hi
i can never really pin point when i got so horrid at sports and other physical activities(except probably ahem). one cannot always blame genetics for everything though one feels much better after they do. what's even more disturbing though it isn't as surprising that i have always been the shitiest, to put it crudely, at team sports. it isn't enough that my body has the quick reflexes of fairly large retarded child but that annoying higher power that makes david blaine float has granted me with no skills whatsoever in working in teams. i would like to attribute my abilities (or lack thereoff) at sports to this fact: most sports if not all sports are played in teams. while this may explain my child hood prowess at swimming and the somewhat solo game of badminton (which some may argue is not a sport at all) it certainly does not explain why i so suck at team sports in particular. i can always link this to the fact that no one really likes me and only interact with me because they want to be my right hand man when i take over the world. that said im at even greater disadvantage due to the slightly excess baggage in the front. i always foolishly thought(rather hoped) that the laws of physics will somehow apply to negate the frontal baggage with the one at the back. like i said i was being foolish...
so aside from the fact that shit head god did not create all men and women to be equal, what else are my problems? yes pussies there certainly are more. since most sports that i've tried my hand in, through the aid of PE, are team sports, perhaps the underlying problems are more to do with the team part and less to do with the sports part. i can't honestly say that im the best team player there is out there, but ive always considered myself manageable. maybe we can even throw in some unorthodox leadership qualities. that is until, we come to the team sports bit. here's an example:
just yesterday we played softball, the cheap imitation of baseball. the "we" in this case being, the class from hell. so after the napfa training, something that most people don't need training for (proving a point here), the 'unfits'(as i shall now deem myself because it sounds cool for some personal nerdy reasons) are graciously allowed to join in the game. im quite sure i'll never be quite as horrendous at the game as if i had actually be briefed on the fucking rules of the game. i used a profanity here because i thought the paragraphs lacked the usual vulgarity peppered 'pizzazz' and because the rules were seriously so fucked up that this simpleton will never be, unfortunately, able to get it. in actual fact, even if i had been given an hour lecture and fully been tested on the theory of the game like i was going for a driving test, the practical would always fall short of what "people"(my classmates) expect. ah, but one of the pains of being a left-out outcast from an extraterrestrial planet is that the rules of sportsmanship do not apply (not that im a sports(wo)man). instead, this piece of poo is yelled at, and im almost sure cruelly ridiculed as well about her non-existent skills on the puny artificial softball pitch. dearest cyber-dwellers, do not pity me just yet...for i have more tales to tell...
one of the more famous sports that the class likes to partake in is floorball. this game, i find, is alot like hockey and well, sex. oh well maybe just the stick and balls part. i thought i might add that unnecessary detail from my mind at an attempt to disgust and throw you readers of guard. heh heh heh. oh where was i? oh right the stick and balls part. all this stiff schmuck has to do is use the stick and manouvre the ball and coax it into the net. height isn't really an issue, for those of you who're trying to be sympathetic and kind to my plight. why im bad at this simple and fairly easy to grasp game is besides me. can i just get away saying that my mind is above such trivial activities? alas, i confess my mind lingers away to the bus-ride home and how long it will take me to get back more often than it should when playing a "serious" sport. can i blame my class for this little nuance? hmm...close call. depression often preys on the lonely. nah...that was just a petty jibe at them for my own unhappiness (or is it? the sub conscience can reveal alot about one's suicidal tendencies).
