Samad Prom '07 - Le' Enchante

I know this is nitpicking, but before I start this post I'd like to point out the mistake of the organisers of naming the prom "Le' Enchante", Now I'm sorry, but why does the "Le" have an apostrophe after it? Adding one doesn't make it any more French. I apologise. I'm anal.

Now that the ranting is done and dusted (you can open your eyes now), let me divert your attention to the single most hyped event of the year. And yes, before you write about it all over the comments page, I'm late. I needed the photos from Pei Hau.

As you'd all probably know, two days ago, a few of the outgoing Form 5 students of SMKSAS organised the Samad Prom of 2007. This is the time of the year where schoolmates come in poncy outfits (and the occasional date) to celebrate the freedom (and subsequent re-admittance to yet another educational institution) that SPM affords. However, it has to be said that most of the attendees smartened up and actually came in something half-decent, classy even - a far cry from the green, white and cyan school uniforms we've been accustomed of seeing each other in.

Oh yeah, and a lot of make-up.

Obviously, that meant the prom was a perfect opportunity to snap photos of each other.


However, the camwhoring had to stop somewhere, and soon we were ushered into the room, and we were not so pleasantly surprised by what we saw. Never, in the history of mankind, was a prom held in a room as small as the Westside room on the 8th floor of the Boulevard Hotel. Still, there was room for all of us (barely) and we all sat in our designated places. Except, there were no designated places.

Actually, it was more like the organisers screwed up the seating positions. The tables list were full of errors, including three Keishas (?!).
This minor niggle aside, the prom continued smoothly. The hosts were a bit of an acquired taste, but at least they were vaguely entertaining.

Unfortunately, barely three minutes after we had settled down, we were asked to go out again, because, as it turned out, the meal was a buffet. That said, the food was excellent. Although whoever decided to skewer the prawns with the shells intact should be taken to the back room and shot.


During the meal we were treated to a performance by local rock quadruplet One Buck Short. And frankly, I wasn't fond of it at all. To be fair, at a concert they would've blown everyone's socks off. However, this was a prom - usually the home of slower, more intimate music - and this, compounded by the minuscule room and the organisers' stupid mistake of setting the volume to a ear-splitting 548,343 dB, took the magic away from the band. But credit where it's due - at least they have some mad skills.

Sidenote: One Buck Short are finishing up their inaugural studio album, Halal and Loving it, due to be released early next year.

Then, it was time for the stand-up comedian. Oh God, the stand-up comedian.

It's a formal event, for Pete's sake. Have some class.

He began politely enough, asking us guys about our dates and all. That's where things started to take a turn for the worse.

He started to crack lewd jokes, thinking all of us would get lucky with our dates. Positions, orgasms, the lot.

Almost at that immediate moment, virtually everyone lost their appetites. Even Seng Wai's. And that's saying a lot. We're not in America, you fat, useless kumquat.

Luckily (and mercifully), the show eventually ended, and eating (and socialisation) resumed. Now, at this point, you'd think the worst is over. But no. Because next came this African rapper. Like One Buck Short, the combination of wrong music, small room and ground-shaking volume spoilt the show. That, and the fact that I dislike rap. Proud to be black, indeed.

Later, we were presented with the nominees for the prom awards, which were best-dressed male and female and the prom king and queen. However, these nominees were pre-determined by the organisers and not chosen by the crowd, reducing the entertainment factor. This also explains the kinda lop-sided list of people, which mostly featured the organisers and their friends.

As expected, the nominees for Best-Dressed Male were unveiled first. Of course, to please the crowd, the men had to do stuff requested by the crowd - Razreen half-stripped, Razman did some sort of saucy dance on one of the hosts (startling him in the process) and David Mo had to perform to his date, Jessica (initially supposed to be a song, which was changed to a rap. Eventually they decided on a dance, with David doing a sort of half-arsed slide).

Then it was the girls who had to step out and take the stage - Brigette, Erin and Tanya. Brigette, in particular, had a pretty memorable moment when we dragged Chan Wai up to the stage. They exchange rather heartfelt "I love you"s, to the amusement to the crowd.

Tanya's date, Sashi, on the other hand, had to wear a thong on his head.

After this, voting ensued and the crowd dispersed to socialise once more. That's when an unexpected guest came along.

At the door, with rather dishevelled clothes, stood Philbert Tiki Yong.

Bastard told me he wasn't coming.

So for us, plus Priya, Pei Hau and a few others, it was time for another round of picture-taking.



Oh, and those that won were Razreen (expected) and Erin (expected). As for Prom King and Queen, I didn't pay that much attention (sorry), but I think the winners were Shafiq (expected) and Heather (expected, she's the organising chairperson, after all).

Of course, a prom would never be a prom without a dance and we rushed to the stage. They didn't play slow music (oh, my poor ears...), but it was OK. I especially loved the Bhangra (screw the lightbulbs, people!).

Soon, it was time to end. We exchanged greetings and goodbyes and took even more pictures. Some of the others went to the Laundry Bar to get drunk. Philistines.

