brain farts

Archive for the ‘Movies’ Category

To 3rd Year (aka the Year that Very Nearly Killed Me):

No offense or anything, but boy am I glad I’ll never have to see you again. You sure did give my ass a whooping now, didn’t you? All those weekends spent doing root canal access openings and long nights spent with the books sure did teach me a thing or two about appreciating the small things in life, like naps. I mean, seriously, if I had a penny for all the times I thought to myself, “God, I’d kill for a nap,” I’d be off sailing into the sunset somewhere around the Mediterranean right now.

And geez, your buddies? All 16 of them? They sure didn’t make things any easier, mind you. Take the best of your pals, Microbiology and Pathology, for instance. They very nearly turned me and every last person in my dental school into raving hypochondriacs. I swear, My Girl’s Vada Sultenfuss had nothing on us. I mean, it was totally normal for us to be all ready to dig into a steaming hot bowl of kuay thiew tom yum, only to stop short and ponder about the striking similarities of the noodles to Ascaris lumbricoides, and to wonder if that’s the reason why some of us (not me, obviously) can devour a pint of ice-cream and a loaf of bread before hitting the sack, and still remain as thin as a rail. Or how about the countless times we were learning about some random disease in Patho, only to notice an obscure spot on our arm and go, “Shit, do I have dermatitis herpetiformis? Does that mean I can’t have gluten? But I can’t live without — oh wait, that’s a mosquito bite.”


But thankfully we got over it. And lived through it. And man, although you’ve taught me SO incredibly much this year — stuff that is actually starting to come together and make sense, stuff that I can actually see myself applying to real live patients in the future — I still have to say, THANK GOD I’LL NEVER HAVE TO SEE YOU AGAIN.

Au revoir, sucka!

But thankfully yours,

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A motorcycle ran into my car this morning, leaving a nice 5 inch-long dent on my bumper. While waiting for the insurance guys to show up, I noticed her shirt. At first I thought it was a regular Coca Cola-themed shirt and didn’t really pay much attention. Then I took a closer look. Oh, how I erred! On it, it declared:

“Enjoy Cocaine…
It makes you speed!”

Sure does make you speed all right!

Yeah, speed smack center into the rear of other people’s cars. Man.

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To Last Term:

So when they said dental school was going to be tough, I thought it was just going to be tough. Not TOUGH-tough. Just tough. But now I know the truth. Now the shades have been lifted. La vie en rose and all that. Now, thanks to you, I have a very clear picture of what lies in store for me these next four years.


I can’t help but wonder if you were an extra in Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. God knows you’re certainly tall enough. Plus, you’ve got that whole ominous look down pat. Sometimes, if I stare at you and concentrate really hard, I can almost imagine an army of orcs fleeing in the opposite direction, intimidated and scared shitless by your nefarious aura. Or maybe that’s just me. (I have a really active imagination.)

Despite our time together, I really don’t have much else to say to you, except thanks for ruining my social life. But all is not lost, for the exams have been penciled in, the wicked towers have toppled, and now the socially repressed dental student is FREEEE! Oh yes, I’ll have you know that you will be the last thing on my mind when I sit around bumming by the beach this Thursday.

Oh, and as long as we’re being truthful — having our warm little Dr. Phil moment here — I freely admit that during our hellish four months together I might have uttered a cuss word or two (hundred) in your name.

But I’m not sorry at all, you bastard!

Unapologetically yours,

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To Next Term:

I am one week away from meeting you, but already I hate you.

Of course, a large part of this hatred has to do with the sad fact that, for the next four months, I will be having class with you SEVEN DAYS A WEEK. This means that on Saturdays I have to have my ass in class by 9 a.m. Sundays, which God deemed to be the day of rest, are even worse, because said ass has to be there by 8 a.m.

8 a.m.!

That loud flushing noise, by the way, is the sound of my social life going down the toilet. That low grumbling sound, on the other hand, is my biological clock, who, thanks to your good friend, Last Term, has yet to recover (The Clock is still VERY disgruntled as it’s still six hours behind normal BKK time and living on London time which is totally demented since I’ve never even flown over the freaking city much less set foot there), as seen here:

Tower of  Babel

I mean, seriously, will you look at that? It’s the Tower of Freaking Babel! If that is the amount of damage that Last Term can wreak, then I don’t even want to imagine what YOU have in store for me. I’ll have you know that as much as I love to read, my brain is only capable of storing so much.

I have to admit, though, that a small part of me is kind of looking forward to Saturday classes at the university clinic, where I have already placed first dibs on the kid’s play room. It looks like a very nice place to take a mid-day nap, though I figure I’m probably going to have to fight the kids for it. Maybe I can threaten them with a dental drill

Just kidding!

But I digress, because seriously, Next Term, that schedule of yours is no laughing matter. Please keep in mind that any hairy eyeballs you might stumble across in the next four months are ALL intended for you and YOU ONLY.


