-heehee

Kuzzy: "So this girl came up to me and gave me her number!"
Amé: Uh-huh...
Kuzzy: "Well, I was like, er, wow, er, ummmmm, like what do I do?"
Amé: *Laughs*
Kuzzy: " I mean she was really fit!"
Amé (smiling): "Oh yeah?"
Kuzzy: "Yeah, really..."
Amé: "You give her some Special K?"
Kuzzy (playing with sock): "No, I'm such a dork when it comes to that kinda thing, maybe you could give me some pointers, a few chat up lines, teach me the wink...what do you think?"
Amé (laughing)" Oh, you have much to learn young Padewan!"

Best of Me

Best of Me


I was made the wrong way,
Won't you do me the right way,
Where you gonna be tonight,
Cause I won't stay too long.
Okay, I know I haven't blogged for like, the whole week, but I've been ffffahk busy. I mean, come on, give me a break, the Australian Open's going on, and I've been busy supporting Dinara "Banana Monster" Safina, since Amelie's been knocked out by Victoria "Bitchface Pussy" Azarenka. I've also had tuition four out of the five days that we had holidays, not to mention this totally stupid Sunday School project. Why the hall do they even bother giving us projects? You know, the other day, the Sunday School class was in session, and Melinder, Ashqinn and Tanya, etc., (those people, you get the picture) were talking about how they'd like to come back and help after we've done our Confirmation, and I was pretty much like, "Fuck my dog five hundred times. I'm not coming back to this hellhole." You can't blame me, I absolutely hate being forced into something. Ten years from now, Sarah can just take Laith, Cayenne, Shane, Alyssa, Jourdain, Regan, Riley, Kipling, Allegra and Kierstyn (my kids) to church.
Maybe you're the light for me,
When you talk to me it strikes me,
Won't somebody help me,
Cause I don't feel too strong.
A lot of stuff happened during this week, some good and some bad (and I might blog about it when it all settles down), and I haven't even had Chinese New Year dinner with my godparents. I went jogging (or walking and talking) with Helen on Monday and Tuesday morning, and I tell you, it was so much fun. We definitely have to do it during the next holidays. Pretty much, we walked around the park for about an hour and a half, give or take, just randomly talking and crapping as usual. Couldn't come back home and sleep, though, because I had tuition on Monday pretty much right after that. The tuition teacher's crazy, I tell you. I'll post a couple of quotes from Wednesday's tuition class here later, and then you people who just read my blog and don't take tuition with me can feel my pain and sympathize with me for what I have to go though every fucking goddamn week. I bet you'll be thanking whatever god you believe in (or maybe Ellen DeGeneres, like I do) that you don't take tuition with me.
Was it something that I said,
Was it something that I did,
Or the combination of both that did me wrong.
NICK: Uh, hey, Steph, what's that chick's name, again? You know, that one.
ME: Oh, it's _______.
NICK: That's a whore's name.
ME: *dies laughing*
and not forgetting:
NICK: Let's go out tomorrow! Morning till four. Or something.
ME: I've got tuition, hon. But you'll be there, right?
NICK: No... I'm inviting you on behalf of the Sunway Pyramid management. It's part of their "Ohmygod-we-don't-have-enough-customers" programme.
ME: *dies laughing*
You know I'm hoping you'll sing along,
Though it's not your favorite song,
Don't wanna be there when there's nothing left to say,
You know that some of us spin again,
When you do, you need a friend,
Don't wanna be there when there's nothing left for me,
And I hate the thought of finally being erased,
Baby that's the best of me.
Did you guys know, Nick talks in his sleep. It's damn funny, and I nearly puked last night, trying not to laugh. I could have sworn that he was bullshitting, but when I woke him up, he had this innocent look on his face (oh, and he was pissed as hell that I woke him up). I haven't been clubbing in like, a week, and I'm pretty damn proud of myself. Instead, I've been indulging in healthy recreational activities, such as going to Helen's house and watching more and more tennis every day. Today, we saw one gorgeous lady make the finals, Dinara Mikhailkova Safina, and one butt-ugly gorilla to play her, Serena Fatass Williams. Also, congrats to Roger Federer, who'll play gorgeous Rafael Nadal in the finals (who doesn't love that absolutely beautiful boy?). I swear, Rafa's prettier than some of the women on the WTA tour. For example, Serena Williams. What the heck was god on when he made her? He must've been pissed.
Everything's behind you,
But the hope still stands beside you,
Living in every moment,
Have I wasted all your time.
"Your parents are very polite."
"Huh? Sorry, pardon?"
"Your parents are very polite."
"Pardon???"
"Your parents are very polite."
"Uh, pardon?"
"Your parents are very polite."
"Oh, okay. Yeah. Yeah, they are."
.
"Okay, type in your password now!"
"What did you say? Don't talk to me like that!"
"Sorry, sorry... I didn't mean it like that. *mutters* I am trying to help you!"
Was there something that I said,
Was there something that I did,
Or the combination I broke that did me have.
Anyway, I have tuition tomorrow, and I'm very tired. Also, I'm posting pictures from our outing the other day, so you can imagine how I'm blogging two posts down at once. I'll blog again tomorrow or something, after washing my hair. Enjoy what's left of your holidays, support Dinara Safina (and don't forget to yell, "Davai Dinara!" at your TV screen while she's playing), and throw rotten fruit and used condoms at Serena Williams, because god was obviously in a bad mood when he made her.
You know I'm hoping you'll sing along,
Though it's not your favorite song,
Don't wanna be there when there's nothing left to say,
You know that some of us spin again,
When you do, you need a friend,
Don't wanna be there when there's nothing left for me,
And I hate the thought of finally being erased,
Baby that's the best of me,
Baby that's the best of me.

Lots of love,
Stephanie Mauresmo-Safina (just for the Aussie Open).

--teenagers are bitches

Helen: Roger Federer is a lizard.

Sarah -- before the lizard scare.

Gorgeous boys, I tell you.

ME: Yup, Amelie. Keep going.

Playing Charades. Like, duh.

Helen: lykezomg I totally *heart* Roger.

her: lykezomgwhytf can't they guess properly?

them: lykezomgwtf is she trying to say?

All of us: lykezomgwtf is she trying to say?

Another bad Charades shot.

Photo-stalking Kiran.

Ducati mannn.

US: You... are... a... gorilla... No? Okay, fine. You are... Serena Williams!

*wipes drool*

Sings: One step at a tiiiiime....*cough*

Idunnowtfthey'redoing.