Now, at this point you might think I hated prom. That I was bored, miserable and, on top of that, alone. And you're partly wrong - I did somewhat enjoy the prom. No, really, I did.

Thing is, I paid RM100 for the ticket, and at that exorbitant price I wanted to be wowed - it was, after all, supposed to be a special event for all that attended. I was expecting something memorable, marvellous, exquisite even. I was expecting an event worthy or telling my children, for them to tell their children, and so on. Instead, it was merely average. And because of that I felt like I've wasted my money.

Okay, that's a bit harsh. Maybe "not worth the high price" is more like it. But either way, it's not one for the memory lane. And that's sad.

The benefits of 30".

I just went to Machines today to view my blog on the fantastic Apple 30" Cinema Display. Oh. My. God. I. Need. To. Have. It. In. My. Life. Though at RM6,999, best not even think of it, shall we?

Oh, yeah, here's a picture of me at the shop (yes, I want the iSight as well).

iSigh...

Argh... Not Again...

EDIT: Sorry for the picture quality - using my stupid "temporary" camera. Can't wait for my Casio to be fixed.

Oh, damn it.

My Apple Remote. I dropped it. For the 50 billionth time.

The scratches are starting to annoy me now.

Hell would freeze over before I'd be able to handle anything this small, light and shiny.

Classic example of Apple's trademark brilliant design and trademark shitty ergonomics.

Of Stripes and Fabrics

EDIT: HEY AYESHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

I've got my prom clothes!

Yes, the I know I'm a bit slow, but I did actually get my arse off my chair and get some decent pieces of kit. Which is pretty damn good considering I'd rather sit on this chair all day than set a foot out of the house.

Anyway, I got the clothes from Jusco at Mid Valley Megamall. Didn't get off too well though, because my mum chose the wrong time to be thrifty, refusing to spend more than RM500 (trust me, it's HARD) - even though it's a special occasion and I'm asking for one damn set of clothing.

One.

I know we should save money, but not to that degree...

Hell, she even asked me to get those el-cheapo shirts (i.e. RM40) that look dreadful and feel even worse. I was determined not to go anywhere near them, let alone in them.

Thankfully, Padini had some coats that were 50% off (!), which brought the price from RM380+ right down to a much more palatable RM194.50 (!!). That gave me room to get a slightly more pleasing Seed shirt (RM98.10).


As for the slacks, well, they weren't so important, so I just grabbed one from a generic local brand (RM49). Totalled up, they cost RM341.60 - not cheap but a lot less expensive than what could've been.

So, that's it, then. Not too bad for a man (oh, alright, boy) who has all the financial skills of a government official. See you tomorrow.

Funniest. Interview. Ever.

It's old, I know, but just watch this.

Misfit

Do I look threatening to you?

I must scare kids. I went to Suwarna's farewell party a few days ago and the first thing the little children wanted to do was to drag me into the pool.

Something tells me my children would grow up wishing they'd been born into foster families instead. *sigh*

P.S. Suey, if you're reading this all the way in Spain, have a nice holiday. We all miss you already *cough**cough*sarcasm*cough**cough*. If you do hook up with some hot guy you met at the beach, do bring him back here so we can interrogate him. And remember, we'd all love some souvenirs, so stock up!

Does happiness really come that cheap?

Have you seen this before?

This is Happy, a new, el-cheapo prepaid service aimed at those people you used to see in primary school who couldn't afford to buy lunch at the canteen. Like me.

Anyway, it's a sub-brand of DiGi (that's why the stickers that came with my newspaper a few days ago are so similar to the ones for the DiGi Street Party a few weeks back) and apparently lets you talk at RM0.01 per second up to a maximum of RM0.99 per call.

Yes, it's not a typo. You read it correctly. Ninety-nine sen per call.

It also boast of 10 sen per SMS to anyone in any network and any reload stays valid for 60 days. If your mouth is hanging wide open while you're reading this, you're not alone.

This is either a scam or a mega April-Fools-joke-come-late, or DiGi has pulled off a complete blinder. We'll see if this is actually real or not, and if it is, don't be surprised if my number changes to 014 anytime soon.

Practicality or Sportiness?

WARNING: AUTO CONTENT - CAR-PHOBIC INDIVIDUALS PLEASE LOOK AWAY


The opportunity of spotting an interesting vehicle, though rare, still comes by occasionally. And since my mum is usually the only passenger (or rather, driver - I'm only 16) in the car, I usually bore her with them (sorry).

However, my mum is a fan of Alfa Romeos, and her ultimate object of desire is nothing less than the absolutely beautiful Alfa 147.

So cue the Honda at a stoplight. Behind a blood-red Alfa Romeo 156 Sportwagon (or estate/station wagon, for those of you not in the know). Oh. My. God. It's. Pretty.

"That's a nice car," I remarked, masking the irresistible urge to drool all over.

Mum, however, shrugged.

"I'd never buy that."

I looked at her. Flabbergasted.

"That must be Alfa's company car," she added.