ive quickly (alright can it really have been that quick if im still bitter about my sporting abilities?) learned within days of stepping into SAJC that the school pumps in more than required attention into sports. im led to believe that SA is the only school in which you can't enjoy your pre-prelim PE break unless you attained at least a silver for your NAPFA test. bitch would be the first word that comes to mind, but i think unreasonable bitch would be better suited for the deep annoyance i feel. especially when somewhere in the deep crevices of sajc there's a fucking standing broad jump mat that's left laughing precariously at the leaping hippo. where was i before i was out slicing my wrists? oh yeah, sajc tends to put an inhumane amount of emphasis on sports and shit. (what does it care whether i die of hypertension or drug overdoes? im not christian.) as a result my class has an "interesting" number of physically fit and enthusiastic sporting people. they all go for the ball without holding back, like savage animals. before i can even master (or get as close to it as possible for someone of my calibre) the ball is in and out of radius before one can say "pussy, get back here with my fucking ball". its a little like watching spastic mentally disabled children fighting for candy that's dropped onto the floor. or like that happy meal cum mcnuggets advertisment during the "kungfu panda" era. only this time the sticks they use look more lethal. the concept...still the same. strangely i understand the concept of football a little better. kick the ball seems so much easier at times like these.
another god forsaken ball game that my class tends to visit frequently is captain's ball. it can hardly be called a sport though. well, i don't see any Olympic matches for it, do you? so its agreed then...you can't move once you're in possession of the ball, you have to pass it on and the captain must catch the darn ball. normally the guys tend to dominate the game. fine by me. however, once in a while, the ball comes hurling in my direction (either out of the scarcity of choice or accidentally) out of the blue and little miss butter fingers here cannot catch a ball to save her life. especially when one sees PE as an opportunity to day dream about whipping out the good ol' machine gun to gun down every single christian soul that ever roamed SAJC. okay, beta gets an excuse for knowing the gun man i suppose (her reaction here would be the "thanks ah"). the rest are suitably lying at my feet. too far? i beg to differ mother fucker. when one has gotten somewhat moderately acquainted with my "skills" one tends to treat me as invisible full time even when im right in front of you. ah... i dream the day when the man will say: "okay class today we shall play badminton". and i will blow them all away with my lack of incompetence at something. its not much, but throw the eager dog a bone, why don't you?
so obviously im a total nincumpoop at sports and all sporting equipments are thingamajigs and thingamabobs to me. well...what can i do but blame it on genetics? my only wish right now is to have temporary frog legs to leap to a decent length on the stupid standing broad jump mat. maybe i should try the ask and you shall receive thing i learned today at church. heh heh heh. have i piqued your interests yet? the absolute agnostic atheist goes to church. enter: dramatic music and then me in a black cape.
we were supposed to go as a class and meet at the glass building outside the church for attendance, but then i really didn't want to because...i don't know why...don't think i need a reason either...i had a feeling they were looking around at me. angrily? with annoyance? well were they even looking at me in the first place? WTF. do i care? should i care? maybe they wanted to go as a class..strengthen our bonds and shit like that. well whatever, not everyone was in school and not everyone went with "the class". it was a moment of deep insecurity and doubt. my phrase for recovery (as contributed by friend mentioned in earlier post): you're invisible to them anywaywaywaywaywayway (echoes la, imagine can? dramatic effect see...)
twerps who go to SA would full well know that today was the SAJC prefect investiture day. it isn't really called that but i can't spell the other word for prefect and this sounds so much worse that i didn't want to honour it by de-nerdifying it. for some christian reason SA makes a big deal about prefects. yaaaaawn. in my well-valued opinion (don't even try of disproving it because, shitheads, YOU'RE READING MY FUCKING WEBLOG! case closed), its waaaaaaay to overrated. they sing when they enter, sing when they leave, they were probably asked to sing when they go poo poo kachoo too. normally i don't give a fuck whether you want to sing or not, but was really the annoying type of singing. you know the ones called "hymms" but in no way are you humming. its more like really high pitched voices echoing through the high ceilings of the St.Andrews Cathedral. it supposed to be majestic or some shit like that but it sounded like the crew of cats outside my house doing the nasty...commando style. or maybe i was just being cranky because they made me sit through preaching and stuff. i think we can all guess why my blog is more anti-christ than usual (these words were chosen really carefully).