"Jesus, Roger keeps texting me. Stupid clingy fella. He thinks I'm Mirka or what?"

Helen: "Roger! I see him!"

Boys and girls are bitches.

Thanks to the Parksons sunnies department.

We are bitches, they are fun.

Sarah R and her sister.

Wannabe gangster bitches. Serena Williams, eat your heart out.

"Yeah, Amelie. I love you, too."

More group shots.

Groupshot.

And another.

Big grins from everyone.

Sarah has no life.

Blessing and Lovely. Not so much of a Blessing, but...

.of Amelie and Dirtnote

Last night, Nick, Naz and I were sitting around, discussing random stuff and generally being stupid and getting drunk. We were playing this new drinking game that we came up with -- naming it "Maurendez." Yeah, sorry, that's the best we could come up with. Anyway, the game goes like this: Every time Steph mentions Amelie, everyone has to take a drink, passing around the bottles. That lovely evening, we had a couple of bottles of sahti (which is this really cool beer from Finland), a six-pack of pulque, home-made sangria, Schnapps, and Kahlua! You can probably imagine how drunk we were by the time everything was over.
Anyway, I started naming five words that describe Amelie with every letter of the alphabet (can you imagine how upset I am by her loss at the Australian Open to Victoria Azarenka Shithead?), and by the time I got to "S", Nick and Naz were helping me. This is what we came up with, while sounding scarily a lot like Ana Ivanovic.
ME: *drunkenly emotional* Symbol of all that is good.
NICK: *excitedly* I have one! Sight to behold!
ME: "Simone's-my-middle-name."
NAZ: *laughs like crazy*Stephanie's property.
NICK: Spaghetti-carbonara-lover.
ME: Sun-screen lotion applier to her is my dream job.
NAZ: I have a good one -- searcher for meaning.
ME: Serves volleys to perfection. Well. She used to.
NAZ: Spins her opponents around.
NICK: Slice-shot extraordinaire.
ME: Saluted by all. And salud, babeh. *drinks*
NICK: Stylish as hell.
NAZ: Smile that can make Steph laugh.
NICK: Statuesque
ME: Sharapova-beater.
NAZ: *laughs like crazy again* Should marry Steph.
ME: Shoulders and arms beyond compare.
NICK: Sweeps Steph off her feet -- the only person known to do so.
ME: Siesta with her would be the tastiest fiesta.
NICK: *rolls eyes* Shudder at the thought of her.
NAZ: Simply irresistible.
ME: *pathetically* Svetlana's friend! Oh, oh, and sexy!

God, these people definitely know how to make me feel better. I love these two like hell and I'd probably off myself without them.

.reasons why I love Amelie

I love she way she smiles. Even if it's awful.

I love the way she walks.

I love her eyes.

I love her stomach.

Because her pain is my pain.

Because she's half-naked most of the time.

Because France is awesome.

Because she's got beautiful hair.

Because her grin turns me on.

Because she smells nice.

Because no-one rides motorbikes like she does.

Because she can wear anything and look stunning.

.believe

Bravely I look further than I see,
Knowing things I know I cannot be,
Not now.
I'm so aware of where I am,
But I don't know where that is,
And there's something right in front of me,
And I,
Touch the fingers of my hand,
And I wonder if it's me,
Holding on and on to,
Theories of prosperity,
Someone who can promise me,
I believe in me.
Tomorrow I was nothing,
Yesterday I'll be,
Time has fooled me into thinking,
It's a part of me,
Nothing in this room but empty space,
No me, no world, no mind, no face,
Touch the fingers of my hand,
And tell me if it's me,
Holding on and on to Love,
What else is real,
A religion that appeals to me,
I believe in me.
Can you turn me off for just a second, please,
Turn me into something,
Faceless, weightless, mindless, homeless,
Vacuum state of peace.
On and on and on and on,
I believe in me,
On and on and on and on,
I believe in me.
Wait for me,
I'm nothing on my own,
I'm willing to go on,
But not alone,
Not now,
I'm so aware of everything,
But nothing seems for real and,
As long as you're in front of me then,
I'llI watch the fingers of our hands,
And I'm grateful that it's me,
Holding on and on and on and on,
I believe in me.

I believe in you. Why don't you believe in yourself?

--apples and bananas.

The last person to tag you is?
This weird girl I know, I think her name is Shoelegcar.
What relationship do you have with her?
Like I said, she's this weird girl who hangs out with this normal girl, Ashqinn, a lot.
Your 5 impressions towards her:
i. weird.
ii. obsessive.
iii. sensitive.
iv. freaky (at times)
v. okay, she makes good brownies, I'll give her that.
The most memorable thing that she has done for you?
Made me brownies that Naz and Jaeda stole.
The most memorable thing that she has said to you.
"Babi, la you."
If she becomes your lover, you will...
Probably die. Or run away. At least I'd approve of myself, since I'm not a Mamak.
If she becomes your enemy, you will...
*shrugs* Drink Bailey's and get on with my life?
If she becomes your lover, she has to improve on...
She is not becoming my lover. Deal, bitches.
If she becomes your enemy, the reason is...
I made Ashqinn and everyone else laugh with my racist jokes.
The most desirable thing you want to do to her...
Ask her to get a better other half? I don't know.
The overall impression of her is...
This weird girl who cries a lot and has funny hair.
How do you think the people around you feel about you?
"Hahahahahahaha, whatever she says, it's funny!"
The character for yourself is?
Read my "About Me" section.
On the contrary, the thing you hate about yourself is?
The fact that I'm not with Amelie Mauresmo?
The most ideal person you want to be is?
Marie de Villepin. But it'd be cool to be Natalie Portman, too! Or Ellen DeGeneres.
Pick a loved one and say something about them.
Amelie Simone Mauresmo. Ohgod, I love this woman with all my heart and I would give the world and my very expensive violin to be able to have five minutes alone with her.
Ten people to tag:
.Aisyah
.Amanda
.Amy
.Pik Ee
.Eusoff
.Katrina
.Vivien
.Portia DeRossi
.Amelie Mauresmo
.Your mother
Who is no.2 having relationship with?
Some dude at school.
Is no.3 a female or a male?
Female, la, duh.
If no.7 and no.10 were to get together would it be a good thing?
Vivien and your mother? Go to hell.
How about no.5 and 8?
Yeah, why not? She's hot, he's definitely a cutie.
What is no.1 studying for?
SPM.
When was the last time you chatted with them?
At school today.
Is no.4 single?
Yeah.
Talk about no.2.
She's this hilarious chick who loves funny youtube videos and comes to school to tell me about them. Her sister's this boy called Eugena.

