What does it make you do?
Boredom makes me want to do unspeakable things to a man willing enough to take me on. And we’d be going at it till we are both gasping and panting for air, and he might probably begging me to stop half-way through it. The poor thing.
What a tease.
It would be nice to be as bold as LeeUK to be able to write the things he does on his blog. Alas, I am too chicken shit to actually go out there and do the deed. Or, more precisely, for a sarcastic beyotch like yourself would think, who on earth would take a person such as you on such an adventure. Or would it be more appropriate if we call it, misadventure?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, we know already! *rolls eyes till there is nothing but the whites of the eye*.
What can I say? I am just that. *insert whatever in blank space*
Well, back to the topic. Boredom; what does it make you do?
Boredom makes me;
1. Iron 33 pairs of work clothes.
These few weeks, the weather had been cloudy. The cable service keeps being disrupted. I can’t be bothered, because I don’t watch that much TV anyways. I rather prefer logging on searching my own entertainment. Yes I think I am addicted to the internet at the moment.
But what do you know? The internet connection was disrupted too! Went for lunch, and came home, tried logging on, I managed to do it for half an hour, and then suddenly I couldn’t. So I called the hotline.
After looking at the problem (I don’t know what he did but he found out what it was) he told me that they will file a report on my behalf and the problem will be rectified in two working days time. TWO WORKING DAYS? That would be Thursday by then! Oh I would like to have said something along the line of you muthaeffin b*st*rd, quit with the stone cold arrogance or I’m goin’ beat you like a read-haired step-child. But I didn’t. All I said was … man, that is a long time! Nevermind then, thank you. Wasn’t I the most pleasant customer ever? Now, that dude who answered the call had this air of ‘man, I deserve a better job than this’ going on with him. I would have liked to tell him that unfortunately, God doesn’t think so, so he better be more courteous to us customers. If he was to work as a Global Support Executive at HSBC First Direct, I bet he would be crying his pansy ass to sleep every time he goes to bed. Those British people are nasty with a capital N. They’d berate you for a ₤12 check until you find that damned check. They are relentless! I know cuz my sister works there. Back in the old days when she was a greenling at the bank, there had been a few times she came home crying and telling me she wants to quit her job. Imagine, the few and far between times when I was home with her, she cried all those times. Imagine how many times she had been crying when I had been away. Oh, W is a gentle soul alright, but she ain’t some pansy. She can hold her own. But them British people, they are Naaaasty!
Veering off course there. My students would definitely get a D for doing that.
Anyways, got off the phone, informed all and sunder the issue of no internet line for the two effin workin days, and went to my room. Sat on my bed, contemplated suicide (oh my Lord! Do I look that shallow to you?) and decided heck, why don’t I just iron these lovely clothes I have for work? Four hours later, with a stiff calf and feet that are hurtin’, I have hung on the special clothes hanging place, 33 pairs of work clothes. Perfectly ironed. Well, not perfect, really. Cuz some places they won’t be able to see, I don’t iron. Why waste electricity? Go green! Go green!
I am gonna be good for another 33 work days. If I dare wear the kebaya’s my mom insists I have. Need I remind you that I am a recovering, overweight tomboy? That’s like making an anorexic put on a fat suit. If that makes any sense.
And I hung all my t shirts. But I still have a mountain of sleep wear and underthings to fold and put away, which I will do as soon as I am done with this post.
2. Sleep all day.
What is wrong with sleeping all day? For one, it is a complete waste of time. Honey, I am single and childless. Time is all I have. But seriously, I do think sleeping too much is a waste of time.
On a normal basis, I need at least 5 hours of sleep. Nightly. Less will make me have heart palpitation, too much will make me feel sluggish. Five hours a days is just nice for me. I can forego my afternoon naps. It’s a luxury nowadays that I still indulge in when I do get home early on rare occasions like Mondays and Fridays. But I sleep in on weekends. I can’t seem to be able to drag myself out of bed if there is no official function or if it is not a substitute school day or any outside engagement that needs my participation.
However, truth be told, I can sleep all day if I want to.
Mom being the Bionic Woman that she was in her younger days, never made me wake up earlier than 8 am. When I was younger still, it was 10 am. I go to school in the afternoon those days. I was a spoilt brat, and I never knew it till I was 28. Talk about denial…
Anyway, mom never made it a big deal as long as I am up and made the bed by 8.30am. Later than that, she’s always threaten to come upstairs with a vat of hot boiling water and pour it over me and my sister. Bwahahaha! Horror of horrors. My mom talks trash like that. She never did it. So don’t worry. I was not an abused child as I was growing up.
When I was at school, I’d sleep through most of my classes. Well, it would be a miracle to see me where I am today if I said I slept through all of them, right? But I remember, in primary school, I keep falling asleep in class. I sleep when I get bored. The only time I was wide awake was in English class. The reason being the Teacher made me think of a sophisticated English woman who, after dinner, sits by the fireplace on a snow white polar bear skin rug holding a glass of wine while talking to a white man presumably her husband, as a prelude of the night’s drama. Ooh, what a sick mind I had as an 8-year old. She was a malay lady. She was Muslim. I just like picturing these things based on things I saw on TV. But she was hot. Not in that sexy revealing way. More on the way she brings herself. I remember thinking to myself, when I grow up, I want to be her. Too bad I grew fat and didn’t exactly end up being her, or the persona she exuded back then.
Well, after a revelation such as that, there is no need for me to deny that I am indeed a closet l*sb**n? God forbid. Oh, who cares what you think. I am probably a b*s*x*al anyways. I wonder if my sister is going to kill me after reading this post. Nyahaha!!!
W, don’t worry, I am not a full-blown attention wh*re of a nutcase yet. I was merely trying to tell them I don’t care what they think of what my s*xual orientation might be.
