Category Archives: University of Sydney

The Second Last Week (A Sequel)

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I’m back, yet again. It’s definitely not the first time I’ve let my blog rot away. There were times when I did not blog for a month or two. But at almost five months, this is by far the longest I’ve been away from my blog.

There’s two reasons for this absence. First, I was President of a student society for International and Exchange students in Sydney University. It’s called Unimates. I did mention Unimates a couple of times here. For the past five months or so, I was so damn hyper-focused on Unimates that I didn’t have much for anything else. Then of course, there’s coursework and other campus activities. Anyway, I’ve officially stepped down last Thursday.

The second reason – and this is the main reason – is that I was sick and tired of blogging. I could have used the excuse that being a President of a student society was time draining. But then that would be an easy cop out. I was Vice-President last semester and even though I was busy, I still manage to blog on a monthly basis.

But it seemed this year I had no will to blog. I wouldn’t say I stop blogging completely. I did wrote a few blog post for my society’s blog. But then, that’s a society’s blog and as the then-current President, there’s a limit to how much you can say, although I did try to take certain liberties (ahem).

But yes, I was tired of blogging. I could have continue blogging, but then it’ll be nothing but boring fillers: “Beloved Blog, today my friend was a judgmental nincompoop. I shall cease any correspondence with this offending and odious person. BAH!”  Well, you get the idea. Still, it’s not that I have nothing to write about. I do. But sometimes it’s harder to get it onto the screen and get your ideas across to the readers. And to be honest, I make a very horrible blogger. I promised to write a blog advert for this Singaporean upstart back in February and I never got to it. And then there’s Mike Thomas’s film that I promised to write about it way back in October.

Yes, I’m a shithead. Or as I mentioned, an offending and odious person.

So I’m back. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’ve put too much investment into this blog to let it really, really rot away. And now that I’m no longer President of Unimates, maybe I’ll have more time to rant about random stuff.

But this post is not about random rants. This post is about the sequel to the very short story called The Second Last Week. I wrote it last year for one of the Unimates’ event. It was supposed to be a short event description for the final Unimates event (a dinner party) and it somehow turned into a very short story. You can read it here.

The sequel to The Second Last Week is for the exact same event, only eight months later. This Unimates dinner party actually took place last Friday. When I was writing the event description, I thought it would be fun to write a sequel. So I banged out another very short story.

The Second Last Week has influences from the 1998 film Six-String Samurai to Kevin Smith’s Dogma. And it also placed Global Financial Crisis and the University of Sydney Union’s membership pricing in a humorous context. The sequel still references to Six-String Samurai but I’ve changed the rest. I was slightly more heavy-handed in terms of pop-culture referencing in the sequel. Anyway, enough jabbering on my part. Read on.

 

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The Second Last Week (A Sequel)

You sit up and look around. The surrounding landscape stretches out before you, barren and undulating. A tree or two, grow out from the ground cracked by centuries of heat. The trees’ barks are roasted to the colour black.

“What…” a hoarse sound escapes from your mouth.

You remember dying at the hands of Lord Exam. The brief pain when his blade severed your head from your body. And the sweet, sweet darkness that you succumbed to. And afterwards…

Hold on.

A small fragment of memory is floating around. You push through the fogginess of your brain and try to reach it. So close. The memory of laughter, of food, of drinks. But where did these memories come from?

You look around again. There are no sign of your guitar and samurai sword. You look up, shielding your eyes from the blinding sun, and see, for the first time, a red gash on the sky. That’s odd, you thought, you don’t remember seeing that there.

“Are you lost?” a smooth, baritone voice shatters the desert silence.

You half turn and see a strange-looking creature, with dirty, matted orange fur, staring at you.

“I, er, I can’t remember.”

The creature raises an eyebrow quizzically. It continues staring at you with its dark green eyes. Slowly, it circles around you, its right hand casually resting on the hilt of a small sword.

“You cannot remember if you are lost?”

You eye it warily. The creature could be a marauder. They were frequent in the desert. But then, it didn’t look like any marauder you’ve seen before.

“Where am I?” you cough, the words sandpapering your throat as they left your mouth. “Is this the Mojave Desert?”

The creature stops pacing. “Mojave Desert? No, my friend, this is the Red Waste.”

“I’m sorry, but I seem to be suffering from amnesia. I don’t remember being your friend.”

