Spending My Unemployed Afternoons January 27, 2009
Posted by jennyspeaks in about jenny, bullshit, celebrities, cultural, food, happiness, holiday, humor, journal, life, random, silliness, wordlessness.Tags: 16, Afternoon TV, Drew Carey, funny, happy, housewife, life, Martha Stewart, memories, musings, Rachel Ray, retarded, Rosie O'Donnell, unemployment, weird, wife, women
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Before I was recently became the Working Class Hero, I was the Jobless Jenny. I was basically bumming around at home, where I can get everything free of charge, where I can strut confidently to the fridge and i know that there will be Cheddar Cheese and Ruffles chips inside, primed for consumption. Now you will surely wonder: “Hello? You’re a 16-year-old on vacation. Why not hang out with friends and keep yourself busy?” And I will answer you with: “Because it is difficult to ask my mother for $20 on every alternate day, now that I am an absolutely shameless freeloader who does absolutely nothing at home.”
Well I do my fair share of housework and cleaning, but my sense of self-worth and dignity doesn’t permit me to badger my poor old lady for money to squander outside. thus, limited to twice-weekly hangouts with friends, i had to use my constrained budget very carefully.
And thus, with ample free time on other drowsy weekdays, I embarked on my Jobless Jenny routine, housewife-style.
After some minor sweeping and folding of clothes in the morning, I would eat breakfast. If was lucky I’d remember to brush my teeth. then it was computer time till afternoon. and afternoons meant this woman:
Before this period of unemployment I didn’t give a damn about this woman, only that she resembled my nosy neighbour, and that she was hustled off to jail, ala Paris Hilton. And that she had tons of money. Now as I was confined to my sofa set I had no choice but to watch the Martha Stewart show. It wasn’t that bad. It was basically about this Martha woman demonstrating her abilities as a housewife, Martha putting rugs here and there, Martha putting flowers here and there, and Martha cooking this and that. Martha also invited some celebrities to her show (most I didn’t know who they were). I’d like to thank her for making my lunches a little less dull: You see, I would be busy stuffing instant noodles into my mouth while watching Martha make some exotic pie, thus for a moment making me forget that I’d been eating the same noodles for the past few days.
after Martha left there was a slightly younger, less uptight version of her called Rachel Ray who would take over the TV screen. And similarly Rachel would invite celebrities over to her show, and this time I felt a little less alienated, because alot of them were has-beens like Rosie O’Donnell whom I remembered clearly for her Flintstones role. And well well: She hasn’t lost shape. Here she is:
To my utter disgust, I was secretly enjoying these cooking/lifestyle shows about middle aged women lecturing middle aged women on how to be housewives. It is interesting to note that none of these shows gave any attention to exercise; it was all about cooking food and eating food and yakking. No wonder housewives are (mostly) round along the edges.
A last highlight to my Housewife existence, which incidentally rendered me rather braindead, were the antics of the contestants on The Price Is Right. I enjoyed watching these hysterical people scream, cry and flail their arms in ecstasy as their names were called. Just look at silly human emotion on display:
Veddy nice. But alas; I’ve recently found gainful employment and that means adieu to all these silly people. I shall miss my stint as a braindead housewife though.
and i could take some advice… September 3, 2008
Posted by jennyspeaks in about jenny, art, confusion, cultural, drugs, epiphany, food, god, happiness, holiday, journal, life, little things, music, opinion, random, school, silliness, teenage issues.Tags: advice, art, decisions, food, god, graduation, help, life, music, opinion, school, tattoo, technology, travel
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dear all.
two nights ago, i sat down with some pen and paper. i asked myself: what was i going to do after my year end O levels, after high school graduation in two month’s time? and more importantly, what was i going to do with my life in general? i thought about it, and wrote it down.
today, i’ve added two pages, Things to Do, and The Bigger Picture. both cover what i’ll do in the near future, and the distant future respectively.
but no man is an island. it always helps to get other’s view of things. now, i’d like some advice from you. do you have a good laptop which had served you well? what do i look out for when i get a laptop? i’m looking for one and i’ll need all the help i can get. it’s gonna be the first major purchase of my life, with my own money, and maybe you can help me out here.
