Monday, March 30, 2009

140 - When people never answer your calls or reply to your texts

Sometimes, (not often, but sometimes) the phone acts wonky and it doesn't really receive the calls/messages, in which case, it's excusable (unless it's happened repeatedly for months non-stop. Get a new phone!)

Most of the time, though, people aren't turning them on, bringing it with them, checking it every now and then, checking the missed calls, and the like, and seriously, what is the point of having a
mobile phone, if you're not going to utilize it when you're mobile?

I hate it. People call me, I pick it up immediately because it's courteous. People send me a text message, I reply promptly because I don't want to leave them hanging there, waiting.

And it's so damn annoying because they're not... physically near you most of the time, for you to freakin' strangle them in anger... argh!

Sunday, March 29, 2009

139 - Alternative motives

Alternative motives can usually be discovered where someone does something that seems good for you, when truthfully, they're doing it for unknown reasons of their own, and not because they want to be nice.

It's like the husband that comes home with gorgeous sparkling earrings because he did something wrong, or wants to have sex. It's like the parents that tell their child the house pet's gone to live on a farm to keep the kid from mourning over their pet's recent demise. It's like the kiss-ass at school, or in the workplace, that sucks up to the people in charge just to get ahead. It's like the older sibling that smokes and drinks to look cool in front of the younger sibling. It's like the friend that tells you he/she likes the style of your horrible clothes, or your tragic mess of a hairstyle, only to make bitching about you with others a helluva lot funnier, and juicier, afterward. It's like Jennifer Aniston showing up at the Oscars to show Brangelina that she's okay.

From what I see, it seems we do things with alternative motives everyday. We always want to keep up a reputation of being civil, funny, amiable, helpful, polite, loyal and cordial, and so we do nice things for people, we tell jokes, we make an effort to ask how people are when really, we don't care... not that much, not as much as the beneficiary might be led to believe.

And it's dangerous. Who knows who really cares? Are people just doing it because they feel guilty about something? Are people doing it because they pity you? Are people helping you to impress a girl, to impress your friends? Is your mother, or your sister-in-law, or your son, doing things to look good in the eyes of the rest of the family? Are people calling you up because they're just bored? Are people offering you aid because they want/need to feel wanted/needed themselves? Do bloggers around the world really mean it when they compliment you?

Do they, themselves, know they have alternative motives attached to their actions?

Am I being paranoid, or merely doubtful? Pessimistic, perhaps? Cynical? Distrusting? Or is all of society really this conniving?

Thursday, March 26, 2009

138 - Denial/Not admitting one's mistakes

They say that a real man admits his mistakes, and that confession is the first step in improving oneself.

I've been in a lot of denial lately - a lot, a lot, a lot of denial. And keeping my embarrassing stories and guilt to myself has been very emotionally and psychologically taxing, to the point where I've been extremely depressed. Withholding my emotions is really not in me, I cannot force myself to be a closed-off person, to be a secretive person... For a long time prior to a few weeks ago, I always wore my emotions on my sleeve, I let people see that I was happy or vulnerable or agitated because keeping a stereotypically Asian-style stoic demeanor is just too much damn hard work for me.

Last month, I sort of felt like I didn't need to tell anyone anything. I was sort of sick of myself, and I think people were getting sick of me, too. So I kept things to myself, and told myself and others that I was okay when, in fact, I was in denial.

It does take balls to admit you're failing. I'm currently thinking of the people in my class and in my family and a lot of them are pretty proud of a vast variety of things, as well. It seems like everyone hates to admit they're wrong, that they're lazy, that they're guilty of something.

I understand the feeling all too well... but ultimately, denial is a heavy weight for oneself, and a heavy injustice to others. The school I went to previously had a motto: Honestas ante honores. It means honesty before glory/honor, and it speaks a great truth.

If everything is concluded to be going alright, but some part of the premise is actually a lie conceived in denial, then everything can be concluded to be going wrong.

Tonight, I've finally asked for some help with my problems, after keeping them to myself for so long. It's the most appropriate sort of help, coming from the most reliable source, and I have faith in the fact that I will get the help I need. But my ego is hurting big time. I feel so small for having to depend upon another person... I need to be an individual, but it turns out I'm just not grown up enough yet.

I just have to suck it up. That's the whole trick when coming out of denial, isn't it? ...A lot of sucking it up.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

137 - The Secret

Oh, brother, another one of those things. Take a look:

The Secret is crazy. I don't buy it. I will never believe in something like this. The darn music, the people's faces and words and the background are probably designed to entrance us by more pseudoscientists. ...Listening to enough of this crap will surely be life-changing, as it'll drive you mad. What a load of bull.

