures in bookland. Afterthoughts, gushing recommendations and angry rants will be found here.

3. Life? What life?: Where I blog about games, anime, manga, movies, and entertainment in general.

4. Galveantales: Where all other fiction go to worship, and then die from utter shame.

Watch all these plans crumble into a million pieces before they are even set into motion. The power of procrastination compels you!

I Can't Believe It... It's Me!

2007-01-02T03:22:00.000+08:00

Yes, it's been more than a year since my last post. A year and a month, to be precise. A lot has happened, and I won't go into details because 1) I'm lazy like that and 2) your mind will totally asplode at the sheer awesomeness of it all if I do.

On second thought, I don't give a fig about your sanity. Here's a bunch of lists about books, books and more books that will hopefully bore you to tears before driving you mad.

List of books I've read in 2006, in no particular order:

1. Master and Margarita
2. Alice in Wonderland
3. Through the Looking Glass
4. I, Robot
5. The Prestige
6. Three Men in a Boat
7. A Clash of Kings
8. A Storm of Swords I
9. A Storm of Swords II
10. A Feast for Crows
11. The Horse Whisperer
12. Lolita
13. A Confederacy of Dunces
14. A Clockwork Orange
15. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
16. Song of the Lioness Quartet (4 books)
20. The Earthsea Quartet (4 books)
24. Hyperion
25. On the Road
26. Mixed Magics
27. The Magicians of Caprona
28. Witch Week
29. Conrad's Fate
30. Black Maria
31. The Lives of Christopher Chant
32. Metamorphosis
33. The Turn of the Screw
34. Kafka on the Shore
35. The Opal Deception
36. The Mediator
37. Which Witch?
38. Seize the Day
39. Cat Stories
40. Freakonomics
41. Sophie's World
42. The Gods Themselves
43. The 5 People You Meet in Heaven
44. The Alchymist
45. Middlesex

List of books I've bought but have not read:

1. The Count of Monte Cristo (about 20 pages in)
2. The Illuminatus! Trilogy
3. Foucault's Pendulum
4. Thus Spake Zarathustra (about 12 pages in)
5. A Tale of Two Cities
6. Brave Story (Japanese)
7. The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi (Japanese)

List of books I need to buy:

1. Three Men on a Bummel
2. Sir Apropos of Nothing
3. 1984
4. Animal Farm
5. The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde
6. The Brothers Karamazov
7. Crime & Punishment
8. War & Peace
9. As I Lay Dying
10. 100 Years of Solitude
11. Midnight's Children
12. The Death of Ivan Ilych
13. Syrup
14. House of Leaves
15. The Devil Wears Prada
16. Ender's Shadow
17. Moby Dick
18. The Stranger
19. The Trial
20. The Wind-up Bird Chronicles
21. Peter Pan in Scarlet
22. The Pinhoe Egg
23. If on a Winter's Night a Traveller
24. The Moon is a Harsh Mistress
25. To Say Nothing of the Dog
26. Gravity's Rainbow
27. Infinite Jest
28. Germs and Steel
29. A Short History of Nearly Everything
30. The Complete Sherlock Holmes Collection
31. Waiting for Godot & Endgame

In conclusion: I fell 5 books short from my 50 Books A Year challenge for 2006. In my defense the idea for the challenge only hit me around September, and time was against me. During my one week summer holiday I actually read 5 books in as many days, and nearly went blind. I kid you not. By the 3rd day I was actually long-sighted, and had to read without my glasses and with the book about an inch from my face. It was terrible. Well, not really. I just wanted to say it. Say "It was terrible", I mean. It wasn't that terrible. Still. The "almost went blind" part is true, though.

Will I be able to read 50 books in 2007? WILL THE MOON FINALLY TURN INTO CHEESE? Only Time can tell, but unfortunately I accidentally murdered Time by feeding him mouldy cheese when he came over to visit last year, so at present no one can tell. It saddens me to think of it still. It was good cheese, dammit.

Well, here's to a wonderful year for all of us. For me, especially. I don't really care about you. Who the heck are you anyway, and why are you reading this? Don't you have anything better to do? You know, like giving me books. For free. I need books. Come now, give me books. You know you want to, whoever you are. The world will be a much better place when everyone starts making a habit of giving me books. Don't you want to make the world a better place?

Tsk, people these days.

Everybody Loves Artpad

2005-12-02T03:05:00.000+08:00

...I think. Well, at least I love it. And since Galvea's word is law, everybody is now required to love Artpad as well. Or else.

There's a rather random and completely pointless incident I've wanted to blog about for ages, but it's just not that funny (or at all) when put down in words. So here it is, in Artpad form. I R t3h 130n4rd0 d4 v1nc1!!!111!! Fear my Artpad skillz!

http://artpad.art.com/?iqu27i4jn7c

True story, I swear it.

SPOILERS AHEAD: READ ONLY AFTER WATCHING THE ARTPAD
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I actually started stalking the monkey afterwards, but my plans were foiled by some random neighbour taking a most inopportunely-timed stroll. I hoped he'd just walk past and leave me to my monkey-stalking, but he no doubt wondered what I was doing standing in the middle of the road doing nothing and struck up a conversation with me.

After the completely inane conversation with that random stranger I didn't even know, I looked around for the monkey and it was gone. Gone. I don't believe you understand me here. IT WAS GONE. GONE WITH THE NEIIIIIGHBOOUUUUR.

Damn. There goes my plan of producing the world's first Drunk Flaming Ninja Pirate Monkey.

The Anti-Galvean-Blogging Conspiracy

2005-08-11T01:25:00.000+08:00

A.K.A. Galvea's Insane Ramblings

Yes, I'm still alive. No, I'm not on the run from the mafia, the FBI or extra-terrestial salesmen. I haven't killed anybody. ~~At least not anyone important.~~ And last I heard, repeatedly stabbing someone with a blunt spork does not constitute killing.

This blog hasn't been updated much simply because I got hit by a writer's block ~~of brick, thrown out of an apartment window while I was soliciting the advice of a lamp post below. Them crazy apartment-dwelling writers.~~ Consequently, the hit to the head gave me about 4 months' worth of nerve-wrecking sanity and utter boredom. Life has been conspiring against me. Damn you, life.

Most unfortunately for you, my long-suffering reader, this current ~~peace of mind~~ ~~respite from the otherwise continuous massacre of brain cells on my site~~ lack of insanity will not last long. NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) has arrived, you see, and I plan on uploading every letter of my should-be >50,000-word ~~crackfic~~ ~~chocolate-induced stream of conscious insanity~~ novel here. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. Why? Because I care about you, of course.

I haven't the slightest idea what I'll be writing about yet. A longer, infinitely more ~~retarded~~ intellectually-challenged version of my crackfics, maybe. Wait, what am I talking about? It has to be.

Here comes the million dollar ~~in deficit~~ question: Would reading a nonsensical >50,000-word story, of which a considerable percentage is made up of pronouns because I like leaving characters nameless, lead to dementia? Because bringing out the craziness in people is like, the ultimate purpose of my life. While we're at it, my ultimate ULTIMATE purpose in life is to enjoy chocolate ice-cream whenever I can. Mmm, chocolate.

Next update will probably mark the start of my award-repelling novel. It'll most likely be completely nonsensical and absolutely pointless, so don't say I didn't warn you. It'll most likely be rated PG-13 w/ nail-bat as well (y'know, for explicit scenes involving a frightening lack of sanity and graphic distortion of reality), so if you aren't 13 and/or don't have a nail-bat, please steer clear of the vicinity. Otherwise I'll have to shoot you with a taser gun over standard TCP/IP, and while I can do it because I make the impossible possible, the innarnet (along with the world as we know it) will probably explode and you don't want that, do you?

In other news: Besides all that hubbub about Mars being really close to Earth and all, Venus is especially bright these few days as well. You might be able to see it even before the sun goes down. Ain't that spiffy?

In other-other news: After two afternoons which may or may not have involved hot-blooded mountain bear wrestling, I am now a Level 1 Cookie Baker. With this skill I am now capable of baking peanut/chocolate cookies without accidentally poisoning myself. On a side note, if The Sims is any indication of reality, my kitchen stove now has a 50% chance of catching fire. Obviously the only solution to this is to immediately commission a swimming pool in my backyard for me to jump into in case my house burns down around me. While I'm at it, I must remember to place a snackbar and a floating bed in the middle of the pool, because hunger and exhaustion will inevitably lead to an incredibly ridiculous and anticlimactic watery death. True story. Happened to ~~one of my Sims~~ my friend's cousin's uncle's postman's daughter's dog's sibling's owner's nephew-twice-removed's flower pot.

I might advance to Level 2 Cookie Baker someday. I'm not too keen on it, to be honest, since the requirements involve a) teaching an Amazonian alligator how to tapdance and b) winning a cross-(snow)country race against a penguin. And damn are those penguins fast.

It's All About The Movies

2005-07-19T21:48:00.000+08:00

Hell hath frozen over.

Who woulda thought I'd be compared to Britney and Paris Hilton on the subject of motherhood, of all things?

No, Satan, I don't care about your really spiffy, totally rad, brand spanking new frozen lava rink - is that even possible - and no, you may not have my ice-skates. Those are my rollerblades you're holding - no, no, they are NOT the same - yes, I'm absolutely sure - put that pitchfork down, you're gonna poke somebody's eye out - FOR THE LAST TIME, THOSE ARE NOT ICE-SKATES DAMMIT!

Now that I've shown Satan and his nasty oversized fork out the door, let's move on to really EXCITING things, like, you know, like, erm... what I've been up to! Yeah! CAN YOU FEEL THE EXCITEMENT?! I SURE CAN!

~Galvea's Totally Rad And Somewhat Dubious Account Of Her Spiffy Adventures In Life, The Universe, And Movie Theatres~

A.K.A.

We apologize for the longass title.

July/August = Movie fest. Movies I've watched in the past month:

H2G2
Madagascar
Batman Begins
War of the Worlds
Mr and Mrs Smith

ZOMG, HOW EXCITING! I brought a towel to H2G2, a nice, big, blue-and-white (or white-and-blue... does it matter?) towelly towel totally screaming of towellishness. You know, a towel's towel. A towel among towels. THE TOWEL. MY TOWEL.

At first I merely folded it over my arm, you know, like the way waiters do it. Except they do it with napkins, I guess. Then I realized it wasn't attracting enough attention. People weren't looking at me as though I was an asylum escapist. SOMETHING HAD GONE WRONG! I HAD FAILED! OH, THE TRAGEDY! THE INJUSTICE! HOW CAN THEY NOT SEE MY INSANITY?!

So I draped the towel around my shoulders, which instantly awarded my towel with 500 points of towellishness, thus propelling it into an entirely new level of awesomeness. In fact, my Awesome Towel Lv. 2 was so awesomely awesome the popcorn guy couldn't stop laughing the whole time I was at the popcorn counter. SUCCESS!

Come to think of it... what's the diff between a beach towel and a regular towel? Do beach towels have some sort of anti-sand force field or something? Or maybe you're supposed to use beach towels as mats - I see beach-goers lying on their towels all the time. Or maybe beach towels look prettier. You know, so you can impress the babes ("Hey, you sexy thing -- check out my towel!" or "Ooooh! That hunk over there has one helluva hot... towel!"). Who needs a pretty towel at home? Unless you're planning on impressing the dude/dudette in the bathroom mirror, of course.

After H2G2 I had to rush to a different theatre hall to catch Madagascar. Believe it or not, Madagascar actually made me cry a little, so it was fortunate that I had my trusty towel with me. I didn't blow my nose into it or anything though - that would be beyond disgusting.

Bruce's backstory in Batman Begins, on the other hand, turned me into a crying mess. War of the Worlds got a sniffle or two out of me at one point in the movie, but it wasn't as bad as BB. BB made me extremely glad that a) I was watching the movie alone and b) the seat next to me was empty. I'm pretty sure that had anyone been in that empty seat, I would have freaked them out with my seemingly random crying.

Mr and Mrs Smith - no crying, thankfully. I grinned like an idiot for about 90% of the movie though (hey, it was a fun movie!), and I think the girl sitting to my left (the aisle was on my right) kept stealing glances at me, for some bizarre reason. I can only think of a few possibilities:

a) Idiotic grinning is just as unnerving as random crying.
b) I had hotdog-topping stains on my face I didn't know about.
c) Said hotdog-topping stains were glow-in-the-dark.
d) She was planning on stealing my hotdog. HOW DARE SHE?!
e) I look like Angelina Jolie when in a dark theatre-- Now, put that gun down, I was just joking, sheesh...
f) She was attracted to me.
g) Brad Pitt was sitting in the aisle right next to me and I didn't know it.
h) It was all in my head.

The random glances didn't bother me. Really. What bothered me was her complete inability to watch the movie in silence for more than 2 minutes. It wasn't a particularly difficult film to understand, but somehow she had deemed it her mission in life to reconfirm every single plot detail and dialogue with her friend (who returned her enthusiasm with equal passion). It went something like this:

Brad Pitt does _____.

Girl A: Did he just _____?
Girl B: I think so.

Angelina Jolie says something.

Girl B: Did she just say ______?
Girl A: Yeah, she did.

Something amusing happens.

Girl A: OMG! Did you see that?!
Girl B: Yeah! Hahahahaha!

Me: *seething* Press RED button to switch off commentary... press RED button to switch off commentary...

To quote from John Smith (Brad Pitt) in the movie: Holy Jesus, Mother of God. I find it strange that it's justified for people to be pissed off when someone starts talking on his cell in the middle of a movie, yet chattering away with your friend(s) is completely A-OKAY. I swear, if those girls had been on their cells instead of talking to each other everyone would have SHUSH'd them pronto. They didn't seem to think they were being a bother either; they sure as heck didn't drop their voices during some of the quieter scenes. I bet people three rows away could eavesdrop on their conversation without any difficulty, and that's saying something - there were only about 10 rows of seats.

