the only thing a man with a plan needs is a determination to see it through come hell or high water

Yesterday while I was in the waves of alcoholic delirium I glimpsed a little bit more of my 10 year road-to-riches plan. Because you know, alcohol makes everything clearer, and we are talking about five near-consecutive Jagerbombs right here into a bloodstream already infused with beer and vodka.

russell peters was SERIOUS!!

Here's a quick survival tip for you guys who may or may not one day find yourselves fighting to get across an impossibly packed dance floor at the club on a Saturday night with a tray full of empty glasses in your hands. If you were to ever hear the piping trumpets of the opening YMCA tune, drop that tray and get the hell out of the dance floor even if it meant punching six-foot angmohs in your way because if you don't you can, and you will, inevitably get slapped by the countless hands that shoot up when the Village People goes "whYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY".

White people seriously love their anthem.

three weeks

Last Saturday it suddenly hit me that I am now thousands and thousands and thousands of miles away from home and hey guess what I have to work for my moolah now and there is this thing called financial planning because no I can't call my mom to bank in some money or expect my big sis to drop by with a few greens everytime I run out of cash so welcome to the life of an adult's responsibility now if you will excuse me I must unload the hissing dishwasher and try not to burn my hands oh did I mention that I have an assignment due on Monday? Because I do, and it is proving to be a real bitch.

On a lighter note, the lecturer praised the assignment highly, I am so getting that oversized Zara beanie now that I am earning some quids, and last night at work some busty blonde who probably has a fetish for Chinese boys actually rushed over (I kid you not) and tried to dance with me. Like, yeah okay I am really flattered but the idea of getting fired after only two shifts isn't very appealing.

Also, now that I find that my pictures always brighten boring, nonsensical rants, here is a one of me in York, once again reaffirming my manhood by placing a World War 2 artillery cannon between my crotch,

Admit it. A WW2 era, gigantic phallic cannon between my legs? I drip with so much manliness that even Rambo would turn gay for me.

york!

Hello people! Tomorrow I shall be going off to York!

Actually the only reason I'm tagging along this trip is because pretty much everyone else I know is going, so what the heck. The Gothic cathedrals over there seem pretty cool, and since I've always wanted to visit Amsterdam Vatican City for the cathedrals I figured that this would be a great trip to warm up my pilgrimage as a God fearing Christian.

Just kidding. I just wanna take pictures of me pulling faces at the gargoyles. Ooh. They have some sort of a haunted house too. Now that would spice things up. Heh.

hello from uk!

I know, I know. I should have brought a camera with me, or at least a phone equipped with one so that I could camwhore left and right and put up pictures of my room on Facebook for the pleasures of whatever weird voyeurs that might lurk out there, like every other Joe in my course. So much for me and my basic phone eh.

Oh, and if it wasn't obvious already in that picture my balls were slowly dropping off from the cold. Summer my ass. When I heard that it was summer in the UK I went "Oh that shouldn't be too bad perhaps a cotton hoodie will do. After all, summer is all about the FUN IN THE SUN and PLEASANTLY WARM temperature, right?"

Wrong. We actually had hail yesterday. It felt like God was pissing kidney stones on us.

It had been two weeks since I landed in the UK, and well, despite my complaints about the weather, I am really starting to call this place home. Oh suuure, there were that two major assignments we got on the first week itself, or that series of vaccination we were subjected to (I am extremely terrified of needles, because they seem to go into the flesh like a hot knife through butter okay how could you not be terrified of that), but Sheffield's charm is starting to get to me.

And what charm, you may ask. Well, first of all, 7 out of 10 women here are HOT. And I mean Megan Fox hot, not the Malaysian (meh) Dreamgirl hot. When I dropped by one of the clubs I actually felt intimidated by their sheer number and hotness. Like okay ohmygawd she looks like Emma Watson meets Kate Beckinsale okay okay act cool why the fuck are you holding your beer like that stop crossing your legs ACT COOL you wuss!

(For those of you who might make the likely conclusion, I swear that is not the reason I'm getting a job at the clubs. A senior offered me that job, cross my heart)

And the lecturers! They are so friendly that it scares us okay. Back at TARC the typical engineering lecturer would be a balding old man with inch thick glasses walking about with a frown. Okay lah there is one guy here who is something like that but he keeps on giving us tips on how to increase our marketability as engineers next time so that makes him pretty alright.

I have another lecturer who brought in a football during the first lecture, declared that she (yes, a she) is a Sheffield United fan (whooo Sheffield!!) and then started tossing that ball at us so that the person who caught it would have to stand up and introduce themselves. You know lah TARCians all damn shy wan so some actually ducked in their seats to avoid catching that ball. Damn funny. Then there is another guy who has a killer CV, ex-Boeing engineer and all. He actually calculated how much we are paying for a minute of his time, which is 20 pence btw, and then triumphantly declared that, and I quote, "For every five minutes you come late to class, you wasted £1."

I think it had some effect on us, because everyone is penny-pinching here and £1 is a big deal to us because you could actually buy a can of baked beans and live on it for half a day! I survived on microwaved food for a week (do not attempt that because I found out the hard way that a diet of irradiated food is extremely bowel-unfriendly) before I summon up the guts to go within a five feet radius of the oven and cook something by myself without burning the entire building down.

I ended up with a reasonably edible chicken sandwich and omelette. My skillzzz has greatly improved since then, because I just made an awesome chicken and egg salad for dinner! And the day before I made grilled chicken breasts and scrambled eggs! Ha! The best chefs in the world are men, didn't you know?

...

Okay lah maybe I need to use slightly more diverse ingredients. The pork shoulder at Sainsbury's look really, really yummy :)