You know? I am not used to being nice. I can’t blog something nice. It is just so fake. It is not real. What’s the point of writing all those mundane things like how nice the foods are at some places or how cute my boys are or boring can-die stories on my blogs.
I mean, don’t you have enough of those nice things in real life? Why would you want to read something that you see everyday or encounter in your daily life?
And why would I want to write about them, when it is the norm? So, if I am going to spend a few minutes at my laptop and spew stuffs on this blog, it has to be something that is not the usual. Nowadays, I don’t have much time. Once upon a time, if the idea strikes me, I will blog. Now, I am paid to do a 8-5 job and I do that, and nothing more.
Sometimes, I do have things I want to rant but I have to limit it to 140 characters. (Twitter allows only that many characters, alphabets and spaces are counted one by one) My creative mind usually can summarise them in one sweet Tweet.
So, the urge to write a lengthy ranting is diminished. It is like giving out little farts when you feel you need to dump a big one. You know…the relief is there. Somehow.
I do have a lot that I want to rant but they are all related to people I encounter. So, people will start guessing if I am dissing them or dissing their good friend or something like that.
I don’t need to face people with that kind of look where they dare not ask you if you are talking about XYZ or not. Or the suspicious look.
That left me with nothing to write.
Oh ya, I went to watch Mr. Popper’s penguins last night with the two younger kids and hubby. And I wanted to rant in the cinema because people annoyed me. Unfortunately, the DIGI yellowman must have been detained for something because he wasn’t following me in TGV. And the Penang Free Wi-Fi couldn’t follow me into the cinema.
I like TGV 1st Avenue. The chair is comfy. But the sound proofing is lousy because Transformer was blasting in the next theater while Mr. Popper lovely ‘Tippity Toes’ moment is playing. So, it sort of damn potong stim.
And then, somehow or other, the crowd there is different from Gurney or Island Plaza. Call me a snob and racist but Chinese are so noisy. Good lord, I don’t need to listen to a translator in Mandarin!
As with all comedies, there are funny, subtle jokes. And they don’t get it. But I laughed. And you know how potong stim it is when others don’t laugh and you do.
Then, the kids. Those kids! They kept walking up and down at the row behind me. Occasionally yanking my hair as they were passing by, holding on to my chair. Sometimes pushing against the back of my chair. In my mind, I have already turned over and gave the kids a slap on the face and screamed four-letter words Hokkien niceties to the adults.
Unfortunately, we live in the real world. And I endured. And only dare to blog about it.
See? That’s my blog. You get glimpses of the thoughts in the mind. Yet, you know those aren’t real things I or you or anyone would do. Only stupid people really think that we will carry out what we think and take it like the end of the world.
Please don’t make a police report that I am going to slap kids and shout KNNMCB in cinemas.