I wish I could say ninjas raided the theatre half-way through the movie and dragged the girls off to never-neverland, but it didn't happen. Dangit. Where are the ninjas when you need 'em?!

And now for a breakdown of the movies I've watched, simply because I love boring the crap out of my readers.

H2G2
Liked: The theme song.
Disliked: The actors and the script.
Favourite scene(s): The opening, "Original idea" and "Earth Mk II".
Misc: I was the only one left in the theatre hall when the extra stuff was shown during the credits.

Madagascar
Liked: Everything about it.
Disliked: The length of the movie. It should be a crime to produce movies less than 2 hours long.
Favourite scene(s): "National Geographic" and "Olympic theme".
Misc: Made me cry. Awwwwwwww.

Batman Begins
Liked: Just about everything.
Disliked: The villain's plan, which suffered from I-make-things-too-complicated-for-my-own-good syndrome and the really ugly BatTANK.
Favourite scene(s): "Bruce's backstory", "They're Europeans" and "Bloody log".
Misc: Turned me into a human tap during the first half. The fighting scenes in the second half bored me - I kept zoning out near the end.

War of the Worlds
Liked: The (depressingly) accurate portrayal of human nature -- the car-jack scene in particular.
Disliked: Robbie.
Favourite scene(s): "y halo thar humans", "Everybody wants a ride", "Plane survivor?" and "Hushabye Mountain".
Misc: Sailormoon and Hero Weed appeared in the credits.

Mr and Mrs Smith
Liked: EVERYTHING!
Disliked: Nothing.
Favourite scene(s): "Therapy session I and II", "I got lucky", "The dance II" and "Domestic fight".
Misc: Latin-y jazz should be used in films more often. John Powell, I salute you.

So... yeah. There you have it. My shoddy excuse for not updating in nearly a month. I -I can't help it! Ze moo-vees! Zey arr tay-keeng oh-varr mai lie-ff!!

Erm. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, anyone?

On Dealing With Felines -Side Story-

2005-07-01T00:01:00.000+08:00

Why, oh why, do I even bother trying to get cats to do my bidding? What's the point of it all? [/Marvin]

It is almost impossible to extricate cats from your room.

When cats want to be in your room, there ain't no kicking them out. Observe.

Cats outside door: MEOW MEOW MEOW WE WANT TO COME IN MEOW MEOW!
Me inside room: I'm not listening! Nyanyanyanyanyanya! Lalalalala!
Cats outside door: MEOW MEOW MEOW OPEN THE DOOR DAMN YOU MEOW MEOW!
Me inside room: Lalalalalalalalalala~
Cats outside door: MEOW MEOW MEOW *beep*'in *beep* *beep* MEOW MEOW!

I open the door to protect what is left of my sanity. The cats rush in as though there's free pizza in the room and strut around looking all important. After sniffing about and finding that there is, in fact, no free pizza, they fall into their daily routine of "sit on everything that looks remotely fragile", "claw at everything that looks remotely expensive" and "shred everything that looks remotely important". After 10 minutes of this insanity I try to kick them out.

Me: Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!! OUT! OUT, ALL OF YOU!

I open the door and, using my awesome powers of Glarification(TM), attempt to send them out. Unfortunately, the cats counter with LadidaMakeMefication(TM). The Force is strong with them.

Enraged, I start to throw them out one by one.

Me: *picks up Cat A, opens the door and chucks him out*
Cat A: HEY!
Me: *picks up Cat B, opens the door and chucks him out*
Cat A: *dashes in while the door is open*
Cat B: HEY!
Me: ARGH!! *picks up Cat A, opens the door and chucks him out*
Cat B: *dashes in while the door is open*
Cat A: HEY!
Me: @#$)(#*$)(@#!!!!!
Cat C: *chews on my assignment*
Me: STOP THAT!
Cat B: *runs off to scale my curtains while I'm distracted*

The mayhem continues. Somewhere else in the world a squirrel sprouts horns after digesting radioactive substances. A fight breaks out in a bar over a piece of mouldy cheese. People die. These happenings may or may not have any direct correlation with the ongoing chaos in my room. They are, however, completely irrelevant to this story.

Me: STOP IT! GET OUT OF MY ROOM! NOW!!!

The cats respond to my BURNING ANGER(TM) by chasing after invisible cheese.

Me: FINE! FINE, HAVE IT YOUR WAY! I'M LEAVING!

I open the door to leave.

Cat A: *dashes into the room while the door is open*
Me: Yeeeeeaaaaaaaarrrrgggggghhqqprqerouiaogtjlakjgwtfbbq *gets an aneurism*

Conclusion:

Don't fight with cats. You can never win, so why bother?

How To Impress Girls

2005-06-19T18:47:00.000+08:00

~A Galvean Exclusive~

Tired of being a walking girl-repellent? Wanna be popular with the ladies? Then you've come to the riiiiiiiiight place! Sweep girls off their feet with your awesome charm TODAY!

*Warning label: Mild side effects include depression, low self-esteem, insanity, general creepiness and loss of life. Approved by the Health Ministry.*

1. Be Desperate

Girls just loooooooooove desperate guys. In fact, girls love them SO much they instantly play hard to get! And we all know that when a girl plays hard to get, it means she's interested in you, right? RIGHT!

Here's a good example:

Desperate Guy: hi!!!!!!!
Girl: Erm. Hi.
Desperate Guy: do u hav BF?????????
Girl: ...may or may not reply as he or she appears to be offline

SEE? SHE LOVES YOU!

Here's another common example:

Desperate Guy: hi!!!!!!!!
Girl: Erm. Do I know you?
Desperate Guy: lol no
Girl: ...okay...
Desperate Guy: asl
Girl: ...may or may not reply as he or she appears to be offline

Can you feel the love? I SURE CAN!

How about this one:

Desperate Guy: hihi
Girl: Hey
Desperate Guy: u r a girl rite????
Girl: Yeah...
Desperate Guy: wow! were u live????? got foto????? phonne numbr plz!!!11!!1!
Girl: ...may or may not reply as he or she appears to be offline

See? They're totally swept away by your charm! Desperate guys get aaaaaaaall the girls alright. Yeah baby!

2. Be Stupid

Nothing impresses a girl more than the overall stupidity of a guy. Why intimidate a girl with your intelligence when you can wow her with your amazing lack of it? Why engage in boring, intellectual conversations about philosophy, books and politics when you can talk about the awe-inducing mould growing on the soles of your feet?

Example 1:

Girl: Hey, what do you think about cloning?
Stupid Guy: cloning?? wats dat????
Girl: ..Uh... you know.. Dolly? The sheep?
Stupid Guy: ooohhhh i liek sheeep =p
Girl: ....nevermind.
Stupid Guy: eyy wana hear abt diz ting i foun in my nose lol?????
Girl: ...may or may not reply as he or she appears to be offline

Example 2:

Girl: Are you a fan of Roald Dahl?
Stupid Guy: ohhhh yeeaaah he's a good acter lol
Girl: Erm... Okay...
Stupid Guy: i liek his movies hehe
Girl: What about J.R.R. Tolkien?
Stupid Guy: ooooo wuz he on amerrcan idol???? yeah he sings well
Girl: ...may or may not reply as he or she appears to be offline

Example 3:

Girl: Hey, check out this site!
Stupid Guy: heeeeeeyyyyy wat u send me?! itz haccking me!!11!
Girl: It's hacking you? What?
Stupid Guy: id sez i haf 2 dl qicktime plugggin
Girl: Erm. Yeah. You need Quicktime.
Stupid Guy: itz iinstalling sumting on my compp!
Girl: Well, yeah, it's installing Quicktime.
Stupid Guy: omg im getting haccked
Girl: Relax, it's just installing Quicktime. It's not HACKING you.
Stupid Guy: howw 2 mak diz virus stopp?????
Girl: ...may or may not reply as he or she appears to be offline

Stupidity is always a turn on. Oh yeah.

3. Be A Man of Few Words

Girls adore men of few words.

Girl: I watched Star Wars, and it totally sucked.
Man of Few Words: lol
Girl: Ewan McGregor was hot as always, but his acting was mediocre.
Man of Few Words: lol
Girl: Darth Vader's Noooooo was awesome though.
Man of Few Words: LMAO
Girl: Hopefully Charlie and the Chocolate Factory will live up to the hype.
Man of Few Words: yeah
Girl: ...I think you are a dimwitted moron.
Man of Few Words: lol yeah
Girl: ...can't you say anything else?
Man of Few Words: ohh sorry hehe
Girl: ...You suck.
Man of Few Words: lol
Girl: ...may or may not reply as he or she appears to be offline

The Randomest Essay Assignment Ever

2005-06-07T21:42:00.000+08:00

Author's note:

Dear reader,

You are now the unfortunate victim of my really pointless 450 word essay. Bwahahahaha.

This essay was written as a challenge to incorporate all 5 essay title options in one really nonsensical story. Do try and figure out which part corresponds with which -- waste of time guaranteed (or your money back)!

1. A time I surprised myself
2. An incident in which I acted in cowardice
3. A blessing in disguise
4. An unusual experience
5. My life as a ______

Love,
Galvea

P.S. I will not be responsible for any apparent drop in IQ points.

~My Life As A Cowardly Hero~

SCARY DRAGON’S LAIR(TM), said the neon sign overhead.

I took a deep, calming breath before bravely going where no man had ever (voluntarily) gone. It was pitch black in the cave and I wandered about blindly, bumping into things which were not at all bumper-friendly. I was about to let loose a string of choice words from my extensive vocabulary when a sudden flood of light nearly blinded me.

“Aaah!” I screamed, shielding my eyes.

“What are you doing in my broom closet?”

Broom closet? I peeked through my fingers and found that I was, indeed, in a broom closet. I had no idea how I had ended up in a broom closet, but life clearly did not make much sense. I stepped out of it, rather embarrassed.

“Well! I have no idea what you were doing in my broom closet, but let us have tea together,” said the chicken. Yes, chicken.

I stared uncertainly at the talking fowl. “…Are you the Scary Dragon(TM)?” I said finally.

“Why, yes! That would be me!” It straightened up (as much as a chicken could) and looked exceedingly proud of itself. I raised a sceptical brow, but decided not to dwell on the subject any longer. Life did not make sense.

We sat down for tea. I casually brought up the reason for my unannounced visit.

“I’m here to save the Princess.”

The chicken tensed up. “You want to save the Princess?”

“Er. Yes.”

The chicken sprang up in a flurry of feathers, abandoning the task of buttering its toast. I instinctively backed away.

“By all means! Take her away!” It cried. To say I was surprised would be a massive understatement. I had expected a grueling battle to the death. And then some.

As if on cue, said Princess ambled out of some hallway, yawning and looking altogether too relaxed for a (supposed) damsel-in-distress. She cast a haughty glance my way before joining us at the table.

“Who’s this?” demanded the Princess.

“Your knight-in-shining-armour.” I offered.

She gave me a cool “Oh, really?” look before turning to the visibly terrified chicken, who was inching his way under the table in a conspicuously inconspicuous manner. “Where is my Ferrari? You promised me! And I’m going shoe shopping this afternoon.” A pause. “I expect you know what I mean.”

The chicken sighed and handed over its credit card. The Princess, having secured her moolah, got up and ambled away with a satisfied air.

“Take her away! I beg of you!” hissed the chicken once she was out of ear-shot.

I considered my options. Saving the Princess meant having to marry her. I clutched the chicken’s shoulder, looked straight into its eyes and said gravely, “You have my sympathies.”

Then I downed my tea in one gulp, pilfered a piece of toast and made my hasty escape through the broom closet. Sometimes even heroes had to be chickens.

THE END

Yes, that was a waste of 5 minutes of your life. No, I don't do refunds. Have a nice day, bwahahaha.

The Trouble With Being Me

2005-05-20T20:28:00.000+08:00

Yes! Finally a blog update that has something to do with ME!

The Trouble With Having Bad Memory

1) I displayed an astounding amount of idiocy while driving home from college about a week or two ago. I'd jump to my own defense and claim that the fact that my car managed to remain stationary on an uphill slope while waiting for the traffic lights tipped me off, but everytime you lie psychic alien forces destroy a tub of ice-cream, and I damn well want my ice-cream. This is what actually happened.

Me: *lets go of brake*
Car: *remains stationary*
Me: .....Whoa. Neat. *goes back to the intellectually-exhausting task of listening to pop songs*

About 15 minutes later my car started spazzing out on me. I did the rational thing and panicked like a headless chicken. I pulled over and, upon reaching down to pull up my handbrake, realized I had never released it in the first place.

2) A few days after the car incident, I met a girl at the entrance to my college. She was all like, "Oh itz u!!11!!!11" and I was all like, "Heeeeeeeeeey!!!11!1". We had a short, amiable chat about really inane stuff like How-are-you and What-are-you-doing-now and Gee-the-weather-is-nice. Then I had to excuse myself before I ended up being late for class.

I walked away wondering who the heck I had just talked to.

3) During my Music Club meeting last Wednesday, I ran into the same girl again. We went into the whole cycle of inane dialogue again before deciding to exchange our cellphone numbers. I jumped at this opportunity, of course.

Me: YES!! Now I'll use the ol' "How do I spell your name?" trick. I'll prolly remember who she is once I know her name...
Girl: It's _____.
Me: _____?
Girl: Yes, _____.

Note: Name censored due to privacy precautions.

Me: Shit... ______ who?

As of now, I still have no idea who she is.

3) Speaking of bad memory, I'm especially bad at remembering my classmates from my English class. I think it's because they're the only ones I'm supposed to remember. Must be a Freshie bond thing.

The scenario below has happened way too often.

-Group discussion time-

Me: Hi, I'm ______.
Fella A: I'm ______.
Me: Oh, nice to meet you.

We have a jolly good time discussing inane stuff.

