Music: Your Song, Ewan McGregor and Alessandro Safina
Mood: Tired
Drink: Water
*sighs happily* Isn't this song better than sex? Orgasme.
*grins* Feeling much better, thank you. For one thing: I have a job! Hurrah! And that means moolah!
*giggles* And I just saw the telly advert for 'Beyond Borders', the film starring Clive Owen *swoon* and Angelina Jolie.
Oh and if I'm not mistaken, I dreamt last night that Colin Farrell and I had a baby daughter. At least, it'd be a mistake if I was suddenly preggers with my ducky's baby. It would be certainly strange, especially since I had no recollection of the conception.
[[ Side note: the roomie takes it literally when my ducky said he had about two inches. It's called sarcasm, darling. ]]
It must have been the glass of red wine I hastily consumed whilst correcting the roomie's father's column. I really should be paid for my editing skills.
Another highlight: whilst queueing for the bus, I thought of a name for my gorgeous car. My first thought was to name it 'Kieran', but what happens when my-man-Kieran shows up for a shag? I'd have them confused, wouldn't I? The car's name is now Roy, on account of my never going out with anyone with that name. I think Roy is a fantastic name; not too old or new, just perfect. And now I can roll around in the leather backseat yelping 'Ooh Kian, you're so bouncy!' without giving the wrong impression.
Have you noticed how almost everyone is born around September or October? That's what you get for indiscriminate shagging with strangers on New Year's. Stop it. I mean it. Do you know how depressing it is to be born in the same month as Halloween? Everyone seems to assume that you love inane 'ghoulish' treats for your birthday presents that inevitably end with someone jumping out from behind a door and throwing a fit when no one is frightened.
Pity Mam who is born on 1 November. It's 'All Souls Day' and the poor woman is abnormally attuned to the other world (me Opah, or grandma, is a village witch/shaman/midwife). Being the cynical sod that I am, I never paid much attention to her seemingly hysterical ramblings about some spirit or the other but... there are some things science can't explain. Like the ghost in our old house in Thailand that took on the appearance of the git and promptly looked itself into our room while the real git was standing outside with me.
Speaking of unexplained things, I'm still waiting to find that hot half-Japanese, half-Irish I'm 'fated' to marry according to this dream someone had. And probably divorce, taking half of everything he owns. Yay!
Only a few days ago, the roomie and I were chatting about the names we would give our children. The roomie would follow tradition by naming her children after her sibs. Me, I am naming my children after songs. Sort of. The girls are 'Aicha' and 'Leila', which everyone should know right away. If you don't know 'Layla' by Eric Clapton, you should be ashamed of your damn self. Why, Clapton is God! Meanwhile, 'Aicha' is a song popularised by Algerian Rai singer Khaled. Brill stuff sung in French.
The boys are named after a favourite manga character and the second is the chiming of the church's bell in the morning, noon and evening. Both names are somewhat musical. My reasoning in chosing the names was that you have to have a balance. We have the Arabic names and we have the Latin names. Because I am so bloody sure I'm going to marry a lapsed Catholic and live in sin.
*giggles* Heh. I sound like a single parent already.
Oi, that reminds me. Yesterday when I met up with mi hijo for lunch, I think I may have had a break-through. It turns out that he has decided to change his major. In the first place, he chose his major out of the catalog by simpling closing his eyes and stopping at a random page, which is incredibly stupid. Then on Monday, he did not care to listen to the professor in biology (gosh, I do that all the time) and kept thinking about how much he wanted to switch to something else. Unfortunately he still hasn't a clue. Perhaps pre-med, he said.
Why, that's lovely. Mam would be happy that I got me a doctor. That's so typical of mothers, don't you think? Chinese, South-Asian or Persian, mothers are the same the world over. If you don't become a doctor, they say, at least marry one. It's supposed to be rather upwardly mobile is you are a doctor's wife. Once I asked if it would worked if I was still working as a maid, and I recieved a clip round the head for my troubles.
Point is, as Tara and I continually expounded on later that day, our parents would murder us if we changed our hated majors from business into something else. The maternal units are convinced we are going to fail in anything else and they will be put on on the streets without money, or worse, in the debt of some snarky relative. And oh God, they wail on and on about the mortgage on the damn house.
Damnit woman, if you die and I inherit the house, I'm going to bloody well sell it! It's that simple!
*shakes head* It's no wonder we're doing so badly in our studies. But as Tara noted, the both of us would rather commit suicide than reveal our horrendous GPAs.
Besides our Plan B is to marry the richest git we can get our hands on. Hooray for Plan B!
*sighs deeply* Surely tis no lie Ewan McGregor has a sexy voice. If only they made more like him... *drifts off to dreamland*