Kiss me, Mocha-guy. And make it hot.
As dictated by Faranza Syns
Maybe I should start it off as a happy-go-lucky post.
I finally got the chance to go to Starbucks at the PGRM building. Me and Mei Yin went to the school field, and took off our one-and-a-half inch pumps and put on our sport shoes. Yes, we didn't change our clothes. We wore those shoes with our prefect uniforms. It's lucky that we frankly care only about a) our weight, b) and the pimples on our face, that we didn't care when people stared at our uniform, then at our shoes. It was amusing. And we're enough of the occasional dare-devils to look definitely wrong once in a while.
And so, we walked with our bags and blazers towards the PGRM building. When we reached, we quickly snagged the most comfy spot, and bee-lined towards the counter. I was (at first) driven by thirst. Mei Yin and I stood at the counter, deliberating upon which beverage to actually order. It was a girl at the counter. And she waited patiently as Mei Yin and I second-guessed each other. I suppose it was annoying, but really, we couldn't help ourselves. Put a miser with a person who spends her money lavishly and you get two very interesting characters who scold each other every second. Guess who's the miser, Mei Yin? Haha.
But as it turned out, she bought the more expensive drink. My fault, but who asked you to make me decide, eh?
Oh, oh and let's not forget the person manning the counter.
"Yes, Farhana?" said the manly, cultured voice. "Would you like *insert a sort of drink*, *insert another sort of drink* or ice-blended drinks-- of course Ice-blended," he said in quick succession, answering his own question, smiling.
Ah-dore-a-ble.
The fact that he spoke awebloodysome english made me melt right on the spot. And then he HAD to smile that unbearably attractive smile. (Stop laughing, Mei Yin.)
He patiently endured our open-conference right there in front of the counter that had (oh Thank God!) no one else in front of it. Then, as he got our orders, he said he'd call out our orders when he's done. "So, Farhana..." he checked my name again. I nodded, and hesitated. It was at the tip of my tongue to ask him his age. And his number. Ahem. But I covered up, and began walking away.
But I paused when he mispronounced Mei Yin's name. It was just so adorable. He checked Mei Yin's tag to see her name. "Meng Yen.. Meing... Lei Mei Yen..."
I walked away laughing, saying over my shoulder, right behind Mei Yin who merely nodded sufferingly at the brutal mutilation of her name,"It's Mei Yin!"
I laughed again.
Okay, I was high. Please don't kill me for being high.
And so we sat there and discussed life, got our drinks and talked about guys. And our face. And our bodies. And ahem, the body of our ideal man.
I am a bad influence on Mei Yin.
We stayed there for two hours, tops.
When we finally stood up to leave, Mocha-guy called out, "See you, Farhana."
Is it possible to melt twice?
I think I'd melt ten-thousand times for Mocha-guy.
I'm still regretting the fact that I didn't hit on him. It's not like I'd go back there, anyways.
. . . . . . . . .
HONEST, I'm not going back! It was a one-time thing!
But oh, Mocha-guy. You are delish.
The fact that one of those times, Mocha-guy was outside clearing the tables has nothing to do with that awesomely-cryptic comment.
School was horrid. I just feel ... shaken and shattered for the ten-thousandth time at how callously the school uses us. At how idiotic I am to actually feel hurt.
Stupid, really.
Basically, today was a day from hell. It's the worst teachers' day celebration ever. I've already written up some very caustic statements in the post that I was going to publish a few hours ago, but I decided not to. Especially when I lost the mood.
Teachers should not blame us for not being able to organise the event so smoooooothly.
Teachers should not complain, since we've been given anything but ample time for the planning of this supposedly important event.
People should not walk out on a performance, regardless of its standard or its level of entertainment.
It is rude to order your senior--sarcastically-- to lend you a hand when you're the one at fault. Being bitchy to your seniors is a stupid move, dear. No matter if you're an ex-teacher's daughter or not. (On my own bitchy note: if you can't say anything smart, hold your tongue, zip your lips and shut up. When I ask you to hurry up, I don't mean "oh, break it down girl!". Dancing looks stupid on you, so please.)
You should listen once in a while. When I say NO, fundamentally, that means "No". And extensively, it still means "No". When you don't listen, you just end up being annoying. And geez, lookie! Everyone agrees with me.
Please don't just go around hugging people. They might mistake you for a hippie. Oh, that was exactly what you wanted to portray? Silly me. I'll just shut up, now.
Being bubbly and cheery and trying to win people over with those excessively irritating traits is like begging for us to give you the boot. Buck the friggin' hell up. Be serious, for once, will you? I don't care if you want to be an awe-bloody-some princess, as long as you actually do the things you're supposed to. What's with drinking soda when you know very well you're not supposed to do it there? What? Oh, you're a princess so you can actually do that, but us lowly, peasant-prefects can't? Oh, silly me! Why didn't I realise such a colossal fact? I'll just shut up again, now. Tell me when you want my stupid opinions, princess. Lord knows you won't listen to 'em otherwise.
It's bad enough that everyone else was calling it quits. But we depended on you. When you upped and left, it's what we call betrayal. Harakiri is too kind for you. All forms of Seppuku is too kind for you.
Please don't order us imperiously to open the gates for you. For one, I am older. Two, you're just a probate. Three, dear, you're too full of yourself.
How happy I am that I'm stepping down. How happy I am that I'm leaving. How happy I am that I don't have to deal with you.
It is in the past,
I see no significance in discussing it.
Two Toms or four, what does it matter?
They mean nothing. Except for one.