-A few hours later in the canteen-

Me: Hi, I'm _______. You are?
Fella A: .....Weren't we in the same group this morning?

Whooops.

The Trouble With Being Partially Deaf

Most of you who know me in real life should know just how deaf I can be sometimes. I don't really have a problem with girls though -- it's usually the guys I have trouble understanding most of the time. Am I missing something? Does everyone else have some sort of Guy-Mumble-o-Filter or something? It's kinda hard to carry a conversation when I have no frickin' idea what you're saying, y'know.

Guy A: I mumble mumble that mumble mumble right?
Me: ....Errr.. yeah!
Guy B: Mumble mumble mumble mumble!
Other girls: HaHAhahaHAHAha!
Me: Huh? Oh.. err.. haha!

Guys, if you're wondering why I seem to keep giving irrelevent answers to your questions...

Guy A: So which do you like better? Cheesecake or grilled frogs?
Me: *hears mumbling end like a question* Oh... yes!

...it's because I can't for the life of me understand you. So now you know.

The Trouble With Being Randomly Insane

How does that song go again? 0/~ Nooooooooooobody understaaaaaaaaands meeeeee 0/~ or something? Or did my delusional, chocolate-deprived mind just make that up? I have no idea.

Group discussion scenario... AGAIN!

Teacher: I want you to do a sketch on _______.
Me: Okay... so what are we gonna do? Any ideas?
Everyone else in my group: ...........
Me: Well I dunno about you guys, but I want lots of explosions and stuff!!
Everyone else in my group: ...........
Me: *wilts under the silence*

I have the strangest feeling that everyone else is taking me waaaaaaaay too seriously....

The Trouble With Looking Sleepy

Today during Maths class one of the girls from my English class (Yes, I remember her) turned around and asked me whether I was a First Semester student. I thought this was a really strange question to ask, since all First Semester students take the same English course and all. It wasn't like she forgot who I was either.

Girl A: Hey, are you a first semester student?
Me: ....Aren't you in my English class?
Girl A: Yeah...
Me: ....Isn't everyone in English class a Freshie?
Girl A: I dunno... you just look really relaxed to me.
Me: Relaxed?
Girl A: Yeah.
Me: I think you mean "sleepy"...
Girl A: Oh yeah, "sleepy". You look sleepy.

So.. sleepy = relaxed?

Half an hour later, the girl sitting beside me asked whether I was a Freshie.

Girl B: Is this your first semester?
Me: ....Yes?
Girl B: 19... 87?
Me: ....Yeah.... why?
Girl B: You don't look like a Freshie...
Me: Yes, I look old for my age.

I would have added "And sleepy too." but our lecturer resumed teaching then. Oh well.

After class, this other girl I didn't really know all that well (she sat in front of me last week and that's about it), walked right up to me and asked me whether I'd like to join her for lunch. I was surprised, but I accepted her invitation anyway.

Girl C: Are you a Freshie?
Me: .....Yes...... What's with everyone today?
Girl C: You look tired.
Me: I am tired. And sleepy too.

This reminds me of what my band senior (and President) used to say about me:

Fellow band member: Hey, how come you only rag on me all the time? You never say anything about her! *points at me*
Band senior: She looks sleepy all the time!
Me: .........

Verdict: A sleepy face is almost as unreadable as a poker face. EXPLOIT IT!

And last but not least...

The Trouble With Ending This Really Pointless Post

Hey, what's that over there?! Haha, fooled you! THE END!

The Randomest Picture Ever Drawn

2005-05-16T00:46:00.000+08:00

(Because A Picture Is Worth 5 Words)

Galvea's Note:

Totally pointless update. Haha.

One day, the princess received an invitation from the girl-phobic prince. Not that she knew he was girl-phobic, of course.

She stared at the flimsy piece of paper. This was what it said in neat, cursive handwriting:

"You have been ~~begrudgingly~~ cordially invited to ~~horrible torture~~ a truce party celebrating ~~my revenge~~ peace and goodwill. Please ~~suffer a gruesome death~~ reply as soon as possible."

She flipped the paper over and was immediately enlightened on what the prince had for dinner last night. The prince, in his haste to have his Most Dastardly Revenge(TM) had scribbled the invitation on his restaurant bill.

Roast chocolate cake
Broiled apple pie
Grilled banana
.
.
.

She decided the information really wasn't worth losing her appetite over.

Picking up a random marker so very conveniently lying around, she grabbed the nearest scrap of paper and scrawled a suitably diplomatic reply.

http://artpad.art.com/gallery/?igjijt1h3b3k

She looked it over once, twice, deemed it satisfactory, congratulated herself for a job well done and then sent it off via FedUP with not-so-innocent glee. She loved sending air mail. She was, after all, the leader of the extremely successful "Think of the animals! Replace homing pigeons with homing missiles!" campaign.

Oh yes. She loved sending air mail indeed.

The Mangrix

2005-04-30T22:44:00.000+08:00

The Matrix Ultra Condensed ~Mangrish Version~

Once upon a time...

Scriptwriter A: Hmm.. we need a good name for him.
Scriptwriter B: Uhhh... how about we make it an anagram of "One"? Since he's like, THE ONE and all.
Scriptwriter A: Splendid idea, mate! It'll be... *short pause* ONE!!
Scriptwriter B: d00d, that's not even an anagram.
Scriptwriter A: Oh. Okay. Erm. Then it'll be... *short pause* NOE!!!
Scriptwriter B: .....I think we better try again.....
Scriptwriter A: Sheesh, okay okay. ENO!!!
Scriptwriter B: .........No.
Scriptwriter A: Good heavens, mate! You are IMPOSSIBLE TO PLEASE!
Scriptwriter B: No, you're just stupid. *writes down the name "Neo"*

~Start of Story~

Neo: I think my life got something wrong loh. But I dunno what wor. These strange people all keep chasing me leh. They all crazy ah?

Morpheus jumps out of a nearby bush.

Morpheus: Boo?!

Neo: Ahhhhh!! Aiseh, you want to gimme heart attack issit?!

Morpheus takes out two pills.

Morpheus: You?! Take red pill or blue pill?!

Neo: What pill what pill? You drug dealer issit? I dun want to buy anything!

Morpheus: RED PILL OR BLUE PILL?!

Neo: Why you so stubborn? What pill is that? You think I stupid ah? After you gimme poison how? Go away! Or not I call the police!

Morpheus: CHOOSE?! DAMMIT?!

Neo: Aiyoh, why you so like that ah? No friends issit? Okay okay, I take one. Got pink one ah? My fa-bo-red colour.

Morpheus: YEEEAAAARGH?!

Morpheus shoves both pills down Neo's throat.

Neo: !!

Neo wakes up in The Real World(TM). He looks around at all the pods using humans as batteries.

Neo: Fooiyoh!

Neo meets up with the rest of the (very much expendable) people. Since most of them are going to die in gruesome ways sooner or later, we won't bother going into the details.

Neo and Trinity have THE TALK at the coffee table.

Trinity: You are THE ONE.

Neo: What one?

Neo reaches for a donut. Trinity slaps his hand away.

Trinity: THE ONE.

Neo: Har? I very blur lah. What one ah?

Trinity: THE ONE, god dammit!! You will save us all from The Matrix!

Neo: May Tricks? Like April Fool issit?

Trinity: No no NO!!! Argh!!!

Neo: You dun explain how I understand? You think I Superman ah? Can read mind issit?

Trinity: Why, god, WHY?!

Neo: You donnow how I know?

Neo goes back to drinking his coffee which tastes like seawater.

Morpheus decides to test whether Neo is truly THE ONE. Neo goes back into the Matrix and is required to jump across an insane gap between 2 buildings.

Morpheus: This is THE Jump?!

Neo: Why you people so funny ah? How come everything also got "THE" in front wan?

Morpheus: Follow me?!

Morpheus jumps across like a 20-ton elephant.

Neo: Fooiyoh! You Superman ah?!

Morpheus: COME?! If you are the one?! You won't?! Fall?!

Neo: You crazy ah?! You want me to die issit?!

Morpheus: If you don't jump?! I will?! KILL YOU?!

Neo: .....yeah coming coming......

Neo attempts The Jump(TM).

Neo: Wahliao! Lei ligo jin yan!! Ngak ngooooooooooooooo----

(Translation: Wahliao! You evil person! Bluff meeeeeeeeeeeee-----)

Neo falls into traffic below.

Morpheus, Trinity and the rest of the Very Expendable People are skeptical about Neo being THE ONE. They pay a visit to the Oracle's apartment.

Neo sees a kid playing with a spork. The kid bends the spork by SHEER WILLPOWER!! ZOMG!

Neo: Fooiyoh! Do again!

Kid: Here, you try it.

Neo gives the spork his most intense glare. Minutes pass. Nothing happens.

Spork: Hahahaha n00b!

Neo: How come?!

Kid: There is no spork.

Neo: Har?

Neo looks at his spork suspiciously. He bangs it on a table a few times.

Neo: You trying to bluff me issit? You think I very stupid issit?! I beat you up kao kao then you know!

Kid: It is not the spork that bends; it is only yourself.

Neo stabs the kid with the spork. The kid runs off crying to the Oracle. Neo goes into the kitchen and finds an 'ah sam' sitting on a chair with one leg up while cutting her nails.

Neo: You the Oracle ah?

Oracle: Yeah? What you want?

Neo: Am I THE ONE?

Oracle: You think I so free ah? Wah, after everybody come ask me questions how?

Neo: You donnow issit?

Oracle: Wahliao, no respect wan you! I don't like you! You not The One! Go home! Shoo!

Neo: Har?

Neo is thrown out by Oracle's tough looking bodyguard.

Lots of things happen. Neo trains. People die. Agent Smith walks around being badass. Backstabbing. Morpheus gets kidnapped by Agent Smith. Trinity and Neo go after them. Cue Lobby Scene.

Neo goes through the metal detector. Metal detector goes off.

Metal detector: Beep beep beep!

Neo: Beep what beep?! Nothing better to do ah?!

Neo kicks the metal detector with RAGE.

Guard on duty: Sorry, but I'd like to check the contents of your coat.

Neo: Okay.

Trinity: Hey, wait--

Neo opens up his coat, displaying his wonderful collection of guns. Beside him, Trinity smacks her forehead at his stupidity.

Guard on duty: ......what the hell?

Trinity smacks Neo around.

Trinity: YOU ARE SO STUPID!!

Neo: Har? He want to see my coat wot!

Trinity: ARGH!! NEVERMIND!!

Neo and Trinity proceed to do some collateral damage to the lobby. They go save Morpheus with a helicopter magically obtained from the Matrix 7-11.

Agent Smith: Mr. Anderson.

Neo: Har? Who are you ah?

Agent Smith: How nice to meet you.

Neo: Nice what nice? You kidnap that Morphy something, you think I friend you ah?

Agent Smith: HUMANS ARE LIKE VIRUSES!

Neo: Har?

Neo shoots Agent Smith. Agent Smith dodges it in bullet-time.

Neo: Fooiyoh!

Agent Smith: YOU PEOPLE DISGUST ME!

Neo: So? You think I like you ah? You think you so pretty issit?

Agent Smith: I--- I HATE YOU PEOPLE!! WAAAAAAHHH!!

Agent Smith runs off crying like a little girl.

Neo: ...Aiseh, what's his problem ah?

Morpheus is saved. Neo is officially THE ONE. Agent Smith is crying somewhere. The world may or may not be a better place. Yay.

To Be Continued...

This Post Has Nothing To Do With Anything

2005-04-26T22:34:00.000+08:00

Except maybe ice-cream. Because we ALL know that ice-cream has something to do with everything.

Today I will talk about the wonders of the word "LOL". It is a truly remarkable word indeed, and can be used for anything and everything. Consider the following (fictitious) conversation:

Dude #1: Heya, how's it going?
Dude #2: LOL itz gud
Dude #1: Good for you then. I had a pretty bad day.
Dude #2: LOL
Dude #1: My car was stolen.
Dude #2: LOL reallly?!!!!!
Dude #1: Yeah. And I was supposed to pick up my girlfriend with it too!
Dude #2: LOL that sucks
Dude #1: Tell me about it. I had to take a cab to her place, and she got really angry because I was late.
Dude #2: d00d datz bad LOL
Dude #1: Yeah... we had an argument. Sad.
Dude #2: LOL
Dude #1: I'm so depressed.
Dude #2: LOL

See how useful it is? LOL!

Here's something else I like. The creativity of typing!

Dude #1: hey how r u??????
Dude #2: hAhA i'M FiNe~~~~~~
Dude #1: datz gud 2 hear!!!!11
Dude #2: yEaH mAn... i SaW dIz rEaLlY kAwAiI cHiC tOdAy
Dude #1: oooooo
Dude #2: i tinK sHe lIkEs mE XD
Dude #1: iz shhe liek hawt???????
Dude #2: d00d aS hAwT aS aSaM lAkSa~~~~
Dude #1: maaaaaan dat hottt i wana c hher 2
Dude #2: lOl~~~~ sHe's mInE kEkEkE
Dude #1: haahahahahahahha roflmao omg lol
Dude #2: hEhE i'M sO cOoOoL~ lOlZ~

Wow, such creativity! Such innovation! Can you feel their passion for typing?! I SURE CAN!!

And now I'll do a complete analysis of it, just because I can!

"hey how r u??????"

Obviously this fellow is in too much of a hurry to use proper capitalizing, but somewhere along the line he realizes his mistake and attempts to remedy it by adding a few more ‘?’s than completely necessary. With all the extra ‘?’s, it is now crystal clear that this is a question, and not a mild, insincere statement, an angry accusation or a dangerous terrorist threat. How considerate of him! Now let’s move on.

"datz gud 2 hear!!!!11"

As we can see, the poor fellow is once again incapable of capitalizing anything, but compensates somewhat by adding all the ‘!’s at the end to emphasize his excitement, lest we overlook it. It should be noted, however, that this fellow here might be suffering from Weak Pinky Syndrome, as shown from the "1"s at the end. However, he exhibits fine language skills by making intelligent abbreviations for words that are obviously too lengthy and time-consuming to write and we must give him credit for that. Such brilliance!