met another "man of the lord" today. he told me that if i just accepted JC (jesus christ yo! get with the program homies! is there a reason im behaving a shade or two darker than i usually am? nope.............or is there? dramatic music: dang dang dang DANG) as my saviour he would deliver aaaaall my wishes. sho shanta clause will buring me chrisimas pwezzies zen maammy?? i don't think so fucker. he gave us an example of his mate(friend la, what you thinking?) getting what he wanted after he accepted JC into his heart (a muscular organ incapable of any thought, transports blood all over to the body. that was just for physics students. aren't i oh so very thoughtful?). guess what his friend asked for. a peace of mind, that's what. something so generic can be achieved through recreational drugs, therapy and/or getting out in the sun more often pussy. urgh! you just want to use a hammer to bash his head in, all in the name of doing him a favour by "knocking" some sense into him. alas, that's no use. he's too deep in the tangled web of lies (if it wasn't i'd be going to hell for what i was doing just now. what was i doing? good question... leave it your stalker imaginations shall we? or maybe i wasn't doing anything but just wanted my post to be more scandalous? ah but what if i was doing something and i just pretended i wasn't doing anything? its mind boggling fuckery everyone...TADA!)
so since i was so free, just sitting there in church trying to keep awake, i thought i might try a little experiment. with what, you ask? now that's a question that will reap answers. i was experimenting with the "ask and you shall receive" thingy he was talking about. and now i know its absolute crap and have singlehandedly disproved poppycock. yay. score one for the anti-christ. nil for Jesus Christ. finally a game i CAN win at. moving on...so i was just sitting there right:
"hey god i want flying unicorn to come crashing through the expensive tinted windows right....NOW" waiting....still waiting...never came. okaaaaaay. maybe it needs to be something simpler. after all, god's busy doing the jiggy with satan to produce more of us 'neutral man'.
"hey GOD (a little louder in my mind. after all what's god if he can't mind read. im in church for god's sake...quite literally), i want my shoe lace to come undone" wait...wait some more...i don't know what i was expecting. i was half expecting my shoelaces to magically float and come undone right before my bloody eyes. after all what a tiny miracle like this to him right? he made the fucking sea part. helloooo. maybe it needs to be something generic that any tom, dick, harry or court jester could do. one final try yeah. im all about 2nd chances. so here goes:
"hey GOOD holy all deserving God, father to the supposed saviour JC, can you please make me less bored like right now so i can stop doing this? as a bonus i'll even be less insulting and patronising to you? hmm? pretty please?" pause...wait...nothing happened...background: more singing. no suicide bombings. no evacuation signal. soooooo. lesson learnt: no such thing as god. damn you prick... tricked me again! one of these days im going to get you to join my cult and then we'll see who's your boss...
after that little wasted morning, beta, MM, allan, president and i went to eat lunch. expensive but value for money dim sum lunch. it was fun. laughed. not the "it wasn't that funny but i think i should humour you because you could dictate the rest of my 2 years sort of laughter", but really, under belly, cannot breath, my throat's going to rip, everyone can hear us sort. the mahjong table sort. highlight of lunch (sorry dude, gotta share man): guy came up to allan and asked him if he was gay probably a dare. funny because: he's not. even funnier because: he got annoyed. ate alot. drank alot...of tea. ate some more. paid alot. depleted $50 in 2-3 days. went home pooped and slept. i love half days. don't you? i'll bet you'd do too if you ate dim sum buffets. setback here: can't eat for the rest of the year. probably...maybe...well only if i get hungry...
random but not completely off topis thought: you know how that voluptuous female cooking show host, nigella, just devours artificially lit up food? i hate her. she eats all that lard and butter and where does it go? i'll tell you where, my dears. they strategically positions themselves in her boobies and ass so that she can reel in british billionaires. unfortunately, not all of us can devour the whole of england and hope that our vocabulary suddenly holds the descriptive powers of jane austen and 'luggage' which resembles jennifer lopez's. i, unfortunately, happen to fall in the 'unfortunate' category. anyone know where there's a good cliff i can jump off of? ah well...never mind. wouldn't work anyway, probably going to bounce right back up again. im watching her show right now. can you tell?
i think they're back. it was gone for a long time now, but they came back. they came back to me. i love my rambling skills...don't ever leave me again, my darlings...
