I. Like. You. You. Obtuse. Man.
As dictated by Faranza Syns
I need someone to crush over.
And Ian Teng is not going to cut it, Shane.
I lose weight better when I'm agonizing over someone. So yes, any volunteers?
Don't be shy. I promise I'll crush over you as silently as possible. I won't intrude on your life unless you want me to.
And no, Afzan, you need not apply. You're my affair, so it's moot point. And Yin, you're my wife, so you can't apply too.
The last thing I need is a love triangle.
I make it a rule not to despise someone unless they hit me first.
Batten down the hatches.
Habibah is so gonna get screwed.
What did she do, you ask?
She screwed up my Oral Assessment marks.
Last year, I read out my debate script in front of her. And when I took a peek at the marks, I saw the most fascinating figure:
I was rather stupefied at the moment, but not stupid, so I just shut up and accepted the final marks. Which was 30/30. Flawless. And so, I signed my name on the dotted line, per se.
But when I got back my marks a few weeks ago, I was, without a doubt, angered enough to hunt her down and commit homicide.
She'd corrected the bloody thing using her liquid paper correction pen.
I was outraged, but I knew I couldn't do anything. Since the woman's no longer in SBU, I can't really sue her through the school now, can I? I mean, I signed the paper based on the figures I saw then. And when I got it back, the marks were changed!
School, I demand you ruin her rep right now. Tell whichever hell-hole she's in now that she's not worth the pain in the arse.
Screw you, Habibah. Now I can't get an A for my oral assessment.
I'm a great speaker, damn you.
I did my oral just fine. In fact, I just did this year's oral test. And do you know what Pn Sheela's reaction was, you swine?
"... And Farhana, you did very well. Good pronunciation, good expressions. But how did you get... a 23 last oral assessment?"
Even she was shocked, you pug.
She was going to give me 28 or 29. Hah! You lousy judge of character!
Okay, fine. You were going through a really rough patch. And yes, I might never understand the pain and disillusionment of divorce, but you needn't take it out on me.
When the whole class--pardon, the whole SCHOOL-- was making fun of you, I didn't say shit against you. I didn't even sneer at you. Granted, I still didn't do a single of your homework, but I rarely ever complete any assigned homework, so no, I wasn't singling you out.
And I never, never, never sullied your name in my blog. Because you didn't measure up to anything to ever be mentioned.
But now you've done it. Congratulations. I now dislike you.
You're lucky you still have eyes to cry with, woman.
It's the fact that you changed the marks--and I won't get an A unless I redo the test--that makes me wanna screw you back, front, up, down, left, right and center. Screw you real good so that you'd get over your bloody divorce and stop ruining students' lives.
Hey, what exactly did you teach us last year?
A scenario in class:
"Ok, students, copy this... *drone drone drone*..."
Then, you sat down and emo-ed the whole day.
And instead of writing "seen" at the end of our essay, you wrote "see." What? See what? You want to see the whole class?
Let's all not forget the time when she gave us the format for a formal letter essay. Then, gave us an informal letter essay question. "Eh, eh, why all of you panic?" she asked, in her not-so-perfect (the fact that she's an english teacher and speaks beyond bad "chinglish" makes me want to screw her over more than once) english when we looked at her in bewilderment. She turned and realised that she gave the wrong question. Then, to cover it up, she said "Eh, when I give you formal letter format, it doesn't mean I'll give you an informal letter question."
Oh... I'm sorry, I didn't know that when you say pigs can't fly, you actually meant they can fly. Sorry. I suppose we just assumed you really MEANT that pigs can't fly. Gosh, I should brush up on my mind-reading skills! Whatever were we thinking? Next time (if ever) you give us a format for something, we'll just assume you're giving it to us for pointless fun.
Ah yes, and what the effing hell did you do during our assessment? You chatted on the phone in front of us while we were struggling to answer our exam papers.
Need I give anymore evidence to condemn you?
Maybe I'll forgive you. But if I don't get an A for my oral assessment, you'd have one heck of an explaining to do when you die and meet your maker. I wash my hands clean of you.
I wish you the best in life. Yes, this might sound insincere now, but I don't want you raining on my parade, daily. So, I really hope you'll sort your life out, and realise what you've done.
Remorse. I want you to feel remorse. But that's wishing for too much, since you barely remember what you've done.
So, goodbye, Habibah. I don't need you to be the dark cloud in the sky.
I have better things to do than wonder if it's going to rain.
I like Puan Sheela ten times better, anyways. Too bad, you missed out.
Same goes for snack cabinets. Especially when they're empty.
Oh, the agony.
Yee Ming, you owe me Haagen-Dazs. Or lunch.
Zi Kang, you owe me a candle-light dinner.
Farhana, you owe yourself some weight-loss.
Egad! You're cruel.
I want you.
I really, really want you.
Like, really, really...
You're really slow at this, aren't you?
And Ian Teng is not going to cut it, Shane.
I lose weight better when I'm agonizing over someone. So yes, any volunteers?