“haahahahahahahha roflmao omg lol”

Can you feel the hilarity of it? I SURE CAN! From the sentence alone we can safely deduce that this person has found something incredibly funny and is now sharing the hilarity of it all with us. One cannot blame him for the overuse of acronyms in his sentence as he is probably doubled over with laughter at the moment and has to type with his nose or perhaps elbows. Laughter makes the world a better place!

"hEhE i'M sO cOoOoL~ lOlZ~"

w00t! Rock on, dude, ROCK ON. Now if only you had a working capslock/shift key...

P.S. If I offended anybody, that's too bad. kEkeKekEkeKe!

The Randomest Poll Ever

2005-04-26T21:41:00.000+08:00

Okay, here's the deal: I have no idea how you guys are taking my crackpot fairytale, so here's a poll for MY benefit. MINE AND MINE ALONE. Muahahahaha.

Please try to answer these questions honestly, or at least not-so-dishonestly. Feed them to Joe, please.

1. Do you like cheesecakes?
2. Is this story better than cheesecakes?

Just kidding. These are the REAL questions:

1. What do you think of the story so far?
a) Where's my crack, dammit?
b) OMG!! Is the Prince, like, gay?!
c) Are you on drugs? Can I have a share?
d) What's the deal with the sea urchin?
e) I would like to send you a bucket of gasoline and a match. Address please.

2. Which character do you like best (and would like to see more of)?
a) The Girl-phobic Prince
b) The War-crazy Princess
c) The Magic The Lots-of-People-Together(TM) King
d) The Marine Royal Advisor
e) I DON'T LIKE ANY OF THEM!!! OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!!!

3. Do you want romance in this story?
a) Yes, PrincexPrincess
b) Yes, KingxRoyal Advisor
c) No, dammit!
d) Only if there are explosions involved.
e) I'd rather die than read a love story by Galvea.

And last but not least...

4. What do you want to see in the next chapters? All suggestions accepted.

Poll will run for as long as I want it to. Nyah.

The Randomest Fairytale Never Told 4

2005-04-25T20:33:00.000+08:00

(Should I Even Bother?)

Galvea's Note:

Yes, I have no life. Muahahahaha.

The Prince, deciding that his plan had to be absolutely flawless, consulted his personal advisor.

"Um. Hey." said the Prince most intelligently. It was a good start.

His Most Trusted and Highly Esteemed Advisor(TM) merely sat in silence.

"I, erm, need your advice."

No response.

"I'm planning something that may or may not be legal." He paused, then quickly added, "It's perfectly justified, of course. Just of dubious legality."

The silence was beginning to unnerve him. Did his advisor know about his plans? Had his intentions been obvious from the very beginning? Could he read minds? Was his secret out?!

Shoot. Better to just get it out and over with. "I..." -- a deep breath -- "IhategirlsandIwantthemtosufferandsuffer" -- another deep breath -- "andsuffersomemoreinreallyhorribleways!!" Pause. "WILL YOU HELP ME PLOT MY MOST EVIL AND DASTARDLY REVENGE?!"

Pause. The Prince thought he heard a reply, got really angry, then realized it was just his loyal subjects practising their colourful vocabulary outside. Not so much as a word from his advisor. Not a syllable.

He was annoyed. How dare his advisor ignore him? He was the Prince, for crying out loud! "Well. If you don't want to help, you could have just said so. I'm sorry I wasted your time and mine. Goodbye."

And with that, he turned on his heels and stormed out.

The sea urchin continued sitting atop its royal cushion, very much at peace with the world. Yes, it was easy being a royal advisor.

To Be Continued...

No! Come back! Come back, my readers!!

The Randomest Fairytale Never Told 3

2005-04-25T17:14:00.000+08:00

(For Really Good Reasons, I'm Sure)

Galvea's note:

No comments?! NONE?! ZERO?! ZIP?! ZILCH?! NADA?! I-- I hate you people!! Waaaaahhh!!

Both countries were, of course, at war with each other. It was a time when everything was at war with something or other, and usually over exasperatingly trivial matters, too. In this case, however, the two countries had been at war for so long, nobody even remembered what they were fighting over in the first place. It wasn't a big deal anyway -- they fired a few cannons at each other around noon, threw some rocks, hurled a few insults, shouted a bit, glared a lot, and then called it a day. Rinse and repeat.

It used to be their daily source of entertainment, but it wasn't nearly as fun now what with most insults having been repeated at least 12091204 times. In fact, it was getting really boring.

And here the Prince thought of the perfect revenge.

He would call a truce. Everyone would be happy. And then he'd throw a party. Everyone would be invited. And then... AND THEN---!!

Things would happen! Really horrible things! He didn't know what they were yet, but it would be... really horrible! Yes! Very!

It was going to be very interesting indeed.

--Elsewhere--

"This is boriiiiiing." The Princess was, as usual, standing at her balcony looking out at her citizens throwing rocks, flinging poo and other such things of questionable decency across the country border. She was really proud of her people. They were so incredibly civilized.

"Daddy, can we please nuke them? Pretty please? It'll be really pretty! There'll be lots of explosions and sparks and... and oh, can we please nuke them? It would go really well with our 4000th celebration of independence next week!"

The King was, at the moment, engrossed in an intellectually rousing game of Magic The Lots-Of-People-Together(TM) with his head advisor. "Darling, we can't do that-- shit! How dare you counter my -- they'd be really -- GAH! -- mad at -- DAMMIT!! GOD DAMMIT!! -- us, you know. We must be civilized -- YOU CHEAT!!! BASTARD!!"

The Princess pouted and draped herself over the balcony railing, sulking at the injustice of the world. Somewhere down below, paparazzi were busy taking photos of her. The next day, the photos appeared under the headline "PRINCESS UPSET OVER STATE OF CONFLICT BETWEEN COUNTRIES" and there was a great deal of misguided admiration for the princess.

The princess, of course, took no heed of it and turned to the page with Calvin and Hobbes instead.

To Be Continued...

Politicians and felines in the next update!

The Randomest Fairytale Never Told 2

2005-04-20T22:19:00.000+08:00

(For Even Better Reasons Than The First One)

Galvea's Note:

Wow, nobody likes characters with proper descriptions and names? I'm so depressed. I think I'll go squat in a corner and start drawing circles with my finger now.

In a neighbouring country 29893029012910 steps away from Princess's castle, there was a prince. He was a TDH, which was the country lingo for Tall, Dark and Handsome (it should be noted, however, that in Princess's country, it stood for Toady and Disgustingly Homeless). He was charming, he was intelligent, he was suave and he was RICH. His fanclub had 2.7 million members and consisted of females, males, and everything else in between. He was just that good.

Unfortunately, the perfect prince had an itsy bitsy teeny weeny flaw.

He had a deathly hatred (and fear, though he would never admit it) for the female half of the world's population.

He absolutely loathed girls, especially the screaming, glomping "OMG-I-love-you-MARRY-ME!!" kind. THEY WERE EVIL. Evil evil EVIL. There was a time when he tolerated them and merely suspected they were retarded (or at least kind of stupid), but after the life scarring event in which he stumbled across the sale of his missing undergarments and half-eaten cheesecake on eee!bay, he was oh-so-definitely-sure all double X chromosome beings were oh-so-definitely-evil.

He wanted revenge.

To Be Continued...

Yes, I have absolutely no idea where this story is going. Ahahaha.

The Randomest Fairytale Never Told

2005-04-14T01:47:00.000+08:00

(And For Good Reason, Too)

Galvea's Note:

Okay, I know a lot of you are very upset with the lack of description (and names) for my characters in Valentine and White Day. To make up for it, here's a brand spanking new story with everything you ever wanted (and didn't).

Once upon a time, there was a princess. A really OMG beautiful princess. She had skin as fair as an albino cheesecake and a tanned complexion as lovely as chilled espresso mocha with sugar (one teaspoon) and cream (two). Her long, beautiful, amazingly straight hair was the talk of several galaxies. It was funeralattire!black, curled like a golliwog's, and was all pretty and shiny and glowed like radioactive substances. She had gorgeous amethyst eyes as green as chocolate chip cookies. When she laughed, her pearly teeth sparkled and when she merely smiled, everyone rejoiced because less people went blind.

Her name... was Princess. With a capital 'P'.

To Be Continued...

Cliffhanger. Or not.

On Dealing with Felines

2005-04-10T01:49:00.000+08:00

So, what do you do when your connection's on the fritz, your d/ls aren't moving and you're bored stiff? Blog about cats, of course! Pass the boredom around, folks!

Anyway, let me start by introducing my extended family.

Fifi: My oldest cat, and quite possibly senile. I'm not sure, and I don't think it warrants an in-depth investigation. Her real name is Jenivea, but it got shortened to Fifi. I know what you're thinking, but Jenivea is a pretty complicated name for a 7 year old, okay? Will be 12 years old this year, has trouble differentiating directions and tends to just stop and sleep whenever she gets tired, which is usually about 5 paces from her cage...

Chan-boy: My second oldest cat, and only about 4 years old. I think he might be sort of.. mentally challenged. Was once a really cute kitten, now looks like the Devil's incarnate. In human standards, I tend to think of him as a really pathetic jobless guy in his thirties still living in his mom's basement and trying to get laid. No, really. He's THE most perverted cat I've ever seen. Hits on all the other cats, regardless of gender or age. I think he's either bi or chronically confused. Also, his real name was Tidus (pronounced Tea-da), which became Tidus-chan, which in turn became Chan-boy. Don't. Ask. I now absolutely refuse to connect him with the main character of FFX.

Kira: The eldest among his siblings. Named after the main character of Gundam SEED because I swear he was the spitting image of him when he was still a kitten. Of course, he looks completely different now, and I'm still wondering HOW that happened. My mom thinks he's ugly, my sis thinks he looks like a monkey, but I think he's pretty good-looking. Of course, this could just be the Kira fangirl in me speaking, but either way I absolutely refuse to equate Kira to an ugly monkey. Enjoys sitting outside my door in the mornings and creating a huge racket till I get up and let him in. After I let him in, he explores my room, sniffs around, and then sits in front of my door creating a huge racket till I kick him out. Usually ends with me throwing him out yelling "What the hell did you want to come in for then?!". Amazingly enough, I still let him in every. single. time. Damn cat just won't shut up if I don't.

Cookie: Younger sibling of Kira's. She has a huge appetite, and eats almost everything and anything. Seems to like refined carbs a lot (read: breads and cookies). Named Cookie because of her mish-mash of cookie colours, but apparently your name can and will influence your character. Mother of 5, and currently pregnant.. again.

Rikku: Youngest sibling. Named after Rikku from FFX, but shares none of her personality traits, as far as I know (which is a good thing). Currently the mother of 4, and seems to have finally snapped from post-natal stress. Goes berserk sometimes, pouncing on air and dashing after invisible mice. I don't blame her -- her kittens aren't exactly angels. Like all mother cats, she enjoys prying open drawers and cupboards and crawling inside. I'm still not sure whether they do that to find suitable places to hide their kittens, or whether they're just trying to hide from their kittens.

Lao Da: Eldest among his siblings, an offspring of Cookie's. His name literally means "eldest among siblings". That was his temporary name when they were still kittens, and we never got around to changing it. Incredibly affectionate and enjoys being cuddled, which is incredibly rare among felines. Readily responds to his name, which is also very rare. I like to think that his affection for us comes from all the milk we fed him when he was still a mere kitten. Honestly, I've never seen a kitten enjoy getting bottlefed as much as he does. Eats everything and anything, even more so than his mother, Cookie. Vegetables, tofu, curry, mee -- EVERYTHING.

Er Bao: Second in line. His name means "second treasure", but can also mean "hungry and then full", which suits him very well. He is quite possibly the FATTEST cat I've ever had. Ever. Incredibly lazy as well. If you see him sleeping on the kitchen floor in the morning, chances are he'll still be there sleeping in the evening. Also seems to be the only cat making full use of the sofas -- all the other cats prefer to sleep on tables or on the floor, which is mildly puzzling. Surely a sofa is much more comfortable than any of those? Felines think in mysterious ways...

Jumbo: Third in line. Used to be twice as large as his siblings, hence his name. I say "used" because we later sent him to a pet shop, which turned out to be A Very Big Mistake. I pestered my mom about it and we brought him back a month later. By then he was half the size of his elder siblings. Still, we kept his name for old times' sake. Now appears to be in good shape, though half of his coat of black fur seems to have turned white, which is very, very odd to look at. I keep having the most bizarre urge to pluck out the white strands of fur, and I did, just once, and was immediately enlightened on what Jumbo thought of that. Moral of the story: Always respect a cat's opinions.

Xiao Bao: Youngest sibling. His name literally means "smallest treasure", and I don't have a witty pun for it, which is a shame. Isn't as affectionate as the others, but enjoys, and I repeat, ENJOYS running across my keyboard at every opportunity. I swear, this cat is deliberately trying to crash my computer or something. He's also very difficult to track during the day. I think there must be some sort of cat pub in my neighbourhood or something, where all my cats hide in when the time comes to put them back in their cages. They then proceed to hang out there and get wasted, only staggering home in the wee hours of the morning to get their fill of cat food and then crash somewhere to sleep. My mom tends to get very disgusted with their behaviour, saying that they treat our house "like a hotel". I'm inclined to agree, but hey, they're cats.

The 4 kittens: The latest addition to the increasingly chaotic feline household. They look like little grey tigers, which is pretty darn adorable. One of them has a really prominent "v" marking on his forehead. I'd call him "Sailor V", but Sailor V's very much female and I don't wanna know how that's gonna mess him up in the future. Best not to go there. They're now at the stage where they keep running around, meowing for no apparent reason and generally just annoying the heck out of me. Whoever invented the Energizer Bunny has evidently never had the pleasure of experiencing 4 hyperactive kittens doing what they do best.