The creature hisses. “It is a mark of courtesy. Unless, you would like to have the honour of becoming my enemy.”

Small as the creature was, it looks as if it handled its fair share of battles. Furthermore, the creature was armed.

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I remembered being killed by Lord Exam. The last memory I had was laughter, and weirdly enough, of food and drinks too.”

“And who is this Lord Exam?”

“He is…” you pause. Lord Exam, Lord Assignments, and Lady Projects were the most fearsome of marauders. How could the creature not know the tripartite of Doom?

“Hold on, where am I?”

“As I have mentioned, you are in the Red Waste. To be more precise, we are in the Red Waste,” the baritone reply resonates through the desert.

For such a small creature, it sure has a deep voice.

“I know, but I mean, what is this place? I remembered I was in the United States.”

“United States? I do not know where that is. But no, my friend, you are in the land of Essos.”

“Essos?”

The creature sighs and rubs its forehead. “Yes, the land of Essos. The land of the Free Cities. The land of the Dothraki Sea. The land of the once mighty empire, Valyrian Freehold.”

You blink at the creature, confused.

“Clearly I have not managed to enlighten you. I hope that you will regain your memory. But for the time, we must continue walking. The Mother of Dragons will be here soon, and she wants my head.”

“The Mother of Dragons?”

“Ah yes, a very beautiful woman. Her eyes are pools of lavender, while her hair shone with the white of the moon. I promised to wed her, but wanderlust took over me and I escaped from the City of Qarth.”

You stare at the creature.

“Clearly you do not believe me. But now it is not the time to convince you. Come, we must continue our journey. Can you walk?”

You slowly get onto your feet, stretching the tensed muscles. Apart from a sore backside, your body is still in good condition. Taking a few unsteady steps, you stroll beside the creature. You did not realize how small the creature is. The top of its hat barely reaches the height of your kneecap.

“By the way, what’s the red thing in the sky?”

The creature looks up, the wide brim of its floppy hat shielding its green eyes from the sun.

“I have heard many stories in Qarth. Some say that it is the Dragons’ comet. Some say, war is coming. But the most frequent story I have heard is that the gods are angry.”

“The gods are angry? With whom?”

“I do not know. But the tale is that someone was kicked out from the realm of the gods after failing to pay for a meal.”

That sounds familiar. But you have no idea where you have heard that tale before.

“I see. That’s an odd tale.”

“It is. But I do not believe in these stories from Qarth.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves. I would have gave you mine if I remembered it”

The creature smiles. With flourish, the creature doffs its wide, floppy hair and gives a deep bow.

“My name is Puss-In-Boots. It is a pleasure to meet you in the Red Waste.”

“And it is my pleasure too.”

“Come, my friend. The Red Waste is a treacherous desert and we are a long way to the City of Braavos.”

Above, the red gash glowers from the sky.

Banana Bread in a Pan

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I’ve been neglecting my blog for a long time.

It’s not because I’ve ran out of ideas and stuff to blog on, it’s just that I’ve been bloody busy with university life this semester. Running a society is much, much, much harder than I thought. Especially if you have events every week and your members are all International or Exchange students who have high expectations of you to create the best Australian/ USYD experience for them.

On top of that, I’ve to make sure the society is running smoothly so that the Clubs and Societies Office don’t come down on our asses with the ferocity of Cerberus.

Luckily, I have a great Treasurer and Secretary who help me to keep track of things.

I have to admit though, as a lazy perfectionist, the majority of the pressure came from myself. I was determined to create the most fun environment conducive to the international student body n USYD. With almost 10,000 international and exchange students in USYD, it’s a tall, tall order. Certainly not something I can accomplish within my university academic career. But at least I can set the foundation. I hope.

And let’s not mention my academic career. Not too stellar as I wished it would be. I still try to keep up with my work, but it’s quite difficult to be honest. Doing three English Literature subjects as a third-year Uni student is terribly draining. The amount of novels and plays I have to read almost every week is more than my current personal monthly reading quota (1 book a month, to be exact). This does not include the articles and journals that the lecturers assigns every week for each seminar.

There’s this English Lit course that I took. It’s called Fantastical Women and it’s about how women characters are portrayed in Literature and how women writers attempt to break away from the traditional, patriarchal forms of literature.

Interesting, I know.

