Whatever that means.

BK Party is tonight at Indus. It’s not as big a deal as the last one, we’re just launching the new magazine design (coming Nov 2) to clients, giving out our annual Readers Choice Awards, and soft-launching the new BK Website.

The new website will also allow readers to sign up for an account and participate in forums, and comment on our feature stories and blog posts so sign yourself up for one now.

BKMagazine.com is also trying to be THE place for Bangkokians to look for events and restaurants and we’ve been making our interns the “upload slaves” for the past few weeks so now when you don’t know where to eat or what to do, you can go do a search at the new website.

And since blogging/web thing has been added to my job description it means I would have to divide my blog ideas between two places. Bitchy, annoying, daily whiny stuff about Bangkok can still be found here but something about work, about what BK does and writes about (nightlife, food, etc.) will be posted at BKMagazine.com.

I’ve been told to blog live from the event. Since people can’t really be there, log on to BKMagazine.com at 6pm and you’ll get to experience another live blog from GnarlyKitty, just less whiny.

I was dragged to the most ridiculous wedding ever.

I kinda get it to the certain extend. The groom is a son of a minister so big party was to be expected. But the whole thing tonight was like a one big show. A real show. My cousin was asked to be the host of the night to introduce the many faces of high society members one after another to come up and sing for the bride and groom.

OK those people could sing. Even better than recorded artists or those AF bitches. Think Frank Sinatra and Celine Dion. But what I don’t get is that, this was a wedding, but instead of focusing on the bride and groom and their love and all that jazz, they made the whole thing into a mini concert for the hisos to appreciate each other’s greatness.

Even though the groom, my dad’s cousin, is the son of the minister, seeing him walking around from one table to another to wai and smile I could tell his wedding was the last place he wanted to be at the moment.

I don’t get Thai weddings. It’s the most impersonal moment a bride and a groom could have in their matrimonial memory. You have the WHOLE family tree of both sides coming to see the proposal, the engagement, the wedding, and even right before the wedding night. And it’s not just them, it’s friends of the families, the extended family of the families and friends of friends of who knows who. It’s ridiculous. Everything you do is being watched and scrutinized by thousands of eyes. It’s a wedding. It’s the special moment for two people, not two hundred.

For my wedding, if there’s ever one, I’m gonna scrap all this bullshit. I don’t care if I disappoint the traditional bunch of my family. It’s my wedding, my special day and no one is gonna ruin it with a long boring ass ceremony full of people I don’t give a damn about.

Things do come true.

For B6,500 my life long dream will come true on June 28.

The tickets are not on sale yet but it’s listed already and we got the press release today.

I’m going. Even though the ticket costs me about two pairs of shoes I am going. And you’re coming with me, Chou chou. No exception.

I woke up yesterday morning with all nostrils blocked, teary eyes, and throbbing throats practically suffocating me.

What a nice way to wake up.

I was struck with a surprise flu attack and the first thing I thought of was to go find mommy and beg her to get me a shot in the ass.

I have just recently realised something. I am much more pain tolerant than when I was little. Before I couldn’t even imagine myself shoving the nasal spray up my nose I was so scared I cried every time so you can imagine how I was when I had to get a shot at the hospital.

But now? I got my belly button pierced, a tattoo and I had just recently (last year) overcome the fear of getting my ears pierced. I know weird right? I didn’t have any problems with belly rings and tattoos I mean most girls got their ears done when they were like what 5? And I got mine when I was 19. And now that I have done all this sadistic pokings, getting a shot doesn’t seem like such a bad thing anymore. Besides it makes you feel better in a snap so I don’t have to take a handful of pills instead of meals anymore.

Actually, one confession. I wanted to feel better not because I wanted to feel better. I wanted to PARTY!! Hahah I already gave my words to people that I would be bad this Saturday and I just couldn’t see myself giving up all the temptations.. Come to think about it maybe that IS why I was struck with an instant flu in the first place.

I took Bua out for her birthday, as her real birthday celebrations on Thurs was a bit pathetic. Funniest thing though neither of us could drink last night because Bua was driving as I couldn’t because I was high already with all the medications in my system. Mom was joking about this whole before we left the house that I would be on the front page news if they had the random drug test and my pee turned purple. That was also another why I couldn’t drink as I could have ODed and died and Bua would have to hide my body because she was responsible for me so if anyone ever found out she’d be dead too.

Met up with Leigh and others in the Lost Boy’s crew they seemed like a fun bunch. It was their party and Bua and I could get in without having to pay for the entrance fee! So friggin’ VIP. I got photos but they suck because my phone sucks it makes people look evil (see the pics below) so gotta wait for Bua’s to actually see what it was like.

Last night was a sad night for my friends though one got stood up, and one just broke off a relationship. SO thanks for coming out anyways I know you didn’t really have a good time but at least it was better than sitting alone at home in a dark corner plotting your suicide plan while listening to Damien Rice’s CD.. OK maybe that’s just me but who knows.

Life resumes tomorrow plus one new oh-so-exciting activity I will be having after I get off work from BK Office.

GRE Prep Course at Princeton Review.

I have just realised how stupid I really am. I mean academically, though I’ve been called an Asian blonde due to my lack of basic understandings of things.

The thing with this Princeton Review course is that for clueless little girls like me who couldn’t care less about revision and memorization, it’s very much needed if you wanna pass the GRE. The weirdest thing is that before you can actually apply for the course, you have to take a pre-course test so they can see if you’re going to be too stupid to take their course or not.