My advice on dealing with felines?

When it comes down to it, the one with retractable claws will always win.

A Galvean White Day

2005-03-15T20:26:00.000+08:00

Whee! Today is... not 14th of March! Because that was yesterday! Nyahahaha!

And you know what that means? It's been exactly a month since Galvean Valentine (15th of February), which means today is.....

GALVEAN WHITE DAY! Whoa, how unexpectedly unexpected! Who would have guessed from the title, huh?

Will there be an actual love story this time? Will the main characters remain inexplicably nameless? Will there be random crazy rapping eskimo ninjas?! HELL YEAH!

~Prologue~

Once upon a time, Galvea wrote a maybe sort-of Valentine crackfic thingy on the 15th of February. This made a lot of people very upset because a) she had gotten the date wrong, b) there wasn't any fluffy waffy romance in it, c) the story made as much sense as a rabbit with a waffle on its head and d) they were convinced Galvea was hoarding crack and not sharing, which was, liek, sooooo selfiish mmmmkay.

Galvea is very pleased and promises that the sequel will follow the time-honoured tradition of being incredibly insipid, inane, and generally just a lot worse than the original.

I'm STILL Gonna Beat the Shit out of You
~A Galvean Sequel~

"What daaaaaaaay is todaaaaaaaay?" sang the Male Lead(TM) while twirling his fork and spoon about like a retarded conductor from hell.

She didn't bother looking up from the horoscope section of her newspaper. "If you don't shut up it'll be your funeral."

"But it's Whiiiiiiiiiiiiite Daaaaaaaaaay!" he whined as he brought his fork and spoon down upon the table with a loud clatter. "White day!" -thump- "White day!" -thump- "White--" -thump- "--DAY!"

The gene pool needs a lifeguard, thought the heroine sullenly as she resisted the urge to stab the moron repeatedly with a butter knife. She tried to focus on her horoscope for the day instead, which, to her suprise, consisted of only one sentence:

"GALVEA HAS PLANS FOR YOU."

She frowned and squinted. There seemed to be a post-script after it, written in ridiculously itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny font.

"P.S. Haha, made you look! Stu-pid!"

She snapped the newspaper shut, ripped it to shreds and stomped on it.

"Muh mwong?" said the Male Lead(TM) in between mouthfuls of bacon and egg.

"Don't talk while you're eati-- WHY ARE YOU EATING MY BREAKFAST?!" she yelled.

He blinked, and carefully swallowed his mouthful. "Because... I'm hungry?"

She was just about to bash him over the head with the breakfast table when the doorbell rang, which was quite the surprise since it had been repeatedly stated in the original that everyone else had, y'know, spontaneously combusted and all. Why she even bothered to have a doorbell installed in the first place was a question she couldn't answer. Either she had been extremely unsober when designing the castle or the aliens did it. Maybe both -- she had vague memories of blue-skinned afro'd aliens arriving at her doorstep with cases of beer.

The doorbell rang again. And again. And again and again and again. And again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and aga--

"STOP THAT!!" She yelled as she flung the door open, effectively crushing one of her visitors flat against the wall. How unfortunate.

There, on the porch of her marvelous interdimensional-time-warping-logic-defying chocolate castle, stood 4 eskimo ninjas. Technically, there was one more behind the door, but she very much doubt he was still fine and dandy and decided that it was only logical not to count him in.

One of the eskimo ninjas stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Are you the heroine of this story?"

She folded her arms and appraised him with a critical eye. He wore shades -- no, all of them wore shades. The ultra uber super cool kind that might self-destruct at any moment. "Will I regret answering that question?"

He ignored her. "We have come," he said in all seriousness, "to rap."

The 4 eskimo ninjas spread out around her. The right arm peeking out from behind the door waved in a sprightly manner and took control of a turntable that had mysteriously appeared out of some absolutely logical place.

"I say a hip hop, the hippie, the hippie to the hip hip hop, a you don't stop the rock it to the bang bang boogie say up jumped the boogie to the rhythm of the boogie, the beat!"

The only double-X chromosome being in this god forsaken story stared agape at the eskimo ninjas rapping, breakdancing and generally just creating a huge racket on her porch. Ignoring the incredibly disturbing disembodied hand thingy controlling the turntables, she concentrated instead on preventing her sanity from packing up and moving to Alaska.

The Male Lead(TM) sauntered up behind her, chewing on the last of her breakfast. "Are those... eskimo ninjas?"

"Yes, I should think so."

"Why are they dancing on your front porch?"

"I, uh, I'm not quite sure about that."

There was a brief pause.

"...What does this have to do with White Day?"

She clutched her head as the beginnings of a migraine pranced it's way from the turntables into her head, thus occupying the space her sanity had just put up for rent. "What does this have to do with ANYTHING?"

"We have finished," the eskimo ninja leader said in all seriousness, "our rap." The hand behind the door gave a thumbs up and fell limp.

"We will now," he continued in all seriousness, "magically disappear in a puff of logic."

And they did. Hands, turntables, shades and all. Unfortunately, the special effects department was rather lacking in funds, and thus could not come up with the huge explosions, great balls of fire and Dolby Surround Sound to go with the scene. Instead, badly disguised set ninjas ran about throwing Invisibility Cloaks over all the stuff that had to be gone.

"...This is hands down the most pointless White Day crackfic ever."

"I agree."

"I didn't even do anything this time around!"

"Oh. Well shucks to you then. I got to eat breakfast."

"My breakfast, you mean. First you eat my castle, then you eat my breakfast. I'm starting to see a trend here."

There was an awkward moment as the heroine chewed on her bottom lip, glaring and seething at no one in particular. In one of his incredibly rare moments of Good Thinking, the Male Lead(TM) wisely deduced this was A Potentially Bad Moment and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. It only made him conspicuously inconspicuous, of course, but let's just give the poor boy some credit here.

"You know, you're actually not a bad person." She paused. "Just really stupid. And moronic. And completely unreliable. Which makes you a really, frickin' annoying guy."

He wasn't sure where this was going, but it didn't look good.

"Plus," she narrowed her eyes, "you seem to have some sort of innate talent at making life ridiculously difficult for me."

Uh-oh, he thought.

And that was how our heroine beat the living daylights out of our Male Lead(TM). Again. Needless to say, Logic is still hanging out with hot babes and sipping cocktail on the sparkling beaches of Hawaii, which probably explains the complete lack of sense in this sorry excuse of a sequel.

~THE END~

Wooo. Still no sign of any fluffy waffy romance on the horizon. But I did promise you random crazy rapping eskimo ninjas, and well, you got 'em. Be grateful, you ingrate.

Advice for writers:

It is generally not a good idea to come up with a story at 2am in the morning. It is also not a good idea to write when you're hungry -- you won't believe the crap you can come up with. I should know. I just wrote a few pages worth of it. You should know too, since you must've read all of it if you're reading this right now.

Remember kids -- unless someone eats your chocolate castle and steals your breakfast, violence is NEVER the answer!

How to Challenge Fate

2005-03-11T19:55:00.000+08:00

Sick of life throwing lemons at you? Tired of having to make lemon juice out of the damn lemons? Then you've come to the riiiiiiiight place! Because, c'mon, who drinks lemon juice anyway?!

How to Challenge Fate
~A Galveanstyle Exclusive~

1. The first thing you should do upon waking up is to fling open your bedroom window* and shout "TO HELL WITH YOU, FATE!!!" while shaking your fist at the world. Should it start to feel repetitive, exercise your creativity -- any variations involving the word "screw", "damn" and other such lovely four letter words are very much encouraged. Be sure to shout, yell and holler; being civil with Fate will not do at all. RAGE AGAINST FATE!!! RAWR!!!

*If you do not have a bedroom window, it is a sign that somewhere out there, Fate is having fun taking the mickey out of you while sipping champagne in a massage parlour. Run, don't walk, to the nearest available chainsaw and CREATE A BEDROOM WINDOW RIGHT NOW. Nevermind that your bedroom is right smack in the middle of the house and a window would mean having a view of the shared bathroom -- EVERYONE likes a big gaping hole in the wall!

2. If, upon looking into the mirror, you see Medusa looking right back at you, DO NOT PANIC! It's probably just yourself*. Don't waste any time trying to figure out how you've just turned into an ogre overnight, because there is now a 95% chance that today is A Very Important Day -- you're scheduled for a meeting with an important client, you're holding a press conference, you're going for a date with that hot hunk/babe/person of indeterminate gender you met yesterday, etc etc. Should it turn out that nothing of the sort is scheduled for today, don't worry, the ever sinister Fate will take care of that. Expect to run into random hot hunks today or emerge as a shining hero/really evil person/big meanie/total retard/asylum escapist on the evening news. In any case, there is nothing you can do to stop The Medusa Effect. No amount of makeup or hairbrushing is going to make you look remotely human again. RAGE AGAINST FATE!!! The best thing to do is to COSPLAY AS MEDUSA**. Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it!

*In the exceptionally rare case of having a real Medusa lurking in your mirror, it is generally agreed that the best course of action would be to panic, scream, panic some more, and then chuck your mirror out of your bedroom window. See, this is why you absolutely need a bedroom window!

**If, by any chance, cosplaying as Medusa is a complete impossibility, consider the following alternatives:

a) Wear a (fashionable) paper bag over your head. Be sure to give out the impression that what you're doing is a very, very serious and significant matter. If someone giggles or right-out laughs in your face, grab him by the shoulder (don't let him escape!) and say, in a very sombre tone: "You think this is funny? Did you know that 318 years ago, on this very day, thousands of people in my native country -- Slatqweikasdjei'dsa -- were slaughtered for wearing a paper bag over their heads? The great war, Teiuiwlajs, was initiated by our leader, Piuejalkgj on that day against the Woeirklas clan..." etc etc. Continue in this manner until you've completely lost him. Alternatively, if you're not in the mood for talking, drag him into a secluded corner, pull a paper bag (an unfashionable one) over his head and then punch the living crap out of him. All in a day's work against Fate.

b) Call up your work place or whoever you're supposed to meet today, tell them terrorists have just kidnapped your family/pets/neighbours/garden plants and no, you don't think you'll be going anywhere today. Hang up, eat some chocolate ice-cream, and go back to bed. Fate - 0, You - 1.

3. You head to your kitchen for some breakfast, but you've run out of your favourite food! AAAAAHHHHHH!!!! There's some lemon juice and leftover fruit cake from either last Christmas or last last Christmas or the Christmas you were born (you can never remember), but who the hell eats those?! RAGE AGAINST FATE!! Destroy all un-delicious and un-tasty food in sight and go to the nearest McD's/Pizza Hut/KFC/Really-Classy-Restaurant-That-Costs-A-Bomb-But-It's-Okay-Since-You're-Using-Your-Mom's-Credit-Card. Once there, consume everything that looks remotely edible. Eat your heart out, Fate!

4. You're surfing the net, killing random people online while reading the Almighty Galveanstyle, and BAM! Someone comes along and tells you to stop wasting your time and go study/work/kidnap garden plants/do something productive because tests are coming/your wallet's getting tight/you're not pulling your weight in the garden plant smuggling syndicate/"I say so!". RAGE AGAINST FATE!! Now, this one is really tricky, so pay attention. Ready? You sure? Okay. Don't do whatever they tell you to do. They want you to study? PLAY SOME MORE GAMES! They want you to work? GO WATCH A MOVIE! They want you to kidnap garden plants? SET UP A GARDEN PLANT ADOPTION CENTRE! They want you to do something productive? READ GALVEANSTYLE*!

*It is generally agreed by Really Influential People worldwide that Galveanstyle is the epitome of Unproductivity. Galveanstyle is not amused, and has repeatedly and very annoyingly persisted in appealing to be considered as the epitome of Random Insanity instead. As of today, the battle between G-Style and RIP is still ongoing.

5. If, while drinking from a glass and contemplating the eccentricities of life, you realize that the glass is now either half full or half empty, RAGE AGAINST FATE!! Break that stupid glass and go drink from a water fountain, which can never be a) half full, b) half empty, or c) remotely tasty.

In short, if things are not going well for you, make sure you're not going well for them things either.* If life throws you lemons, pick 'em up and trade them with a passing fool for a watermelon. Watermelon juice >>>>> Lemon juice. RAGE AGAINST FATE!!

*This sentence may or may not make sense, depending on whether the glass is half full or half empty.

No Better Company Than My Own

2005-02-23T04:04:00.000+08:00

Hmm. Sounds like something a salesman/CEO/delusional worker would say, doesn't it?

Anyway. What I'm trying to say is, I'm my own best friend. No shit.

What, you want evidence? You want proof?! YOU WANT ME TO PROVE IT TO YOU?! FINE, I WILL!! AND... AND I'LL LOOK REALLY PISSED OFF WHILE DOING IT, TOO!! AND I'LL POUT!! AND GLARE!! LIKE SO!!

Proof that I am my own best friend:

1) I never disagree with myself.
Isn't that wonderful? Just think! Someone who will always share your opinion and views on everything! What can possibly be better?

2) I never quarrel with myself.
This is, of course, extremely logical following the reasons stated in 1). If you haven't read it, then there is something very wrong with your reading method. Or your way of counting. Or maybe both.

3) I'm always there for myself.
It's so amazingly amazing, I'm still trying to believe it. Whenever I need a friend to talk things over with, lo and behold, I'm already there! Which, of course, brings us to...

4) We spend every waking moment together.
It's like being conjoined twins, except without being conjoined! Or being twins! How cool is that?!

