don't listen to the radio

OI

i was never big on the racial harmony thing or national day thing. its quite obvious that my nationalistic sense of belonging has been warped. its a total farce and we being the idiotic singaporeans that we are, just lap it up. im going to school tomorrow only because ive had imaginary diarrhea and migraines at least 4 times in 4 weeks. AND tomorrow is half day anyway.

monday is service learning day for my class, 08s27. today was the preparation day. im in the logistics team. no comments. we packed the goodie bags for the orphans who have apparently never seen pencils, erasers and paper clips before in there lives. they've never had m&m chocolates either. oh dear...aren't we really giving and kind? i just feeeeeeel so goooood about myself by patronising little teeny weeny bitty boppers in their diapers. hellooo, they're in primary school...not pre-school. clearly im not the most enthusiastic of people when it comes to "service learning". urgh...service=servant=not me!!! im also a firm believer that "service" should not be forced upon anyone and CIP should be for volunteers only. unfortunately this 'event' is compulsory...there's that word again...everything's "compulsory" these days.

"CLAAAASSSSSS the government has just come up with a brand new idea on how we can make fools of ourselves...we're going to be irritating the pants of orphans with our condescension and IQ lowering games! since they don't have parents we think that's exactly what they neeeeeed...our divine intervention from up our moral high ground! YAAAAY! don't forget its compulsory!"

what happened to democracy and free fucking will? PAP, that's what. we're teaching the orphans (or was it cripples) the ACES day dance choreographed by the dance society. its quite good with lots of fancy foot work...but only if it wasn't performed by me. (waaaaaait a minute, they'd have to be orphans for them to be able to dance, they can't be disabled. well whaddya know...)

its ipod frenzy! we have a music post today. top ten outdated pop artists that have attained permanent residence status on your ipod and refuse to leave. well, its time to get them deported back to where they came from, the recycle bin. if you listen to jpop, kpop, lpop, mpop, npop, cantopop, mandopop or lollipop stop reading oriental...this has nothing to do with you, i'll find another day to pick on you. why are you here anyway?? go on, make haste...direct yourself elsewhere in the blogging hemisphere(somewhere admist the trailing cursors and bunnies chasing the rainbow weblogs). if you really have these songs on your poddy-chan, which you probably do, abolish them at once. row them back up the mainstream butthole please...

1) back street boys (need i say more, there's a reason for why they disbanded...a good life saving one too...)

2) pussy cat dolls (no i don't wish my girl friend was hot like you. if anything, i wish i was hot like you...hmm? buttons? what buttons? ooooh THAT button! well you could have just called it what it really was: a G-spot. dude, take my advice...you can totally make more things rhyme with G-spot: pot, cot, slot, got, hot, shot, clot, rot. i could go on and on and on)

3) mandy moore/faith hill/leann rhymes/carrie underpants (come on! don't deny it...they're in there...waiting, clinging on to that last bit of free memory space, just refusing to leave...)

4) robbie williams (really robbie, rejoining take that would have been a good, okay better, idea than the disaster of trying your hand at rapping. this is just pathetic, seriously, if you've learned anything from the back street boys, its that once dead never to be revived. AND OHGAWD that chest hair has to come off. like seriously. wax. shave. electrocute. anything! let's do it together guys. right click. scroll down. 1, 2, 3 DELETE!!!!)

5) eminem (the white rapper thing really got demolished by JT when he did r&b thing darling. making fun of michael jackson really only gets you as far as the tabloid courtrooms. beyond that, its the endless onslaught of numerous DUIs and DWIs honey...maybe throw in a lovely suicide attempt? hmm? no? come on! reeeeeaaaaally keeps you gooooooiiiiiiing...)

6) jesse mccartney (one man boy band strumming his guitar. well, what can i say except that deny the fact that i never wanted to, neither do i want to, own his crap...oh sorry...shit. if anyone asks, i'll deny all existence of my knowledge of knowing who he is. i shudder at the thought of blonde, 12 year olds taking over the media satan that is MTV)

7) linkin park (oh i remember the days i was a young punk just like you, thinking i could change the world with one piercing at a time. wearing black, trying to make a statement by killing puppies and all that crap. 5 years later, im a better person for it. i kill kittens now.)

