The pains of undang

Hello world.

 

It’s time of the month and hell yeah it’s a roller coaster ride for us girls.

Yesterday was me wanting to start and end each sentence with something vulgar,

Today was me dancing in my room to Taylor Swift’s Hey Stephen at 8 am.

 

The plus side is,

I deleted yesterday’s bad hormone entry,

so that you’ll see the giggly me in brighter light today.

 

This entry is well overdue but hey, all is good.

 

So, 2 weeks (or maybe more) ago, Mel and I attended our Undang class at SDC.

 

 

 

The very pains of undang

 

1. The brochure said 8.30am – 3.3opm.
   
   Right.
   So as civilised efficient young girls, Mel and I was seated at 8.15am.
   Our lecturer had guts to waltz in at 9.45am, someone give me a dart so I can fly it across the room and hit his ass.
   Malaysian timing, should’ve known.
   
   
2. Our lecturer, Encik Saiful somewhat, insist that we call him Mister Ass Mister S.
   
   Haha, the thought of part time Undang lecturer, full time FBI spy just popped in my head. Silly.
   
   
3. The class started with Ice Breaking.
   
   I know. 50 of us means another 2 hours gone.
   Very smart Mister S.
   Even smarter when you asked that pretty girl Shuba or something if she has facebook. 
   Homg, Please lah.
   
   
4. Utter boringness for 6 hours and 15 minutes.
   
   To give them credit, it was partly due to my unequipped BM.
   But you can’t deny it. It’s still boring.
   The 45 minutes break was Briana sulking cause she left her phone home.
   And Melinda sulking because she thought there was an A&W nearby.
   
   
5. Ooops, wrong choice of seats.
   
   We are seated in pairs.  (Mel and I side by side)
   The 2 guys behind us literally ruined our day. ( Race doesn’t matter, k?)
   
   The guy behind Mel is pure classic. He,
   
   (A) Has something to say about everything.
   People say salam, name saya Kesavan. He has to say salam (that’s fine) and go on about how stupid the name sounds, or maybe how hot the girl is. Mel was rolling her eyes, saying “Oh great, the class clown”. That would be good, except for this lousy not-funny clown is a total failure in cheering us up and everything else except for looking the part.
   
   (B) Has to play his music so loud.
   Headphones. But loud enough for us in the front row to hear.
   See? You’ve got to be considerate sometimes.
   Forget the music, his singing is as bad.
   
   The guy behind me is another great thing that happened. He,
   
   (A) Just couldn’t quit shaking his leg.
   Abang, the room is like rumah tinggi, the floor is made of papan.
   While your partner plays Boys Like Girl’s Shake It and have you happily shaking your leg, have you thought of the girl in front of you who’s having the headache of her life from the drill like vibrations your leg is creating. It was like an earthquake behind, and trust me, I felt the full blow of the aftershock because I was sitting in front. Maybe that’s why you’re so thin, cause you manage to shake 6 hours and 15 minutes away.
   
   (B) Has to lean so damn close.
   The place is congested.
   You are already sitting so close behind. Why on earth would you lean to the front? You make me feel uncomfortable because your bloody tobacco breath is all over my neck and ears. Things get worse when you laugh, your saliva finds it way through too. In the end, I had to wear my jacket even if it was  warm to shield myself.
   Seriously.
   

 

Wow. It’s amazing how I’m equally annoyed 2 weeks later.
You will recall the details too if you were me.

 

As you can see, it was really the dudes who nailed the part of the session being horrible, so please, be aware of those sitting near you and jump shift if they appear suspicious.

So the day sort of ended with (a gloomy Melinda, a sulking Briana) in Blossom Deli Restaurant with a Yummy Carrot cake and a filling bowl of Pan Mee.

      

Ta!