Thirty-eight

Lets go waaay back of today - or at least, as waaay back as 5:30pm.

My parents, my maid & I went off to Cjaya.
My weapons of the day were my iPod, Mac & a carton of strawberry milk.

Halfway through the journey, there was only a quarter of milk left.
& my mom just bought it yesterday.

My stomach full, we carried on our adventure to our future house, Seri Aman (yes, my parents gave it a name).
Up until that moment, before we ventured on to my room, I couldn't wait to move in.

The main reason is that it'd be clean (my strategy is to not unpack to keep it that way) & there'd be more room for my books.

My (future) room, I have to say, is awesome.
Sky blue walls, walk-in closet, my Korean lantern, a window seat, a library beneath the window seat & a balcony.

I mean, come on.
There were no flaws to this room - it was my Dream Room.

Until I saw the toilet.
No offense. I know that the architect & my parents probably put loads of effort to build the house & I am in no position to complain.

But when you look at the room, you'd probably think, 'Wow, this is awesome. Nothing can ruint his room. It's The Room.'
Until you walk into the toilet.

The toilet is probably as big as the closet you'd find under the staircase.
It's that small.

& sure, there's a bath tub (which, yes, as geeky as that sounds, I always wanted one).
But that just makes the toilet look smaller.

The shower wasn't in the bath tub. It was beside it.
& the sink was beside the... Toilet.
Which was beside the bath tub.

It was very disappointing.
As we left the house, I felt like I was experiencing a hangover.

You know, without the alcohol.

So I kept silent as we picked up my grandmom & Uncle M.
I kept silent as we reached the Putrajaya Club restaurant.
I kept silent as we ordered our meals (ah, my orders never change so everyone can predict what I eat).

& when I had to talk - with my mom, who could always sense me being too quiet - I just snap at people.

It's kind of stupid when I put it like that but it's true.
I was depressed that my toilet was disappointingly small.

Anywayz, as I was keeping silent the whole time, thoughts just flew in my head.
My Dream Room is ruined.
It's horrible.

All because of the stupid toilet.

& on & on.

To make matters worst, I was at some fancy-schmancy restaurant & I was wearing this oversized T-shirt with the word ALASKA printed over it (don't ask. Grandmom bought it).

So I went to the toilet to change into this orange collared T-shirt.
Note the collar.
See? I've got class too =P

Anywayz, as I was changing, I discovered two facts :

1. I am a size 32 (I can't say of what, of course. But I'm sure you know).
   But somehow, I was wearing a 38, courtesy to Grandmom.
2. My shirt was unnaturally tight. I mean, only at the arms.
   Which only means one thing.
   
   I need to exercise.
   
   You know on those chick flick movies wear some bimbotic girl would scream "Oh my God! I gained weight!" where you'd just think, "What a bimbo."
   At that moment, I felt like that girl who screamed that to her friend.

I went through dinner, still quiet, with my new discoveries.
I managed to survive thanks to weapon number one (iPod).

Finally went to our main destination - Grandmom's house.
So here I am, typing this all down, with Wolf in front of me, resting.

We're waiting for the Italian fireworks.
Alot's been going on here at Cjaya, proud to say.

First was Akon's tour. & now the fireworks display.

I'm glad.
My mood's finally lightened thanks to Wolf.
Because there's this new kitten which is angelic cute but it's too hyper for my taste.
I prefer Wolf - cute, fat, lazy.

Hey! Like Garfield!
Only, you know, Wolf's... Well, grey.

Here's a few pictures of Wolf :

(Note : The pictures may be a bit obscene.)



See that log of fur there?
& the rather unflattering pic there?

That's Wolf!