Wednesday, October 29, 2008

The Subtlety of My Wickedness

Something has changed within me.
Something is not the same.
I’m through with playing by
The rules of someone else’s game.

- "Defying Gravity," Wicked

Do I look like an adorable little angel with fluffy wings? Believe me, you’re not seeing some apocalyptic vision. And yes, the shining golden halo on my head isn’t some fiery comet that’s about to hit your pimply face.

The thing is, the angel’s just a personality.

On the contrary, I can also be a little wicked.

Okay, I can be really wicked.

* A wolf howls in the distance *

Fine, so I am pretty much a green evil monster.

But I believe wickedness is relative. I mean, come one, a guy spills boiling hot coffee all over your designer underwear and he’s not evil for doing that?

Fyi, Jarby’s wickedness is only reserved for equally wicked creatures and instances. Here's a short list.

1. Bratty Little Kids

These are the kids – say, grade one pupils – who know and can utter with adult confidence more swear words than I. Beneath their impish facades are ram-like monsters ready to pounce on unsuspecting non-parents, then transform back into immature stinky dummies when real parents do come along.

They make me wanna cry out to the whole uncaring world: What’s wrong with the children?! Man, at that age, people my age weren’t even capable of saying gaga and gago. Now here's a new breed of mutants who middle-finger strangers just for the heck of it!

Once, I was doing my hokbu rounds and then suddenly, this stupid first grader bumps into me. I said, “Slowly, don’t run.” Know what she said? Gago ka, gusto mo ma-away?!

Where are the moms and dads of these brats? Here are a few words: Your children stink! They ought to be roasted… like chicken.

2. Bratty Chain Staffers Who Don’t Respect The Deadline

Yes, let's all make the editor-in-chief wait for your articles, because who cares about the deadline anyway? One of you even sent me an e-mail that’s sufficient ground for electrocution.

No, my two female readers, you don’t seem to be part of this group.

3. Unmindful Sidewalkers

When you’re walking down the sidewalk, and then suddenly, this man stops in front of you to check out a couple of peanuts and completely blocking your way, how’d you feel????!!!!

Dancing through life,
Skimming the surface,
Gliding where turf is smoo-ooth.

- "Dancing Through Life," Wicked

Oh, man, I blew my brains off just writing this. So now you see why Jarby can be quite wicked at times. I only reserve my wickedness for wickeds themselves… except for Wicked the Musical.

Who can say if I’ve been
Changed for the better?
But because I knew you,
I have been changed for good.

- "For Good," Wicked

Monday, October 27, 2008

Miles and the Dinosaur (A Stupid Play)

His name is Miles.

And he gave me the one piece of evidence to further solidify my theory that children nowadays are fast replacing Dorothy, Hansel, and Gretel as the world’s biggest brats.

Act 1: When Eli interrupts, it's bound to go...

Scene: Library. Table 2 (middle table) - Me reading book (?), Donna reviewing, Eli watching Donna reviewing. Far end of Table 2 - Michelle and Regine conversing. Table 3 (nearest the aircon) - Hubert doing nothing in particular (?).

Suddenly, idiotic, childish, foul-mouthed, trying-hard English blabbering is heard.

Miles (M): What is this… yeah, it looks stuuupid… yeah stupid… what’s that? Yeah…

Miles’ bro (B): Yeah, it’s a… yeah…

Eli, the interrupter, interrupts the childishness.

Eli (E): Hey kids… what’re you talking about?

M: We’re not talkin’ to yah… shattup, we’re not talkin’ to ya...

E: What did you say?

M: Yeah, shattup, we’re not talkin’ to ya… what’s that… shattup…

Eli talks instead to a very much amused moi.

E: Bati-an mo to? Grabe noh?!

I turn my attention to the brat.

Act 2: Foul words hit the Jarby

Jarby (J): Hey little kiddies, what are you looking at?

M: shattup! We’re not talkin’ to ya... what’s that?…

J: You telling me to shattup kid?!

M: Yeah… shattup, we’re not talkin’ to yah!

J: Well you’ve got a pretty nasty mouth for a little kid… Is "shattup" the only thing you know how to say?

Miles stands up and walks over to stand in front of me.

M: You want me to kick your ass?! (I stand to my full, glorious height)… No, shattup, we’re not talkin’ to yah!

Act 3: Move over, Stephenie Meyer!

M: Oooh… Look at that, it’s a snake… and a… a crocodile (it’s actually a monitor lizard)!

J: No it’s not! That’s a lizard!

M: It’s a crocodile!

J: It’s a lizard!!!

M: It’s a… Oh yeah, it’s a lizard!... (to his bro) Look at its teeth! They're so sharp!

B: Like a vampire’s!

M: What’s a vampire? –

J: Well, a vampire’s got really sharp teeth… It eats people and drinks people’s blood… They live in coffins in the underground part of the city and only come out at night… That’s why you see all those news on TV of people being found dead in the middle of the street at night!

Miles is totally amused, his eyes bulging with confused interest.