-fin-

Pavlov's Bell

Pavlov's Bell

Oh, Mario,
Sit here by the window,
Stay here till we reach Idaho,
And when we go,
Hold my hand on take-off,
Tell me what I already know,
That we can't talk about it,
No, we can't talk about it.
Courtesy of Nick, I've been listening to Aimee Mann quite a bit lately. He told me to download this one, and I thought that it'd be one of the songs that sits in my laptop's hard-drive, but I listened to a preview, and it's absolutely fucking brilliant. I think this should be the song for the Australian Open this year. Speaking of the Australian Open, there've been quite a few casualties, and some of them have been quite shocking. Seeded players who have fallen are as follows: (WTA) Venus Williams, Agnieszka Radwanska, Patty Schnyder, Anna Chakvetadze, Daniela Hantuchova, Agnes Szavay, Sybille Bammer, Kaia Kanepi, Ai Sugiyama, Maria Kirilenko, Francesca Schiavone, Aleksandra Wozniak and Tamarine Tanasugarn. I feel sorry for Tamarine -- she's been one of my favorites since Wimbledon last year.
Because nobody knows,
That's how I nearly fell,
Trading clothes,
And ringing Pavlov's Bell,
History shows,
There's not a chance in hell.
As for the guys on the ATP, the fallen are as follows: David Nalbandian, David Ferrer, Robin Soderling, Ivo Karlovic, Feliciano Lopez, Paul-Henri Mathiu, Dmitry Tursonov, Rainer Schuettler and Philipp Kohlschreiber. Has anyone noticed that the seeded men to fall are a lot less than the seeded women? This is pretty damn obvious, and the WTA rankings fluctuate a lot more than the men's, too. And it seems that everyone's supporting Rafa! Even when Kar Weng and I were talking, both yesterday and this afternoon, he was like, "Rafa." and so was I (he's never won on a hard-court before, so I want him to ave this one!). Arif, Naz, Nick, Bianca are all for Rafa. Still, Helen's rubbed off on me a little, since this little bit of my heart wants Roger Federer to get it, too, to show that he can salvage what's left of his career.
But, oh, Mario,
We're only to Ohio,
It's kinda getting harder,
To breathe,
I won't let it show,
I'm all about denial,
But can't denial let me believe,
That we could talk about it,
But we can't talk about it.
As for Amelie, she's been working her ass off over there in Australia, and I've been getting more and more obsessed with each match she plays. Still, she's got one helluva draw, I'll tell you that! In the third round, she's got Victoria "Vika" Azarenka (death to that bitch -- I don't know anything about her except that she's damn ugly) and when (note that I said "when" and not "if" because I have faith in my Ame!) she makes it past Vika, she's got Serena "Fats" Williams (I'm still hoping she gets her ass kicked by Shuai Peng from China, so Amelie doesn't have to play the Fats). After that, if everything goes as it's supposed to, Amelie has Svetlana Kuznetsova, her best friend on the whole entire WTA. Hey, if you put me across the court from Helen at the Australian Open, I'd wipe it with her, but Amelie's more sensitive than I am (isn't everybody?), so she'll have trouble with Sveta. Thennnn, after Sveta, she has Elena Dementieva. What kind of a name is "Dementieva"? Doesn't it sound demented? After Demented, Amelie plays Jelena Jankovic or Dinara Safina (I can't decide which) and the she's the Queen of Australia! Again! While I keep my reign as Queen of the Autistic. There is a difference, you know.
Because nobody knows,
That's how I nearly fell,
Trading clothes,
And ringing Pavlov's Bell,
History shows,
But rarely shows it well.
Anyway, school's been a total bitch. Take, for instance, this conversation that happened yesterday, after recess. The gorgeous Ng Boon Kyan was holding this piece of paper that had "BOIKOT BARANGAN ISRAEL" on it, which I thought was just stupid. Anyone who knows me at all knows that I love Jews. Sarah Silverman, Joshua Bell and hottashell Natalie Portman.
ME: Eh, Boon Kyan! Gimme! *folds paper so it reads "BARANGAN ISRAEL"* Support!
SHARIFAH: Do you support Israel?
ME: Uh, yeah. I'm even using two Motorola phones, and Starbucks rocks.
SHARIFAH: *expression changes* Fucker. *flips me off*
ME: *laughs my ass off and tells Charmaine, Pik Ee, Kuan Ngee, etc*
And I'll stand by what I said, people. Jews and Israel totally rock, and I know that almost everyone who reads my blog will agree with me.
Oh, Mario,
Why if this is nothing,
I'm finding it's so hard to dismiss,
If you're what I need,
Then only you can save me,
So come on baby, give me the fix,
And let's just talk about it,
I've got to talk about it.
Okay, so in the tennis line-up for today, the most interesting one will be Marat "Sexgod" Safin against Roger "Magic" Federer (sorry, Helen, just had to put that in), and for tomorrow, we've got Amelie and Vika. I absolutely love my new Motorokr, since it's got a time-converter in it, so I can check when Amelie's playing. Looks like I'll be getting up early tomorrow to watch her play. She goes on right after Serena Fatass and Shuai Peng, which means, if the match finishes early, I'll have to get up at about 9:00 am to watch her play/follow her on IBM Slamtracker. If that's not love, you people can go fuck an elephant five hundred and thirty-two times, because you quite clearly don't know what love is. I mean, I'm completely willing to wake up early for this woman on a Saturday to watch her play tennis.
Because nobody knows,
That's how I nearly fell,
Trading clothes,
And ringing Pavlov's Bell,
History shows,
Like it was show and tell.
Right, I'm pretty sleepy and I've got Bible Knowledge later. Joleen better come and keep me company, since Mon already said that she wouldn't be going. Can you people even begin to imagine how bored I'll be without Monica? Jeezus. So, yeah, since I'm tired and I have Bible later, I'm going to sleep, and dream about rainow unicorns, tennis, brownies, and of course, Amelie. Have a good weekend, and an even better Chinese New Year, y'all!
So tell me,
That's how I nearly fell,
By ringing Pavlov's bell,
So, baby, show and tell,
Oh, Mario, Mario.

Much love,
Ninnyjofernandez.

not forgiven or forgotten.

What would you do if I said that you were dead to me?

I've known you my whole life, and you didn't even care to tell me the truth.

What happens now?

If I told you how much you hurt me, would you even care?

Would you even listen?

Would you admit to your mistakes?