Don't be shy. I promise I'll crush over you as silently as possible. I won't intrude on your life unless you want me to.
And no, Afzan, you need not apply. You're my affair, so it's moot point. And Yin, you're my wife, so you can't apply too.
The last thing I need is a love triangle.
___________________________________
I make it a rule not to despise someone unless they hit me first.
Batten down the hatches.
Habibah is so gonna get screwed.
What did she do, you ask?
She screwed up my Oral Assessment marks.
Last year, I read out my debate script in front of her. And when I took a peek at the marks, I saw the most fascinating figure:
6
6
6
6
6
Total: 30
6
6
6
6
Total: 30
I was rather stupefied at the moment, but not stupid, so I just shut up and accepted the final marks. Which was 30/30. Flawless. And so, I signed my name on the dotted line, per se.
But when I got back my marks a few weeks ago, I was, without a doubt, angered enough to hunt her down and commit homicide.
5
4
5
5
4
Total: 23
4
5
5
4
Total: 23
She'd corrected the bloody thing using her liquid paper correction pen.
I was outraged, but I knew I couldn't do anything. Since the woman's no longer in SBU, I can't really sue her through the school now, can I? I mean, I signed the paper based on the figures I saw then. And when I got it back, the marks were changed!
School, I demand you ruin her rep right now. Tell whichever hell-hole she's in now that she's not worth the pain in the arse.
Screw you, Habibah. Now I can't get an A for my oral assessment.
I'm a great speaker, damn you.
I did my oral just fine. In fact, I just did this year's oral test. And do you know what Pn Sheela's reaction was, you swine?
"... And Farhana, you did very well. Good pronunciation, good expressions. But how did you get... a 23 last oral assessment?"
Even she was shocked, you pug.
She was going to give me 28 or 29. Hah! You lousy judge of character!
Okay, fine. You were going through a really rough patch. And yes, I might never understand the pain and disillusionment of divorce, but you needn't take it out on me.
When the whole class--pardon, the whole SCHOOL-- was making fun of you, I didn't say shit against you. I didn't even sneer at you. Granted, I still didn't do a single of your homework, but I rarely ever complete any assigned homework, so no, I wasn't singling you out.
And I never, never, never sullied your name in my blog. Because you didn't measure up to anything to ever be mentioned.
But now you've done it. Congratulations. I now dislike you.
You're lucky you still have eyes to cry with, woman.
It's the fact that you changed the marks--and I won't get an A unless I redo the test--that makes me wanna screw you back, front, up, down, left, right and center. Screw you real good so that you'd get over your bloody divorce and stop ruining students' lives.
Hey, what exactly did you teach us last year?
A scenario in class:
"Ok, students, copy this... *drone drone drone*..."
Then, you sat down and emo-ed the whole day.
And instead of writing "seen" at the end of our essay, you wrote "see." What? See what? You want to see the whole class?
Let's all not forget the time when she gave us the format for a formal letter essay. Then, gave us an informal letter essay question. "Eh, eh, why all of you panic?" she asked, in her not-so-perfect (the fact that she's an english teacher and speaks beyond bad "chinglish" makes me want to screw her over more than once) english when we looked at her in bewilderment. She turned and realised that she gave the wrong question. Then, to cover it up, she said "Eh, when I give you formal letter format, it doesn't mean I'll give you an informal letter question."
Oh... I'm sorry, I didn't know that when you say pigs can't fly, you actually meant they can fly. Sorry. I suppose we just assumed you really MEANT that pigs can't fly. Gosh, I should brush up on my mind-reading skills! Whatever were we thinking? Next time (if ever) you give us a format for something, we'll just assume you're giving it to us for pointless fun.
Ah yes, and what the effing hell did you do during our assessment? You chatted on the phone in front of us while we were struggling to answer our exam papers.
Need I give anymore evidence to condemn you?
Maybe I'll forgive you. But if I don't get an A for my oral assessment, you'd have one heck of an explaining to do when you die and meet your maker. I wash my hands clean of you.
I wish you the best in life. Yes, this might sound insincere now, but I don't want you raining on my parade, daily. So, I really hope you'll sort your life out, and realise what you've done.
Remorse. I want you to feel remorse. But that's wishing for too much, since you barely remember what you've done.
So, goodbye, Habibah. I don't need you to be the dark cloud in the sky.
I have better things to do than wonder if it's going to rain.
I like Puan Sheela ten times better, anyways. Too bad, you missed out.
______________________________
Me: Why do we open the refrigerator door, close it, and then come back within a few minutes just to take a look into it the 'fridge again?
Dharr: Yeah, I wonder the same thing!
Me: It's as if we're expecting something to appear in the 'fridge after we've closed it.
Same goes for snack cabinets. Especially when they're empty.
Oh, the agony.
______________________________
Yee Ming, you owe me Haagen-Dazs. Or lunch.
Zi Kang, you owe me a candle-light dinner.
Farhana, you owe yourself some weight-loss.
Egad! You're cruel.
I want you.
I really, really want you.
Like, really, really...
You're really slow at this, aren't you?
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