But some of the novels and most of the articles are complicated at best and confounding at worst.

Most of the time, I turn up for the Fantastical Women seminar without doing any of the readings. Under the eyes of all English Literature majors and professors, this is the worst insult you can ever hurl. As an English Lit major myself, I feel very insulted too.

Anyway, there’s this girl in my seminar who sits near the back of the lecture room with me. Because of our seating arrangement, we always end up in the same discussion group. After being in the same group with me for a number of times, the first question she’ll ask me is this:

“Have you done the readings/ read the novel?”

And my answer to her, age-old and ever unchanging as a rock:

“Nope.”

Sometimes, she’ll subtly change her method, in hopes that my answer will come out different.

The girl will pick up my copy of whatever novel we’re covering in the seminar and her first comment will be:

“It’s so new!”

Of course it’s new. I just bought the novel a few days ago and I haven’t even read it. To be honest, I don’t even know why I bother buying the novel. Probably keeping up with the appearance.

Then she’ll ask me, “So… you haven’t read the novel, have you?”

“Nope.”

I must have broke that poor damsel’s heart a million times.

Yesterday, it was our last seminar. We were waiting for the lecturer. So a bunch of people sitting near me was talking about the current novel. It was Jeanette Winterson’s The PowerBook. The girl, half turned in her seat (she’s always sitting in front of me), reached out and took my copy of the novel.

Holding the book, she hesitated, not sure if she could withstand another heartbreak.

Willing what must be the last vestige of her hope, she flipped through my copy.

She paused.

She glanced at my sleep deprived face.

“Hey, you’ve read the book.” The dog-eared pages betrayed my rough handling.

I just smiled.

She smiled, a glimmer of hope shone through. Maybe I wasn’t so hopeless after all.

Half an hour later, she found out the reason why I read the novel.

My partner and I had to give a seminar presentation on the novel. I think her hopes might have deflated a little.

But I have to say that she had such unwavering faith for a traitorous English Lit major like me. I would have asked her out if only I wasn’t so preoccupied with another girl.

Oh well. Life goes on.

Anyway, I’ve rambled on for almost 742 words without even reaching to the main part of my topic.

BANANA BREAD.

I love bananas.

I fucking love banana bread.

I seriously could orgasm when I eat banana bread with Nutella.

Since I love banana bread so much, I decided to bake it. I mean, why not? I have all the baking equipment and ingredients in my kitchen and banana bread is pretty simple to make.

So last week, I went out and bought bananas, some butter, eggs and a loaf pan.

After waiting for a week for the bananas to become nicely ripe, I decided I couldn’t wait anymore and burst out my baking hat and apron this afternoon (I don’t have a baking hat and apron).

It’s on.

BANANA BREAD!

Okay, ingredients.

You need:

  • 2 1/3 cups (525g) of mashed, overripe bananas
  • 2 cups (250g) all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup (115g) butter
  • 3/4 cup (110g) brown sugar
  • 1 teaspoon (5g) BAKING SODA
  • 1/3 teaspoon (2g) salt
  • 2 eggs, beaten.

 

Pretty simple, really.

Now, what you do is this:

Take out bananas. The apple is there to speed up the ripening process:

 

 

 

 

 

Lay them out in a row on a baking tray. Adieu my good soldiers:

 

 

 

 

 

Then roast the shit out of them in the oven at 230 degree Celsius for 5-7 minutes. (You did preheat your oven, did you?):

 

They won’t explode. Trust me.

 

 

 

Take the roasted bananas and squeeze the gooey banana nectar into a cup and mashed them up. Mash them good:

 

I had to prevent myself from drinking that sweet, sweet nectar.

 

 

 

Now prepare the batter. You still remember the other ingredients, don’t you? Let’s have a recap:

 

Ignore the weighing scale. You won’t be needing it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s a few things I would like to point out. First, use BAKING SODA. Not baking powder. BAKING SODA is also known as bicarbonate soda or bicarbonate of soda. Baking soda IS NOT the same as baking powder. Don’t screw this up.

Second, don’t buy raw sugar just because it’s brown. Raw sugar IS NOT brown sugar. This is how brown sugar is supposed to look:

 

Brown sugar has the consistency and feel of dark, wet earth.

Don’t fuck this up.