or maybe you’ve got something to say about The Hives’ latest album? You’ve read Scar Tissue and you don’t like it? You think you’ve got a good book to share? bring it on.
i’m 16 and i still don’t know how to swim/cycle. if you’re like me, let me know! then we’ll be in the same boat.
i’m also considering humanitarian work in the future when i’m an adult. if you can give me some links to blogs which have accounts by such volunteers, or if you have some words of advice to give, i’m willing to listen.
i know it’s mundane to read about someone’s plans for the future. but i’ll truly appreciate it if you can take some time to comment about it. i’m serious about everything i’ve written.
once again, thanks in advance.
jennyspeaks.
where did the vulgarities go? June 4, 2008
Posted by jennyspeaks in about jenny, art, bullshit, cultural, food, happiness, journal, life, little things, sadness, silliness, teenage issues, this rocks! that sucks!, unusual, whatever., wordlessness.3 comments
i’m tired.
yesterday i had the most interesting experience with Singapore’s public transport system. drunk with heady themes seeping from the pages of my O’level literature text, To Kill A Mockingbird, i boarded the bus 853 in the evening to my church. so the youth group meeting was to start at 7.30pm. i was early, so i decided to hop down at the AMK Library to read some tabloids. then at 7.15pm, i left the library to re-board the bus 853 to church.
it was 6 stops away. planting my arse firmly down beside woman with a supermarket on her lap, i closed my eyes. six stops, later, i’d open my eyes and i’ll see my church.
six stops later, i opened my eyes. I saw a stadium.
time: 7.40pm.
Calmly, i alighted. I was so calm as noted the number of the bus: 852. I was so calm as i messaged to leader and told her i’d be at least 45minutes late.
I made a mental note that i hadn’t started unleashing all my colourful vocabulary and all the indecent references to one’s Mother in Hokkien. Usually, ‘shit’ is the first word to be verbalised, and ‘fuck it’ is the first thought that surfaces in my head. For the first time in my life, i was actually not letting off steam.
I had no idea where i was. There was a stadium and a few blocks of flats separated by a highway, but at night, Singapore looks the same, whether you’re in Kallang or Woodlands. To my surprise, i began humming R.E.M’s Imitation of Life as I crossed the overhead bridge to take the bus back to square one.
And like an idiot, i waited for 15 minutes and took the bus back to the library (and i had to climb another overhead bridge), where i waited for 853 and reached church at 8.15pm.
And i left my house at 6.15pm.
Then i realised why i was so sedated. I was simply tired. Not the kind of tired that happens after a game of badminton, nor the kind of tired after a long day at school. It was a kind of a vacuum, an immense plastic bag full of nothing that was stuck somewhere between my windpipe and my brain. A choke. Blood wasn’t flowing. The buzz had gone the only thing that got me interested was food, sleep, and the occasional sighting of a hot guy.
I told my friend about it. “hey, you’re finally BECOMING LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!” she laughed.
If normal is being sedated, then i’d rather be a howling lunatic anytime. I want to cry, scream, laugh and screech when i’m not supposed to. I want feel every single emotion. I want to blast off like a rocket with colors spilling from all sides.
I don’t want to be tired. Please, let me cuss normally again.
don’t call me for free sex! March 26, 2008
Posted by jennyspeaks in about jenny, bullshit, confusion, cultural, dating, depression, food, god, happiness, humor, journal, life, little things, random, silliness, teenage issues, this rocks! that sucks!, unusual.12 comments
Buses nowadays are not merely modes of transport. They are a haven for molesters and perverts. They are breeding grounds for cockroaches and viruses (one person sneezes/coughs every 2.5 seconds). Buses have also become free Classified Ads for various teenagers who scrawl their names and numbers in conspicuous black ink across the backs of bus seats. The majority of them advertise their sexual services, along with details such as “Indian girl, 15, with big breast” or “Amelia is a f**king slut”. Sometimes, on a very long bus ride, i have the urge to just ring up Amelia or whoever there is and see what happens.
