the mystery of Hall 14: slippers saga

This blog serves as a pseudo-cohabitation for two lonely souls.


Things get weird when you want to rest but your brain is stuck in overdrive mode. I am jotting down my brain processes on this sleepless night because of this.

1. ‘It is so warm in my blanket.’ Flips blanket aside. ‘Oh great, now it’s too cold.’

2. ‘Maybe I should do some sit-ups… 1… 2…alright enough’

3. ‘What should I have for breakfast tomorrow? Wait… What did I have for breakfast today?’

4. ‘If I roll to the left side and switch the lamp on, I can read a book. Urghhhh. SO FAR!’

5. ‘I am titanium~ EHWAHEHWAHEHWAH.’

Shut up, brain.




Currently hiding the mess I call hair under a beanie.

I think that is how I deal with most problems in my life. Try to keep them out of sight until a) the situation is uncontainable or b) it finally gets on my nerves.

Sigh, my life choices.



My backpack was so heavy when I was on the train this stuffy evening that I found myself wishing that having boobs that are too small is a disAbility so someone, anyone, will give up their seat to me.

But nope, that did not happen. Not even a tiny bit.

I just wanted to get that off my chest.

Gosh, I really need to grow a pair.

Let’s see how many bad puns I can squeeze in before it gets offensive.



Sometimes, I hear news that make me want to hand over my membership card as a human being.

It helps to think of the universe as a boundless digestive system. And our wonderful planet is the rectum, where all the crap is stored.

That thought makes me laugh because …….. then volcanic eruptions would be like watery farts.

Gosh, I am 12 year old.



I’ve never been much of a sci-fi geek because aliens and bright beams of light tend to freak me out. I remember watching Space Jam as a child and nervously chewing on popcorn to hide my anxiety. It also does not help that there was a strange Nickelodean cartoon called Butt-ugly Martians. I’m not lying.

Butt-ugly martians

We are beautiful, no matter what they say. Words can’t bring us down.

But recently I have been addicted to the series Warehouse 13, which is about two agents assigned to a secret warehouse where all the supernatural artifacts are stored. Well, the show is definitely way more interesting than what I just described. There’s Lewis Carroll’s looking glass! There’s Mata Hari’s stockings! And of course, no sci-fi fest is complete without a time machine.

Time machine and H. G. Wells

Time machine and it’s inventor, the very. very. pretty H. G. Wells.

If time machine was a real thing, which day would you travel to and what changes would it make? Oh hey, read that with a firm, deep voice and you will sound like a motivational speaker looking to cause a shame spiral in your audience.

My choice would be to the day Adolf Hitler was born. I would take that baby and Peter Pan him all the way to Neverland. (If time machines exist, Neverland has got to be a reality too, right?) Just like that, millions of people saved. Also, that would save me lots of sleepless nights memorizing the chapters on Germany in my History textbooks. More importantly, that would most probably delete the second World War from our collective history and the entire humankind can go about our mundane lives thinking that we are smart enough to avoid making the same mistake twice.


Beyonce Super Bowl 2013

This would have been very confusing if I haven’t already come to terms with my sexuality.


If it’s your birthday today too, everyone has to listen to your random ramblings. That’s the rule.

On this special day, you are entitled to bitchy behavior and alcohol. Like lots of alcohol.

On this special day, you will get Facebook messages from many people, some close to you, some whom you have not spoken to since you accidentally poisoned their pet turtle 10 years ago (no, this did not actually happen). At first you will feel loved, like the whole world revolves around you for the day and everyone is getting onto their preferred social media site to send you that special birthday message. You will reply the first few messages with lots of ‘:) :)’ and ‘<3 <3’. Then you will start to feel annoyed because it is not fun to have to come up with a hundred different ways to say ‘Thank you for your generic birthday message.’ Then you will feel bad for feeling annoyed at these kindhearted and well-meaning friends and acquaintances. You will attempt to reply all the messages but fail because of all the alcohol (see previous paragraph). But it’s OK because you will try harder next year.

On this special day, you will think back on what you have done with the past 23 years of your life and maybe let out a sigh. There is much uncertainty, anxiety and disappointment but yet you have never been in a better place in life. You have just realized that your family and friends are the most supportive people in the world. You have met someone whom you love and loves you. Your dress sense is better than last year. And your hair is less of a mess.

That is why birthdays are important. Apart from being excuses to get drunk, they serve as check points in our lives. They are reminders for us to grow the fuck up and move forth. Because the more candles you have on your cake, the less time you have to YOLO away.