8) kelly clarkson (enough already, we get it...you have hazel eyes. you want to breakaway. yes yes yes its all because of me. since who's been gone? to whom do we have to owe the years' worth of therapy to?? make yourself clear woman...just ONE american idol trophy and already you're whining about how miserable you are. get over it bitch. buy yourself some crack like the rest of the other famous people missy.)

9) rob thomas (oh yes, we all watched the same video...leather pants, booty shake, dear dear rob...i don't want to be lonely no more either...)

10) hoobastank (alright already, the reason is not you...its not me....its global warming ok? happy now? oh boohoo, get in line buddy. say hi to kelly for me...)

so that are 10 artists that i have kindly taken the time to highlight to you. please put them to good use. lets recapitulate, right click...scroll down...DELETE!!! ta da! you can do it! i pity the fate you've brought upon yourselves but no one told you to lap up what MTV offers you... now THAT'S what i call voluntary CIP work: providing my highly sought after services and saving the world one douchebag hick's itunes list at a time.

bright lights

hi

so mother nature's having hot flashes again. maybe she should take some of those menopausal pills that were advertised in the june issue of psychology today. this little nugget of info would have been completely random if it didn't reveal the fact that i was actually reading an advert for menopausal pills. hmm. urgh, leaving my artificially induced igloo every morning is a pain in the arse. the scenario presented in 'the day after tomorrow' doesn't seem so bleak to me now. nonetheless, it friday. even if its not saying much anymore, its still gives me an illusion of what a weekend was like back in those days when extra school activities were a third world country thing. well, how else did you think chinese children earned their bread...well 'pau' actually...if they weren't making my ipod nano? its been bloody hot these few days and i have to go to school tomorrow for sajc open house. clearly im annoyed. hopefully my morning shift doesn't drag and MM gets all high with me. allan took the afternoon shift. that bastard's cruelties know no end.

over the weekend ive got homework to finish up and music to illegally and shamelessly download and distribute to christine and maybe beta. last night i sort of unloaded all my pent up frustrations and gave her the radiohead/muse/coldplay albums ive been selfishly hoarding. im a selfish twit, i know. 50% of my playlist comes from secondhand sources (who've generously took the time to give them to me), i know that too. still i like holding on to them tightly. i like enjoying them privately before i actually share. is that sooo very terrible of me?? so it takes me some time to really start releasing my monkey grip off the good stuff, is that so bad. urgh. i sound like a prick. alas, eventually i know i must share or else there would be no one to deeply analyse them with me. no one to squeal and get girly feelings with me. no one to simultaneously leech off of around me either.

morale of the story children: being selfish is worth it, especially when you get off feeling like a snobbish indie kid(title courtesy of christine). otherwise its still share and care and all that shit...

oh what's this i hear? are those eager gleeful pleadings asking me what my week's been like? ah, scavenging for some depressing details from me to make all your pathetic puny little lives seem much more tolerable i see...well, its been an eventful week. as usual no photos. a bit narcissitic to do both commentary on your own life and have pictures of yourself backing it up isn't it?

on wednesday the team painted the open house banner. it was...um...creative? we used spray paints so it was very in line for our notoriety of being a slack off and jack off cca. well, i loved it even though i haven't seen the completely finished product yet. at first mr. i-got-A2-for-art allan goh had no balls to start because he didn't want to be responsible for spoiling the banner. then when he finally started, the rest of us chipped in as well after a while. basic fun la. how can painting a banner be anything but that? it was a little like making weird butterfly posters...you know the ones', squeeze tubes of poster paints of random colours onto a paper, fold it symmetrically and use a rolling pin of sort to "spread" the paint out? open and voila, down syndrome butterfly! yup that's the one. i think maybe mdm ng (photog teacher) is a little daunted by this year's batch of photography students. we make a big deal out of everything. a very "gung ho" type of lot.