However, an incident that occurred two weeks ago has made me wonder if my own number has been placed on advertisement as well.
After watching an exceptionally sappy soap opera (in which the heroine died of cancer, leaving her weeping hero devastated at her grave), the weather entered a bout of depression, as it exploded in tears, drenching the land with rain, rain and more cold, salty rain.
I was stuck at home, feeling equally depressed. It was the last day of the March holidays. With a hole in my pocket and fats throwing a party in my rear, the future was as bleak as the weather. However, after some Malcolm In The Middle and Ruffles potato chips, life didn’t seem that bad.
Then the sofa started vibrating.
A split second later, i realised that it was my phone. I answered the call.
“hello?”
“HEY! MY GIRL!”
The man on the other sounded like a drugged-up version of my classmate. Or a very drunk schoolteacher of mine.
“Mr Victor Tan? Shixuan?… hello?”
“HOW”S MY BABY DOIN’?”
“sorry wrong number.”
“HEY HON. HANG ON A MINUTE!”
“no.” Click.
I was ogling at Frankie Muniz, eating my chips a few minutes later. Then the sofa re-vibrated. Without a caller ID, i was helpless. I answered.
“hello?”
“WHY DID YA HANG UP ON ME?”
This dude had a strong American accent, and apparently was exhilarated to speak to me. And he sounded seriously drunk.
“I’m sorry, but were you looking for Jenny?”
“HEY JENNY? DO YOU FEEL ME?”
“what?!”
“I REALLY LIKE YOU. LIKE, EXTREMELY. WHERE ARE YOU NOW?”
“who are you?”
“I’m Joe. From the Singapore American school. We met, remember? Oh i missed the old days. You were so hot.”
I knew no Joe from Singapore American School.
“goodbye.” Click.
An hour later, when the potato chips were busy getting digested and when Frankie Muniz had been replaced by Tyra Banks, i was getting a little bored. Suddenly i wanted Joe to call again. This time round, i would make sure things would be different.
As Tyra was busy comforting a cocaine head with nice red fingernails, the sofa vibrated again. It’s showtime, i thought.
“Hi Joe.”
“hey jenny.. are you like in Singapore now?”
“i have no idea.”
“can we meet up? I know a cool place where we can get down. Down and dirty.”
“but it sucked the last time, joe.”
“huh?”
“do you like chicken rice?”
“what?”
“i said, DO YOU LIKE CHICKEN RICE?”
“well, i’ve never really tried it…”
“well, that’s a pity cos I LIKE IT. actually, i like the rice best. It goes great with soy sauce and chilli.”
“hey, can we meet soon? Sunday evening?”
“Chinatown, right behind the CK department store. And it only costs $2!”
“what costs $2?”
“chicken rice. The best one in singapore’s in Chinatown.”
“ok, let’s meet for chicken rice then.” Suddenly, he didn’t sound as exhilarated as before.
“joe, lend me $100.”
“woah..”
“you’ve got to. Ever since i got pregnant, i’ve been getting weird rashes all over my skin. Like big red ones. My pimples are breaking all over my face, and there’s pus leaking all the time. You got pimples, Joe?”
“one, yes.”
“i’ve got like, ten. And i need the money so bad. I need a doctor. There’s blood on my pillow cause the pimples keep breaking and bleeding. Totally disgusting.”
“jenny, you’re, er, pregnant?”
“you bet. But pregnancy is so weird. I’m constipated. It’s been four days. The fart’s really bad. Whenever press my belly, i’m just so sure it’s gonna burst with all the shit inside. Constipation sucks. There’s something poking your bum all the time. And then you lose appetite.”
“i’m sure everything’ll be ok in the end. Anyway, …”
“i hate constipation. What should i do?”
After a very thoughtful pause, Joe said, “Maybe you should eat more fruits and vegetables.”
I continued. “I love God. He’s done so many things for me in my life. He is my rock and my fortress.”
“can we not talk about… God?”