Monday, March 23, 2009

136 - People who only answer one question when you ask multiple questions

This happens too often.

Michael: "Hey, when are we meeting up next week? What time and where?"
Person: "Ummm... the McDonald's in Times Square."
(fifteen seconds of silence later...)
Michael: "Which day and what time?"
Person: "4 o'clock"
(five seconds more...)
Michael: "Uh, huh... and the date?"
Person: "Oh, sorry. ...Um... Thursday."
Michael: "Thank you..."

When I ask multiple questions consecutively, it means I need multiple answers consecutively. Jeez.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

135 - When people in the real-life read my blog

I know they're there everyday. Sometimes, I think they deliberately anger me just to see how dramatic they can make me. Sometimes, I write posts that concern them and I can just feel their eyes on my back as I'm writing. Maybe I don't hate them for reading my blog. Maybe I hate myself for fundamentally giving this blog to my family and my friends in the first place. Maybe I should start a totally new one and tell nobody in my real-life about it. But now that my blogs have become so widely read, I'm sure they'll be able to find the new one somehow, some day, anyway. And I don't want to leave this blog, this name... Do you hate it too? is the perfect title.

Does this ever happen to anybody else? Is your blog affected by the people in the real world?

Friday, March 20, 2009

134 - People who don't shut up during movies

Sorry, folks. It's been a tiresome week and I've been arriving home at around 10pm every night for the past three nights. Exhausted, your familiar hater naturally goes to sleep. I don't know what else to say. Forgive me.

Today, I was on Facebook and I found a message in my inbox from someone who I used to go to school with a long time ago. He wanted to ask me out to eat dinner, have drinks, catch up, reminisce about the good old days, that sort of thing. I remember our group of friends used to go out to watch movies every Friday. The mall we went to also had an ice-skating rink in it, and I recall that was always a lot of fun before and after seeing a film.

There was one time the class dunce (the one that poured sugar in his mouth) decided to join our group to see a movie. He chose the film for us, a terrible choice in my opinion, as he decided we should watch Bad Boys 2, a bad sequel to an already appawling first movie, starring Will Smith and Martin Lawrence, rated 23% on Rotten Tomatoes.

Anyway, our group all hated the damn movie, but the idiot in our class loved it. Since we all disliked the distasteful car chases and gun shooting, we started chatting and laughing at the back of the cinema...

...and then things got a little out of control. One of my best friends decided to stand on one of the chairs and stick his hands in front of the projector. Watching a dog's silhoutte eating Will Smith's old rusty yellow car was simply hilarious.

And then this guy sitting three rows in front of us, a white man with thin-rimmed glasses, stood up, walked up toward us, and told us to "either shut up or get the Hell out of the cinema".

And so we all got the Hell out of the cinema.

Yeah, I get it. There's nothing more annoying than, say, a young boy that exclaims "COOL!!!!" whenever Batman or Spiderman suddenly appears on the screen, or nothing ruins a movie more than a young girl that screams, or even cries, after there are loud sound effects. I think it's the worst when any grown adult doesn't understand that he/she has to switch their mobile phone off before the movie starts, people who have crappy ringtones, who have no sense of respect for the people around them, and who talk at an unbelievably high decibel.

Yeah, all of that can get pretty irritating. Those dumb teenagers in the back projecting hand-shadows on to the screen deserve to get flogged. I understand where the guy with the thin-rimmed glasses was coming from. I probably would have said the same thing, if I had the same stinking, substandard taste in movies as he did.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

133 - People who are afraid of using white things

How about you just be more careful when you're eating so you don't put a stain on your white hoodie? Or how about you avoid going out in the rain if you're afraid your white T-shirt will get wet and become transparent? Or how about you don't drive into the mud after you purchase this white car?

Jeez, how much stress do you want to give yourself?

It's almost like being afraid of owning anything black, because black laptops, stereos and televisions might accumulate very visible dust, or because a black SUV might get rained on by wonderfully white bird faeces.

Monday, March 16, 2009

132 - People who exclaim, "I'm soooooo nerdy!"

"Oh, my gosh, I'm soooooo nerdy!"
"Why do I even remember these things?!"
"Okay, I'm gonna just shut up now, I don't even know how I know that."
"Whoa, where did that come from?"