I don't care any more.

You've fucked me over for the last time.

Ever.

All the fuck of you.

You're dead to me.

--shut up and sleep with me

Too damn lazy to do a proper post, so you guys have to live with this, okay? Okay. Good.

NICK: Mrs. Rosenberg. *grins* Let's get cracking.
ME: Thankyouuu! *hugs him, cracks knuckles* So, whaddawe say?
NICK: Hey, Maya. How are ya? Do any girls lately? *snorts*
ME: HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA.
NICK: Okay, I'm just being mean. Hang on a sex.
ME: HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!
NICK: What the fuck is WRONG with me? Sec. I meant sec.
ME: *wipes away tears of laughter*

I love that boy. Man. He'll be 18 this year. I mean, man.

Aussie Open tomorrow. I totally LOVE Amelie. Support, yo!

--come on get higher

I miss the sound of your voice,
I miss the rush of your skin,
And I miss the still of the silence,
As you breathe out and I breathe in,
If I could walk on water,
If I could tell you what's next,
I'd make you believe,
I'd make you forget.
So come on, get higher,
Loosen my lips,
Faith and desire,
And the swing of your hips,
Just pull me down hard,
And drown me in love.
I miss the sound of your voice,
The loudest thing in my head,
And I ache to remember,
All the violent, sweet, perfect words that you said,
If I could walk on water,
If I could tell you what's next,
I'd make you believe,
I'd make you forget.
So come on, get higher,
Loosen my lips,
Faith and desire,
And the swing of your hips,
Just pull me down hard,
And drown me in love.
I miss the pull of your heart,
I taste the sparks on your tongue,
I see angels and devils and God,
When you come on,
Hold on, hold on.
So wrong, So right,
So come on, get higher,
'Cause everything works, love,
Everything works in your arms.

Something that might shock you all:

Guess what, people?

Stephanie Fernandez is human, too.

Fuck you, fuckfaces, to quote Yi Pin. I don't have to explain myself to anyone. Think what you wish.

Dumbfucktard.

"Stupid asshole ungrateful fucking bitch."

Says Ruindra about Jas-Rabiatul AdaBIAWAK.

Lots of love from this very much human blogger,

Steph-ie Fernandez-Mauresmo.

(I wish)

Helen Invasion

Hey Steph

I know I'm not supposed to just waltz into your blog but I do it anyway. Sorry :)

Anyway, I have good reasons. Found some hilarious pics of Ame and some matching ones of Roger.













The Dynamic Duo and their detached heads.

What Amelie thinks of Sylvie's music.
And what Roger thinks of Sylvie's music.

Till later.

--loves the amelie-freaks.

ASHLEY: Fuck! She fucking won? What the fuck -- did Ivano-bitch have two broken legs or something? Well, whatever. GO AMELIE!

--on Amelie's win against Ana.

WE LOVE YOU, AMELIE! Get well soon!

<3

Amelie impersonating Maria Sharapova's screaming pose.

"I am woman, hear me roar!"

"What? You're telling me I'm injured? But Stephanie says I must play on..."

"Yeah, sorry, Steph. Oh, yeah. Steph? Oh, she's the love of my life."

--match point

This is an article about Amelie that came out (hahahaha, I said "came out") in The Advocate. I thought it was pretty good, so here you go!

