Beautiful strangers.

Firstly, I'd like to thank butta, xiaotu, xblahx, elmo, workingholic, myan, naijiz, jinyu, girlrebels, xiang, longan, ron, marc, and xling for the enlightenment and encouragement during the past week ;D

Xing's chalet was fun (I think) although it was kind of screwed up. Met fresh individuals like Bert, Sebastian, Jaime, Ray, Eason... and the list goes on.

It's funny how you see strangers pass you by and you didn't even bother to smile. Then one day they just happen to cross your path.

We tend to just stroll on with life without taking the small effort to gain awareness of the encounters we face every single day of our lives. Especially in Singapore, we live such fast-paced lives (that we didn't even care to stop for a brief second).

We are just too blinded and heavily occupied wandering over the wrong stuff. Our vision is bombarded with ads, pollution, fashion media, external appearances and belongings, and all the non-transcendental temporary things and forget to notice the beautiful signs delivered to us.

I've always concentrated on fitting in with the society and the trends of the masses and failed to embrace my own individuality, and failed to see the uniqueness in somebody else. Okay, this is a little out of point.

Wells. Who knows? The stranger you smiled at might just be your soulmate.

p.s. Yes, the group at Xing's chalet is just too big and the (many different) opinions just keep flowing in like a Merlion's spew. Too much angst, too much frustration; and the heat became too much for the paper to handle. Too much sunshine burns.

People started yelling and complaining and whining and insisting. We forgot that our actions can bring somebody to tears, make them laugh out loud but also make them angry and mad. And I apologize for playing a part in being such asshole.

Happy Donut paperbag.

240306 4.16am - I tore the paperbag which held our forlorn past and all the stored agony. Ironic how our beautiful yet bitter memories are just measured by a weighing machine and stored in just one Happy Donut paperbag. All those bustle and all those tears.

Just one tiny paperbag.

240306 4.49am - The keepsake box which kept a familiar scent of ballpoint pen and fresh writing paper, was burnt. All the recollections and all the smiles.

Ended up in flames.

240306 5.04am - I smiled.

Dear somebody out there.

Dear somebody out there.

Have you ever felt so lonely even when there are many hands holding you up? Have you ever felt that the world is crashing down on your shoulders? Have you ever felt so confused you felt like crying but the tears just refuse to come? Have you ever felt like talking to someone but sent them off instead? Have you ever felt so awful like you've tasted the worst medicine ever but there's nobody you can shout at, nobody you can punch, nobody to blame.

Dear somebody out there.

Doors used to be opening up for me; but now even the walls are closing down on me. It's scary how people can be so mean and cold and heartless. It's scary how they can think that someone else's misery is a big fat joke, the cutest irony, the darnest story.

It's scary how a diamond which was once cherished, became just another diamond left in the cobwebbed drawer unpolished.

Dear somebody out there.

Have you ever tried holding a scissor in your hand and wished that someone's throat is at its mercy? Have you ever tried sitting behind the wheels without the knowledge of operating the vehicle, but wished that someone is standing right in front of it? Have you ever fantasized about taking a genuine gun in your hand and give a shot through both of someone's feet?

Dear somebody out there.

Will you not just see what I see but feel what you can't see?

Dear somebody out there.

Can you give me a hug and tell me everything is okay? Can you call me at 3am and tell me that that someone is already dead? Can you give me a pat on my shoulders and tell me I am strong?

Can you keep me in your prayers? Can you tell God I really am sorry?

P.S. Dear somebody out there. Can you be my flowerpot, my companion, my best friend?

Toilets.

Public toilets? Hate them.

Guys pee in all directions. And freakingly, girls too. We women ask the guys to lift the plate up before peeing 'cos yes, it's a turn-off to see the yellows on the spot you sit; but some women (depressing) leave their yellows on the plates themselves. Ugh. I seriously wonder how they pee - like guys. That's so unglam, know?

This is the worst part. You're in the middle of pushing your poo out and then swish! the bowl flush out all the browns - together with your ass. Nobody wants a wet ass!

Annoyed with the censor system, you proceed to wipe your ass and stood up. And darn! It flush - again (with full force). So much force that the poo bowl water splatter out like rain drops. Frigging hell disgusting. Nobody wants to wear wet jeans!

Forget about the poo rain. You open the cubicle door - which assholically pushes inwards. The cubicle's small enough (1.5m by 1m) and howthehell do you get out? Those designers must have thought that all toilet patronizers are three year olds.

Sigh. It's sardonic how toilets can be so evocative. They used to smell of pine. And now it smell of Pledge. Aww, how I miss the ageing cubicles.

They're charming in an antiquated sort of way :P

You were my sunshine.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away

I used to sing that to you, remember?

Missing property.

Answers which were initially right were wrong. Vice versa. Losing became much more prominent, and duh, it ruled over gaining. I've lost too much.

Think about this. Have you ever lost or misplaced something so (darn) valuable and when the search engine runs through the place, it was nowhere to be seen? However, (ironically) it just appeared during the darnest and weirdest time/place.

