I get the feeling this will become the longest blog I have ever written for this site. And this is all done last minute at 8:43PM.

A couple of days ago, I spent the last of my pocket money on Mogu Mogu Lychee Drink w/ Nata De Coco. I have provided a picture so I don’t have to describe it in exact detail- the fluorescent pink speaks for itself after all. I know you’re thinking it looks very processed and artificial. But don’t make any judgments before you try it, it is brilliant.

After school, I played rough rugby (that’s alliteration, my English teachers would be proud) with a few girls of different ages. It was, surprisingly, very entertaining and I think I might actually go every week for the rest of the year. This is a revolutionary thought for me, as I have major commitment issues and would much rather go home and sleep given the chance.

I thought I had enough money on my Octopus to get me through the week, so I didn’t bother withdrawing any actual cash from my ATM.  After leaving rugby, I had to go to a music lesson. So I hopped onto a bus with Charmaine and Sachin and slammed my DOMO wallet against the Octopus machine, only to come to a terrifying conclusion:

There was no money in my Octopus.

But luckily, I had some coins in my wallet. I shoved all of them into the fare box; I’m sure the driver noticed I didn’t meet the required fare but couldn’t be assed to count all the 10 cent coins I gave him. This, however, meant I had no money to get home.

I thought I had managed to work my way around this new problem. I decided that after my harp lesson, I would walk to the Admiralty MTR station and withdraw money from one of the ATM machines there, and then I’d go fill up my Octopus so I’d be able to catch the bus home. So then I went and walked to Admiralty, lined up behind five people to use the ATM and waited for my turn to come.

When I tried to withdraw money, the screen read-

YOUR TRANSACTION CANNOT BE PROCESSED AT THIS TIME.

I began to panic a little bit. Understandably. I ran to another ATM on the other side of the MTR station and lined up behind a very shifty looking couple, who spent a ridiculous amount of time withdrawing lots and lots of money and slipping $100 bills into their pockets in a I’m-trying-to-be-inconspicuous-but-failing way. They were relatively harmless so I ignored them for the most part, still freaking out about what I was going to do if my ATM card didn’t work.

Finally, the thieves young couple left and I slid my ATM card into the machine. Surprisingly, everything went really well until I got to the screen that asked how much I would like to withdraw. I keyed in how much I wanted (an amount that will remain secret) and waited for the machine to spit out cold hard cash.

Then: YOUR TRANSACTION CANNOT BE PROCESSED AT THIS TIME.

My card was useless and I was stranded in Admiralty without any money to get home. I would have to sleep in Pacific Place and steal overpriced organic food from great for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t be able to take my AS level exams since I’d have no way of getting to school and my life would spiral downwards, like the Emo Kid’s.

But then, I remembered I had brought my mobile phone with me for once in my life. I began to call my parents so that I’d be able to ask for them to pick me up.

My mum didn’t pick up.

My dad didn’t pick up.

Nobody at home was picking up.

I can see you all gasping in horror at this sudden and twisted turn of events, and I appreciate your empathy. It was a horrible experience. I thought I was going to die, so I went and did what any 16 year old girl would when faced with a horrible situation. I went and began trying clothes on in Mango. Upon finding a dark green dress with lots of strategically placed holes, I decided to go nuts and try it on.

I actually began to get really hyped up about trying it on, since I could pretend for a few moments that I could actually afford anything in Mango. I was allocated a fitting room and hung up my bag, placing the green dress and hanger on a metal peg.

And then Godzilla broke into Pacific Place, wrenched the top two floors of the building off and peered into the dressing room I was in with hungry, lustful eyes.

…which is not how this pointless story actually ended. But I’m tired and the true ending of this story is omega lame, which is why I wanted to impress you with something else.

What actually happened was that my ring tone (Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley) went off and my dad told me to take a taxi home, and that he’d pay for it. So I jumped into a cab and was driven home by a relatively scary looking Chinese man.

…but you can pretend it ended with Godzilla kidnapping me and climbing to the top of IFC as I screamed and tried in vain to free myself. And then Jack Sparrow came swinging out of nowhere from a ridiculously tall ship mast to rescue me, his onyx dreadlocks plastered to his face with rain from a well-timed black rainstorm and the heroic theme from Indiana Jones playing in the background. After he vanquished the monster, he saved me and we had a lot of kinky pirate fun together. Unforunately, we didn’t get married or become seriously involved, since that is just not Jack’s style.

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Obviously I am tired and incoherent. If you spent your time reading this when you could have been doing an english literature analysis on The Cockroach, I apologise.