“I was having a meaningless life. Until one day when i felt God’s love. I was just like any other person, too busy to care about God. But God always cared for me. I realised that I was too unwilling to go, to let Him into my life, to let Him give me purpose. It’s great to let God guide your life, you know?”
“it’s been really nice talking to you Jenny, but erm, i gotta go now…”
“never forget that God really loves each one of us, even you Joe.”
“i will.”
“God bless you.” Click.
for the record, Joe hasn’t called me since.
a rotten mixture needs to be let out. March 6, 2008
Posted by jennyspeaks in about jenny, depression, food, humor, journal, life, opinion, random, sadness, school, silliness, this rocks! that sucks!, unusual, whatever..3 comments
lately my diet has been on a roll. i’m hotchpotching. i’ve not been eating proper meals but rather, an assortment of food at one go. it makes me happy; it makes me retch. and a couple of days ago, it nearly made me throw up.
i shall list what i ate for that particular day:
-
for breakfast:milo, wholemeal bread, two slices of cheese, mango cake.
-
for recess:toast bread, a hash brown, yoghurt, milk, apple juice.
- for lunch: bread and butter, a packet of M&M’s, an orange, half a bag of chips, butter cookies.
- for teabreak: more butter cookies, remaining bag of chips.
- for dinner: fish curry, stir-fried vegetables, mango cake, two slices of cheese, milk and a bar of dark chocolate.
throughout that day i felt nauseous, irritable, and anal retentive. i recall sitting bloated during literature lesson, wanting to mutilate my english teacher and everyone else who wore spectacles, because i felt like throwing up. i was planning on who to throw up on, picking out the targets (one of whom was my english teacher) and visualising the grand drama that would unfold once i unleashed my partially digested toast, potatoes, yoghurt, milk and apple juice on the unfortunate victim. i envisioned lots of screaming, pandemonium, and preferably fainting (and hopefully, the person would faint and land face-first into my vomit). i was growing meaner by the minute, and i was secretly letting out soft, foul burps that reeked of yoghurt.
the vomit was ready to come. it rose up my throat ambitiously. i squirmed in anticipation and readied my lips so i could spurt the vomit as far as possible…
but then it hesitated. apparently it preferred my damp, acidic stomach. it hovered for a second, then slunk back, slimy and hot.
i felt even worse. i wanted to stick my hand in and force myself to vomit. but the unpleasant mixture of food decided to torment me. i spent the rest of my day in agony, ready to bite someone’s head off, and taking revenge by eating more bizarre combinations of food the rest of the day.
of course, i only have my stomach to blame.
on a parting note: just think, sometimes it’s better if you purged. it’s better if you just throw up and had diarrhoea, rather than keeping it all in. there’s nothing like a long, good vomit to make you feel clean and holy again.
p.s i mean no harm whatsoever to my english teacher.
a letter to my beloved rectum. February 12, 2008
Posted by jennyspeaks in about jenny, bullshit, confusion, food, humor, journal, life, little things, silliness, unusual.4 comments
dear rectum,
I thought we had it all worked out. I thought we’d be good friends. but lately you’ve been pissing me off. In fact, i’ve been withstanding your nasty attitude for too long, and i’m going to be point-blank honest with you now.
We had a deal remember? I’d feed you with fibre and then you’d cooperate. But no. Instead, you remain dormant when i need you to move. You just lie in my abdomen, immobile, and you make me feel sick and horrible for days. I feel like putting my hand up my arse and pulling all the faeces out, once and for all, but of course that’s impossible. So i have to use laxatives. You know how sick that makes me? I hate you for that.
Yet i forgave you. And now you still play with me. I don’t like your stupid games. You activate while i’m in my morning rush hour, and i have to uncomfortably bear with you till i reach home. It makes me irritated and pissed to have something nudging my anus continually. Don’t laugh. It’s not funny. Yet when i’m begging you to work, to let me defecate and be in peace, you go on vacation.
I’ve had enough. We’re gonna get down to serious business, and it ain’t gonna be pretty. There will be blood. (i mean, literally.)
Oh rectum. Why do you dislike me so much?
Yours sincerely,
Your true friend Jenny.