i can never really pin point when i got so horrid at sports and other physical activities(except probably ahem). one cannot always blame genetics for everything though one feels much better after they do. what's even more disturbing though it isn't as surprising that i have always been the shitiest, to put it crudely, at team sports. it isn't enough that my body has the quick reflexes of fairly large retarded child but that annoying higher power that makes david blaine float has granted me with no skills whatsoever in working in teams. i would like to attribute my abilities (or lack thereoff) at sports to this fact: most sports if not all sports are played in teams. while this may explain my child hood prowess at swimming and the somewhat solo game of badminton (which some may argue is not a sport at all) it certainly does not explain why i so suck at team sports in particular. i can always link this to the fact that no one really likes me and only interact with me because they want to be my right hand man when i take over the world. that said im at even greater disadvantage due to the slightly excess baggage in the front. i always foolishly thought(rather hoped) that the laws of physics will somehow apply to negate the frontal baggage with the one at the back. like i said i was being foolish...
so aside from the fact that shit head god did not create all men and women to be equal, what else are my problems? yes pussies there certainly are more. since most sports that i've tried my hand in, through the aid of PE, are team sports, perhaps the underlying problems are more to do with the team part and less to do with the sports part. i can't honestly say that im the best team player there is out there, but ive always considered myself manageable. maybe we can even throw in some unorthodox leadership qualities. that is until, we come to the team sports bit. here's an example:
just yesterday we played softball, the cheap imitation of baseball. the "we" in this case being, the class from hell. so after the napfa training, something that most people don't need training for (proving a point here), the 'unfits'(as i shall now deem myself because it sounds cool for some personal nerdy reasons) are graciously allowed to join in the game. im quite sure i'll never be quite as horrendous at the game as if i had actually be briefed on the fucking rules of the game. i used a profanity here because i thought the paragraphs lacked the usual vulgarity peppered 'pizzazz' and because the rules were seriously so fucked up that this simpleton will never be, unfortunately, able to get it. in actual fact, even if i had been given an hour lecture and fully been tested on the theory of the game like i was going for a driving test, the practical would always fall short of what "people"(my classmates) expect. ah, but one of the pains of being a left-out outcast from an extraterrestrial planet is that the rules of sportsmanship do not apply (not that im a sports(wo)man). instead, this piece of poo is yelled at, and im almost sure cruelly ridiculed as well about her non-existent skills on the puny artificial softball pitch. dearest cyber-dwellers, do not pity me just yet...for i have more tales to tell...
one of the more famous sports that the class likes to partake in is floorball. this game, i find, is alot like hockey and well, sex. oh well maybe just the stick and balls part. i thought i might add that unnecessary detail from my mind at an attempt to disgust and throw you readers of guard. heh heh heh. oh where was i? oh right the stick and balls part. all this stiff schmuck has to do is use the stick and manouvre the ball and coax it into the net. height isn't really an issue, for those of you who're trying to be sympathetic and kind to my plight. why im bad at this simple and fairly easy to grasp game is besides me. can i just get away saying that my mind is above such trivial activities? alas, i confess my mind lingers away to the bus-ride home and how long it will take me to get back more often than it should when playing a "serious" sport. can i blame my class for this little nuance? hmm...close call. depression often preys on the lonely. nah...that was just a petty jibe at them for my own unhappiness (or is it? the sub conscience can reveal alot about one's suicidal tendencies).
