My mom thinks that I'm either overconfident or that I just don't really care about how my exams turn out. I, however, beg to differ. Because it's not that I don't care about my academic well being, I do, I really do, it's just that I'm sometimes (or rather most of the time) just too lazy to do anything about it. The mood isn't right most of the time, partly because of the unbearable heat on weekend afternoons, and mostly because of my insatiable addiction to 'carbon hydroxide' (those of you who know me well will know very well what I'm talking about). I have a mild suspicion that it is because of all this that my trial results were rather catastrophic. I got an A for Chemistry (kiasu bastard, I know what you're thinking, but please, wait for me to list down the remaining grades), a C for Pure Math which is completely unacceptable and a C for Physics, and I blame this on the fact that I had the urgent need to empty my bowels halfway through the exam. I'm telling you, this pooping problem of mine is going to cost me dearly. Oh and I failed Further Math, plainly because I didn't study for it. At all.
Now I shall tell you that I've never gotten results this bad before, and the most atrocious grade I've ever been awarded for any exam (I'm not referring to small class/topical tests here, mind you) was a B, and this, I reckon, is partly the reason for my dad's reaction when my mom gave him a description of what my report card looked like. I won't know how he reacted for sure because I wasn't there, but me mom said that he couldn't believe his ears. So obviously something had to be done to ensure that my trial results don't decide to make a surprise reappearance on my REAL exam certificate which Cambridge will so kindly send me all the way from England. I accept this fact, yes, but what I can't accept is that my dad wants me to sleep in HIS room with my mom until my exams are over in June. His reason? My room's got too many distractions, and he reckons that the reason I never get enough sleep is because I keep fiddling with this and mucking about with that until the wee hours in the morning. That, I shall be forced to agree, is true, but I think I won't be doing that any more with my A-Level finals less than a month away. Frankly, though, I think that this is a bit much. I've been sleeping in the master bedroom for two nights now and I miss my bed and my room dearly. Now obviously I won't be able to withstand my mom's hard bed and the inability to toss and turn and jump on my own bed as I please for much longer, so I will have to try very hard to convince my dad to let me sleep in my own bloody room. In any case, I won't be able to sleep as soundly in a bed that isn't my own, and that defeats the his whole purpose of wanting me to sleep in his room doesn't it?
The most ridiculous thing, however, is that he wants my mom to time me every time I pay a visit to my revered loo, simply to ensure that I don't spend more time than an average man takes to empty his bowels. Can you see how ridiculous that is?! I have now been deprived of the luxury pooping in peace. I shall have to sign off here because that's exactly what I've been doing while typing this entire post. Yes, I am currently on the throne. And I have to leave because my arse is starting to hurt.
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