Professional tennis careers can be counted in dog years. Twelve months tracking down yellow balls across five continents feels like seven years; a decade is a lifetime. So when Amélie Mauresmo says it’s been “almost an entire life” since her breakthrough showing at the 1999 Australian Open, where she both reached the final and came out of the closet, she’s not being flip. Not entirely, anyway. “I’m 100 years old, I guess,” the 29-year-old says with a laugh.
Mauresmo is back at Melbourne Park for the 2009 tournament, which starts January 19, only now she’s in the twilight phase of what has become a distinguished career. Three years ago she won the Australian Open and Wimbledon, spending most of the year ranked number 1, but she’s tumbled from that high. Last spring, after an injury-plagued, confidence-sapping turn, she publicly discussed retirement. In 2008 she barely finished in the top 25.
A richly talented, all-court player known as much for her electrifying shot-making as for the nerves that sometimes undercut it, Mauresmo still has the tools to contend. But as she approaches her 30th birthday in July, with fresh teenage phenoms arriving all the time, the world’s most visible lesbian athlete since Martina Navratilova may pull the plug at any moment. And if she does, there don’t seem to be any out players to take her place.
Unlike Maria Sharapova or the Williams sisters -- or some of the upstart talent from Eastern Europe, like Ana Ivanovic and Jelena Jankovic -- Mauresmo isn’t a global brand. Sure, she has the de rigueur sponsorships with Nike and the like, but she’s always been focused more on the craft than the limelight.
I’d been pursuing Mauresmo for an interview for the better part of 20 months, so I was pleased and somewhat surprised when word came that she’d finally agreed to do it -- she rarely talks about her sexual orientation anymore. But as it turned out, my request had been miscommunicated: She thought the interview was for another publication, not The Advocate. As we sat down in the players’ garden at the U.S. Open in August and I asked why she’d decided to chat, she looked confused and startled. When the tan, fit Frenchwoman, dressed in shorts and a sleeveless athletic top, finally understood what was up, she leaned forward in her chair. I figured she was about to stand, politely decline, and leave.
“So what do we do?” she asked. I said it was up to her. She sat back and barely hesitated. “Yeah, whatever.”
It was with that same laid-back attitude that she came out in 1999, after advancing to the quarterfinals of the Australian Open. A jubilant Mauresmo voluntarily disclosed to the press that she is a lesbian -- and that her girlfriend had accompanied her Down Under. Unfortunately, the reaction was unkind: The Australian tabloids had a field day, and crass comments from her peers didn’t help. Then–number 1 Lindsay Davenport, whom Mauresmo beat in the semifinals, remarked on Mauresmo’s power, saying she thought she was playing a guy. Then-superstar Martina Hingis -- who beat Mauresmo in the final -- called her “half a man” and complained about her girlfriend’s presence at the match. The negative attention nearly obscured Mauresmo’s accomplishment in competing for the championship as an unseeded player.
But Mauresmo didn’t flinch. She said she was unwilling to expend energy hiding her sexual orientation and felt “sorry” for those who were having a hard time dealing with it. “When the media asks me what’s going on in my life, I’m obliged to talk about this because it’s part of my life,” she told The New York Times. “It’s clear that I’m not going to get unanimous support for this. Not everybody is going to be behind my back saying, ‘Super.’ But no matter what I do, there will always be people against me.”
Still, she was stung by the feedback, even if she didn’t show it publicly. “At the beginning it was very brutal, hard to take,” Mauresmo says now. Coming out also estranged her from her family. But eventually the ice thawed: Mauresmo reconciled with her dad before he died of cancer in 2004, and now her mom, once invisible on the tour, occasionally travels with her to tournaments.
And Mauresmo herself has relaxed. “Maybe my attitude makes people feel more comfortable,” she says, but they “act completely normally to me -- we can joke around.” While she understands that it takes public figures like her to help end homophobia, like anyone, she wants to be seen in her entirety. “Everyone has their moment to [come out] and then they go beyond this issue. If people say, ‘It’s great that you are gay,’ I say, ‘Why?’ It’s not great or not not great. It’s just the way it is.”
She is, however, tight-lipped about whom she’s dating. Recently she’s been linked with Geraldine Filiol, an executive with European sports broadcaster Eurosport, but Mauresmo confirms they’re no longer together. She won’t go further, though. “I don’t want to get into this,” she says. When I press her, she cuts off the line of questioning like a crisp volley at the net. “I’m not going to develop on this subject. Sorry.”
As the furor over her sexual orientation faded, however, Mauresmo became increasingly dogged by her failures on the tennis court. A powerful player with beautiful strokes and a deft touch, she can also be mentally fragile: She was notorious for tightening up at critical moments in the latter stages of the four Grand Slams, especially in her own backyard at the French Open, where she’s never advanced past the quarterfinals in 14 attempts. When she won the 2006 Australian Open, it was her 32nd attempt at a Grand Slam title -- the second-longest wait in the sport’s modern era.
At the end of 2007 -- during which she underwent an emergency appendectomy that forced her off the tour for two months, followed by an adductor strain that led to another two-month hiatus -- Mauresmo wasn’t sure she could compete with the firepower top players now possess. Her thoughts turned to retirement.
But as she gradually regained her health and confidence this past summer, the idea dissipated. “I think I was wrong,” Mauresmo says about quitting. “I think I can still somehow go on the court against these guys and be able to have some good wins out there.” Still, 2008 was one of her worst seasons: She failed to win a title for the first time in 10 years.
Even so, with two grand slam titles, 24 career titles, and 39 cumulative weeks at number 1 -- the ninth-best all-time run -- Mauresmo is a shoo-in for the International Tennis Hall of Fame. “On the plaque, I don’t think it’ll mention that she’s gay,” veteran tennis commentator Mary Carillo says, noting that the quality of Mauresmo’s career stands on its own.
But that’s one kind of success. What about Mauresmo’s legacy as an out athlete?
Billie Jean King and Martina Navratilova came before, but Mauresmo’s path has been fundamentally different in three ways: She came out at the beginning of her career, she did so of her own volition, and she says she’s had no problems attracting sponsorships. By contrast, King was dragged out of the closet by a palimony suit, while Navratilova tiptoed out little by little, going fully public only toward the end of her career. By most estimates, both lost out on millions in potential endorsements.
If King was the pioneer and Navratilova the outspoken, take-me-or-leave-me activist, Mauresmo could be remembered for unobtrusively being herself. Though her coming-out was bolder and riskier than that of her forerunners, Mauresmo has rarely strayed beyond the 36-by-78-foot playing lines of the tennis court to influence society at large. “I don’t know that she ever wanted to be a barrier breaker,” Carillo says. “I don’t think she had the ego of a Martina or a Billie. She just wanted to quietly insist on herself.”
Mauresmo certainly believes her legacy will be her game, and not anything to do with being gay. “I definitely think people are going to remember my ability to come in, to slice, to put some spin [on the ball], to serve and volley, and to mix things up a lot,” she says, adding a nod to her perseverance, “I definitely hung in there.”
What hasn’t materialized, though, is a new wave of openly gay players. Mauresmo maintains she’s never had issues with her peers or coaches because of her sexuality, so where are the others? Mauresmo says no closeted players have asked for her advice.
Carillo says the closet in tennis is no different from that in other sports. As both media scrutiny and commercial opportunities have grown, so has the collective cocoon around stars. “‘It’s none of your business’ is more the attitude,” she says. And Australian player Rennae Stubbs, a top-ranked doubles specialist and the only other out lesbian currently on tour, says there’s “no doubt that sponsorship is a major part” of why people don’t come out.
But Mauresmo’s popularity among her fellow players surely means something. Admired for her tennis skills as well as her affable, straightforward manner, she can often be found in the locker room or players’ restaurant playing the French card game belote with her coach and other male and female compatriots. An informal survey of players and pundits turned up nary an unfavorable word.
“I can’t think of people who have said negative things about her,” says TV analyst and former pro Pam Shriver. “She’s classy,” Stubbs adds. “Maybe they wanted to not like her, but in the end you couldn’t not like Amélie Mauresmo.”
Mauresmo can add to her legacy with another big win this year. For now she’ll likely be remembered for getting the demons off her back at Wimbledon, for handling her first major victory in Australia with equanimity, and for defying any layer of phoniness almost from the outset of her career. She’ll also be remembered for an engaging frankness and ability to enjoy some of the finer things in life. “If there’s one player I’d like to sit down and have a glass of wine with, it would be Mauresmo,” Carillo says. “And preferably her wine.”
Yes, the Frenchwoman is an oenophile, with a wine cellar in her home, and she’d like to combine her two passions in the future. “Tennis is my life, so I would like to stay involved,” she says, but a Mauresmo wine label may be in store too. What varietal? “A red for sure -- a Bordeaux, good body, fruity.”

No other love, darlin' I'm flying.