5) I don't ever need to worry about my feelings.
Let's face it, the problem with friends is that you must always be careful not to hurt his or her feelings. Otherwise you wouldn't be a very good friend, would you? Telling a friend you think his/her shoes are ugly is a no-no. Throwing a friend out the window because he/she thinks your shoes are ugly is an even bigger no-no. Telling a friend his/her shoes are ugly and then throwing him/her out the window is a TOTAL no-no. Don't even think about it. Fortunately, I don't have to worry about stuff like that with myself, since I wouldn't ever voluntarily throw myself out the window without good reason. That and the fact that I know exactly what she's thinking. All the time. I'm psychic, oh yeah.

6) I can buy her birthday presents I want and then own it.
Have you ever found yourself in the Friend's Birthday Dilemma(TM)? It's a pain in the ass, innit? You have absolutely NO idea what to get your friend for his/her birthday, since all you can be 100% sure of is what YOU'd want to receive for your birthday. Then you proceed to suffer a mental breakdown as the dreaded day looms ever nearer, and finally, FINALLY, you can't stand it anymore and proceed to the nearest Generic Giftstore #20938091 and buy Generic Gift #2303810921, which your friend will no doubt be very happy to receive, put it somewhere safe and promptly forget all about it. Said Generic Gift will then immediately be transported into a parallel dimension where all forgotten gifts eventually end up and start plotting their Dastardly Revenge Against Mankind. But I digress. The point here is that I am free to buy any birthday present for myself, since I'd be sure to like it anyway (see #1 and #5). Not only that, I can treat the birthday present as my own, and I wouldn't even mind! Isn't that the bestest best thing ever?!

7) I never fail to amuse myself.
And I do a darn good job at it too. I have recently made the startling discovery that if I draw/write/create/do something, I will always, always be surprised with the results. I can write a silly essay today, come back tomorrow to read it and laugh as though I wasn't the one writing it the day before (which, technically speaking, I wasn't. But I did). I can draw something today, come back half and hour later and think, "OMG! I drew that?!". With me around, I'm never bored. Like this blog, which I constantly use to entertain myself. What, you think I wrote it for you? How narcissistic can you get?!

There you have it. 7 good reasons why there is no better company than my own. But why stop at 7, you say? Why not 10? Why such an odd number? Oh, there's a perfectly good explanation for it, alright.

But I'm not gonna tell you, 'cuz you're not my best friend. So there.

Here's a question for myself, should I be reading this: Why is the moon made out of cheese?

A Galvean Valentine

2005-02-15T01:48:00.000+08:00

Whee. I know, I know, Valentine's Day is over. But Galvea's Law defies everything, and thus Valentine's Day is whichever day I say it is.

I was going to draw a short, fluffy Shoujo-y manga for the occasion, but an alien mothership appeared and started a pizza party in my backyard. Then the FBI came over and ate my manga. With Tobasco sauce. Bastards!

So! In order to compensate for the loss of said manga, I shall now present you a short, fluffy Shoujo-y Valentine's Day story instead. It's titled "I'm Gonna Beat the Shit out of You". Just looking at the title makes me feel all warm and fuzzy-feely inside. Say it with me now: Awwwwwwwww~

I'm Gonna Beat the Shit out of You
~A Galvean Love Story~

Once upon a time, in a place utterly insignificant to this story, a not-so-ordinary girl lived with her very ordinary and therefore very unimportant parents/grandparents/family/relatives/random people/whatever. Since all of them except said girl were a) exceptionally ugly and b) had nothing to do with the plot whatsoever, they were therefore c) Very Much Expendable and were inexplicably killed off by some random
Plot Device or another. It was all very sad and tragic. Sniff.

Anyway. It took the not-so-ordinary girl all of 2 weeks to realize that everyone else had spontaneously combusted because frankly, she a) didn't care all that much about them and b) they were really annoying to begin with. She mourned over the sudden loss of people to boss
around for a good 2 minutes before selling whatever stuff she inherited (which was everything) on eee!Bay for a tidy sum. Then she lived happily ever after in a chocolate castle she built for herself on a beautiful island with blue, transparent beaches and white, sandy waters. Or something. Whatever.

But alas! Fate had other plans in store for the main character of our crackpot Valentine maybe-love story thingy.

Which was exactly why she woke up one bright and sunny morning to find herself violently thrown off her bed and her lovely logic-defying chocolate castle shaking and swaying and other such nausea-inducing motions starting with the letter "s". Being the exceptionally bright and
cheerful girl she most definitely wasn't, she immediately got to her hands and feet and started crawling towards her window, cursing in incoherent Spanish all the way. She had no idea what she was saying, of course, but she didn't care. She was the sort of person who enjoyed spouting random words that had no meaning but sounded bad. It made her feel better.

She reached her bedroom window and, gripping the window sill, hauled herself upright on her knees. By this time the castle was swaying so badly the only thing keeping it together was the awesome magical powers of Plot Device #20938021. She poked her head out the window and instinctively flicked Dead Bird #20981 off the crumbly window sill without a second thought. It was completely beyond her why birds kept coming to gorge themselves to death on the chocolate window sill. Damn birds never learn.

A violent jolt through the castle almost sent her flying right out the window and into her untimely demise, but then the story would have to end due to the sudden lack of a main character and that would be, well, really stupid and pointless. So by the mystical powers of Author Will she latched onto the window frame in time to save this sorry excuse of a Valentine fic and also spot the cause of all her troubles.

There was a guy. Eating her castle. Of all the nerve.

"Hey! HEY! HEY YOU!!" She hollered, leaning precariously out the window with all the elegance of a pissed off mad(wo)man about to leap out and strangle somebody. The guy was either a) insane, b) retarded, or, god forbid, c) insane AND retarded. She didn't like any of the
options, but c) meant that somebody was going to die a horrible death and that would be SUCH a hassle. Not to mention there wouldn't be anyone to clean up the mess afterwards since everyone, y'know, spontaneously combusted and all.

Fortunately for her, whatever the guy was, he wasn't deaf. He stopped chomping on a once-exquisitely-carved-but-now-horribly-and-unartistically-mangled pillar to look up at her, squinting against the offensively dazzling morning sun. She sighed, staring at the pillar with
much grief. It was like having a Michelangelo turn into a bad Picasso. Or something.

She sucked in a deep breath, closed her eyes and counted to ten. Then she opened her eyes to find that the chocolate-castle-eating-fiend had not spontaneously combusted as she had hoped and was in fact still standing there like her worst nightmare. She cursed under her breath. Damn these non-expendable male leads.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING EATING MY CASTLE?!" She yelled at him. Then, feeling that the outburst didn't quite do her Burning Anger(TM) justice, she shook her fist at him in a manner no decent lady would ever do.

He blinked like an oblivious chocolate-castle-eating-idiot. "You are a princess, are you not?"

For a moment there was nothing but silence. Crickets started chirping, but were immediately run over by a random speeding tumbleweed rolling along at 240km/h from... an absolutely logical place... on a tropical island. Either way, it wasn't important to the story, so it
disappeared off into some other equally logical place to increase its roadkill count.

She knew it. She knew it was coming all along. And here it was. No, not the tumbleweed. The Obligatory Male Lead in a Love Story(TM). She cast her eyes heavenwards and wondered, God, what have I ever done to you?

She stared at the Male Lead(TM) below her and gave a defeated sigh. "If I tell you to go away, will you go away?"

He frowned and rubbed the back of his head uncertainly. "Uh... I'm supposed to rescue the princess and live happily ever after with her."

She gritted her teeth. "Unfortunately, that isn't possible since I am NOT a princess."

"But isn't this a castle?"

"Yeah, before you FRICKIN' ATE IT."

He started fidgeting. "But... but... I thought..."

She cut him off. "Why the hell did you eat my castle?"

He tugged at his collar, looking very embarrased. "...I didn't know how to get in..."

She narrowed her eyes. "Somewhere sometime some guy invented something called a DOOR."
She paused. "Assuming that you haven't destroyed it, of course."

By now he was looking extremely uncomfortable. He squirmed under her gaze, suddenly finding the grass under his feet very interesting to look at.

"So... you don't need to be rescued?"

She gave him one of her forced grins. The kind that said I-so-wanna-bash-your-face-in. "From you, maybe."

"So... I shouldn't eat the castle?"

"No." She answered flatly.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Very."

"You don't want me here?"

"Yes." She said, resisting the urge to jump down and beat the crap out of the moron.

"Are you sur--" He began.

"YES."

"Don't you want--" He gestured helplessly.

"NO."

"I..." His shoulders slumped in defeat. "What should I do now?"

"You want my suggestion? Roll over and die."

He sat down cross-legged on the chocolate-coated lawn with a heavy sigh. "I can't do that! I'm the Male Lead(TM)!" He clutched his head and tugged his hair in an exasperated manner. "Dammit!"

She cracked her knuckles slowly and deliberately. Her mouth curved into an Evil Smirk(TM). "Wrong answer."

And that was how our heroine beat the living daylights out of our Male Lead(TM). Needless to say, he was eventually forced to rebuild her chocolate castle into some sort of psuedo-time-space-interdimensional-warping-castle which created so many paradoxes Logic finally surrendered and retired to a peaceful, idyllic life in Hawaii.

~THE END~

Ahahahaha. Nothing happened between the guy and the girl (both of which were inexplicably nameless throughout the fic). Wasn't that the best Valentine story you ever read? Don't you feel all warm and fuzzy-feely inside now?

The sequel (if there ever is one) will, of course, be titled "I'm STILL Gonna Beat the Shit out of You". Maybe there'll be a love story in that one. But I wouldn't bet my lunch money on it. There's a higher chance of there being crazy psychotic rapping eskimo ninjas than there being any semblance of *gasp* an actual love story. Or plot, for that matter.

Don't Fall For My Chatbox, Please

2005-02-07T21:40:00.000+08:00

Dear Loyal Reader/Asylum Escapist/Random Passerby/Confused Victim:

As you must have noticed by now, a new chatbox has just taken up residence in my sidebar. It turned up on my doorstep one day, starving, wet, and running from -- in no particular order -- underground mafia, the police, FBI, marine conservationists, Scotland Yard, UN forces, treehuggers and door-to-door salesmen. Being the Very Good Person I am, I took it in with open arms and fed it some soup. Then I enslaved it on my site, where it is now doomed to a miserable life of taking whatever well-deserved praises/questionable insults/wrongly-directed flames/unjustified demands you have for me and eating it.

Please note that the aforementioned chatbox, which I hereby dub "Joe the Unfortunate Chatbox Enslaved On My Site For All Eternity" (or "Joe" for short), takes to strangers quite well despite its shady past. It will not, in any way, bite or attempt to eat you. It will, however, jump out at you and poke your eyes out with a spork should you stare at it for long periods of time without any intention of feeding it.

P.S. Despite it's name, Joe is not male. Or female, for that matter. I have no idea what gender it is. You may ask him/her/it, but I will not be responsible for any damages incurred.

Joe's Owner,
Galvea

Blades are good for socializing

2005-01-28T22:33:00.000+08:00

Yes, it’s absolutely true.

I know what you’re thinking now. You think I’m so completely out of my mind I must be going through an Out of Body Experience. You think I’ve finally gone conkers, over the edge, snapped like a twig. You’re shaking your head and calling up the police and the nice people in white to come take me away to tea. You think I am a hazard to mankind and should be stopped before kids start brandishing swords and going “Yarrr!!!” at strangers. You're also marvelling at my amazing psychic powers right about now.

But hold that thought! No, no, don’t let go, hold it for a little while longer, yes, yes, that’s right, good, keep at it— I meant rollerblades. No, really, I did.

Bold + Italic = t3h sexy.

As I was saying, blades = t3h ultimate socializing tool. People are infinitely friendlier towards someone flailing his or her arms about like a complete dolt. A dolt on wheels, no less. They look at me and — feeling completely unthreatened by a fool who can’t even stand straight and/or turn a bend without crashing into the railing or bushes — generously dispense their intelligent views and expert analysis on the sport. They tell me to not fall on my face, as though I believe it to be the holy pinnacle of skating. Then, amazingly enough, they tell me to not be afraid to fall on my face. Such wisdom! Had they not contribute such intelligent words, I would never have realized that it is, in all actuality, not alright to fall on my face.

And that, my dear readers, was why I spent the rest of my rollerblading session thinking up a million different scenarios that may or may not lead to me falling on my face. Encouraging thoughts indeed.

All sarcasm aside though, rollerblading is very fun. I still can’t get past my fear of falling though, even when decked out in full armour. I can’t explain it, but whenever I strap on my wrist/knee/elbow pads, I keep having the most inexplicable urge to go attack a castle at night armed with only a spear. I have yet to do so, however, because of the simple fact that I do not know of any fortresses in my immediate vicinity. That and the fact that I do not actually have a spear in my possession, despite what some badly injured and/or seriously maimed people might tell you. No, really.

The park near my house is a pretty good place to train. By that I mean there is a short stretch of jogging trail there I can use to pathetically inch my way along while clinging onto the rail as though my life depended on it. I could skate the whole jogging trail, but as of now my skillz ain’t 1337 enough for me to be absolutely sure I won’t skate right into the huge ass lake smack dab in the middle of the park and drown. That’s, like, kind of hard to do, considering I can’t even turn bends. Or brake, for that matter.

Kids are easily amused. Lots of ‘em seem to enjoy watching my pathetic attempt at skating even though it isn’t remotely a) cool and/or b) amusing. It is actually c) highly boring. I suspect it must be quite irritating to watch, actually. I’d be quite annoyed too if I saw some skater inch along like a terrified snail when I was actually expecting him/her to bust out some 1337 jumps, twirls and skate-fu. I dunno how many kids I’ve disappointed, but hell, I can’t do nothin’ bout it, kiddo. Maybe I should stick a sign on my back, something along the lines of “Move along now, nothing to see” or “I am NOT going to cartwheel”. Or better yet, just stick a huge “L” license sticker on my back. Then again, I don’t think the kids will understand, being the cute yet utterly mindless kids they are. But it doesn’t matter, ‘cuz whenever the friendly neighbourhood ice-cream man rolls along they conveniently forget about the completely un1337 skater and flock to him like a mob of ice-cream depraved children before you can even say “OMGWTFBBQ!!!”.