 

 

 

Oops, almost forgot the eggs:

 

 

 

 

 

Now, in a bowl, mix the flour, baking soda and salt together:

 

 

 

 

 

Melt butter in a saucepan:

 

Here’s a tip, don’t just leave the butter burning in the saucepan. You’ll only get burned butter. That’s not what you want. You just want to melt the butter. So remove the saucepan from the heat and constantly swirl the butter around. Get it? Good.

 

 

 

Once butter have melted, in a SEPARATE BOWL, mix butter and brown sugar together:

 

 

 

 

 

Stir in eggs and mashed bananas until well blended:

 

Oh boy…..

 

 

 

Stir banana mixture into flour mixture:

 

Hmmm….. come to papa.

 

 

 

Now, when you stir the mixture, DO NOT OVER MIX. You’re not entering some ‘best-human-blender-arm’ competition. Just stir to moisten to the mixture and make sure there’s no more white flour specks left.

DO NOT OVER MIX. JUST STIR TO MOISTEN THE MIXTURE AND MAKE SURE THERE’S NO MORE WHITE FLOUR SPECKS LEFT.

Get it? Good.

 

 

 

Lightly grease the loaf pan with butter. Use a brush to spread the butter around:

 

 

 

 

 

Now pour that sweet, sweet-looking mixture into the loaf pan:

 

I… cannot… wait… any… longer….

 

 

 

Now pop that into the oven (YOU DID PREHEAT YOUR OVEN, DID YOU?). Bake the banana bread for 60 to 65 minutes at 175 degrees Celsius.

Do not touch the oven. Do not open the oven to ‘speed up’ the baking process. Unless you have those ancient oven that doesn’t have a glass window on the oven door, just leave that fucker alone.

Go do the dishes. They’re not going to clean themselves.

After 60 to 65 minutes, open the oven and insert toothpick into banana bread. If the toothpick comes out clean, it’s baked. If not, bake for 5 more minutes and test it again.

The result is this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sob. So… beautiful.

 

 

 

Let bread cool in pan for 10 minutes, then turn it out onto a wire rack. I don’t have a wire rack, so I turned it out onto a cutting board:

 

Our banana bread in heaven, nourished be thy name.

Your bananas come, your bananas be done,

In our stomaches as it is everywhere else on earth.

GIve us this day, our daily banana bread,

And forgive us our hunger,

As we also have forgiven our hungerers,

And lead us not into over-bingeing,

But deliver us from our guilty snacking.

For thine is the banana, and the bread, and the banana bread, for ever and ever. Amen.

 

Thou shall now feast on the fruits of your labour.

As it was my first time making banana bread, it came out okay. Both my housemates said it was not bad for my first time. But there are improvements to be made:

  1. Let bananas ripen more. I was too impatient
  2. Get MORE bananas. 8 medium sized bananas were only enough to yield 2 cups. I probably need to use 10 or 11 bananas.
  3. Use slightly more brown sugar.
  4. Use slightly more flour, salt and baking soda.
  5. Bake it for 5 minutes longer. You can see the base is still slightly wet.

 

The banana wasn’t that sweet enough (due to the lack of overripe bananas), so NUTELLA came and saved the day!

Hmm…. chocolate and banana, the best of both worlds.

Now go bake your banana bread. May Banana bread bless you, my child.

I got the recipe here.

 

 

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I wanted to use this song for my rally video for the Singapore Blog Awards 2011, but then decided not to because of copyright reasons.

Anyway, here it is. Fantastic, simple song.

 

A Shitty Poem About Doing an Essay

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0 out of 3000,
So I stare to Heaven,
Praying for the words to come,
Lest will I do myself harm.

Alas, I sit and stare,
Beneath the fluorescent glare,
Spirit tamped with despair,
While I scream at the night, “Come if you dare!”

Brownies

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The first quarter of this year has been filled with events, both for me and the world at large.

And some are not really good events either.

Jan 2011: Revolutions in Egypt, Tunisia and other Middle Eastern and North African countries.

Feb 2011: Earthquake in Christchurch, New Zealand.

March 2011: 9.0 magnitude earthquake in Japan. Civil war in Libya.

Late March 2011: Earthquake in Burma. Civil unrest in Bahrain. NSW Labor Party lost power for the first time in 16 years to the Coalition. NSW Liberal leader Barry O’Farrell becomes NSW Premier.

A very busy first quarter.