So I went and took it on Friday after work. There were verbal and math parts. Math is understandable I suck at it. I only excelled back at Harrow because Mr. Rolfe was cute. So yeah I didn’t worry too much about the math part but verbal? Their test of English isn’t on how well you can communicate or use the damn language. It was purely how much you can fill your head with useless vocabulary! I tried the free online test at the office before I took it just to see what it was all about and I was stunned. I even asked my editors to try the test out and they even said it was tough. VEXILLOLOGY?? Who the hell on this earth needs to know what the studying of flags is called?? See? Blogger Spell-Checker doesn’t even recognize the word.

But I passed though. I mean my scores were above their accepted level which is at 350 out of 800 for each test. I got 380 for verbal (crap) and 470 for math (quite surprising). I saw on their score list though that I come second in scoring the highest verbal (the first is 390) and I’m average in math and the highest on the list is like 680! What a freak.

Stupid course for stupid people all for the stupid price of 27,000 Baht. Think of all the nice shoes (even a cheapest pair of Jimmy) I could have gotten with that money.

Guess education has to come before fashion.

Yes I went to bed at 4:30am and I wasn’t even wasted.

Why?

I was the damn designated driver again! Why can’t someone just do this job for a change so I can finally get drunk?? Partying responsibly sucks big time.

We started out the night slowly. We managed to get our asses to Cafe De Moc, thanks to my then sober friend, Bon. Damn it Lost Boy, I was like the only one in costume there! Wish I could have stayed longer though but my vote was outnumbered. My fate was under their control, if I went against their wishes I would have had to walk home.

Bon was in control pretty much the first half of the night, until he got hold of his own bottle of Red Label (which I paid for?!). Last night I went out with two of the most responsible, non-partying, sober, young adults I have ever known. Or so I thought. Nam and Bon once appeared to me as those type of people you sit with in class when you need to copy the work, or the ones you go for some mature advice when you need your childish little head knocked into senses, or the ones who hold up your hair, telling you everything is going to be alright while you’re puking your guts out all over the toilet walls. These perceptions I have of them have forever changed last night.

I don’t remember when it all started going down hill for them. But when I saw Bon and Nam started their competitive drinking tournament, I knew it wouldn’t be pretty. Minutes later they started shaking and dancing, embarrassing all of us. The only difference between the two is that Nam knew she was drunk while Bon was all like “I’m not drunk, I can still stand” and then he toppled over on the spongy sofa bed on the second floor of Escobar. Surprisingly Bua wasn’t the drunken pain last night. The lack of sobriety of those two made her sober.

Then it was 2am and none of them could walk. Me, Bua, and Bon’s Chinese friend Dee were like these late night Por Tek Tung workers picking up their lifeless bodies off the side of the road, shoving them into the car. Equipped with their own individual plastic bags, we finally managed to leave.

Then I assumed the role of the responsible one on the driver’s seat. The night could have ended at 2am but no I got my duty to fulfill. Dropping off Dee around ABAC Hua Mak was nothing. Funniest thing was that last night we passed Bua’s house twice before she could really go home. The expression “So close yet so far” was in full effect. She had to help me “take care” of these two lifeless beings before we both could finally get some sleep.

Nam, who lives in Phayathai, curled up on my front seat as if she was on a plane on emergency landing. All the way all she was capable of doing was blaming her insensible drunken acts on Bon, who by that time already lost it. Two of them were challenging each other, I could have stopped them but who would have figured out that these two would turn out to be some savage drinking beasts. I took her up to her room while Bua was nursing Bon in my car downstairs making sure that he wouldn’t pukeify my interiors. At least Nam still had her senses. She knew where she was going, what she needed to do, and where her room was. She even told me how to get my parking ticket stamped and all. Not bad for a dead drunk person.

With Nam fianlly out of the way, came the hardest part. Bon. When we just left Escobar he could still talk and he assured us he could take taxi by himself from Nam’s house to his in Silom. I asked him where his house was and he just kept saying “Trong Pai” as if his senseless alcohol filled mind was thinking that he was already in a taxi. Taxi my ass, it was me trying my best to send him home with all 32 body parts in tact.

He had to go home there was no way I was gonna let him sleep in my room. So we were there near Phayathai BTS figuring out what to do with this guy. Then a solution came to me so I called Zong, one of our Workshop buddies, begging for help. Boy how lucky was I, Zong lives exactly opposite of where we were at Rachathewi Station, and mind you at the time it was 3am and he was still awake. He was a real angel of salvation on this horror of a night.

Thanks to Zong, we were finally able to get rid of Bon’s drunken ass. Zong couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the state of his ex Workshop teammate. It was surreal. First thing we could think of was to share this stories with the CommArts authority. And I’ve got pictures to prove it in case anyone still doubts in Bon’s capability to party.

The night ended with Bua getting her car from my house. She had to wake up at 5:30am for Uni the next day and by the time we parted it was already 4am. Guess that explains Bua crashing in her class at Uni this morning and me arriving at BK hour and a half late.

Yes I am at BK right now typing up this blog post. Chris, if you’re reading this don’t blame me. I thought I was late but guess what so far I’m the only intern who showed up this morning. Guess that counts for something eh?

Sorry I had to pin this down real quick. BK’s journalistic vibe just makes me wanna write. Pictures are at home so I’ll upload them once I get home.

Edit: Pics are here. I’m posting only some of the nicest shots I’ve got. Making drunk people take pictures for you is a really bad idea.

For more just go to Bua’s