Ice-cream is indeed the solution to all of life’s problems. Do not question the power of ice-cream!!

The moral of the story is:
A random mindless blog about rollerblading may or may not end with the word “ice-cream”, depending on the weather, the alignment of the planet Sedna and/or psychic alien forces.

Remember kids, blades are good for socializing! Ice-cream!

Alive, kickin' and turnin' 18

2005-01-04T23:48:00.000+08:00

Sorry folks, I ain't dead yet.

That's right, I'll be turning 18 the minute January the 5th rolls along this side of the planet. And that's, oh, in a few minutes time.

Words cannot express the love I feel for my timezone.

Funny how I can't seem to write anything about my turning 18. I guess it's totally special and yet, at the same time, totally not.

Here I am, counting down the minutes to my birthday, and BAM! I'm suddenly overwhelmed by all the things I haven't done and want to do. Dreams I want to achieve, places I want to go, people I want to meet and things I want to see. There's too much of life I've yet to experience, y'know?

I guess I kind of understand why most games have 17-18 year old heroes now. 18 is the age where you feel like going out there and changing the world.

Well, this is my story. I'm sure it'll be a good one.

Galvea, over and out.

The Ultimate Galvean Guide

2004-11-23T22:11:00.000+08:00

Entry: Galvea, Page: 1983706293809814589302

At the beginning Galvea was created.

This made a lot of people very confused and has been widely regarded as an alien conspiracy.

The End

See also:

Galvean Style (page 1983706293809814589303)
Chaos (page 2987964930348493023)
Insanity (page 10983487015871089731)
Randomity (page 1239875890172387152)
Random Insanity (page 123897562285958692)
The Galvean Incident (syn. "Big Bang") (page 1)

References:

Life, the Universe and Galvea by Someonewhoisn'tGalveanoreally

Copyright (c) The Ultimate Galvean Guide. All Rights Reserved. No part of this article should be reproduced and/or jumped upon without prior permission.

My anime is living my life

2004-11-23T21:39:00.000+08:00

No, seriously.

I checked my HD space today and had a what I suppose should be defined as "WTF mate?" moment. 2 gigs left. Out of 80.

Aaaahhhh!!!

I'd have written a longer and more detailed scream, but they say less is more. According to that logic the scream above is therefore a really long and detailed one. Use your imagination.

You know that really trippy theory about life? That one old geezer, Confu(sed)cius or something or other. He dreamt about being a butterfly, and then woke up and wondered whether he was perhaps just a butterfly dreaming about being some old confused geezer. Trippy.

Since I do not know the actual name of that theory, I hereby dub it The Really Trippy Butterfly Dream Theory. Or TRTBDT if you prefer.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, I have the eerie feeling that is exactly what's happening to me. No, I'm not dreaming about butterflies or turning into some old confused geezer (that will happen eventually; no rush). I'm talking about anime. No, wait, listen dammit. I swear I haven't gone completely nuts... yet.

You know how I'm always going on about anime being my life?

What if, like, my anime is actually LIVING my life? OMGWTFBBQ!!!!!!111!!11!!

Have I completely lost you yet? No? Yes? Not sure? Whatever the answer, you'll have to keep reading or I swear I will infiltrate your house, tear your pillow into itty-bitty pieces and JUMP on it. Yes, I'll JUMP ON IT SO BAD IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY. Mwehehehehehehehe!!

Where was I?

Ah yes. Okay, just work with me here. Anime = my life. Therefore, my life = anime. With me so far? Good.

Now... that's just things from MY perspective. Let's try thinking about it from the OTHER side.

Me:
Anime = Life
Life = Anime

Anime:
Me = Life
Life = Me

Get what I'm trying to say here? What if, just like how I think anime is my life, they think I'm theirs? What if they're living their lives through ME? What if I'm just something my anime dreamt up? What if I'm just dreaming that my anime dreamt me up? What if my anime is dreaming that I'm dreaming that my anime dreamt me up?!

Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!! IT BOGGLES THE MIND!!!!!!!!!!

No, I am not high on controlled substances and even if I am, you are not getting a share. Now if you'll excuse me I have to catch that pesky piece of cheese running in circles around me.

Posts of Mass Randomation

2004-11-18T21:50:00.000+08:00

I'm not dead. Infiinfiinfiinfiinfiinfi!!

Yes, that's a maniacal laugh you just read there. Now here comes the million dollar question, so listen closely folks!! Is it:

a) Infi-infi-infi-infi-infi-infi!!

or

b) I-nfi-i-nfi-i-nfi-i-nfi-i-nfi-i-nfi!! (Don't even ask how to pronounce this)

or

c) Inf-iinf-iinf-iinf-iinf-iinf-i!!

or

d) In-fiin-fiin-fiin-fiin-fiin-fi!!

or

e) "OMG j00 are a major retard!!!111!!11!!!!"?

So, which is it? Which will you choose? Well? WELL? WELL?!?!?!?!?!

CHOOSE, DAMMIT!!!!

What's that? *insert your choice here* you say? Is that your final answer? HUH? HUH?!

...

......

..............

.....................

.............................

CONGRATULATIONS!!! You have been awarded the Random (and totally pointless) Suspense of the Day!! j00 are t3h win lol!!

Yes, this has been a complete waste of your time and no, I am not at all sorry about that. You weren't expecting anything else, were you? If you did, read (1). If you didn't, read (2). If you're undecided, toss a dice and go play frisbee with yourself.

(1) You are a git. Therefore the answer is (e).

(2) You are a smart git. The correct answer is (d).

No, you can't have both (1) and (2) dammit. Stop being so greedy.

The Pearl aka Coyotito's Random Death

2004-11-10T21:21:00.000+08:00

The Pearl pisses me off. Kino is a fool. Juana should file for divorce. Coyotito should have avoided the bullet Matrix-style.

The Pearl is an ill-disguised musical, for crying out loud. Juana's always singing, and whenever The Pearl gets some screen-time Linkin Park plays in the background. I have a feeling The Pearl is some sort of alien radio-device. That would explain why Kino keeps hearing "The Song of Evil" or something along those lines.

Verdict: The Pearl Live-action = Bollywood film. The Pearl Animated = Disney Film. Juana = Julie Andrews.

Kino turns evil because of all the evil, evil songs he keeps hearing. Coincidence? I think not. Brainwash? Probably. ALIEN CONSPIRACY? Hell yes!

Verdict: T3h Evil Song of the Pearl contains Satanic subliminal messages.

Also, Juana's been drugging them corn-cakes. I just know it. Why do you think Kino keeps eating them, huh? He's addicted to it, that's why!

Verdict: Kino is a Corn-cake Addict. 'Nuff said.

The dog. What's up with the dog? He appears in the first chapter, acts like a dog (in other words, nothing important happens) and then disappears after that. What the hell's up with that?! Is he supposed to be some sort of deep, symbological character? Or - gasp!! - is he an alien spy, sent to check on the Alien-Pearl-Radio?! OR MAYBE HE'S T3H EVIL MASTERMIND BEHIND ALL THE PEARL STEALINGS!!! AAAAAAHHHH!!!!

Verdict: The dog is evil. Random, but evil.

Coyotito suffers a random death. Of course, everyone should have seen that coming. Rule #193: If you're a side character and nearly died'd, you will die later because literature needs Irony. Rule #208: If you're a side character without any lines whatsoever, you will most certainly die because you need to contribute something to the story.

Verdict: Had Coyotito watched The Matrix, he would have been able to dodge the bullet and then proceed to kick some Tracker ass with his 1337 Gun-Fu moves. Then he'd make a speech, something along the lines of "lol PWNED" and then walk off into the sunset all bad-ass like. Unfortunately, that didn't happen because he didn't even dodge the bullet in the first place and DIED'D. lol PWNED!!

The Pearl is too long for its own good. Watch me write the whole story in a few simple sentences!

Juana: The Pearl is evil!!
Kino: No it's not!!! You're just saying that!
Juana: IS TOO!
Kino: IS NOT!
Juana: IS TOO!
Kino: IS NOT!
Coyotito: Erm.. guys?
Juana: IS TOO!
Kino: IS NOT!
Juana: IS TOO!
Kino: IS NOT!
Coyotito: People.....
Juana: IS TOO!
Kino: IS NOT!
Coyotito: A little help here...
Juana: IS TOO!!!
Kino: IS NOT!!!
Coyotito: Cheezus, these people are impossible.
Juana: IS TOO!!!111!!!SHIFT+ONE
Kino: IS NOT!!!!1!!!1!!!!!111SHIFT+ONEHUNDREDANDONE
Coyotito: Oh, now I'm dead. Thanks a lot.
Pearl: (plays angsty Linkin Park music)

In Conclusion:
Someone needs to pay me to write deep, interesting novels for future Literature study.

T3h Random Random-y Random-er Random-est Randomness!

2004-11-10T20:33:00.000+08:00

Random post of the day! Wheeee!

First half of SPM is over. English was pathetically easy, but I do hope the examiner for 1119 has some sense of humour. Then again, most of the examiners are probably old coots in need of sarcasm-detectors.

If I get anything less than a 2A for 1119, I shall be very, very offended. I might go burn buildings and stuff.

History was.... erm. Yes, that's the word: erm. Everyone repeat after me: ERM~. It means "I'm not sure how well I did", "Boy, that was a strange paper", "What am I supposed to do with my History books now?!" and "I wonder what the meaning of life is". Yep, that about sums it up.

Next up: Relaxation and The Art of Slacking. 1As for those, alright.

And life goes on

2004-11-09T21:27:00.000+08:00

Yes, I've deleted the previous two posts.

I wasn't thinking clearly when I wrote it. Yes, it hurts, but nothing's going to change no matter what I do. And although it feels better to let my feelings out, in the end it'll just be nothing more than a painful reminder. And the pain will never go away.

I don't want to force my sorrows on someone else. It isn't fair to you, and it isn't healthy for relationships either. I don't want people to come up to me and say empty words of consolation. I don't want people to avoid me because they don't know what to say. I don't want to face people trying to offer me their sympathy because I wouldn't know how to respond.

In short, I'm sorry if I've depressed anyone. Life goes on, and although I don't want to forget, I won't run away from what I have here and now either.

This is so not Galvean Style.

The horror continues

2004-11-05T15:55:00.000+08:00

Muhahahahahaha. It's not the end!

The Lamp on Crack

Salim: I'm an accomplished liar.
Salim's mom: I don't see how you can call that "accomplished", dear, since I physically abuse you no matter what you say.
Salim: Damn straight. I'm not even sure why I bother lying.
Salim's mom: You're an idiot, that's why. Now go buy some oil.
Salim: Whatever. Give me the damn money, woman.

--Salim acquires oil--

Salim's mom: How much did you spend?!
Salim: I invested 10 cents, my dear ignorant woman. Petronas's stocks are rising like there's no tomorrow.
Salim's mom: lol k
Salim: Now go busy yourself with something so I can masterfully carry out my insidious plan to steal oil.
Salim's mom: Okie dokie.
Salim: All your oil are belong to us!!
Azmi: You stole t3h oil!
Salim: (FORCE-PERSUADE) I did not steal t3h oil. I am your master. You will listen and obey.
Azmi: (FORCE-PERSUADE'D) Yes, lord. I shall do your bidding.
Salim: This is a ring. Take it. You are to carry it until you go insane, lose whatever little hair you have left and turn into some sort of mutated loin-clothed freak with a speech deficiency. Now go play somewhere else.
Azmi: OoOooOoooOoh, mY pRecIoUs!
Peter Jackson: Holy moly! Call the CG department and tell 'em to put their work on hold! I've found the perfect candidate for Gollum!

--At night--

Salim: My lamp! IT'S ALIVE!! Wow, I must be a genius! A child prodigy! The next Einstein!
Salim's mom: Shut up! Some people are trying to sleep here, you know?!
Salim: The wick! It burns!! I can do my homework now! 1337!

--A few minutes later--

Salim: 6+0=25...6.......zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

--Lamp flips over--

Salim: Aaaahhh!!! My homework! It burns!!

--Fire continues spreading--

Salim: Aaaaahhhh!! My hand! IT BURNS TOO!!
Salim's mom: SHUT UP!
Salim's dad: Something.... burning... mmmm... turkey....

--Next morning--

Salim: MY BODY! IT BUUUUURNS!!
Salim's mom: Wha--? Where're the ceiling and the walls? Why are we sleeping in the open?! OMG MY HOUSE IS GONE!!!
Salim's dad: Mmmm... turkey....

--Somewhere in the rubble--

New lamp: I > j00.
Old lamp: No shit. I couldn't burn the house down even after 10 years of trying. I hate to admit it, but you win.
New lamp: So.. what do we do now?
Old lamp: Hmmm. Know how to play "I spy"?

The End

Okay. That was random.

Three down, Ten to go

2004-11-05T15:25:00.000+08:00

Yes, literature is over and done with, but that's not gonna stop me from posting more crackfics. As they say, parody is flattery disguised as humour. Unfortunately that doesn't apply to me because Galvea's Law defies everything.

The Champion Bullfighter on Crack

Mamat: w00t!! I won! Muhahahahaha!!
Jusoh: Dad! Someone shot Uncle Lazim!!
Uncle Lazim: Ouch. I'm shot. I have one measly line of dialogue in the entire story and now I'm dead. This sucks.
Minah: OMG t3h Lazim is dead!
Mamat: What you say?! Curses!! They shall die like dogs!
Random village people: Like dogs!!
Random village dog: I resent that.
Mamat: ZOMG! Bullfighting is just like politics!
Chalet: Word.

The End

Okay, that was short. Then again, that's pretty much the whole story. Go figure.

This town ain't big enough for Soda Pop

2004-11-04T23:34:00.000+08:00

Yes. You know what it is. Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Shane, nor is my name Jack Schaefer, or however it's spelled.