For the media, this is a perfect field day for them. The perfect mix of politics, civil unrest and large-scale natural disasters. And since I’m a media politics student, it’s my duty to keep abreast with the news. But I’m reaching the point where I’m sick and tired of the news.

So fuck the news.

For approximately another 10 minutes.

 

Besides being updated on world news and checking if any of my Japanese friends were doing okay, I was busy feeding the masses of the Unimates society.

What’s Unimates? Basically we’re a society that brings together most of the international students in USyd and bring them around Sydney, New South Wales and Australia. More accurately, we are sort of like an international network, where people can meet and make friends with everyone from everywhere.

For this semester, I’m the Coffee and Cakes officer. Basically, this girl and I are the unofficial caterers.

We have Coffee and Cakes every Tuesday morning and the two of us are in charge of organizing, preparing the food and drinks, making sure that the members are kept sated and satisfied. It’s not an easy job, but we have people helping out, so it’s doable.

The only problem is that everyone keep asking for my brownies.

See, the problem was that I baked brownies for my friend’s Christmas party last year. It was my first time but it turned out to be a huge success. Unfortunately, 80% of the people at the party were or still are, Unimates committee members. So they recommended me to make brownies for Coffee and Cakes.

It was a great idea and at least I could bring something homemade for the event. So for the first C+C (Coffee and Cakes), I brought the brownies.

They were gone within 30 minutes and there were still at least 40 to 50 people who had not got the brownies yet.

Considering it was my second time making brownies, the response was pretty good.

The only problem was that the people (aka the people at the Christmas party) came too late and didn’t have the chance to try my brownies. The vice-president of the society, had heard wonders about my brownies but he was too busy helping out and didn’t have a chance to try it out.

So I promised that I would make brownies again.

For the next two weeks I didn’t make brownies cause I wanted to try something else for Week 2 (chili jam meatballs and vegan mashed potatoes) and was too fucking lazy and tired for Week 3.

Week 4 came and I decided to bake brownies.

Some people would usually bake the brownies the night before. But not me. I demand fresh-out-of -the-oven brownies. So I got up at 7am, baked two batch of brownies (after baking brownies for so goddamn many times, it only takes me about an hour) and brought them to C+C.

Good times were had by all.

But it’s tiring waking up so early or staying up all night just to bake brownies. So I’ve decided to put the recipe. I actually got it from this website and follow it closely. But you can make some tweaks to it. Be creative. Just don’t blow up the oven.

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The Recipe

Note: The original recipe calls for 16 servings of brownies. But I double the ingredients to make 32 servings (I have mouths to feed after all). If you want to bake 16 servings of brownies, use a 8 x 8 inches baking tray. If you want 32 servings, use a 9 x 13 inches baking tray. The recipe below is for 32 servings.

 

Brownies:

  • 225 g (1 cup) butter
  • 400 g (2 cups) white sugar
  • 4 eggs
  • 10 ml (2 teaspoons) vanilla extract
  • 55 g (2/3 cup) unsweetened cocoa powder
  • 125 g (1 cup) all-purpose flour
  • 3 g (1/2 teaspoon) salt
  • 2 g (1/2 teaspoon) baking powder

You might want to ease up on the vanilla extract cause if you put too much, your brownies might have a slightly bitter taste. Also, I use Cadbury’s Baking Cocoa Powder (I think that’s the name).

 

Baking time:

 

  • Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease and flour an 9 x 13 inch pan.
  • In a large saucepan, melt 1/2 cup butter. Remove from heat, and stir in sugar, eggs, and 1 teaspoon vanilla. Beat in 1/3 cup cocoa, 1/2 cup flour, salt, and baking powder. Spread batter into prepared pan.
  • Bake in preheated oven for 25 to 30 minutes. Do not overcook.

    •  

    Seems pretty simple right? That’s because it is. But there’s some things you need to take note first. Always, always preheat the oven first. That’s the first thing you have to do. My oven is some brand-new, fan-forced, Italian-made oven, so I can turn it on and know that it’ll be hot and toasty within a few minutes. If you have an old one, it might take longer. As a rule, I preheat the oven while I’m preparing the batter. Rule one: Know your oven.