You're Gonna Die Soon

You're Gonna Die Soon

Can you blow your nose,
Can you tie your own shoe,
If you had Velcro once,
Would you even know what to do,
When you make a doody,
Is it in your pants,
Or trousers as they said in the day,
Are you mad because your grandson is gay,
Is it a bummer that your pubes are all gray.
Okay, first week of school's started, and lots of stuff has happened already! Like, you know those two girls? I think everyone who's anyone would probably know who I'm talking about, once I lay down their nicknames. Let's call them... STD and Freeloader. A couple of days ago, a certain someone was telling me that STD had, well, STD, and I found that hilarious. That very night itself, I came across STD, and I swear, the only thing I could think of was, "STD, STD, STDSTDSTDSTDSTD..." over and over again, until I had this huge grin on my face. As for Freeloader, whatever, chica, you can screw me over as much as you like -- I don't give a shit. And I was always one step ahead of you, anyway. So, yeah, have a nice life, and uh, try not to contract an STD from STD. God, I am so witty.
When you clear your throat,
Is it really disgusting,
Does it go on for hours and miles,
You're gonna die soon,
You're gonna die soon,
It's not cold in here you're just dying.
Today, Rekha and I had this total debate about the virginity of Adriana Lima. I said she was, Rekha said she wasn't, blahblahblah. It was pretty funny, come to think of it.
ME: She is perfect, and a virgin!
REKHA: Eh, she got no ass!
ME: ...they can fix that now!
REKHA: *laughs* Oh, yeah...
*
REKHA: She's not a virgin, I've seen her porn!
ME: Uh, it could have been edited! She's a virgin, I tell you!
AJ: *randomly* Yeah, it could have been edited...
ME: See??? She's a virgin!
Rekha: *sarcastically* Yeah, yeah...
AJ: *backs away slowly*
You're gonna die soon,
You're gonna die soon,
You in the back you are dying soon.
Amelie's playing really well so far, but retired against her match to Marion Buttface. She's such a bitch, that Marion girl. She's French, she should have just let Amelie win, since *duh* Amelie's so much more fucking awesome than she is. Everyone was bloody surprised that Amelie wiped the court with Ana Ivanovic in 6-3, 6-2. I thought that was fantastic. Anyway, just a quick update for all my faithful readers (if there're any at all). I've got SPM this year and I'll be studying my ass off for once, since I want to get into ICOM, then go to Berklee the year after next, to meet hotties who can sing and hold a decent conversation with me. So, because of this, I won't be blogging much, as I'll only be online during weekends. But I promise to update every weekend, with two or three posts. And if I can sneak some time during the week for random quote posts, I will, no worries.
You're gonna die soon,
You're gonna die soon,
We're all gonna die,
But not as soon as you guys.
As for school, I've got a new English teacher, and she's nice enough. Still got Pn. Filzah (who's hot, according to half the male population in my class) for Science, and we've got Pardeep for History. Parvati is being unreasonable about Math exercise books and the school bookshop sucks as usual. Nobody's changed for Norani, and she still dreads teaching us BM -- sometimes I even feel sorry for her, and then she yells at me, and I stop feeling sorry. Have started English Lit again (cupcakes rock my socks), and Bible Knowledge. Ian and Ryan are both there, making the class very distracting. Teacher's not just boring, but boring and lame, so looks like I'll be putting my MP3 to good use for another year. Anyways, that's it for today, I've got to send of a couple of e-mails and whatever, so hopefully, another post tomorrow.
You're gonna die soon,
You're dying.

Lots of love (if you're Amelie),
Steph

--it's you

If tomorrow never comes,
I would want just one thing,
I would tell it to the stars and the sun,
I would write it for the world to see,
And it's you,
The light changes when you're in the room,
It's you.

If tomorrow never comes,
I would want just one wish,
To kiss your quiet mouth,
Trace the steps with my fingertips,
And it's you,
The light changes when you're in the room,
It's you.

Isn't it too early in the year for any form of loss? As much as I don't want you to go, I know it's for the best, and I'll find a way to be there as soon as I can. Above all things, you should know that you'll always be mine, no matter what happens, and I love you.

Don't forget to remember me.

SJF

+

CSdlPM

<3

--auld lang syne

The people who made school actually kind-of bearable:

Helen.
For listening to me constantly talk about Amelie, from her customized shoes to her hair and legs, to how much I miss her off-season. For covering for me when it came to Valsala and Whore Lai Lai. For texting me every day that I was away in Australia. For telling me whenever there’s a Natasha Kai soccer match on (although you’re right – she just doesn’t compare to Amelie.) For listening to what I deem “Good Music” as well. For the fun times that I’ll never, ever forget. All in all, for being the best bestie anyone could ever ask for. I don’t know what I did to deserve you – I must’ve been a nun or a missionary or something in my past life.

Carin.
For telling me whenever I’ve gone overboard verbally. For being my conscience, since we all know I don’t have one. For refusing to get irritated no matter what I said. For deciding that Amelie would win Wimbledon 2008 with your support (even though she didn’t.). For telling me about the good songs you’ve been listening to and liking Not Pretty Enough by Kasey Chambers. For agreeing to kill Amelie’s girlfriend with me. For seeing only the good in most people (yeah, we all hate Randy, that horny bastard!), especially me. You’re the most patient, sincere person I’ve ever met and I’m lucky enough to call you my friend. Hopefully, I can be half as good as you are, someday.

Amy.
For having the guts to tell me that I should just chill about my English marks and not be so “kiasu”. For “helping me out” during the exams *cough*. For the late-night phone calls where we laughed our butts off. For the endless funny comments in class. For showing me that girls who look like Lalas sometimes watch Heroes and Ugly Betty. For listening to me moan and groan and bitch about how much I hate our English teacher. For bravely attempting to teach me Accounts. For trying to get me to wear bright colors. One day, when you’re a famous fashion designer or tattooist, you can pick me up in your private jet and we’ll go shopping in Paris.

Vivien.
For the amazing cupcakes. For being patient enough to text me while my mother was killing herself, trying to find a skirt for me to wear during the prefect’s function – and you found one that made my ass look good. For listening to me go on and on about Amelie, Elizabeth Reaser and that hot girl on The Apprentice. For listening to me bitch about how much I want to kill everybody and how much I wish Ellen DeGeneres would swoop down and adopt me. For not complaining too much when I paired off a skirt with sneakers (yes, I know it must’ve bothered you, deep down). I’ll wait for you to finish school, then I’ll carry yours and Amy’s shopping bags through London, Paris and Milan.

Sarah.
For the endless patience when Helen and I talked about Amelie and Roger (oh, and you chipped in, too, with, “I love Nole!”). For the many lame jokes, especially the Goldilocks one. For making faces at me while Godma sleeps, which helps pass the time quicker. For not disagreeing with my gay-talk, even though I know you’re a complete and total Good Christian Girl (see, I capitalized that!). For letting me flick your ears and throw ice at you. For accepting the fact that I make fun of Tanu (or do you really? Hmmm…) – and it’s agreed unanimously that you’re much nicer without her. I’ll never forget your help during my Bible Knowledge exam and I’ll talk about that at your wedding.