I finally got the chance to go to Starbucks at the PGRM building. Me and Mei Yin went to the school field, and took off our one-and-a-half inch pumps and put on our sport shoes. Yes, we didn't change our clothes. We wore those shoes with our prefect uniforms. It's lucky that we frankly care only about a) our weight, b) and the pimples on our face, that we didn't care when people stared at our uniform, then at our shoes. It was amusing. And we're enough of the occasional dare-devils to look definitely wrong once in a while.
And so, we walked with our bags and blazers towards the PGRM building. When we reached, we quickly snagged the most comfy spot, and bee-lined towards the counter. I was (at first) driven by thirst. Mei Yin and I stood at the counter, deliberating upon which beverage to actually order. It was a girl at the counter. And she waited patiently as Mei Yin and I second-guessed each other. I suppose it was annoying, but really, we couldn't help ourselves. Put a miser with a person who spends her money lavishly and you get two very interesting characters who scold each other every second. Guess who's the miser, Mei Yin? Haha.
But as it turned out, she bought the more expensive drink. My fault, but who asked you to make me decide, eh?
Oh, oh and let's not forget the person manning the counter.
"Yes, Farhana?" said the manly, cultured voice. "Would you like *insert a sort of drink*, *insert another sort of drink* or ice-blended drinks-- of course Ice-blended," he said in quick succession, answering his own question, smiling.
Ah-dore-a-ble.
The fact that he spoke awebloodysome english made me melt right on the spot. And then he HAD to smile that unbearably attractive smile. (Stop laughing, Mei Yin.)
He patiently endured our open-conference right there in front of the counter that had (oh Thank God!) no one else in front of it. Then, as he got our orders, he said he'd call out our orders when he's done. "So, Farhana..." he checked my name again. I nodded, and hesitated. It was at the tip of my tongue to ask him his age. And his number. Ahem. But I covered up, and began walking away.
But I paused when he mispronounced Mei Yin's name. It was just so adorable. He checked Mei Yin's tag to see her name. "Meng Yen.. Meing... Lei Mei Yen..."
I walked away laughing, saying over my shoulder, right behind Mei Yin who merely nodded sufferingly at the brutal mutilation of her name,"It's Mei Yin!"
I laughed again.
Okay, I was high. Please don't kill me for being high.
And so we sat there and discussed life, got our drinks and talked about guys. And our face. And our bodies. And ahem, the body of our ideal man.
I am a bad influence on Mei Yin.
We stayed there for two hours, tops.
When we finally stood up to leave, Mocha-guy called out, "See you, Farhana."
Is it possible to melt twice?
I think I'd melt ten-thousand times for Mocha-guy.
I'm still regretting the fact that I didn't hit on him. It's not like I'd go back there, anyways.
. . . . . . . . .
HONEST, I'm not going back! It was a one-time thing!
But oh, Mocha-guy. You are delish.
________________________________________
MY: Why do you always look out the window?
Me: *blink* I didn't realise. Well, because I like to.
MY: People say when you look out the window, you're waiting for someone to come.
Me: . . . I suppose I am waiting for someone.
The fact that one of those times, Mocha-guy was outside clearing the tables has nothing to do with that awesomely-cryptic comment.
____________________________________
School was horrid. I just feel ... shaken and shattered for the ten-thousandth time at how callously the school uses us. At how idiotic I am to actually feel hurt.
Stupid, really.
Basically, today was a day from hell. It's the worst teachers' day celebration ever. I've already written up some very caustic statements in the post that I was going to publish a few hours ago, but I decided not to. Especially when I lost the mood.
Teachers should not blame us for not being able to organise the event so smoooooothly.
Teachers should not complain, since we've been given anything but ample time for the planning of this supposedly important event.
People should not walk out on a performance, regardless of its standard or its level of entertainment.
It is rude to order your senior--sarcastically-- to lend you a hand when you're the one at fault. Being bitchy to your seniors is a stupid move, dear. No matter if you're an ex-teacher's daughter or not. (On my own bitchy note: if you can't say anything smart, hold your tongue, zip your lips and shut up. When I ask you to hurry up, I don't mean "oh, break it down girl!". Dancing looks stupid on you, so please.)
You should listen once in a while. When I say NO, fundamentally, that means "No". And extensively, it still means "No". When you don't listen, you just end up being annoying. And geez, lookie! Everyone agrees with me.
Please don't just go around hugging people. They might mistake you for a hippie. Oh, that was exactly what you wanted to portray? Silly me. I'll just shut up, now.
Being bubbly and cheery and trying to win people over with those excessively irritating traits is like begging for us to give you the boot. Buck the friggin' hell up. Be serious, for once, will you? I don't care if you want to be an awe-bloody-some princess, as long as you actually do the things you're supposed to. What's with drinking soda when you know very well you're not supposed to do it there? What? Oh, you're a princess so you can actually do that, but us lowly, peasant-prefects can't? Oh, silly me! Why didn't I realise such a colossal fact? I'll just shut up again, now. Tell me when you want my stupid opinions, princess. Lord knows you won't listen to 'em otherwise.
It's bad enough that everyone else was calling it quits. But we depended on you. When you upped and left, it's what we call betrayal. Harakiri is too kind for you. All forms of Seppuku is too kind for you.
Please don't order us imperiously to open the gates for you. For one, I am older. Two, you're just a probate. Three, dear, you're too full of yourself.
How happy I am that I'm stepping down. How happy I am that I'm leaving. How happy I am that I don't have to deal with you.
It is in the past,
I see no significance in discussing it.
Two Toms or four, what does it matter?
They mean nothing. Except for one.
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