    Rule 2: Shift the cocoa powder. Especially when you are greasing the pan. What I do is that I grease the pan with some butter (using a brush makes things easier) and shift a mixture of cocoa powder and flour over the pan. This prevents the brownies from sticking to the pan during the baking process. I usually use one part flour and one part cocoa powder. You don’t have to use a lot. The most you should use is about 1/2 cup. Also, when you are making the batter, I recommend to shift the cocoa powder. It makes the brownies much more ‘smoother’. But it’s up to you to decide.

    Rule 3: Don’t over mix! Just mix the batter enough to make sure that all the ingredients are mixed together. You want to retain the thick, fudgey taste.

    Rule 4: Don’t overcook. Seriously, I can stress this enough. I usually bake my brownies for 25 minutes and then I take it out and let it cool. While it’s cooling, the brownies are still baking due to residue heat. The last thing you want is burnt brownies. So don’t overcook.

     

    As for the frosting:

    • 85 g (1/4 cup and 2 tablespoons) butter, softened
    • 30 g (1/4 cup and 2 tablespoons) unsweetened cocoa powder
    • 30 ml (2 tablespoons) honey
    • 10 ml (2 teaspoons) vanilla extract
    • 240 g (2 cups) confectioners’ sugar

    To make:

    • Combine all ingredients in a saucepan and heat it. Remove from heat and stir. Pour onto warm brownies. Wait for frosting to set.

    I can’t find confectioners’ sugar in Sydney. So I got chocolate icing sugar from Coles. If you use chocolate icing sugar, I suggest using 1 cup. Oh, and shift the cocoa powder.

    The frosting is optional. The brownie is already quite sweet by itself. But if you have a huge sweet tooth like me, then go ahead, make the frosting.

    That’s it! Brownies for all!

    Sorry no pictures.

    Now will people please stop hounding me for brownies.

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    To the Old Man in the toilet at Carslaw Building at University of Sydney this afternoon

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    I rushed into the toilet outside the Science Faculty’s office at Carslaw Building after printing out my class timetable for this semester.

    As I entered the toilet, I saw you standing in front of the long, metal trough where we fine gentlemen relieve ourselves.

    You stared at me as I entered.

    And I stared you as I entered.

    But I averted my eyes to give you some modicum of privacy as you did your business. I hastily entered a cubicle at the other side of the huge toilet to relieve myself.

    As I was in the cubicle, I heard some footsteps walking up and down the length of the toilet.

    After spending 10 minutes in the cubicle, I exited, only to find myself face to face with you.

    Okay, not exactly face to face. But you were standing near the metal trough and was facing the direction of my cubicle. Your entire body language was in one big hesitant question mark, as if you wanted to see if I was still in the cubicle.

    Or else you wanted me out of the toilet but was unsure of revealing your deep desires.

    At that instant, I realized who the footsteps belonged to.

    You glared at me as I walked towards the sinks to wash my hands. Through the mirror, I saw that you returned to the same position at the metal trough and unzipped your jeans. At first, I thought you suffered from an extremely shy bladder or had some urinal problems.

    Or perhaps you had an enlarged prostrate. Or trucker’s bladder. Or whatever the f*** it is.

    Until you started furiously stroking your penis.

    If you were shaking it up and down, I would have understood. Maybe you were trying to get rid of some urine stuck in your urethra.

    But no, you were stroking the entire shaft of your penis.

    And I became momentarily blinded by that sight.

    Blinded with disgust.

    At the same time, you stared at my reflection.

    I hastily looked down and washed my hands with the concentration of a surgeon. As I turned off the taps, I glanced up and saw through the mirror that you were still staring at me, but this time you gave me a look.

    A look that seems to say I know what you did in the cubicle.

    I grabbed a few paper towels, sandpapered my hands dry in my haste and exited the toilet.

    To the Old Man in the toilet at Carslaw Building at University of Sydney this afternoon, I was in the cubicle taking a huge dump because I ate a tonne of barbecued sausages during the Unimates’ Welcome BBQ.

    I was not in the cubicle doing what you thought I was doing.

    I now regret eating those sausages.

    I now regret, even more, going into that toilet at that time.

    So Old Man, if I ever see you in a toilet (and I remember you very clearly, how can I not?), I will make a quick exit, regardless of how urgent I have to answer nature’s call or how crowded the toilet is.

    Because I don’t ever want to watching you f***ing masturbate in the public again.

    What a f***ed up blog entry this is.

    What an even more f***ed up situation.