The look of sheer horror on my face immediately turned into one of total cluelessness.

She then explained that nobody should buy an Alfa estate, because Alfas are meant to be sporty and not practical, and anyone who goes out and buys one is a complete clot.

Slowly, I began to see where she was coming from, even though I protested that:

1. It's still sporty (I'm still drooling as I type).

2. Someone who wants an Alfa but needs space would have no choice but to buy, naturally, an Alfa estate. That way he/she could have an Alfa and carry the flat-pack furniture, something anyone with that much dough would doubtlessly buy a lot of.

But then I came to the part of a Porsche SUV (specifically, this lumpen, bulbous, gargantuan piece of utter shit the bods at Stuttgart call a Porsche), and at that moment the few shards of logic there was were shattered.

She actually said a Cayenne was a logical... thing for Porsche to build. A Porsche-badged smog-spewing, gas-guzzling, monster. One that looks like it had been in the middle of a 165-car pile-up and bolted back into shape by a person who can't differentiate his mouth from his arse.

I know people buy more of these than they buy iPods. But the fact remains that an SUV is far less "sporty" than an estate. It's
more space-consuming, drinks a hell of a lot of petrol yet is a million times slower, handles like a barge, spews more good-ol' carbon dioxide than a electrical powerplant, and looks utterly horrible. And it trumps the estate because it's the "in" thing? Gosh.

I know me and my mother disagree on a lot of things, but this takes the cake.

Like Jeremy Clarkson puts it, "It's not a bad car and in many respects it's a very good one, but just as no-alcohol lager defeats the objective, so does a Porsche off-roader. Can you imagine Land Rover producing a rear engined sports car? Exactly".

PlayStation Problem

This is annoying. My PlayStation 2 refuses to load the game I'd currently like to play, Need for Speed: Pro Street. I've been resetting the damn thing for the 284,565,374,343th time now, and it still wouldn't boot up. Instead, it barfs up the message, "Please insert PlayStation 2 or PlayStation format disc". Or something to that effect.

And you know what's more irritating? I've bought the game yesterday and after inserting the disc it loaded up on the first try.

It's frustration with a capital F.

In truth, this has been a thorn in the side of me for quite a while now, and I've gotten used to it. But the PS2 has apparently got a mind of its own and instead of working for me, it's chosen the absolute best moment to try and irritate me by acting up on me after SPM

And worse still, I can't open it up to clean the supposedly dirty laser. Well, I've popped open the top half, but stopping me from going further are four, microscopic screws. You know those? The ones with Phillips screw drives but are so shallow you can't put a screwdriver end into them? Yeah, those. I've got six precision screwdrivers lying by the side of my table and, yes, you guessed it, the ones that work are precisely...none of them. And it's not like they're screwed in half-heartedly, either - these are not so much screwed in as pummelled in and stamped on until the seal became so tight it could keep tectonic plates together.

At this point I've trying my very, very utmost best to resist a very, very strong urge to kick the PS2. Very, very hard.

Frankly, this unit has been under my custody for seven years now. But surely, Sony, out of all Japanese electronics manufacturers - let alone all electronics manufacturers, period - should make products that can survive an atomic blast. Instead, their products (at least the early PS2s - mine was one of the first) conk out at the first sight of dust. It's not like I didn't take care of it. Hell, I don't even travel with it anymore, since two of my cousins have similar ones (thank economies of scale for that). Which by the way, do work.

And worst of all, almost every single electronic product I own goes kaput after a while - my iPod, camera, etc. Why? Am I some sort of walking magnet for faulty gadgets? Does God hate me that much? Well, only He knows. I can only speculate.

You know what I wanna do now? Write to Sony's CEO a Christmas greeting card.

"I'm bored, irritated, angry, annoyed. Thanks very much, Sony. Merry Christmas."

EDIT 1: Finally got the right screwdriver for the job (RM10.50?!). Cleaned the laser using some alcohol. Slight scare with the ribbon cable connecting the on/off button to the motherboard, but UHU and co. sorted it out.

EDIT 2: That doesn't work either. Fuck it, I'm gonna watch Top Gear.

You know you're done with SPM when...

1. Your watch/phone/computer/whatever says it is the 26th November/whatever or later.

2. The last question paper you sat for is in your room/dustbin.

3. You're on a holiday.

4. You suddenly have time to blog.

5. You wake up and wonder why it's suddenly so hot. Then you pick up your watch and discover that it is, in fact, 3:00 in the afternoon.

6. Your eyes become bloodshot staring at the computer screen.

7. You spend more time outdoors than indoors. That is, of course, unless you spend everyday sitting in front of the TV/computer/PlayStation. In which you'd be on your knees, begging your parents in a desperate attempt to stay in.

8. After dinner, your mum doesn't ask you to study anymore. Instead, she asks you to clean the dishes.

9. You're suddenly aware of everything that is going on around you, instead of, say, memorising the cellular structure of an amoeba. Hell, it's not even "amoeba" anymore. It's Amoeba sp.

10. You've completely forgotten how to speak Malay.