i left photography a little earlier to go home and take a shower before "rapture". for those of you foreign to sajc culture, "rapture" is a large scale dance production by, needless to say, the dance society. its also a school event that i actually attended (paid money and all too). no thats not a typo. nope i haven't turned over a new leaf, nor am i possessed fuckers though it would explain a lot of things. hmm. it was held at the esplanade. oh yes! very pish posh (not that i was dressed for it anyway). and yes, it was so good that im going out of my way to mention it. practically an honour.

the end. have a good evening.

idioteque

hello all

i watched the dark knight yesterday and it was the mind fuckery film ive ever watched. my genre has always been horror and comedy. batman films unfortunately fell within neither. don't get me wrong, i love batman. the batman films just never really appealed to my palate being as warped and twisted as it is. that is until this batman film came out. watched it with mm and beta. im sure they would and have declared that, bottom line, its a fantastically made brilliant film. mm fell in love with the joker from the moment she met him and now secretly (okay not so secretly) harbours a wish to be his girlfriend cum sidekick. mm wants to be joker's girlfriend and i just plain want to be joker. its the most fun job one could have. at least that's how the world's most dead best villainous actor, heath ledger (RIP), has portrayed his character to be. the joker is a very relatable character i must say. hmm? is that just me then? come on, think about it. we all have an inner psycotic demon that we're trying so hard to resist. the joker is himself and embraces his inner psyco. not to mention other citizens of gotham city to embrace it as well.

mm totally enjoyed the flick because she had alot of back up knowledge. she just loved predicting everything that was about to happen during the film. and when she got something right she'd do the victory dance in her seat and did one in mine. i did mine because i have a morbid love for watching the birth of new villains. the origins of insanity. beta was quite blur at some parts and had to be explained to. mm and i loved explaining things to her because we liked flaunting our deep understanding of the film. pre film bitching and post film laughter was incredibly funtastic. my muscles ache from too much laughing today and my throat hurts because i involuntarily did the soundless laughter thing again. really damages your thraot but in this case i enjoyed it. its like sovenior to prove that i had fun. it was fantastic going out with them again. need to do it again often. mm was reluctant to leave kfc because she wanted to continue some more. but i live on the edge of the planet which is why: chalet planning time!!! no need to stop in the middle of having fun. invite the whole of photography. pajamas. gambling. 6% alcohol content party booze. beach. fun. urgh. those few things always mean planning.

if you little sadistic fuckers love reading about my insecurities, problems and want to watch me crumble and burn in the flames at the hands of my own problems READ ON.

ah, so that's everybody then i suppose. i woke up this morning and after a hybrid of some events, online conversations and my own twisted paranoia, i got thinking about my future. because im so incredibly brilliant, i know that after this post is done, my blog may begin to resemble the rest of the million blogs out there whining about what's to come and shit like that. whatever. my blog, my rules.

when i was young i was incredibly boring and had the same ambitions as everyone else. that is, the ambition that all parents tell their kids to have. attend raffles girl's school. become a doctor. yeah like life makes everything so simple. everything just drops from the sky and your future just happens as you say it will happen. that's the biggest flaw with parents these days and actually always. they think that just by helping 2 gametes fuse they have this unsaid ownership over you and your life. for aren't all parents the by product of selfishness. the have children to carry on the name, to take care of them in old age and to live through them by rectifying past mistakes. the result: all children having the same boring ambition of becoming doctors, lawyers and teachers. you never actually see a child going "i want to be a lab technician when i grow up". you never see them going "i want to be an desk clerk". those jobs just seem alot less glamourous and i attribute this phenomenon to the fact that parent's create this sense of false perfection to the children. in actual fact, all jobs are jobs and that doesn't make one more prestigious than the other. but then children are too much of idiots to realise, resist and refute this.