Spitefully yours,

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Whether it’s at home or the cinema, I always like to unwind after an exam by watching a movie…I guess you can call it something of a tradition. Which is why, after my exam on Sunday (the first day of the Chinese new year — totally sucks, I know), I came home, plopped myself onto the couch, and proceeded to gorge on my favorite Korean films.

I’ve watched The Classic three times, My Sassy Girl five times, and Il Mare four times, but I always end up disgustingly weepy at the end. EVERY SINGLE TIME. It’s so pathetic, not to mention embarrassing. As Il Mare was ending, my brother walked into the room and went, “Girls are so weird. Why do you watch these movies again and again if you KNOW they’re going to make you cry?”

Hell if I know.

Because, um, it feels good?

But really, why do we re-watch movies that we know are going to make us cry? Is there some deep psychological reason why we like to revisit sad movies? Or am I the only freak around here?

Well, I don’t know the answer to that, but I do know which movies have the power of making me bawl at the drop of a hat. And here they are:

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I have no idea why, but I have been inundated with surveys this past week, both through e-mail and the blogosphere. I’ll start off first with the email I received from Kit, Dao, and Jack. The surveys they sent were pretty similar, but a few questions were different…so I mixed and matched.

5 snacks I like to munch on:
1. Khao niew ma-muang (mangoes with sweet sticky rice and coconut milk) = CALORIE SUICIDE + much sobbing afterwards
2. Cookies & cream ice cream — and no, it’s not the same thing as vanilla with oreos.
3. Cinnamon graham crackers — cinnamon anything, really.
4. Oishi green tea (do beverages count?), because it’s the best drink EVER
5. Chocolate (unfortunately)

5 bands whose songs I know all the words to:
1. Literally anything and everything by Hanson (remnants of high school teenybopper days)
2. Aerosmith
3. No Doubt
4. Goo Goo Dolls
5. Rooster
6. Texas
7. Savage Garden, even though they broke up ages ago
8. The Corrs
9. Blue, because I am a sad, sorry person and a sucker for British boy bands. Unfortunately, can’t blame this one on high school stupidity, seeing as how Blue didn’t release their first single until my freshman year of college.
(I know 9 does not equal 5. So I cheated and added a few more, okay?)

5 places I would run away to:
1. Southwest coast of Ireland, for good craic and stunning scenery
2. Tuscany, to be charmed by the land and to bask Under the Tuscan Sun (heh, sorry, couldn’t help it)
3. Prague, to walk along the Vltava river
4. Burgundy, to soothe the soul
5. Paris, to indulge in la dolce vita Parisian style, baby

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So, like the title suggests, our weekend in Pattaya (way back in, uh, August) was pretty uneventful…I mean, considering the fact that nude farangs and transvestites are as much a part of Pattaya as tuk tuks and Soi Patpong are a part of Bangkok.

OK, I know it seems like I always rat on Pattaya (which is why I have NO IDEA why I always seem to end up in that town), but I will admit that much fun can be had in Pattaya. And when I say fun, I mean fun of the non-sex industry sort. Really. I actually discovered a few hidden gems in and around Pattaya this time around, and will admit that this trip was a weekend well spent.

Our home for the weekend.


The view from our hotel room.
It was pretty cloudy and foggy the entire weekend.
Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the nude sunbathers from working on their tan.

We had some cocktails in the lobby, which was decorated with some way cool scenes from Sunthorn Phu‘s epic poem, Phra Abhai Mani.


And the man himself, Phra Abhai Mani, with his famous lute.


Talk about a killer chandelier…and I really mean that.
Can you imagine this falling like in that scene in The Phantom of the Opera when the Phantom and Christine are singing that totally scandalous song, Point of No Return? Ack.


Steps leading to the beach…


I know they don’t get much sun over in Europe, but because these signs were literally all over the place, you’d think those topless Europeans would get a clue and KEEP THEIR DAMN SWIMSUITS ON. But, no. We were forced to witness a large number of nude sunbathers strut their stuff all along the beach boardwalk. I am not even kidding. “Holy hanging boobies!” we cried in utter horror, covering our burning retinas lest we end up contracting some unknown form of eye cancer. I mean, seriously, it was like dangly, gangly, jiggly body parts galore.


Fortunately, one of the hotel staff went and asked them to please — for the love of God— cover up. The hotel dude who saved us was totally calm and composed throughout; he must be used to this kind of stuff. Major props to him, especially for being able to keep a straight face whilst talking to an elderly European man who was pretty busy applying sunscreen — fondling — his man boobs. I mean, I do NOT need to see hairy, portly 60-year-old men strutting around naked, for chrissake. Nor do I need to see hanging-way-down-there breasts a la South Park’s Miss Chokesondick. If I want to see live nudity, I can just swing by Soi Cowboy. I live in Bangkok, you know.


But other than the cavorting nudists, the scenery was nice on the eyes. Nothing to rival the Similan or Andaman islands or anything like that, but definitely a nice change of pace and scenery from BKK.


Two of the thankfully-now-not-naked-anymore sunbathers AFTER the hotel staff kindly asked them to cover up their boobies and various other body parts. BTW, this is apparently a very family-friendly hotel.


I know, I am just as confused as you are.



