Thursday, August 18, 2005
Prof Gan and the fuggy blog
school is finally starting next week.
i was pretty worried when i actually received emails from my audit prof. it's like..damn i needa start studying. another round of battle against stress. but for some strange reasons i dont mind school to start. i feel e urge to mug. like seriously. i'm kinda prepared to really study. and not be like previous sems when i only study if there's a test. i think i gotta read beforehand. i should be hardworking. i think i learnt the painful lesson from FA. i only saw the light like 2 weeks before FA exam. as in what is really going on in FA. and mastered the financial statements. however, i think it came too late. i screwed up my FA tests to the point that Prof Gan has to write "please see me" on the test scripts. i have to say i really thank Prof Gan who led me to the "light" ( as in i could complete the all financial statements in about 30min and get it all right). i still remember how good it felt when he checked my financial statements line by line and at the end told me "i told you you are good". i managed to pull my grades up to a B, though it wasnt fantastic, it was way ( i mean WAAAAAAAY) better than my tests results and such. Prof Gan who affectionately calls me MISS HUA, was also the one who made me stay in SoA. i still remember the convo which made me tear. i should have appreciated his existence right from the first lesson we had. then i would have done much better for FA.
so i shall study hard.
God bless me.
-------------------------------------
i chanced upon this blog through dont knw whose blog. but i think it's pretty worth the mentioning. it never fails to make me laugh. you can link through
here. or go to my links to "go fug yourself".
here's an example...
August 26, 2004
I'm A Slave For Fug
Ma! Billy Ray! Break out the Cheetos and the Two-Buck Chuck, ya heah, 'cuz Cousin-Aunt Britney done near outfugged herself:
Look, Brit, there are some things so easy that even a female Ralph Wiggum like yourself can figure them out. Like underpants. THEY GO UNDER THINGS. Like, say, YOUR PANTS. Underwear is not meant to wrap around your thigh -- it's meant to leave something about your pubic grooming to the imagination -- and it's not meant as a protective measure so that you can wear fugly loose-fitting clothes that fall off your soiled ass, yet not worry about the paparazzi snapping a picture of your (wilted, dying) flower. And see those seams halfway down your shirt? Those are supposed to be BELOW your breasts, not riding so far up above one of them that you're fixin' to get put into some kind of cotton chokehold.
Finally, for the love of god, BRUSH YOUR HAIR.
That is all.
For now.
2:43 PM