remember when project runway first came out and you little self assured twerps suddenly wanted to become fashion designers. you believed the pish posh glamour of the job and wanted the fame that the media offered. even though you had the artistic abilities and creativity of a chiwawa, you still fancied yourself to be a glamourous fashion designer living in style, drinking espressos in new york city, living in district 1 apartments. some of us still haven't awaken from the dream and some of us have moved on to bigger things.

now, most of us born under the realm of 1991 have taken a liking to the combination BCME and fancy ourselves as psychologists. these are no doubt the remaining children still holding on to the notion that adding the suffix "dr." in front of your name is prestigious and holds the instant ticket to the high life. the world of money, bow ties and ball gowns. YAAAAAAWN. boooooring. no matter how disappointed you maybe to hear this, i will still do you this favour. i will myself and my blog take the responsibility in telling you that the process of getting that suffix in front of your name through psychology is a long and tiring process that requires years of study to attain that PhD. i can tell you now that most of you BCME-ers will quit before you even make it and become secondary school councilors telling 15 year olds what to do with their lives. woopee. way to go roll in the cash and fame. one word: sheep.

so after im done judging and pissing people of from up my safe spot on the moral high horse, i'll get on with the whining. i have no fucking clue what im going to do with my life. should i just do business and possibly live to regret my lack of adventure. should i take up literature, become a teacher and live with my parents until the day i die having no time or money for dating? perhaps i should become an accountant, work a 9-5 job and 6-8 deal with drugs, sex and alcohol? or should become a proffessional poker player? should i become a chef and start a cooking show? i could do travel writing and stalk anthony bourdein across the globe just because? or should i hope that i get run down by a bus tomorrow so that i don't have to think so deeply about my future anymore. after all im too much of a coward to inflict the pain that comes before death onto myself. why not wish for a happy accident onto myself?

mm said that i should try to get on television. she said ive got a television face and personality. we often joke about it. she says that if either if i ever become famous in the future i should invite her on my talk show, assuming that's what im famous for that is. she says i should become a comedian cum actor cum talk show host. we've even picked a name for the show: "naan with nandhini". maybe even feature segments for the asinine things that i do. it sounds all flash and glam but i think becoming a tv personality is way overrated. but maybe being a stage producer or script writer for comedies and sketch shows (like little britain only this time: little india) would be cool. someone behind the scenes, quietly and diabolically pulling the strings would be fun job to have. wait, maybe that's a politician. oh well, either way $.$ (enter: maniacal laughter)

MM, beta and i discussed becoming a politician as well. start our own political party and try and take over the world. im so often politically incorrect i don't think anyone would let me have any power if they can help it. for god forbid we actually see some reform eh? i was quite touched when they said they'd totally vote for me if i stood for a position. that's 2 votes i can count on for sure. lets try doing the math to see who's going to vote for me shall we? so we have a population of about 4 million right? 4 million-christians+beta-chinese+beta+MM-malays-indians=still 2. hmm. okay, so maybe the politician thing can be considered a shelved idea then eh? we'll revisit that in another life time perhaps.

with that i leave you with some almost philosophical questions: does the future exist? or is it an illusion? are we in a constant dream like state, wishing and willing the world to move in our minds? have evolution allowed our imaginations to control us so much that we make up these illusions of life and death for ourselves? of god and religion? are we really here or in an alternate dimension? or are we just finding ways to cope with what's really going out there? is the theory of life all a hoax? is the world we live in real? is the earth round or are we stuck in dimension that just makes us imagine everything as round (sun, planets, earth, eyes, boobies etc.)? or did i just spent last night re-watching the matrix trilogy back to back? do i lack sleep? am i talking cock? am i demented? maaaaaybe. okay so perhaps there's a reason my blog posts are so "mind boggling". everytime i write an entry im high on crack, sleep deprivation and/or glucose.

have a jolly good weekend mates. ive got to take a shower, eat lunch and do a year's worth of homework by 5. do you feel the dedication to my weekly blogging? huh? do ya? you better, fuckers! well, ive got to at least make a start on a few of those things before i leave at 5.