ive quickly (alright can it really have been that quick if im still bitter about my sporting abilities?) learned within days of stepping into SAJC that the school pumps in more than required attention into sports. im led to believe that SA is the only school in which you can't enjoy your pre-prelim PE break unless you attained at least a silver for your NAPFA test. bitch would be the first word that comes to mind, but i think unreasonable bitch would be better suited for the deep annoyance i feel. especially when somewhere in the deep crevices of sajc there's a fucking standing broad jump mat that's left laughing precariously at the leaping hippo. where was i before i was out slicing my wrists? oh yeah, sajc tends to put an inhumane amount of emphasis on sports and shit. (what does it care whether i die of hypertension or drug overdoes? im not christian.) as a result my class has an "interesting" number of physically fit and enthusiastic sporting people. they all go for the ball without holding back, like savage animals. before i can even master (or get as close to it as possible for someone of my calibre) the ball is in and out of radius before one can say "pussy, get back here with my fucking ball". its a little like watching spastic mentally disabled children fighting for candy that's dropped onto the floor. or like that happy meal cum mcnuggets advertisment during the "kungfu panda" era. only this time the sticks they use look more lethal. the concept...still the same. strangely i understand the concept of football a little better. kick the ball seems so much easier at times like these.
another god forsaken ball game that my class tends to visit frequently is captain's ball. it can hardly be called a sport though. well, i don't see any Olympic matches for it, do you? so its agreed then...you can't move once you're in possession of the ball, you have to pass it on and the captain must catch the darn ball. normally the guys tend to dominate the game. fine by me. however, once in a while, the ball comes hurling in my direction (either out of the scarcity of choice or accidentally) out of the blue and little miss butter fingers here cannot catch a ball to save her life. especially when one sees PE as an opportunity to day dream about whipping out the good ol' machine gun to gun down every single christian soul that ever roamed SAJC. okay, beta gets an excuse for knowing the gun man i suppose (her reaction here would be the "thanks ah"). the rest are suitably lying at my feet. too far? i beg to differ mother fucker. when one has gotten somewhat moderately acquainted with my "skills" one tends to treat me as invisible full time even when im right in front of you. ah... i dream the day when the man will say: "okay class today we shall play badminton". and i will blow them all away with my lack of incompetence at something. its not much, but throw the eager dog a bone, why don't you?
so obviously im a total nincumpoop at sports and all sporting equipments are thingamajigs and thingamabobs to me. well...what can i do but blame it on genetics? my only wish right now is to have temporary frog legs to leap to a decent length on the stupid standing broad jump mat. maybe i should try the ask and you shall receive thing i learned today at church. heh heh heh. have i piqued your interests yet? the absolute agnostic atheist goes to church. enter: dramatic music and then me in a black cape.
we were supposed to go as a class and meet at the glass building outside the church for attendance, but then i really didn't want to because...i don't know why...don't think i need a reason either...i had a feeling they were looking around at me. angrily? with annoyance? well were they even looking at me in the first place? WTF. do i care? should i care? maybe they wanted to go as a class..strengthen our bonds and shit like that. well whatever, not everyone was in school and not everyone went with "the class". it was a moment of deep insecurity and doubt. my phrase for recovery (as contributed by friend mentioned in earlier post): you're invisible to them anywaywaywaywaywayway (echoes la, imagine can? dramatic effect see...)
twerps who go to SA would full well know that today was the SAJC prefect investiture day. it isn't really called that but i can't spell the other word for prefect and this sounds so much worse that i didn't want to honour it by de-nerdifying it. for some christian reason SA makes a big deal about prefects. yaaaaawn. in my well-valued opinion (don't even try of disproving it because, shitheads, YOU'RE READING MY FUCKING WEBLOG! case closed), its waaaaaaay to overrated. they sing when they enter, sing when they leave, they were probably asked to sing when they go poo poo kachoo too. normally i don't give a fuck whether you want to sing or not, but was really the annoying type of singing. you know the ones called "hymms" but in no way are you humming. its more like really high pitched voices echoing through the high ceilings of the St.Andrews Cathedral. it supposed to be majestic or some shit like that but it sounded like the crew of cats outside my house doing the nasty...commando style. or maybe i was just being cranky because they made me sit through preaching and stuff. i think we can all guess why my blog is more anti-christ than usual (these words were chosen really carefully).