I hate people who are always declaring their geekiness in this fake-ashamed voice, like we're all still in primary school and it's social suicide to be nerdy, even when we, the growing generation, know that education is important in today's world, and even though we know that it is fine, and even cool and impressive perhaps, to be quick-witted and knowledgeable when we grow up. School's a competition, a contest, a race. We don't need you to run into the tape at the finish line, then reject the gold medal when you rightfully deserve it. I would much rather be around someone who is vain, than someone who is modest.

No, scratch that, because that's just the thing. Modest people are better than you, too, because you're not really modest. We all know that secretly, you're pretty fucking proud of yourself about whatever it is that supposedly indicates nerdiness. We know you're just full of glee because you knew something all of us didn't.

So, please, don't play cute with me. Nobody needs that, and I hate it.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

131 - When people say they will chip in for a big present, then change their mind

Poor birthday boy. We have so many great ideas for a gift, but the reason behind why any of them are under consideration is because we have a big collective pot of money to afford it with. From the beginning, we said to ourselves that we would chip in to buy an expensive and nice birthday gift, but no, no, at the last minute, people opt out, and say they want to get something by themselves, due to various special circumstances (i.e. lame excuses), leaving those remaining confused as to what to do next, because they really wanted to get something nice, with others that they thought they could count on.

What was the point in going shopping for a couple of days? What was the point in talking all about those great ideas? Jackets and Polo shirts and bags and belts and hoodies... Why did we even bother going out to find something if it all amounted to nothing? Seriously, what a waste of time.

We can't afford any of that without everybody in it together. It just shows you're unreliable, untrustworthy, and inconsiderate. Don't you care about the birthday boy?

Well, no, you don't. He doesn't care about you either.

I guess it was a birthday party fated to be bad, with only a select few of the presents carrying genuine sentiments of friendship, congratulations on turning 18, and best wishes for the future. Just a select few...

Friday, March 13, 2009

130 - Someone who calls you out but doesn't turn up

You get up out of bed in the morning, even though you're sleep-deprived, you get cleaned up and dressed, and travel all the distance to a prearranged meeting with someone, only to find out that they aren't there. We're all important people, right? We have lives to lead, work to do, people to meet, blogs to write on, books to read, essays and reports to write, family to spend time with... We don't need someone wasting a few hours of our time, going to meet someone, only to be ditched in the end, and left there standing stupidly. We don't need to go into countless restaurants and bars and clubs for hours, looking for the people we expect to see. We don't need this aggravation. We don't need this trouble and all this bother. We don't need it, I tell you. Argh!

It's time for revenge. I will call you out, and then not show up, and let's see how you feel.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

129 - Overly healthful kitchen

Ever since my aunt, Ph.D in clinical therapy, moved back to Hong Kong, I have had almost nothing to eat in the kitchen. She specializes in geriatrics (the branch of medical science that deals with diseases and problems specific to old people) and nutrition most of all. Because I live with my grandparents, who have problems with their blood sugar and liver, our household has become very mindful about what we have in our kitchen and what we eat. I totally support a healthy diet for my grandparents. I don't want them to be diagnosed with diabetes. But I would like to go to the kitchen and find something that isn't healthful, and just tastes good.

Everything in my kitchen is either vegetarian, fresh, organic, unsalted, unprocessed, unflavored, low-fat, low sugar, low calorie, low cholesterol, non-alcoholic, decaffeinated, soy, skimmed, steamed, whole wheat, and/or high in protein, glycogen, antioxidants, fiber, vitamin A, B, C, D, E and K, and/or potassium, iron, calcium, sodium, phosphorus, magnesium and/or iodine.

Do you see something wrong with that?

The first thing in that list is what bugs me the most usually. No meat. No chicken wings, burgers, ribs, steaks, hot dogs, pork chops, bacon, minced meat to go with lasagna or spaghetti, luncheon/corned meat (like SPAM), pastrami, salami, or ham. It's meat. I want to come home and eat some meat! But there isn't any, and that's what makes me sad.

Everything is just too nutritious. I know it's for my grandparents...

But please add something to the grocery list for me.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

128 - Sporks

Am I alone when I say I hate sporks?

I like the concept, it's quite clever. However, when I'm using it and thinking about it, I find myself hating how my fork is so curved, and how my spoon has thin slithers of plastic/metal missing from its smooth, beautiful concavity. I need the full set of utensils! I know my satisfaction with the meal is lowered by the sheer confusion roused by the evil spork!

