Take me home, don't leave me alone.

I know I haven't updated about Sunday and all, but before I go into that, I would like to make a few announcements.

-Eamon Sullivan and Michael Phelps belong in the water wearing Speedos.
(I blame Aimee and Sylvien for corrupting me, horrible people)
-I was watching the badminton event last night and they went to a break and they had a recap of Olympic winners (Michael Phelps OMG!) with Magic Rainbow as the background music and I squealed because the song is so fitting for the occasion.
(I know, I know...I should grow up)
-Frank Lampard is staying on for another 5 years, which means he will be there when I get there next year. Thank you, God and so sorry, Lampsy.

*****

Okay, fine. No more Michael Phelps or David Cook talk (for now). Time for a recap of Sunday.

Sunday was the day of my brother's wedding reception. The day was just insane, as was the day before. We sprayed the potpourri basket with scented oil using a syringe. By the time we were done, we were all intoxicated and tired. We did the 'bunga telur' until 3AM. We only went to sleep at 4 in the morning on Sunday.

I woke up three hours later to help mum out with breakfast for the guests and got my stuff ready (since I had to be in the hall the first to see things were in order).

I got ready and waited for the make-up artist to arrive to get my make-up done.

Let me tell you this. I am NOT going to wear make-up that thick again.
I REPEAT: I AM NOT GOING TO WEAR MAKE-UP THAT THICK AGAIN.

I felt like washing all that goo off my face and go there like our 'pasty Irishman' friend, but it was his day and I didn't want to ruin it.


The 'bersanding' ceremony began at 1:15PM. Guess what happened? We forgot to fill up the 'bunga rampai' and rose water for the ceremony. I could've sworn my mother turned into fifty shades of pale and almost cried at that point. I had to console her and tell her to relax.

I met this wonderful person who celebrated her birthday on Sunday.
Yes, it's the famous Aimee Lee Kit-Ee (why got so many 'ee' in your name ah?) who likes MCR and running around naked. She's very pretty, by the way.

After years of stalking blogs, chatting online and sending cards (birthdays, Chinese New Year, Hari Raya and other festivities) via snail mail, we met.

I know...strange way to celebrate your birthday, right? I am glad she took time off from kidnapping teaching kids to attend the reception.

At one point, we heard Ashlee Simpson and instantly I told her "I didn't pick this song".

Later I learnt from my Liverpool kawan that the DJ was annoyed with me because my songs were all in English and inappropriate.

Like what my Skizzy told you earlier, he only played my songs in the last hour of the event.

WTF. My father told me to pick the English songs since he told me that the DJ already has MOST of the Malay songs. So I did as I was told.
Side note: My father AND brother said my song choices were way better than what the DJ played, including the Malay songs.

I mean, it's a wedding. You're supposed to play love songs and all that. NOT songs of leaving your lover or cheating on them.
"You know they played Paris Hilton! How inappropriate"
"You mean that song where she wears those shoes and there's that little boy in the video?"
"Yeah, that one"
"How awful"

If I had Hungry Like the Wolf on my playlist, you can say that is highly inappropriate because that song is about sex, giving/receiving a blowjob or anything else in between.

Okay, no talking about sex or blowjobs now. Time for some pictures.


Yes, that was how bad I look in make-up. I can't believe anyone called me 'charming', 'gorgeous', 'pretty' or anything else in between. People are really good with euphemisms, aren't they?

Overall, the event went well, minus the minor hiccups before that. Food was good (I don't know, I didn't eat despite being pestered by my Russian mafia queen). The company, save a few, were wonderful. I didn't take that many pictures because I was too busy running around and almost tripped on my dress.

There was a funny incident before the event ended though. I was talking to my aunt and I see this person in a ManUre jersey smiling at me.
"You ingat I lagi tak?"
*am I supposed to?*
"Macam ingat tapi tak tahu"
"Ni kawan Rizal...selalu datang rumah masa you kecil"
"Oh ni Faiz yang tinggi tu kan?"
"Bukan"
"Ni Azril yang pelakon tu kan...pakcik you tinggal dekat kawasan flat tu...you selalu pergi sana kan?"
"Yeah"
"Macam mana boleh lupa I? I selalu datang rumah you, main dengan you"

The only person I remembered playing with was my old neighbour named Patrick (I heard that I used to go to his house all the time to play with him, my mother says he was my boyfriend at that time).

I told my brother that I don't remember his friend at all.
"He remembers you, he always asks about you. Not just today, but whenever I see him"

Creepy, right? But he's good-looking (I don't usually say Malay boys are good-looking, you know that) albeit being a ManUre fan.

So here are my thank yous and apologies.
Thank you for all who attended.
Thank you for all who helped (Liverpool kawan, Fishy, Russian mafia queen, the two Ns and the little nieces).
Thank you for all who gave gifts and cash and cards.
Thank you to Skizzy, May and the 12AM pillow talk ex for picking the songs albeit they weren't played much.

Sorry to the Russian mafia queen for not eating, I know you're worried with my sunken cheeks but I am not losing any weight and I am no longer skipping meals.
Sorry for not talking to most of you because I kept tripping on my dress and trying not to fall down and break a bone.
Sorry for the thick make-up you had to see me in. I swear I will go back to my 'pasty Irishman' ways.

I mean, don't you like this better?

Ya, I know. I like making fun of myself.

Pasty Irishman wins all.