The Royal Cliff Beach Hotel Resort is huuuuge, and you have to get around the place either by car or the hotel’s shuttle network. It’s spread out across 64 acres and there’s plenty to do there. In fact, we were pretty much holed up at the resort the entire time we were in Pattaya since there was just so much to do and explore.


The sports complex was pretty stellar. Squash, tennis, and basketball courts were available, as well as a gym, pool, and steam room. Oh, reading material was available, too. Most of the books were left behind by past hotel visitors and were in various European languages. The interesting thing is that 90% of them were romance novels, complete with bodice-ripping covers and Fabio lookalike cover models. Curiosity demanded I flip through one French romance novel (hey, I wanted to see what we missed out on in high school French class, okay?). I discovered that the novel’s hero was a studly, handsome, well-muscled man named OLIVIER (!!!!!), which made me giggle out loud for a reason any French-taking RIS alumni should know DAMN well why. ;D Ol’ Olivier and his true love had a few hurdles to overcome, but when I skipped to the last page — after a few pages of heaving bosoms and “oh la las” — and saw “je t’aime, veux-tu m’├ępouser?”, I knew that all was well in the world.


I guess this means that love really does make the world go ’round, huh?




And the moment you’ve all been waiting for…
Transvestites from the world-famous Tiffany establishment.


Whenever I see a transvestite, I’m reminded of a story a friend from college once told me. Her older brother once asked this girl out on a date, and according to my friend, this girl made Angelina Jolie look like a mop with peaches for boobs. I know, I can hardly fathom such a thing, either. But I guess it gives you an idea of this girl’s standard in singling out the perfect plastic surgeon. Anyway, my friend’s brother was pretty stoked, and maybe the love gods were smiling on them that day, because the date went fantastically well — conversation flowed, chemistry sizzled, everything was perfect perfect perfect!


That is, until they checked into a hotel and the clothes started flying off. Imagine his surprise when he discovered that he and his date had a hell of a lot more in common than he’d originally thought. And yes, I’m talking about their nether regions. =X


You guessed correctly if you figured he hightailed it on out of there. Just a cautionary tale for all you unsuspecting guys out there.


Bye Pattaya!
On the way out of town, we stopped by the house of a friend of a friend of the family.


I guess “house” is a bit of an understatement, huh. Apparently the guy was going for the whole European palace look. The result is a little too flashy and gaudy for my tastes, but really cool to check out nonetheless. I think I was more surprised to see a thoroughly European-influenced estate smack in the middle of Pattaya, Thailand than anything else.



There was an Indian version of the Chinese Goddess of Mercy, Quan Yin (or as she’s called here in T-Land, Guan Im).


Darling statues that looked more at home in Rome or Greece than Pattaya, Thailand were also scattered throughout the estate.







Currently Reading: The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova, which received lots of hype even before it was published. According to the reviews, you’ll either love it or hate it; I’m loving it. This novel has everything — gothic medieval history, lush Eastern European landscapes, a disturbingly creepy (to me, at least) Vlad the Impaler story, and everything in between. Personally, I am admiring Kostova’s clever way in weaving a story within a story within a story, as well as her lovely prose. Can you believe this novel took her ten years to write? Definitely worth all those years, because I could not put this book down. Definitely recommended. After finishing the book, I found myself lusting for the backpacker’s life. If only I could live out of my backpack and travel the world over. Twice. Maybe not for life, but at least for a year. Or two. Whatever the case, I now add Turkey, Romania, Hungary, and Bulgaria to my list of Countries I Hope to Visit Before I Die.

Currently Playing: Joy of Life/Trout in the Bath and Rebel Heart by the Corrs. I love love love Irish instrumental pieces by the Corrs (or any random band down at the pub, even). Joy of Life makes me want to do the jig and Rebel Heart makes me want to weep, it’s so beautiful. I’ve always loved these songs, since they were one of the first ones I learned to play — squeaking and cringing my whole way through — on the tin whistle.

Currently Anticipating: The new Pride and Prejudice movie by Working Title Films (the same folks who brought us Love Actually, Bridget Jones’s Diary, and Notting Hill). I am totally excited about this movie, especially since Pride and Prejudice is one of my all-time favorite novels. Don’t kill me for saying this, but I think I’m going to like it even more than the 1995 BBC version with Colin Firth. After all, after seeing this scene, you too will find yourself totally smitten with Matthew MacFadyen’s more vulnerable version of Darcy (plus, you have to admit the man has such pretty eyes =X). From the previews, I can’t help but think that Keira Knightley and Matthew MacFadyen have so much more chemistry than Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth did in the BBC version. Anyway, much heated debate has been going on amongst hardcore P&P fans, but looks like I’m going to have to wait a little longer before casting judgement, because while it’s already out in the UK, it won’t be here in Thailand until January — GAH! For all you lucky arse Americans, make sure to check it out on November 18.

EDIT: Jen emailed me to ask if I have any links to more P&P clips. Sure do. Here are some links to the behind-the-scenes documentary. And here are actual clips from the movie. Enjoy. :)

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