Still no time for sims...

After being called a "pig" by my cousin over the phone for still being in bed by half-past nine in the morning, I finally hauled my butt off my extremely comfortable mattress. 

The Mall at ten thirty? Finding a parking space was a complete breeze. The only time I can remember being there earlier was when Neko and I had broken in through an unlocked window on the third floor due to the complete lack of security. No, just kidding. It was when the school had so brilliantly convinced us to do our thing there for Mother's Day. Pfft. I still cannot forgive that lousy sound system. 

Grocery shopping... Pretty much took up the rest of the morning due to the pace women shop at: very slowly.

The first fifteen minutes were okay. Until I had to accompany my aunt to the meat section. I faced the other way while she placed bag of chicken into a trolley I was pushing for her. 

I shook my head in mere disgust. The audible "thud-hack-thud-dragknifeacross" rhythm of cleavers hitting chopping boards mingled with that of the elevator music that played quietly from unseen speakers. I heard the sound of plastic bags crumpling as the butchers shoved chunks of cow and chicken into them. I smelt the pungent odour of severed fish wafting from the aisle behind me. I concentrated harder on the Fuji apples I was staring at. Still, I feel appalled. 

Maybe it is that I do not have the stomach to handle it. I feel like a complete sissy next to those ordinary people who can stand there and stare at dead animals get sliced into their desired forms.

Don't get me wrong. Meat is good to eat. Cooked, that is. One thing's for sure, I don't eat sushi.

We then made our way to Swensen's, where I stuffed my face with fish and chips. Their new menu? Looks better and less worn and torn. I think it was an improvement overall, but I hadn't been there in ages, ever since I heard that kid say "IloveSwensen'sIloveSwensen'sIloveSwensen'sIloveSwensen's..." over and over again into a microphone last year. Kids parties? Just don't throw 'em.

Kwang jam nim's stick returned a week after she did. And it grew at least three times in diameter, making it a heavy weapon, nonetheless, scary.

Oh, and I got my commands right today. There was a brown belt kid who insulted me though. 

"Majal eh, one two one two saja. Mana tree nya?"

He couldn't say three right. A lot of people don't say the "th" in three. Anyway, I refrained from pushing both him and Hadi out of a window. I took great pleasure in proving Hadi wrong in his pattern 7. 

Though it was pretty embarrassing when *this girl of whom I don't know her name, but we were assigned to teach pattern 7* and I forgot our steps. Kwang jam nim exiled us and we went upstairs, with the threat, "Kalau twenty minutes masih inda bagus, *insert gesture with stick here on my ass*". 

It passed the half-hour mark and nobody was sent up to call us back down.

Since nobody really listened to what I was saying and my partner wasn't helping, I gave up. The six of us who got sent up to the Aikido area spent the rest of the afternoon lazing about and taking advantage of the Aikido mats by doing cartwheels and various self-injuring stunts.

The lucky lot are going for a sparring competition next week. On the 29th of February and 2nd of March. I'm not "fifteen and above", so yeah. 

I don't have to buy all the equipment and a mouth guard ("unless you want to share," said sa bum nim on Wednesday. "And don't buy those with fangs, k?").

I'd like a pair of fangs.