I knew that I said that I was gonna gush about how totally AWESOME Moulin Rouge was. And I was planning for the past week to do a really detailed blog on American Idol. But I don't feel really good today and so, I'm not really in the mood to blog about such lovey-dovey and awesome things. This is gonna be a very brief note 'cos I just have to get this off my chest.

If you've actually read my entries, you'll find that I hardly have any negetive or whiny entries in it. I'm usually either nuetral or happy. The truth is that I don't usually blog about my bad days. I don't feel comfortable publishing how terrible my 'bad day' had been. But I think it's time that I really let out my feelings. The day started off kind of weird 'cos Mr Ang (our discipline master) made my class and 3/5 stay back after assembly. Apparently, we didn't sing the national enthem properly. I really don't get it. Shamini and I were totally singing our lungs out. We ALWAYS sing. ALWAYS!! So, we had to wait for Mr Ang to finish his little lecture. Which took most of the morning. The problem was that we, the malay pupils of Cikgu Asnah's malay class, had a composition test. Yes, on the LAST day of school. We had to write a narrative in an hour. But because we had to stay back, Mr Ang ate into our compo time. You won't believe how pissed I was. Well, not exactly PISSED-pissed, more like irritated. When he finally finished with us, we had barely half an hour to do our composition. Everyone knows that I am completely handicap in Malay. I can barely write a malay composition in an hour, so there is no way in hell I can possibly finish it. Of course, I was right. It was one of those times when I hate being right. Hard to believe right? Oh, my god! I wrote the worst story EVER!! It's utterly nonsensical and dumb.

It's about this guy who's father passed away a year ago and his positive and hardworking attitude changed to a negetive one. I helped him to become positive and then, one day, he became negetive again. I asked him why for days and finally he says that it's 'cos his mother is marrying some dude he doesn't know. That about it. I never really got to the middle or managed to end it. My handwriting was like twisted knots. You could tell that I was slightly desperate. But I felt okay. I wan't bummed about it. I mean, naturally, I was SLIGHTLY bummed but I wasn't bummed to tears.

ATC was putting up a performance at the Multi-Purpose Studio for the parents and our friends. I was really estatic about it. Excited like nuts! I brought my costume and even extra costumes, just in case anyone forgotten to bring theirs. I brought acessories for whoever who wanted to wear them. Dinah Bee and I even came extra early to get some constumes sorted out. THAT was how enthusiastic I was about drama. I know many of you would think that I was completely extra. I won't agree with you since I am always enthusiastic about Drama but I wom't disagree either. 'Cos in the end, no one but me wore the stuff I brought. I realize how pathetic that sounds. I can't help it.

Okay, you all know that embarassing moments are like my speciality or something. But I don't do it deliberately. I truly don't. I don't try to be klutz. I just am. Which also probably one of those reasons why guys are so scared of me. I mean, who knows? I may embarass them unintentionally in public? Hey, it can happen. I'm the Klutz-o-matic, remember? Today is probably one of my most humiliating moment of my entire life. It's worse than ice-cream melting all over me, it's worse than tripping on my own two feet... It's just the worst. Simply because I was deliberately humiliating myself. Trust me, it wasn't fun. I had 2 parts to play in the play we put up. One was 'The Expert Dieter' and the other is Faris's girlfriend. So, I ask Faris the usual questions like, "Am I fat?", "Are my boobs big enough?" and things like that. After that, I go for plastic surgery to make myself more beautiful. So, what happens is that the ad-people (who tell me to be more beautiful) come up to me, covers me as they 'operate' on me. Gayathri senior would smear my face with lipstick, Gayathri junior would draw on my face with green eyeliner and Jen Lee would wrap my arms, legs and tummy with masking tape. Basically, they would make me a mess as plastic surgery can do that to one. With a final touch of messing up my hair, the girls would reveal me to the audience and voila, humiliation as it's rawest and heart-wrenching form. Thank God, I wasn't wearing my specs 'cos I definitely did not want to see the looks of horror or shock or humour on their face. They were scrutinizing me. Every inch of my wrapped body and every feature of my now hideous face. Of course they laughed at me. That was the whole point of me doing all that crap. As I hobbled out of the so-called stage (I was supposed to be in pain) and stood at the side lines, eyes were still on me, people pointing at me. I tried to turn my face away from the crowd so that I won't distract them. It was horrible. At curtain call, I tried my best to cover my face. It's 'cos I saw my face in the mirror of the studio and even I was shocked. I had lipstick all over my mouth, weird green lines near my eyes and cheek and tape all over my body. The masking tape left red marks and burns as I ripped it off and I realized that there was no make-up remover for me. I tried my best to scrub away all the junk on me. I looked all blotchy and dark-eyed.

I really don't know why I'm making a big deal out of this. I mean, last year, I had to smear shit all over my face and chest. Yes, 'shit'! Made of chocolate, chunky peanut butter and nuts. I was to smeared it over my body-painted body. I'm sure that was humiliating enough. This was of course, another form of abasement for the sake of ATC. I don't wanna sulk or whine. And I'm sorry to do so. It's just really... I don't know. I just feel so small and ugly. I always audition for the fun or glam-ish roles (eg. Guakawakaweena, the President) but I tend to end up with embarassing roles like this.

I don't really mind it. I'd do almost anything for Anderson Theater Circle.

Humiliation is nothing to the Klutz-o-matic.