sitting, waiting, wishing

hi

i can never really pin point when i got so horrid at sports and other physical activities(except probably ahem). one cannot always blame genetics for everything though one feels much better after they do. what's even more disturbing though it isn't as surprising that i have always been the shitiest, to put it crudely, at team sports. it isn't enough that my body has the quick reflexes of fairly large retarded child but that annoying higher power that makes david blaine float has granted me with no skills whatsoever in working in teams. i would like to attribute my abilities (or lack thereoff) at sports to this fact: most sports if not all sports are played in teams. while this may explain my child hood prowess at swimming and the somewhat solo game of badminton (which some may argue is not a sport at all) it certainly does not explain why i so suck at team sports in particular. i can always link this to the fact that no one really likes me and only interact with me because they want to be my right hand man when i take over the world. that said im at even greater disadvantage due to the slightly excess baggage in the front. i always foolishly thought(rather hoped) that the laws of physics will somehow apply to negate the frontal baggage with the one at the back. like i said i was being foolish...

so aside from the fact that shit head god did not create all men and women to be equal, what else are my problems? yes pussies there certainly are more. since most sports that i've tried my hand in, through the aid of PE, are team sports, perhaps the underlying problems are more to do with the team part and less to do with the sports part. i can't honestly say that im the best team player there is out there, but ive always considered myself manageable. maybe we can even throw in some unorthodox leadership qualities. that is until, we come to the team sports bit. here's an example:

just yesterday we played softball, the cheap imitation of baseball. the "we" in this case being, the class from hell. so after the napfa training, something that most people don't need training for (proving a point here), the 'unfits'(as i shall now deem myself because it sounds cool for some personal nerdy reasons) are graciously allowed to join in the game. im quite sure i'll never be quite as horrendous at the game as if i had actually be briefed on the fucking rules of the game. i used a profanity here because i thought the paragraphs lacked the usual vulgarity peppered 'pizzazz' and because the rules were seriously so fucked up that this simpleton will never be, unfortunately, able to get it. in actual fact, even if i had been given an hour lecture and fully been tested on the theory of the game like i was going for a driving test, the practical would always fall short of what "people"(my classmates) expect. ah, but one of the pains of being a left-out outcast from an extraterrestrial planet is that the rules of sportsmanship do not apply (not that im a sports(wo)man). instead, this piece of poo is yelled at, and im almost sure cruelly ridiculed as well about her non-existent skills on the puny artificial softball pitch. dearest cyber-dwellers, do not pity me just yet...for i have more tales to tell...

one of the more famous sports that the class likes to partake in is floorball. this game, i find, is alot like hockey and well, sex. oh well maybe just the stick and balls part. i thought i might add that unnecessary detail from my mind at an attempt to disgust and throw you readers of guard. heh heh heh. oh where was i? oh right the stick and balls part. all this stiff schmuck has to do is use the stick and manouvre the ball and coax it into the net. height isn't really an issue, for those of you who're trying to be sympathetic and kind to my plight. why im bad at this simple and fairly easy to grasp game is besides me. can i just get away saying that my mind is above such trivial activities? alas, i confess my mind lingers away to the bus-ride home and how long it will take me to get back more often than it should when playing a "serious" sport. can i blame my class for this little nuance? hmm...close call. depression often preys on the lonely. nah...that was just a petty jibe at them for my own unhappiness (or is it? the sub conscience can reveal alot about one's suicidal tendencies).

ive quickly (alright can it really have been that quick if im still bitter about my sporting abilities?) learned within days of stepping into SAJC that the school pumps in more than required attention into sports. im led to believe that SA is the only school in which you can't enjoy your pre-prelim PE break unless you attained at least a silver for your NAPFA test. bitch would be the first word that comes to mind, but i think unreasonable bitch would be better suited for the deep annoyance i feel. especially when somewhere in the deep crevices of sajc there's a fucking standing broad jump mat that's left laughing precariously at the leaping hippo. where was i before i was out slicing my wrists? oh yeah, sajc tends to put an inhumane amount of emphasis on sports and shit. (what does it care whether i die of hypertension or drug overdoes? im not christian.) as a result my class has an "interesting" number of physically fit and enthusiastic sporting people. they all go for the ball without holding back, like savage animals. before i can even master (or get as close to it as possible for someone of my calibre) the ball is in and out of radius before one can say "pussy, get back here with my fucking ball". its a little like watching spastic mentally disabled children fighting for candy that's dropped onto the floor. or like that happy meal cum mcnuggets advertisment during the "kungfu panda" era. only this time the sticks they use look more lethal. the concept...still the same. strangely i understand the concept of football a little better. kick the ball seems so much easier at times like these.