Fida.
For making Amy and I hooked on “I’m Yours” by Jason Mraz. For eventually forgiving me for calling your dad gay – I swear I’ll never do that again, since it pisses you off so much. For making me laugh and improving my BM. For helping me out during the exams even though you weren’t talking to me. For taking the time to explain the whole damn storyline of Kekasihku Seru to Amy and I. For letting us copy your Economy work all year long just so we could all escape Hisham and go home. For letting me do the English Oral test with you. Even if you don’t read this, I had a fucking good year with you there and can’t wait for the next one!

Arif.
For the huge laughs throughout the day. For the hilarious comments about which girls you would and wouldn’t date. For being such a good sport when it came to “Truth or Dare”. For whacking everyone but me and Amy with your sweaty and disgusting PJK towel. For being able to talk tennis with me, every frigging day of the Grand Slams (and most other days as well). For supporting Rafa and Amelie and for thinking Serena Williams is a glorified fat hippopotamus in a very, very tight dress. For teaching me how to say “Puki nenek kau meletup dua kali!” And guess what, Ayip? Now everybody knows that you like Amy!

Fadhli.
For randomly coming up and talking to me one day. For hating the stupid English teacher, too. For being one of the most sincere people I met the whole year and telling me that, no, Aiden doesn’t love his Volkswagen as much as he loves me, even though it was obvious that he did. For talking crap with me after the exams so I wouldn’t be bored out of my skull. For hanging out with me even when I was hanging out with the faggot. For being able to make me laugh. For the sweet backhanded compliments that made me feel good about myself. For determining that after all, I wasn’t crazy, despite what many might think. I’m still gonna come to your wedding and steal lemang!

The bandmates:

Nick.
For being the best cousin I could ever ask for. For letting me cry into your shoulder when I was irritated beyond belief at the world. For holding me and knowing what to say and what I wanted to hear. For going through so much with me. For calling me at crazy hours, even though you could have been distracted from your SPM, just to tell me that you were there for me. For being the awesomest drummer since Travis Barker. For having the patience to put up with my tantrums, excusing them with “creative license”. For knowing when to tell me to stop drinking. For being the most cheerful drunk I know. I demand to be Godmother to Shane, Shay and Shaun when you marry Jay Manuel.

Naz.
For watching those nerve-wracking Amelie matches with me until the sun comes up. For backing me up during fights. For covering for me whenever I forget my lyrics on-stage. For letting me make my own mistakes and screw up, but always being there for me to bitch to. For listening to my complaints about Sadistfreak patiently. For driving me around and buying Bailey’s. For being able to talk me out of the many stupid things that I’d do if you weren’t there. For being the most patient tennis coach ever. For actually listening to me. Hope Solo would be bloody fucking stupid to not want to have babies with you – they’ll be incredibly gorgeous and smart.

The special two:

Carmen.
For wordlessly putting up with my shit practically every day – and loving me for it. For taking time off work to be with me when I needed it. For being a total hottie. For picking out the name Cayenne Assyria, which is beautiful. For yelling at me when I’m being stupid or getting distracted. For being an endless source of inspiration to a shallow bitch like me. For loving me for me, and not expecting any more than I could give you. For bringing out my potential. For refusing to let go, even when I was ready to. For not letting anyone hurt me when you knew that I couldn’t take it. For being a huge part of my strength. No matter what you choose, I’ll find a way to be there.

Mel.
For being my favorite redhead. For telling me that I need to take life as it comes, even though I didn’t believe you initially. For calling me every single morning when I was away in Australia, even though you would have had to get up at scary hours to do it. For showing me that crying isn’t necessarily a sign of weakness and sometimes, it can mean the exact opposite. For loving me loads, even when I got scary and lost my temper. For swearing that you would safely take me away if SPM year got to be too much for me. For not minding the fact that you weren’t the only one. I swear that I’ll always be around to hit those stupid, annoying bitches who make you cry.

The rest of the harem:

Clea.
For offering advice, anytime and anywhere, even if I didn’t ask for it. For accepting the fact that it wasn’t meant to be between us. For wanting to be friends in the first place. For always listening to me, even when I talked crazy. For giving me your love and support, even when I didn’t deserve it from you – which was pretty much most of the time. For helping me write songs when I couldn’t find words to rhyme. For constantly taking my side when I was 14, even if everyone knew you were unbelievably biased. For being at every single Dirtnote gig and running around like a headless chicken, trying to make it go smoothly. One day, you’re going to find someone truly worthy of you.

Darah.
For getting out of bed at crazy hours to give me stitches. For knowing when to just shut up and just give me the drugs. For being the best damn “doctor” I’ll probably ever have. For having those amazing blue eyes that are fully capable of distracting me when I’m in pain. For not minding when Naz and I crawl into your house at crazy hours for me to bleed and pretty much die on your floors. For worrying about me, even when I told you not to. For being the funniest bitch I have ever met in my life. For the countless times you’ve advised me to go to the clinic, but ended up taking care of me and fixing me up by yourself. There’s no arguing on the fact that you’re truly brilliant.

Eva.
For sharing your countless experiences selflessly. For agreeing to a truce that formed an amazing friendship between us. For always backing me up in a fight. For knowing where the good cruising spots are. For the never-ending laughs we’ve had. For telling me what to say when I needed to know really badly. For the tips on how to hit them hard. For laughing at my endless racist jokes. For losing your brains with me when we watched Twilight for the billionth time together. For being an amazing, true friend, when everything’s said and done. Someday, you’re going to want to settle down and your reputation will precede you so much that nobody’ll want to settle down with you…

Kim.
For keeping me updated on Mz Fontaine’s music. For getting over what we went through and accepting it. For finally finding yourself someone I approve of, who treats you like you deserve. For having an accent that, when you speak fast, I don’t understand at all. For sending me the whole first season of Little Britain. For calling me in the middle of the night to laugh about something that happened two years ago. For teaching me new words that never fail to amaze and captivate me – like bollocks. For totally gaying up everyone on TV – I’ll never forget how Oprah ran away with Ellen. We’ve gone through hell and back and we’re still friends – which speaks volumes, doesn’t it?

The Amelie-freaks:

Ashley.
For supporting Amelie as much as I do. For being there for me to IM when Amelie’s playing – whether she’s playing well or not. For knowing exactly how I feel when Amelie plays really well or really awful. For prompting wild partying in the streets whenever she does well. For being a great friend, even if you’re a million miles away. For making me see the funny side of everything, even if it doesn’t pull me out of my black hole. For introducing me to great music. For being a really cheerful, funny drunk. For agreeing with me on the fact that Amelie has won the title of Hottest Chick In The World. I can’t wait to come to LA and see you!