I might just delete this entry altogether in a few days due to embarrassment. Ho ho!
Well, I also slept my way through secondary school. Not all my classes. Some. But the teachers were the very concerned type and I was at an age where I realized that sleeping is not going to help me get to uni. But even then, I still slept through most of my classes, except English. I’d be too busy helping my friends during the subject, there would be no time to sleep. Heh.
I didn’t need a hot and sophisticated lady teacher to help me keep awake, because by then I was enjoying the subject and was quite good at it. I even astonished my new form 4 English teacher by completing a ten-page long letter to a pen-pal assignment telling her about a trip to
I remember her, the teacher, not the name though. She was all skin and bones. She probably had a wig on because it looked too thick and stiff for an anorexic-looking person that she was. I don’t know, I never asked, but she was probably very sick. But she was a very nice lady, who urged me to take up the President post of the English Language Society of my school that year, that I was too chicken sh*t to take. I ended up just being the Secretary. One of my life’s regrets. Told ya, I am not a terribly ambitious person.
I remember my favorite day of the week when I was in secondary school. It was Friday, when school ends early, and we get to eat huge chunks of chicken in chili-like gravy with nasi briyani. It was heaven. Because afterwards, I would spend the prep-class-free afternoon with sleep so deep that I would only wake up the next day to go for aerobics on Saturday mornings. Which is then followed by nasi lemak at the dining hall. Isn’t that just crazy? Then I’d do laundry and then probably go back to sleep. Why I don’t go on an outing with my friends on a Saturday? My parents won’t let me go out till I was in Form 4. Can you believe it? And I obeyed them, because they would always be there on weekends for a visit. How can I possibly go out? Which is not a big deal anyway, and I don’t know why, exactly, because I was honestly fine with that arrangement. My mom and dad would be the only parent who’d come on my dad’s trusted old and green Vespa. But they are also the only ones who’d bring enough food for the whole dorm, every time, without fail. I am so very proud of them.
This may sound like I envy my friends, but I don’t. I feel sorry for them, really. Their parents, come in fancy cars. But sometimes, they just wear sarongs and a pagoda shirt, when they come out. Not all of course. And they’d bring things like cream cracker biscuits or oranges and apples when they come. And they’d be leaving soon after. Me, I never ate at the dining hall on weekends. My mom made sure of it. And they never come for a few minutes. They’d stay with me like an hour or so, and then they would go home taking the empty Tupperware of last week. My mom and dad loved me. And I have all those rows with my mom, why? I am such an ingrate. Darn it.
Anyway, in uni, I didn’t get to sleep much though. I realized that I was not that stupid the way I felt at school. Hey, I am not the brightest bulb in the bunch, but it was not that dim either. How did I get into uni? I passed my SPM with distinction in a few subjects and credits in the rest. I admit, I failed Arabic, which I hated. Imagine, that, I got with all that sleeping and being lazy. Imagine if I had worked harder than I did, I might have been a rocket scientist or something. Too late, now ain’t it? So stop day-dreamin’ about it already!
Well, somewhat sleep deprived at uni, finding that I was enjoying myself with my studies of English and American literature, and the company was way better than the ones I had at school, sleep was put on the back burner. I actually worked harder than I did back in school. It’s a miracle to me, so shut your trap. Well, to make it short, all that studying and enjoying life, wishing that I would be a perpetual scholar so that life lasts forever, finally came to an end when I graduated. Well, I was sent her first, then I flew back to attend my convocation ceremony. And I flew back here again. Actually.
I guess all that sleep deprivation caught up with me when I first got here. Because that is all I do after work; sleep.
I’d come home, take a shower, eat, sometimes I don’t eat. And sleep my day away. Wake up the next morning and repeat everything. Until Friday.
There was this one Friday when I spent the afternoon after work, spring cleaning and doing the laundry and ironing and everything. The mood struck me like a thunderbolt that day. That evening, at 8, went to bed and put out like a light. That was pretty early for me, really. Cuz usually I would take naps in the afternoon, and wake up and do my stuff and go to bed by 9 or 10pm. But that night, I was pooped.
Slept like a baby with the window wide open, as always, stupidly thinking I was safe.(later on I found out how easy anyone could have climbed up the pillars up to my window and climb in if they wanted. Yikes!)
I opened my eyes, it was 8am the next day. It was Saturday, I thought I’d sleep in, like always. But when I opened my eyes again, it was 8pm! My stomach was growling. My head was spinning. My eyes were stinging. That was a bad experience, man. Do not let yourself sleep for 24 hours straight man! It’s bad!
I have never done it again after that.
I nap in the afternoons when I can. I go to bed at 9 or 10 and I sleep in on weekends. That’s it. I am big on sleep. Call me a lazy ass. I just love my sleep.
Well, until I got a computer and an internet connection. My sleep pattern was changed a little bit afterwards. But nevermind that.
Boredom still makes me sleep though. Sometimes I even sleep when I am driving. Let’s hope nothing bad happens as a result of my self-diagnosed acute boredom-induced sleep syndrome.
3. Do spring cleaning.
You will know I am bored when I turn the house upside down and give it a good shake down. After which I would sleep.
4. Write some nonsense for my blog.
See? I am doing it right now.
5. Scrub the bathroom.
Done that last week.
Those neat freaks out there must be thinking, “What? You do it only when you’re bored and not every week, at least?” Er, I get bored like every day, dude. Try and beat that.
6. Think some sick thoughts.
Haven’t been doing that for the past few weeks. How can I when I’d be too busy with either scrubbing the bathroom, ironing 33 pairs of work clothes, writing nonsense on my blog, and sleeping? I’m only human, I do have my limits.
So what does boredom make you do?
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