another god forsaken ball game that my class tends to visit frequently is captain's ball. it can hardly be called a sport though. well, i don't see any Olympic matches for it, do you? so its agreed then...you can't move once you're in possession of the ball, you have to pass it on and the captain must catch the darn ball. normally the guys tend to dominate the game. fine by me. however, once in a while, the ball comes hurling in my direction (either out of the scarcity of choice or accidentally) out of the blue and little miss butter fingers here cannot catch a ball to save her life. especially when one sees PE as an opportunity to day dream about whipping out the good ol' machine gun to gun down every single christian soul that ever roamed SAJC. okay, beta gets an excuse for knowing the gun man i suppose (her reaction here would be the "thanks ah"). the rest are suitably lying at my feet. too far? i beg to differ mother fucker. when one has gotten somewhat moderately acquainted with my "skills" one tends to treat me as invisible full time even when im right in front of you. ah... i dream the day when the man will say: "okay class today we shall play badminton". and i will blow them all away with my lack of incompetence at something. its not much, but throw the eager dog a bone, why don't you?

so obviously im a total nincumpoop at sports and all sporting equipments are thingamajigs and thingamabobs to me. well...what can i do but blame it on genetics? my only wish right now is to have temporary frog legs to leap to a decent length on the stupid standing broad jump mat. maybe i should try the ask and you shall receive thing i learned today at church. heh heh heh. have i piqued your interests yet? the absolute agnostic atheist goes to church. enter: dramatic music and then me in a black cape.

we were supposed to go as a class and meet at the glass building outside the church for attendance, but then i really didn't want to because...i don't know why...don't think i need a reason either...i had a feeling they were looking around at me. angrily? with annoyance? well were they even looking at me in the first place? WTF. do i care? should i care? maybe they wanted to go as a class..strengthen our bonds and shit like that. well whatever, not everyone was in school and not everyone went with "the class". it was a moment of deep insecurity and doubt. my phrase for recovery (as contributed by friend mentioned in earlier post): you're invisible to them anywaywaywaywaywayway (echoes la, imagine can? dramatic effect see...)

twerps who go to SA would full well know that today was the SAJC prefect investiture day. it isn't really called that but i can't spell the other word for prefect and this sounds so much worse that i didn't want to honour it by de-nerdifying it. for some christian reason SA makes a big deal about prefects. yaaaaawn. in my well-valued opinion (don't even try of disproving it because, shitheads, YOU'RE READING MY FUCKING WEBLOG! case closed), its waaaaaaay to overrated. they sing when they enter, sing when they leave, they were probably asked to sing when they go poo poo kachoo too. normally i don't give a fuck whether you want to sing or not, but was really the annoying type of singing. you know the ones called "hymms" but in no way are you humming. its more like really high pitched voices echoing through the high ceilings of the St.Andrews Cathedral. it supposed to be majestic or some shit like that but it sounded like the crew of cats outside my house doing the nasty...commando style. or maybe i was just being cranky because they made me sit through preaching and stuff. i think we can all guess why my blog is more anti-christ than usual (these words were chosen really carefully).