Ellen.
For all the honest advice you’ve given me since May this year. For always commenting on my Amelie videos. For being the only person who understands how hard it is to sacrifice your dignity most days just to be true to yourself. For being like another mother to me. For being able to honestly say that Amelie is an amazing person. For actually caring about what I do and where I’m going. For having the same music taste as I do. For being able to laugh along with me at Natasha Kai’s ridiculous pink sports bra antics during the Olympics. For being able to talk about everything Amelie and come up with hilarious points. The least I can do right now is thank you.

The sunny sides up:

Sophie.
For being able to tell me what to do when I’m about to freak out. For being calm when I’m not. For knowing the real me. For taking me to all those cool underground art shows and stuff. For letting me know that I’m not alone. For actually being able to understand the screwed-up mind of a teenager. For siding with me on most things. For being able to talk my mother out of yelling at me. For letting me crash whenever I needed to. For giving me the most beautiful goddaughter in the whole damn universe. For knowing when to let me do my own thing, but also when to tell me not to do whatever I was about to do, and being there even if I did it, anyway. You’re truly amazing.

Marcus.
For being my favorite baby boy in the whole world. For understanding me, even when I didn’t understand myself. For loving me unconditionally. For making me laugh and laugh and laugh some more when I needed it and even when I didn’t. For trusting me. For having the special gift of being able to uncomplicate things that I thought were complicated. For laughing at my jokes, even if they weren’t funny. For being unafraid to be yourself – which is a huge inspiration to me. For teaching me how to let loose and make fun of people in your way. For letting me into your world, when you wanted to be alone. I’m forever honored to be your Shane.

Carissa.
For understanding me. For actually wanting to spend time with me. For all the constructive criticism. For playing PlayStation games with me until the sun came up. For all the fun times making brownies. For knowing how much I miss grandpa and actually caring about it. For knowing what to say to make me laugh. For the killer punchlines. For being smart and helping me win at Taboo. For not staying mad at me when I laughed about the “Dumb and Dumber” thing on youtube. For coming to my violin recitals. For agreeing with me about dresses, skirts, heels, make-up and other shit like that. After my SPM, we’ll get together again and make brownies.

Morgan.
For letting me drool over your car. For being able to talk my mother out of grounding me for all eternity. For coming to pick me up when I was either drunk or stoned and all I could remember was your number. For not being a controlling adult, even if you are an adult. For being able to explain almost everything under the sun to me – from Frida Kahlo’s artwork to books like The IHOP Papers to songs by Robert Miles. For being able to make me watch weird arty movies. For getting me hooked on independent films. For being able to play games like “I Never” and “Go Fish” for hours on end. I can honestly say that I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for me.

Jaeda.
For being able to hug my sadness, anger, and everything else negative away. For loving me unconditionally. For showing me that watching semi-violent cartoons and playing with Play-Doh is a great way to relieve stress and tension. For starting to listen to good music at such a young age. For being so adorably fixated with Happy Tree Friends and The Simpsons. For being so adorable, full stop. For happily stuffing your weird chewy cookies into my mouth, cause even though I’d never eat them, it made me laugh. For giving me the opportunity to let down my guard with you. You’re always going to be my baby, even when you’re 16 and a handful of pure hell – just like me!

The people who make church/BK/Sunday School bearable:

Sulekha.
For always dating the people I don’t approve of. For getting mad at me all the time – now, it’s like a common occurrence. For approving of Amelie, even if you were forced to. For the weird mentality that it’s weird for me to have more than one girlfriend. For humoring my thoughts of a harem. For letting me talk almost non-stop about Amelie. For worrying about me and getting upset whenever I mentioned getting stoned or smoking or doing any sort of drugs. For being OCD 98% of the time. For being so easy to annoy, which is an endless source of entertainment for me. For the advice, which I never listen to. I’m so going to give an embarrassing speech at your wedding.

Ian.
For the answers during the test. For the breakfasts together filled equally with comfortable silences and conversations. For being such a gentleman. For the backhanded compliments. For the laughter and random sentences. For the casual, easy way you made Bible Knowledge fun – especially how Dr. Indra would look at you like you’d lost your mind. For speaking in that voice, which sounds like Eeyore with a sore throat. For always covering for me whenever I forgot where we were at the gospel of Luke. For the absolutely brilliant, amazing, awesome MP3 in class idea, which I’ve found immensely useful even at boring dinners. You’re pretty much the sweetest straight guy I know.

The WYD Peeps:

Alex.
For the amazingly fun ber-bitching moments at WYD. For the countless moments of laughter about the most common things. For the random comments (especially when you were like, “If Amanda wore Adeline’s poncho, she’d look like Ugly Betty.”) actions – like waving at random people from the bus stop outside St. Bridget’s Cathedral. For planning the hilarious, awesome meet-ups after WYD. For agreeing that Leona Lewis is just plain boring and that Sara Bareilles totally owns her. For the really, really fun flight back to Bangkok where we annoyed the hell out of Amanda and walked around the Thai airport looking at elephants. Don’t forget Spain in 2011!

Carmen.
For being our favorite WYD Guardian and Teacher and Mother (at times) and answering to incessant, “Teacher/Mommy Carmennnn?” from Alex and I. For hanging out with Alex and I and happily and wholeheartedly joining in our ber-bitching moments. For not being one of those boring grown-ups who looked at the 16-year-olds as if they were nuts or annoying whenever they sang “The Bear Went Over the Mountain” or did something else along the lines of that. For being pretty much the only one with any sense of responsibility between Alex, you and I – I think we depended on that quite a bit. You were the one who said we’d go to Spain, so you’d better be there!

Katrina, Grace and Serena.
Katrina, for teaching us how to sing “The Bear Went Over the Mountain”, which turned out to be absolute hell for everyone who wasn’t 16, except for a few cool people and for the shared Jacob Black obsession. Grace, for the introduction to Matt Maher and Catholic rock music. Serena, for being the best housemate ever (except maybe for Eppie, haha) and lending me your mom so I could go for WYD in the first place. For the highly contagious laughter, which was another thing that annoyed the people who weren’t 16. For all the fun times shivering in the freezing cold. You guys are the awesomest people I could’ve ever asked to share the WYD experience with.

And the people who I have too much to write about or don’t know as well as the others, but still are a part of my world:

Momma, Ben and Annie and Big, Karen, Mandy, Jazz, Joelle, Shook Cheeng and Yuen Loong, Spence, Cham, Cath, Eusoff and Aisyah, and everyone else. You guys know I love you!