So while we were rolling around in Villa Samadhi during our anniversary (which I’ll update never) an Airasia promo caught my eye. Coincidentally enough, I was on a job which had a Japanese theme. It was a pretty painful akin to ripping my toenail off twice kind of job and I thought “fuck you juliana, I’m going!”
So the best loukung in the world booked two tickets and a beautiful airbnb room for me and that started me off on a obsessive downward spiral planning, youtubing videos of foreigners in japan, and listening to RM5 Japanese for Beginners CDs in the car on the way to work.
Anyway I’ve spent two months going crazy, poring over sights, food, train tickets, maps, basic phrases, hiragana, katakana, and apps. And I’ve decided to slow down before my easygoing husband cries.
Got some apps which may or may not come in handy.
See I never bluff you. Started mapping this yonks ago.
Your customised Google maps are only accessible on android, suck that MacFiends!
Excuse Me Japanese plays common phrases on your phone to show locals how little effort you made to learn their language. I was supremely tickled that “This toilet doesn’t flush” is filed under Trouble. トイレの水が流れません!
Then there’s this god awful looking app to tell me what to eat. Of course it was also to help me avoid taugeh. There’s just too many varieties of ramen, sushi, and udon to take any chances.
This Waygo translation on-the-fly app looks like a godsend. Well, so sorry, it’s limited to like 10 free translations per day. More like Way-ho. (actually it still is fucking awesome, just not for cheapskates.)
This is a real-time capture i took at our favourite japanese restaurant.
I think MyTracks was designed for runners to track their routes or something, but why? Do you really need to look back fondly on your run around Tasik Titiwangsa? No, you don’t. You need to look back on your Shibuya scramble or your stroll around Yanaka Cemetery.
disturbing, yet terribly entertaining.
got a cat scratch board from Daiso and it came with a packet of catnip nay, silver vine. which was intriguing since none of my cats give a shit about catnip.
quickly assembled it after shoving manja into a room. what? i’m not giving hallucinogenic stuff to my “kid”.
this is peggy. peggy should take some. she was a bit depressed so, why not?
this is her usual unfriendly, body language screaming “get away from me” self.
ooh the stuff is working.
5 minutes later, she’s rolling all over the board and drooling over the floor.
15 minutes later, she goes mad and rips the board to shreds. so i chuck the pieces out the door and give her some time to recuperate. (later she started walking around in slow motion. how fun is that?)
then timmy comes along and makes love to the board as well.
…followed by the stray kitten my brother periodically feeds.
experiment successful! looks like all cats are just totally fucked the moment the get a whiff of the stuff. now stray cats are caterwauling (heh) outside and i wonder if it’s my fault. meh.
I used to believe, wholeheartedly I might add, that I really didn’t care what people thought of me.
Caring was “selling out”, sellouts aren’t punk rock! I raged against a system I couldn’t name. I rebelled with a cause, I just wasn’t too sure what the cause actually was.
Now, I’m so deeply ingrained in the system. I’m working on a GLC account for Pete’s sake. I care what I say on social media (most of the time). I shake my head sadly when anyone ranked Group Head and above bitches and whines in public. “How unbecoming,” I think disapprovingly.
As it turns out it’s half and half. I now only give a fuck about what people think if their opinions matter to me.
I care what JT thinks.
I care what my friends think (current circle la. I really can’t be arsed about those kikilala high school dweebs).
I care what Ravi Shan thinks.
I care what Kapil Sethi thinks.
And because I have to, to a very large extent I care what my bosses and colleagues think. About my work. Full stop.
“I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks!!!” *grinds teeth*
Ahh, the folly of youth. How very fucking amusing.
and i got was this PETRONAS merdeka raya spot ;)
so this is uncharacteristically feminine of me, but i’ve been worrying about maintaining my 18-year-old skin.
always been getting periodic bouts of life-crushing acne and finally found this, for lack of a better word, cute pack of acne patches.
just in case because i got suckered a month ago into buying a hada labo starter pack (face wash, toner and moisturiser) and touch wood, but there have been no breakouts so far.
am not terribly sure if it’s the product or whether it’s because i’ve been slapping myself like a moron applying it. ya, apparently there’s some girl memo that went out to the world about this face-slapping for better absorption, and i missed it. actually i missed every damn memo that went out about UV protection and eye care and makeup and conditioning and anti-aging too, but there you go.
besides, someone at FMFA still asked me for ID and thought i was 18 so there. there’s hope for me still.