met another "man of the lord" today. he told me that if i just accepted JC (jesus christ yo! get with the program homies! is there a reason im behaving a shade or two darker than i usually am? nope.............or is there? dramatic music: dang dang dang DANG) as my saviour he would deliver aaaaall my wishes. sho shanta clause will buring me chrisimas pwezzies zen maammy?? i don't think so fucker. he gave us an example of his mate(friend la, what you thinking?) getting what he wanted after he accepted JC into his heart (a muscular organ incapable of any thought, transports blood all over to the body. that was just for physics students. aren't i oh so very thoughtful?). guess what his friend asked for. a peace of mind, that's what. something so generic can be achieved through recreational drugs, therapy and/or getting out in the sun more often pussy. urgh! you just want to use a hammer to bash his head in, all in the name of doing him a favour by "knocking" some sense into him. alas, that's no use. he's too deep in the tangled web of lies (if it wasn't i'd be going to hell for what i was doing just now. what was i doing? good question... leave it your stalker imaginations shall we? or maybe i wasn't doing anything but just wanted my post to be more scandalous? ah but what if i was doing something and i just pretended i wasn't doing anything? its mind boggling fuckery everyone...TADA!)

so since i was so free, just sitting there in church trying to keep awake, i thought i might try a little experiment. with what, you ask? now that's a question that will reap answers. i was experimenting with the "ask and you shall receive" thingy he was talking about. and now i know its absolute crap and have singlehandedly disproved poppycock. yay. score one for the anti-christ. nil for Jesus Christ. finally a game i CAN win at. moving on...so i was just sitting there right:

"hey god i want flying unicorn to come crashing through the expensive tinted windows right....NOW" waiting....still waiting...never came. okaaaaaay. maybe it needs to be something simpler. after all, god's busy doing the jiggy with satan to produce more of us 'neutral man'.

"hey GOD (a little louder in my mind. after all what's god if he can't mind read. im in church for god's sake...quite literally), i want my shoe lace to come undone" wait...wait some more...i don't know what i was expecting. i was half expecting my shoelaces to magically float and come undone right before my bloody eyes. after all what a tiny miracle like this to him right? he made the fucking sea part. helloooo. maybe it needs to be something generic that any tom, dick, harry or court jester could do. one final try yeah. im all about 2nd chances. so here goes:

"hey GOOD holy all deserving God, father to the supposed saviour JC, can you please make me less bored like right now so i can stop doing this? as a bonus i'll even be less insulting and patronising to you? hmm? pretty please?" pause...wait...nothing happened...background: more singing. no suicide bombings. no evacuation signal. soooooo. lesson learnt: no such thing as god. damn you prick... tricked me again! one of these days im going to get you to join my cult and then we'll see who's your boss...

after that little wasted morning, beta, MM, allan, president and i went to eat lunch. expensive but value for money dim sum lunch. it was fun. laughed. not the "it wasn't that funny but i think i should humour you because you could dictate the rest of my 2 years sort of laughter", but really, under belly, cannot breath, my throat's going to rip, everyone can hear us sort. the mahjong table sort. highlight of lunch (sorry dude, gotta share man): guy came up to allan and asked him if he was gay probably a dare. funny because: he's not. even funnier because: he got annoyed. ate alot. drank alot...of tea. ate some more. paid alot. depleted $50 in 2-3 days. went home pooped and slept. i love half days. don't you? i'll bet you'd do too if you ate dim sum buffets. setback here: can't eat for the rest of the year. probably...maybe...well only if i get hungry...

random but not completely off topis thought: you know how that voluptuous female cooking show host, nigella, just devours artificially lit up food? i hate her. she eats all that lard and butter and where does it go? i'll tell you where, my dears. they strategically positions themselves in her boobies and ass so that she can reel in british billionaires. unfortunately, not all of us can devour the whole of england and hope that our vocabulary suddenly holds the descriptive powers of jane austen and 'luggage' which resembles jennifer lopez's. i, unfortunately, happen to fall in the 'unfortunate' category. anyone know where there's a good cliff i can jump off of? ah well...never mind. wouldn't work anyway, probably going to bounce right back up again. im watching her show right now. can you tell?

i think they're back. it was gone for a long time now, but they came back. they came back to me. i love my rambling skills...don't ever leave me again, my darlings...