Monday, March 9, 2009

127 - When someone invades your privacy

Oh, this post can go in so many directions...

My mother once rummaged through my desk drawer and found a pack of cigarettes that I had hidden in there. She called me up and said she was going to take it because she didn't like me having it. I retorted with: "I didn't take the condoms you hide in your closet, so don't take my cigarettes." And she came back with: "Well, I don't delete your porn off your computer."

Yes, the invasion of privacy. What she said actually infuriated me so much I actually threw my phone on to the floor real hard, which resulted in a shattered phone, and accomplished nothing.

I've read other people's text messages, only because I've had people do it to me. People have abused my trust and gone into my e-mail accounts to look around, and I, too, have guessed a password or two correctly before in my curiosity. There are just so many things that we hide under our beds, in the unknown hidden flaps of our wallets and purses, and, perhaps most interestingly, our heads. Secret entities can come in so many forms: the bottle of rum I occasionally take a sip out of that I placed behind all the other wines and spirits, the diary I locked up and never continued, the tiny notes I have in my friend's pencil case that got passed around in class, the money I'm saving up to spend on parties in the UK slipped in between the pages of a First Aid Guidebook. Everybody hides something, I'm sure.

Very recently, I've talked to someone that means a lot to me, and I haven't spoken to in a while. She really does care about me more than a lot of other people, and I often forget how much she does throughout the years because I rarely see her. The reason we've been avoiding each other, I believe, is because another person, a man, that is close to both of us, will get upset at our interaction. He doesn't like it when things happen behind his back, when things are out of his control.

He has the resources to actually spy on us, and read all my text messages and e-mails, follow me around everywhere I go. That's an invasion of privacy. I would hate it if I found out he's snooping around in my business.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

126 - People who are too lazy to pick up the ball

Ever heard of soccer? The sport that the British call 'football'. I call it football because I haven't had a whole lot of experience playing American football, so there's no confusion to me.

But whatever. I went out with three of my friends today to kick a football around. I'm a goalkeeper at heart, although in the past few years, I haven't had much practice playing any role, goalie or otherwise. My frequency of practice is nothing compared to how much I used to practice five or six years ago. I think I'm going to try and do it more often.

Being a goalie has a lot of advantages, chiefly you don't need to run around all the time. Although this is the case, I try to lessen the physical burden of the people sprinting, turning and kicking on the field, and allow them to get a bit of rest by offering to pick the ball up instead, whenever it flies over, or to the side of, the goal (which happens around ninety percent of the time). I do nothing but stand there for the most part anyway, so might as well jog for the ball whenever I can, to get the exercise I intend to get from going to play football in the first place.

Plus, it speeds up the play, the quicker it is, the more fulfilling the session, the more fun we can have, the more kicks we can fit in in a given amount of time.

As the goalie, perhaps it's not in my right to say so, but I hate it when attackers, defenders, centers, the ones on the pitch, don't run for the ball and pick it up. I say it may not be in my right to say so because my role of goalkeeper never requires me to do much running.

The reason I don't really like running on the pitch is because my coordination sucks while I'm running with the ball. I'm the goalkeeper in hockey, netball and football, I prefer going for stationary three-pointers in basketball rather than doing layups, I'm no good at rugby or American football because the passing-while-running thing is just too much for me, and the sports I like tend to be ones in which you don't need to run with the ball, such as tennis, volleyball, and badminton. My favorite activities are those in which you don't run at all, like snooker, bowling and golf. Goalkeeping is the only position I can do okay in when playing football, I'm tallish, have big hands, sharp eyesight, and relatively fast reflexes, and I'm (usually...) not afraid of the ball coming at me.

But as I said, I try to go pick up the ball whenever it flies over my head, or to the side of the goalposts. It's just common courtesy as you're closest to the ball, and it's like... if you don't pick it up, who will?

It's slothful when a player falls to the ground and lies there moping just because his shot went way off, or whenever a person passes it to someone else but doesn't care to continue what he started and run with his teammates all the way 'til they reach nearer to the goal. What is the point in not running, honestly?

If your shot resulted in an utter miss, I mean, go run for the ball, man, you kicked it there. Even if it is in the goalie's convenience to go pick it up, at least, run for it sometimes, or offer to.

And don't say sorry. It's not like an apology makes picking up the ball any less taxing or unenjoyable. Someone has to go get it, and it might as well be you. Sorry doesn't solve anything.