Shane on Crack

Bobby: Wow, Shane, j00 are t3h 1337!
Shane: Why thank you, Bobby boy. I'll tell you my secret. Angst is t3h cool.
Joe: Hey Shane ol' buddy ol' pal, let's go kill a tree together.
Shane: Word.
Marian: Y hallo thar, handsome. Let me shamelessly flirt with you by feeding you cookies and apple pie. Is my hat pretty by the way?
Shane: What hat? This pie tastes like tree stump.
Joe: ROFLMAO
Marian: OMG LOL hahahaha you're so funny!!

--Stuff happens--
--More stuff happens--

Random assassin d00d: Me Wilson. You Shane.
Shane: Me 1337. You not-so-1337.
Wilson: lol j00 suck lol
Shane: Bang.
Wilson: OMG I am t3h dead!!
Shane: Ouch. That hurt, you @)(*!@)*#.
Fletcher: What the--? Okay, what did I miss?
Shane: Bang.
Fletcher: WTF? I DIED'D? Damn, that was lame.
Bobby: Shane! My hero!
Shane: Bobby boy, you're a nice kid and all, but if you don't stop being all sentimental over me I'm gonna bleed to death here.
Bobby: You wouldn't have gotten hurt if you practised, right? RIGHT?!
Shane: Erm yeah. Unfortunately this town doesn't have Time Crisis 2.
Bobby: LOL pwnage.
Shane: Be a good boy. Oh, your mom's hot, by the way.
Bobby: Shane.. before you go... what are you running from, really?
Shane: My ex-wife. Oh shit, I think I hear her coming. Cheerioz.

The End

Wow.. you managed to survive that?

Literature on Crack

2004-11-04T22:47:00.000+08:00

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any organization/person/historical event is purely intentional and meant to be laughed at. I shall not be sued.

Short Story 1: T3h Examination Day

Jordans' dinner time.

Dickie: It's my birthday! I'm twelve!
Mr. Jordan: Mmm-hmm.
Mrs. Jordan: That's nice, dear. Now eat your veggies.
Dickie: Dad?
Mr. Jordan: Shut up.
Dickie: Why am I Dickie? Shouldn't I be Richie?
Mr. Jordan: It sounds better. Shut up.
Mrs. Jordan: Actually, dear... It's all my doing.
Dickie: What?
Mrs. Jordan: I used to call you Richard-icky-poo.. Then it kind of got shortened to Dickie..
Dickie: OMGWTFBBQ!!!1111!!!!Shift+one!!
Mr. Jordan: Shut up. Go read your comic books.
Dickie: Why does it rain?
Mr. Jordan: Omg j00 r t3h st00pid!! ......To make the grass grow.
Dickie: lol k

--Examination Day--

Phone rings.

Mr. Jordan: Hello?
Government Educational Service: This is your friendly Government Educational Service, where we do our very best to kill off your children!
Mr. Jordan: k
Government Educational Service: Your son, Richard M Jordan is too intelligent for his own good. We decided he had to go when he started answering our questions in 1337.
Mrs. Jordan: Oh noes!!
Mr. Jordan: Mmm-kay.
Government Educational Service: We would like to extort 10 bucks from you now for the so-called Government burial which is, in reality, an alligator-feeding event. kthxbai

The End

Okay. I plead temporary insanity.

One down, Twelve to go

2004-11-03T17:19:00.000+08:00

Okay, I know I haven't been blogging much, but it wasn't my fault, honest! I didn't think burning 5 years' worth of Chinese-related school books would take THAT long.

Just kiddin'. I'd rather bite off my tongue and bleed to death than burn books, even if they're Chinese and/or useless. Oh yes, you know where I'm going with this, don't you?

Without further ado, I present you...

Galvea's Incessantly Long Rant About Book Welfare
aka
Keep Your Filthy Hands Off My Books, Dammit

Those who really know me should know by now that I am an absolute perfectionist when it comes to books. I want them clean. I want them wrapped. I want them without the slightest hint of wear. I want the price tag intact, uncreased, and well-aligned. Better yet, no price tag. I want the book spine completely smooth and free of ugly crease lines. I want the cover clean of fingerprints. I want the paper smooth and well-pressed. I want them perfect.

And that is why I take several hours just to choose which book to buy. I'm pretty sure the cashiers at MPH Midvalley are quite accustomed to seeing me walk back and forth through the aisles checking out the same few books over and over again. I also admit to being one of those excessively picky people with the tendency to go through the whole stock of one single book just to see which one is in the best condition. Oh yes, that is most definitely a must.

When I buy a book, I own the book. Mangas included. No one else is allowed to go near it, let alone touch it. You touch it without my permission, you die a horrible, horrible death.

Lots of people have asked me to lend them books/manga. My answer? Ahahahahahaha NO. No one in my immediate family is allowed to touch my books in any way -- what makes YOU think you can, huh? HUH?!

Yes, I'm a possessive freak. I don't deny it.

I don't care if you've been voted "Best Book Keeper In The Entire Universe" by all the librarians in the world. I don't care if you cut your wrist and write a letter declaring to preserve my books in the very best condition in your very own blood. In fact, I hope you die from massive blood loss, thus saving me the trouble of kicking you in the shin and yelling "NO, YOU AIN'T GOING ANYWHERE NEAR MY BOOKS, DAMMIT!" in your face.

I don't wrap my books. That, in my humble opinion, is called "defacing and/or mutilating the book" and should be considered an inexcusable crime. If they start selling removable plastic covers then I might consider, but as for now that is highly unlikely considering there is no single universal size for books. Unless they manage to produce some kind of one-size-fits-all cover, of which I would surely endorse. For now, I'm quite satisfied with keeping my books in a shelf and dusting them regularly.

Bookmarks. I don't see the point in them. THEY ARE EVIL. Evil evil EVIL. They create a gap between pages. Gap between pages =/= Perfect = OMGOMG Aaaahhhh!! = Not Cool. If you can't remember which sentence/page/chapter/part of the story you left off of, then I'm sorry, you probably weren't meant to be a reader. Go do something else, like stamp collecting or something. Or maybe gardening. Gardening is good, unless you forget which plants you've fertilized/watered. Unfortunately I don't think there's a gardening equivalent of a bookmark. Sorry.

Speaking of which, I sure hope you don't need a bookmark while reading my blog. If you do, then you are lame. Very lame.

Since they have Cliff's Notes for EVERYTHING nowadays, I might as well make one for my blog. If you're the kind of lazy reader who likes to skip over lines and paragraphs, or, god forbid, skip right to the end of the book, this is most definitely for you.

Borrowing my books = Over my dead body
Reading my books without permission = Invitation to a gruesome death
Books = My life
Books > Your pathetic existence

There you have it. Cliff's Notes for my blog. Maybe I should call them Galvea's Notes. Nah, not as catchy.

I do wonder though -- who's Cliff?

Gimme my candy, dammit

2004-10-31T20:20:00.000+08:00

October 31st. Halloween. A day where witches and wizards and ghastly in-betweens run amok in the streets blowing up buildings with DIY Jack-o-Lantern bombs. Then they beat elderly folk over the head with brooms and proceed to steal candy from them. Except they don't have candy no more 'cuz they ain't got no teeth left, so all you can ever extort from them is the odd half-unwrapped, melting Fisherman's Friend covered with gross pocket lint. Then all them magic folk get wasted in dodgy bars and wander the streets arm-in-arm, all drunk and singing How much is that doggy in the window? until they get arrested or run over by trucks.

Ah, the joys of Halloween. Time for me to get my broom.

Just a little clarification

2004-10-30T19:57:00.000+08:00

You know my 2nd blog entry? The one titled "A short little continuation which may as well be a stand-alone"? Yeah, the really long title which could have been a LOT better summarized?

Well, I lied.

It wasn't short. At all. But it's still a continuation which may as well be a stand-alone though. At least that much is true.

Erm. Yeah. Just wanted to say that, I guess.

Here's your cool link for the day. Be sure to make full use of my generosity, 'foo.

http://ic1.deviantart.com/fs4/f/2004/265/e/0/narutard.swf

To the creator of said flash: You are t3h 1337. I salute j00. I hope you are t3h Malaysian as well, because it'll comfort me knowing there is salvation. Or not.

.....and X marks the spot

2004-10-30T18:55:00.000+08:00

Someone found my page. Coolness.

Dear reader/loyal fan/random stranger/lost dude/curious bypasser/unfortunate victim,

Congratulations! You have stumbled across this page, which you should know by now is solely devoted to my insanity/randomness/ingenuity. Unless, of course, you are some sort of obtuse chicken with the mental capacity of a moss-covered rock -- should that be the case, your insolence is forgiven.

For your efforts you have been awarded this extremely 1337 yet pointless message.

Thank you and have a nice day.

Yours sincerely,
Galvea

P.S. This message cost me 30 seconds of my life. Be grateful, you ingrate.

A short little continuation which may as well be a stand-alone

2004-10-30T15:08:00.000+08:00

Whoa. Long title.

I took another good look out the window (which is right behind my computer, by the way. No, it's closed and it has a grill, and NO, my computer is under no risk of falling right out the window and possibly incapacitating someone.) while waiting for my first post to publish, and I just realized that there are TWO rambutan trees in my neighbour's yard. Actually, that's not completely true considering that a good portion of the tree (and the rambutans on it) are actually hovering over MY yard. I've a good mind to go down there and arrest both trees for trespassing on private property. Then again, maybe I'll just let it slide, since they're not really evil or anything. At least, I don't think so. If they start sucking my life-force and/or grow some mean-looking teeth and eat birds then I'd say they're probably evil.

Erm. Yeah. What was I saying again?

Oh yes, I just realized that one tree bears YELLOW rambutan while the other tree bears RED rambutan. I don't know why, but it amuses me. Also, it seems that there are loads more yellows compared to them reds. GO YELLOW!! FIGHT-O!!!

Also, while looking out the window and offering my moral support to the yellows, I noticed this strange vine thingy hanging from the tall.. erm... bamboo... looking... trees... right outside my window. I haven't the slightest idea what they're called, but erm, they're tall and thin and have leaves like a coconut tree. That's pretty much it, I guess. Anyway, upon further inspection, I find that there's this thick vine thing coiled around it all the way to the top, like some sorta ugly worm-snake hybrid. Eeew. And now that there's nothing left to climb, it's detached itself and gone all droopy and kinda just hanging there in the air like some sort of.. leafy.. tendril.. thingy. I think it's heading towards my window. I kinda have the feeling that it'll keep growing and growing and getting ever so closer to my window, and then BAM! It'll smash through my window in the middle of the night and then proceed to take over my computer and watch all my anime. Then it'll probably leave a note on my screen, something like:

"Thanks for all the anime! Muhahahahaha!"

Gosh, that's pretty darn evil. I think I'll do my bit against tendril-plant-terrorism and go hack down that tree now. As they say, "The best defense is a good round of all-out violence." Actually, I don't think anyone ever says that. But if you ever hear it one day, remember that you heard it from me first.

I'm sorta-kinda-not-really back!

2004-10-28T23:14:00.000+08:00

Hoookay. It's been a long time since I've blogged, and well, this site is really just a temp site for me to, y'know, get back in the grrrrrroooooove. I sure hope my writing skills ain't gone all rusty yet.

Whoa. One paragraph in and I'm hit with writer's block. Wonderful.

Erm... what to say? I guess I'd better explain myself. I'm a lazy perfectionist. Yes, a lazy perfectionist. Now, I'm sure most of you are completely bewildered right now. Lazy perfectionist? How is that even possible, you say? Well, let's break it down...

Perfectionist: One who obsesses over their work and insists that everything be absolutely perfect. Anything LESS than perfect would be completely unacceptable and downright humiliating. Usually hysterical, overly-sensitive and prone to depression. Suffers from superiority-inferiority complex.

Lazy: A bum. Slacker. Idles around doing nothing. Has no motivation and/or enthusiasm to get on with life.

Now, if you put two and two together, you'll get four and that's not just maths but proof that you either a) have no frickin' idea what you're doing or b) have the attention span of a dungbeetle. No, I have no idea exactly how long the attention span of a dungbeetle is, but I'm betting it's pretty damn short.

And I have absolutely no idea why I wrote the last paragraph and what relevance it has with anything. I'm sure it's of the utmost significance though. Otherwise I wouldn't have written it, would I? Maybe, like, years later I'll look back at my very first entry and see said paragraph and go, "Whoa! I must be, like, psychic! Now I know WHY I wrote that stuff! Neato!". I haven't the slightest clue what it's gonna be, but I can just FEEL the importance of it.

Right. Moving on.

Recap for those easily side-tracked: This has absolutely nothing to do with my being a lazy perfectionist, by the way.

Lazy Perfectionist: Someone who obsesses over creating the abso-frickin'-lutely PERFECT MASTERPIECE but is too lazy to do so. Hey, it takes a lot of time and commitment to be absolutely perfect, y'know. And I ain't gonna start a project until I'm positively sure I'll be able to see it through.

Just thinking about all the effort that'll have to go to it makes me tired. I think I'll go lie down and rest now.

Now you know why I haven't been blogging lately. Oh, and there are two crows fighting over my neighbour's rambutans right now. At least, I think they're crows. It's kinda hard to be sure since I don't have Superman vision or something. Maybe they're just black birds that kinda look like crows. Or maybe they're pigeons in disguise or something. Y'know, undercover pigeons, investigating who's been stealin' them rambutans. Hell, maybe they're stealing the rambutans and trying to pin it on crows. The possibilities are endless. But I'm pretty sure those are rambutans though. Unless it's some kinda mutated cherry tree. Those are some pretty big cherries then.

And I decided to blog this seemingly random bit of information because, damn, this is probably the only interesting thing I've seen through my window for like, forever.

Oh well, what the hell, they're gone now. Maybe I'm just delusional or something.