Doomsday, or not?

PMR results was scheduled to be released today. The day prior to that, some people called or sms-ed me, spending long periods of time either staring at mobile phone screens or talking endlessly over the phone. All because of PMR results.

I wasn't nervous about it initially. Though I was a tad too nonchalant for my liking. But, you know, after approximately a whole hour of listening to people ranting about how scared they are, you kinda catch the disease also...so I ended up being scared of today.

What would it be like? Would the atmosphere in the office - or wherever we're supposed to meet whomever it is that will give us our dreaded results - be tense and depressing? Would I be scared out of my wits?

In the end, the actual confrontation - it was with my class teacher - was over after a brief moment. All I did was murmur a 'good morning, teacher', to which she returned then congratulated me after handing me a slip of paper and asking me to sign on the name list, and then it was over.

That's it.

No time to feel scared, nervous, overwhelmed...nada.

So now, exactly five hours later, I'm wondering - why did I get so scared in the first place?

Wedding night...

My mother, my sister and I attended a wedding this evening at Berjaya Hotel. It was a distant cousin of mine, from my father's side. My grandfather's sister's granddaughter, or something like that. The bride was so pretty in white~

The wedding was quite a boring affair, because I couldn't hear the emcees speaking and the stage wasn't in clear view. They had a total of seven dishes served that night; carbonated drinks (tasted like Mirinda/F&N Orange to me), alcohol and hot tea were the only beverages available.

My aunt and uncle came with their youngest son. The fourth eldest among my mother's seven sisters was there, too - she and her daughter. Even with two strangers at the table (table number 59), there was still one empty seat. So, hi, Mr. Ghost! Hahaha.

The newly-weds cut their five-layered cake after the fourth dish - friend prawns - was served, and then opened a bottle of champagne together. Not much of the beverage burst forth though, even though the groom shook the bottle vigorously. Pity. I was looking forward to more drama than that. Although their 30-second long kiss (the crowd demanded it, though I didn't time them) is amazing enough, no? I wonder how they managed to hold their breath.

...On second thought, I don't want to know.

The couple came to our table after a while, to have a toast to...well, I'm not sure to what, exactly. The bride's cheeks were already rosy. She looked really stunning in her sparkling green, tight-fitting, sleeveless dress.

We left before the wedding was really over because the car was needed before eleven. Too bad...

Of falling down and trying again

From an onlooker's point of view, roller skating LOOKS easy. People just practically zoomed around the skating rink like it's a piece of cake. Curious, my mum decided to give it a try and rented three pairs of skates - one for her, one for me and one for my sister.

It was so hard to balance myself when wearing those blasted skates! Those wheels just can't stop moving when I tried to stand up, and on top of that, the skates were HEAVY. My mother was the first one who managed to get the hang of skating and started moving towards the center of the rink. Whomever gave rise to the phrase 'you can't teach old dogs new tricks', you're sorely mistaken in this case.

After three falls, two hours, one painful wrist and a sore bottom, I could *finally* skate a little bit. Little bit only.

At least I got it earlier than my sister. If she had mastered the skates before me, I'd be humiliated for life!

Bad hair day

Geez. Before today, I would have said that having a haircut is no big deal. Now, I'd happily say, 'Think again.'

I mean, come on, how hard is it exactly to understand that I just wanted a trim at the edges? But no, that guy just had to natter on and on, asking if I wanted a V-shape or a U-shape cut, if I wanted to straighten my hair...grr. He just couldn't shut up the entire time he was cutting my hair! I merely said 'trim', for goodness's sake! (What on earth are V-shape and U-shape cuts, anyway?)

The result? I ended up with uneven hair lengths. Mum said she could have done a much better job with a pair of blunt scissors, it was so uneven. C'mon, it can't look all that bad...I'm hoping against hope that it isn't, anyway.

Lesson for today: a sociable barber equals bad hair-cut.

Next time, I'll opt for a silent one. Hostile, whatever; as long as he does a good job with my hair.

Sheesh.