met another "man of the lord" today. he told me that if i just accepted JC (jesus christ yo! get with the program homies! is there a reason im behaving a shade or two darker than i usually am? nope.............or is there? dramatic music: dang dang dang DANG) as my saviour he would deliver aaaaall my wishes. sho shanta clause will buring me chrisimas pwezzies zen maammy?? i don't think so fucker. he gave us an example of his mate(friend la, what you thinking?) getting what he wanted after he accepted JC into his heart (a muscular organ incapable of any thought, transports blood all over to the body. that was just for physics students. aren't i oh so very thoughtful?). guess what his friend asked for. a peace of mind, that's what. something so generic can be achieved through recreational drugs, therapy and/or getting out in the sun more often pussy. urgh! you just want to use a hammer to bash his head in, all in the name of doing him a favour by "knocking" some sense into him. alas, that's no use. he's too deep in the tangled web of lies (if it wasn't i'd be going to hell for what i was doing just now. what was i doing? good question... leave it your stalker imaginations shall we? or maybe i wasn't doing anything but just wanted my post to be more scandalous? ah but what if i was doing something and i just pretended i wasn't doing anything? its mind boggling fuckery everyone...TADA!)
so since i was so free, just sitting there in church trying to keep awake, i thought i might try a little experiment. with what, you ask? now that's a question that will reap answers. i was experimenting with the "ask and you shall receive" thingy he was talking about. and now i know its absolute crap and have singlehandedly disproved poppycock. yay. score one for the anti-christ. nil for Jesus Christ. finally a game i CAN win at. moving on...so i was just sitting there right:
"hey god i want flying unicorn to come crashing through the expensive tinted windows right....NOW" waiting....still waiting...never came. okaaaaaay. maybe it needs to be something simpler. after all, god's busy doing the jiggy with satan to produce more of us 'neutral man'.
"hey GOD (a little louder in my mind. after all what's god if he can't mind read. im in church for god's sake...quite literally), i want my shoe lace to come undone" wait...wait some more...i don't know what i was expecting. i was half expecting my shoelaces to magically float and come undone right before my bloody eyes. after all what a tiny miracle like this to him right? he made the fucking sea part. helloooo. maybe it needs to be something generic that any tom, dick, harry or court jester could do. one final try yeah. im all about 2nd chances. so here goes:
"hey GOOD holy all deserving God, father to the supposed saviour JC, can you please make me less bored like right now so i can stop doing this? as a bonus i'll even be less insulting and patronising to you? hmm? pretty please?" pause...wait...nothing happened...background: more singing. no suicide bombings. no evacuation signal. soooooo. lesson learnt: no such thing as god. damn you prick... tricked me again! one of these days im going to get you to join my cult and then we'll see who's your boss...
after that little wasted morning, beta, MM, allan, president and i went to eat lunch. expensive but value for money dim sum lunch. it was fun. laughed. not the "it wasn't that funny but i think i should humour you because you could dictate the rest of my 2 years sort of laughter", but really, under belly, cannot breath, my throat's going to rip, everyone can hear us sort. the mahjong table sort. highlight of lunch (sorry dude, gotta share man): guy came up to allan and asked him if he was gay probably a dare. funny because: he's not. even funnier because: he got annoyed. ate alot. drank alot...of tea. ate some more. paid alot. depleted $50 in 2-3 days. went home pooped and slept. i love half days. don't you? i'll bet you'd do too if you ate dim sum buffets. setback here: can't eat for the rest of the year. probably...maybe...well only if i get hungry...
random but not completely off topis thought: you know how that voluptuous female cooking show host, nigella, just devours artificially lit up food? i hate her. she eats all that lard and butter and where does it go? i'll tell you where, my dears. they strategically positions themselves in her boobies and ass so that she can reel in british billionaires. unfortunately, not all of us can devour the whole of england and hope that our vocabulary suddenly holds the descriptive powers of jane austen and 'luggage' which resembles jennifer lopez's. i, unfortunately, happen to fall in the 'unfortunate' category. anyone know where there's a good cliff i can jump off of? ah well...never mind. wouldn't work anyway, probably going to bounce right back up again. im watching her show right now. can you tell?
i think they're back. it was gone for a long time now, but they came back. they came back to me. i love my rambling skills...don't ever leave me again, my darlings...