Act 4: The Imaginarium of Dr. Dinosaur

A really crazy, evil, and notorious but nonetheless benign idea strikes me. I go to the shelves and take out a Health (?) book.


M: (hurrying over to my side to see the “dinosaur”) Where, where?!

J: (closes the book) Ooops! I lost it… I think it’s somewhere in the middle… go look for it yourself…(hands the book over to those creepazoidal hands)

Donna (D): (to Miles) Look for it page by page!

Silent evil laughter.


In the end, we won. The kid learned his lesson.

We’re friends now, actually. He knows me by face and proudly told me during the opening of Chinese Week that his daddy’s “English,” not British, not the tiniest bit American.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

The Frog Prince, Huasiong version

Yesterday, soon-to-be alma mater (read: MAY-ter) wasted one school day, all for a useless, all-for-profit activity that is the BSP-GSP Investiture brouhaha.

It’s such a waste of time, I know, but I’m not gonna squander my blog space writing about the entire initiation stupidity.


Anyway, it was already after the investiture and CAT instruction (we had CAT yesterday since the worthless BSP-GSP perpolz requested for our “help”).

There was this kid who was holding an empty Pillows wrapper-container-whatever.

The thing is, the wrapper-container-whatever was bulging like a balloon.

So I approached the kid, together with my angels, and asked him what it contained. He opened the wrapper-container-whatever and to my amazement-horror-surprise, inside were some ten unfortunate froggies of different sizes!

It was super duper cool!!!

Okay, so it’s totally ewww, also.

So there we were, watching the kid as he took the froggies out one by one by the leg and threw them on a puddle beside the driveway. By that time, people had started swarming all over us. He took one froggy, then another, then another.

Then, he stoned one of the froggies.

It died. Afterwards, Donna played with it with a twig.

The boy ran across the driveway, took out the biggest of the froggies (the queen mother or something), waved it at us from the distance, and sent the unfortunate froggy on a trip to the horizon.

Flying frog! Amazing.

The froggy survived.

He Who Loved "Ahia"


You’re not, I repeat, NOT! such a good Montague. You’re not even the Montague I was hoping for.

Because of your ineptitude and indecisiveness, we are often misled – UNDER YOUR CRAZY LEADERSHIP!!!

What in the name of Albus Dumbledore was the purpose of our training when, as soldiers of this presently rattled world, all we get to do is sit by the benches and watch the marathon competitors fall over and get bruised???

Oftentimes, you make supposedly funny jokes, but frankly, they’re corny… racist even.

If we don’t do something, you say we have not a single drop of initiative in our blood. If we do something, you say it’s all wrong. What do you really want from us?!

You know, the problem is that you rarely come to the castle. Whenever we meet at the Round Table during working days, you’re not there. How can we coordinate and make our battle plans then?

I’m writing this to attack you – not the battalion. This is all for you, my dear Montague. We wanna kill every single Tybalt out there, you understand?! So quit swooning over imaginary Juliets and straighten your head!

P.S. Our mansion needs to be renovated!

Monday, October 6, 2008

Dear Miss Happy

Who did you think you were playing at???

Who the heck did you think you were playing at??!!

Were you even aware that you were wasting our time trying to ameliorate the hapless case of those six barely knowledgeable damsels in distress who still don’t know how to do patakda??!!

You wanted us to teach your little vixens how to march… and yet, you ended up teaching them yourself! How surprising! Were you even sane enough to realize that we were standing there utterly dry and useless??!!

Great, darling, just plain g-r-e-a-t!!!

Man, you were – are – c-r-a-z-y!! No wonder siomai used to despise you so much (and I bet she still does).

Okay, for the last time: WE DO NOT DO GIRL SCOUT STUFF!!!

I do hope Bravo’s gonna be in his right mind tomorrow and do something better.

Sunday, October 5, 2008





*cicada sounds*

Hwatz happened last Septembuh…?

*more cicada sounds*

Oh yeah, High School Week!

Hwa Siong culture dictates that there are only six specific groups of days that a high school student may look forward to:

1. SC Election Week – campaign, grand rally, the vote
2. High School Week
3. Intramurals (a.k.a. the informal semestral break)
4. Chinese Week (this one’s more of a yehey-no-class case)
5. Christmas Chorale mania
6. Foundation Week

The first one’s done and over with, and we were VERY BEST, pardon the pun.

So here are some points-to-remember to remember:

* Congratulations to Juday!!! I’m sooo proud of ya honey! You. Were. Terrific.

* Five score years ago vs. … dunno, don’t care? I say, five score years ago!!!

* Ms. Spinos, you ought to be fired!! How dare you, you rotten windbag??!! You dare taint the faces of my children with loser’s paint??!! Huh, you ruthless piece of c***!!!! We won, and you damn know it!!! May you live with the memory of having committed such a disgraceful act!!! Live with it, I say, live with it!!!!

* Congratulations to TIFFANY, the real extemporaneous speech winner. No, naval-fleet, I’m not talking about or trying to hit you.

Sign-of-the-cross Joebar, indeed!