Friday, March 6, 2009

125 - When two people with good intentions come to a disagreement

This is a basic facet of social, interpersonal relationships that I don't understand. How the Hell does this happen? Who would be condemned to the Underworld? The one that meant his/her care less passionately? The one that gave advice or suggestions that didn't work? The one that has an inferior record of performing good deeds throughout his/her life? The one that had a slower reaction and offered help later? Or the one that took less time and effort to think of practical, acceptable solutions?

How is it that this happens? Who's to blame? ...I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

124 - When people pretend to read to avoid interaction with you

I once sat beside a girl who had the amazing ability to reply to my inquisitions while holding in her hand and reading H.R. Wells' War of the Worlds. I, too, have the capability of multitasking. In fact, just today, I was able to have my lunch with a book in my hand. This was a self-help book, in fact, aimed at improving a reader's vocabulary, and upon seeing my book, my classmates asked what it was about.

This prompted about forty minutes of open-minded and open-ended discussion about the intriguing differences between American and British English, the etymologies of those long, difficult words, who and whom, me or I, spoonsful or spoonfuls, and several other difficult grammatical dilemmas. I think my classmates, like me, were enlightened by the chapter of my book I got through today, and they became more aware of some of the improper idiosyncrasies of common English usage today. Isn't that great?

But I digress.

The point of that was, I could read while talking to others and having my lunch. I've seen other people do it, too, anybody can multitask if they're willing to be the social creature that they're meant to be. If you think pretending to read can fool me, sorry, I'm not that gullible. Your eyes aren't moving on the page, you're stealing quick glances at me to see if I'm still there, you're either taking too long or too short of a time to turn the pages, it's obvious you're listening to every single word I say, plus: you look nervous. Transparent as cling-film, you are.

I hate it when people pretend to read, to avoid people because they don't have the guts to be honest, and/or to evade serious, sensitive and/or emotionally difficult conversations.

You say you're sparing my feelings by not having these heart-to-heart talks?

You hurt me everyday by avoiding them. Please tell me what's wrong, before the past few years all effectively amount to nothing.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

123 - The absence of peace and quiet in the morning

Midnight, a motorcyclist is arriving home late, broom broom-ing on the ground floor.

01:12, the man and the woman next door are arguing about who's responsible for buying the milk. Grandpa went to piss.

03:34, do I hear birds chirping?

04:33, why does the printer have to make such a cacophonous noise when it prints?

04:37, jeez, it makes such a horrible noise even when it scans stuff too.

04:49, grandpa's going to pee again, the heavy breathing, the trickling of his urine into the bowl, the sigh of relief, I hear it all and it's giving me a headache.

04:59, yup, it's those dumb birds, the same old birds singing at the break of dawn every single morning. I wish I had a shotgun.

06:35, great, grandpa's up, watching the morning news, I loathe the theme music of the news, the Morse code beeping, the beeping, the high-pitched, repeated beeping, ugh...

07:14, the bathroom door closing, the sound of my clothes dropping on to the floor.

07:15, water going through pipes, water splashing on to me, dropping on to the shower floor, gurgling down the drain, so much noise...

07:38, Front door closing, front gate clicking, the sound of my footsteps, the elevator doors, sssshhhh...

07:45, Oh, my God, the commotion inside an early rush-hour train is frickin' unbelievable. People chit-chatting, the uproar of the train moving along the tracks through a tunnel.

07:48, baby screaming and crying, mother trying to overpower her in volume.

08:01, students all waiting to catch the bus, talking amongst themselves like they didn't just see each other yesterday. I think I'll take a cab.

08:03, horns are beeping, buses farting whenever they stop, people running, screaming "wait!" at bus drivers who can't hear them, the occasional high-heels pass by, cab arrives.

08:06, taxi driver asking which route I want to take. I tell him the route. Then I tell him to leave me alone so I can close my eyes and rest.

08:08, the meter beeped, price of ride has risen.

08:10, beeped again,

08:11, and again,
08:27, arrived at school, the coins in my wallet are making sounds, I press them down against the soft fabric of my wallet to eradicate the sound. The taxi driver, however, is happy to jingle-jangle his coins here and there, ugh.

08:28, I hate entering school. Apart from all the loud thud thuds of the juniors running, and the female staff's high high-heels galloping through the corridors, there's all the "Hey, good morning!", "How was your parents' anniversary dinner last night?", "Did you do your Mandarin essay?". Grumble...

08:30, the worst noise in the world: the school bell ringing.

It's the morning, for Pete's sake, it's when I am trying to gather myself to live for the rest of the day, and if I can't do that, I basically become crabby for the rest of the day. Why can't my mornings just be QUIET?

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

122 - When you collide into someone in the dark

I live with my grandparents and my aunt, but a few years back, my aunt was living in Toronto and I was sleeping in her room, and my bedroom used to be my mother's. My computer and my desk used to be in the living room, and in the daytime, this annoyed me quite a lot because everybody sitting on the sofa would be looking at what I was doing on the computer, looking at me work, staring at me eat at my desk, gawking at me every time I stood up, or sat down, or suddenly had a phone call that made my phone go vvvt vvvt.

That's when I started staying up at night. I loved the privacy I had to myself to watch 'sensitive' TV shows like Nip/Tuck and Oz, movies like sex-loaded American Pie or freaky horrors like The Exorcist and The Eye. I could stay up all night talking to my friends on the phone, webcamming them, without my family staring at me the whole time, judging me whenever I went into the kitchen just for a snack two times every hour, whenever I stood up to just stretch my legs and shake them about, sing to myself if I wanted to, anything, because the night was mine.

But one thing I noticed during these few years is that my grandfather pees very frequently. He gets up at 1am, 3am and 5am, always those times, always three times, always on time, to pee.

Let me just explain my severe need to bring this up. I'm quite frustrated about this, because you see, this is something quite inappropriate to bring up with a girlfriend, or with your classmates at the dinner table. I'm obligated to keep matters relating to my grandpa's visits to the bathroom to myself. Years of this hurts me, it physically hurts me.

...but anyway, he pees a lot. And since getting my own room, I have encountered him in the dark hallway leading to the bathroom on several occasions when I have felt the urge to urinate. I hate the feeling of bumping into him, because I feel like a total wuss, afraid of an old man in the hall, but I hate it more because I know he's aged and can't take that sort of surprise. I'm really afraid I might literally scare the life out of him.

Ah, well, but he was a firefighter for forty years. I'm sure he'll be around for a long time, no matter how many times we happen to have our bladders in sync. I guess I just hate the feeling of being frightened over nothing.

Ever collided into someone in the dark? Don't you hate the feeling too?

Monday, March 2, 2009

121 - When someone ruins your day

Today is just one of those days where everything wasn't exactly rosy, but they were good, good enough, and you weren't upset whatsoever. Then comes along the bearer of bad news, the pesky imbecile in class, the old and grumpy grandparents, the idiot that elbowed you hard on the street, or the girl you like who said she can't be with you after you were so sure you were meant for each other, or the mother that said you can't go to study abroad because she can't afford it after you've been so excited for so long, or the best friend who said he doesn't agree with the way you live your life when your dreams are finally being fulfilled.

Why do things ever look like they're gradually looking up, like you've avoided a fall to the ground, or dodged a bullet, only to have the hill steep downwards soon after, to have yourself collapse epically on to the floor, to have the bullet pierce you right through the heart?

I feel this way today, and it feels awful. I've felt this way for about a month now, because I've lost so many things, from a gaming device, through my patience and my best friend, to my appetite and my sleep.

I have lost, and I am lost, but that doesn't mean I wasn't trying hard to keep a smile on my face. He knew I was putting on a brave face, but he didn't care, he thought he'd just ruin my day anyway. I hate it.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

120 - OSIM uCrown

Oh, wow, it's March already. It seems like it was just last week when we were saying hello to 2009. Time goes by too quickly...

Yesterday, I went out for lunch with my family, which included three aunts, my cousin, my uncle, my mother and my grandparents. After lunch, we walked around the mall, under the sage instruction of my grandmother, because you're supposed to give your body thirty minutes of walking time for your food to digest.

And so we're walking, walking, walking... there was a bookstore, one of my many Heavens, so I told them I'd be going in there, and I'll meet up with them later.

An hour later, I walked out of the bookstore, only to find my grandmother sitting in a massage chair, with my aunt standing beside her, and a saleswoman in a business suit talking to them.

In Hong Kong, it's not uncommon to see promotional campaigns in shopping malls, and this one in particular was by OSIM, the world-renowned full body massage chair producer. My grandmother ended up buying this weird thing called an OSIM uCrown:

What it does basically, is shake your head, to relieve stress.

...It vibrates your head. I can't conceive of anything else that would give me a bigger headache. It looks like a horrible product, marketed toward tricking old people with headaches all the time, and young peeps loaded with not a lot of money but enough money to afford and have an eye for stupid toys like this one.

Perhaps I should try it first before criticizing it...