But hey, think again - Do you always find it back? Do they always come back? Will they? Do you need them in the future? Do you want them?

Do you actually lose what you have lost?
Do you gain what you have gained?



I lost you and I bet that's forever.

His name is Dick, lol.

This is weird.

*beeps*

"Hello?"

"Hi this is Dick's mom here. I'd like to ask about the
tuition fees."

"Sorry mam', this is not a tuition centre... (and yes I
know the following is quite random)... Your son is actually called
Dick?"

"Yes, is there a problem with that?"

"Um no. So... Since this is not a tuition centre I
shall put down the phone, ya?"

"No no no! So how much should my son pay?"

"(she obviously didn't catch what I just said)
This is not a tuition centre, mam'."

"I know this is not. It's a handphone number. I just
want to know how much I should pay!"

"This is not a tuition centre, I am not a tuition
teacher, I do not work in a tuition centre, I do not teach your son, I do not
know anyone by the name of Dick."

"(she sounded offended) So what is with my son's name
you're picking on?"

"Nothing. He's got a nice name (I can actually feel my
nose growing longer). Wells, you probably called the wrong number."

"(shouting) I am just asking for the amount of money I
should pay! What's your problem?!"

And now this is rude."You. Bye bye, mam' :)
"

*beeeeeeeee*
(note, I'm a nice girl and I curbed with that
fit of mine. It's her who cut the connection without saying bye. How
rude.)

Firstly.WHO IN THE HELL WOULD CALL THEIR SON DICK?

Hell, it's just wrong. Dick, Duck, Dicky, Dickeroo. Doesn't sound right, isn't it?

Secondly.WHY IN THE LIVING TOMATO SHOELACE MAMA CHICKEN PIE WOULD SHE THINK I'M SOME TUITION WOMAN WHATEVER POOPOO?

Thirdly.CAN'T SHE UNDERSTAND SIMPLE ENGLISH?

Ironic and spastic.

Note: I've never liked disclaimer. But just in case anyone got offended with this post (you happen to be that woman on the line, your pet is Dick, your dad is Dick, your friend is Dick, your name is Dick, or you felt that you need to advocate for people name Dick), just waste your twenty cents and spam my chat board. Scram :)

Underwear!

Video this scene in your head now – It’s Saturday, and Saturday means girlfriends outing. You walk into Starbucks wearing Topshop spaghetti, flaring minis, and matching Birkenstocks. You then ordered a cappuccino (regular) topped with extra ooze of cream and powdered with cocoa while waiting for your girlfriends who were late – again.

You take your first sip from the warm cuppa and *CHOKES* wthisthatFREAKthing?! This oversized lady (dammit she’s wearing this exact top you’re wearing except it’s an imitation from This Fashion) with this inner beauty which is obviously way too tight for her – Her triple decker spare tyre seem to be bulging out from all places.

This is the turn-off part...


Something like that except it's yolk-colored and comes with cheap laces (digressing). Horrendous.

I suggest she wear something more… suitable. Like…


…organic underwear. Or…


…granny panties.

If she thinks that she’s too young for these old fibres. There’s still another option which is the pre-teen undie (if she’s lucky, she might get a one with the Barney print).


Sweet, huh :)

Tata!

To all my friends, bestie, whatever.

To all my friends.

5.I dismend all the promises I ever made. I frigging hate keeping promises.
4.Whoever I called bestie (not darling), now you're not. I frigging hate acting like one.
3.I am not your regular shower-you-with-love friend. I frigging hate how-are-yous.
2.With whatever acknowledgments or regulations you set up for me, quit it. I frigging hate boundaries.
1.To those who point fingers at me, crack it. I frigging hate being accused.

Don't just flip through my book. Read it line by line, word by word before you blast any frigging comments.

Thank you, and I'm not setting any disclaimers. Screw you.

And DON'T respond or reply to this post in any format via email, comment, MSN, mIRC, ICQ, or anything. Don't.

Pretty women.

This post have been posted before, but this time round it's edited. Just love it so I'm reposting it :)

There are just too many gorgeous people being flamed nowadays, and I think people like me don't stand a chance. Pictures I thought were nice were removed from friendster - Simply 'cos I don't think they are nice enough.

These @#$%^&* people just can't get enough of their looks huh. They just get prettier and prettier everytime their pictures go up the net.


See, I told you.

Every woman should look as good as her. However, pretty women have their insecurities too. Like wondering if a guy truely loves her for who she is inside, instead of using her as a trophy.

I don't draw ugly weird people for no d a m n reason, you know. Take my Art for example. I painted a 1m X 2m Bjork 'cos her face's deprived of... the right stuff.


Hurhurr.

But it won me my pride, anyway.

!@#$%^&*

poke me.

This post may appear like what a childish person would say. BUT I DON'T CARE.

World's angry waffling finally got to me. No I'm not being depressed or whatever those typical depressed babies act about. I'm not upset either. Just mad. Mad at how the world turned its back against me. Few months back someone threw me down from the 55th storey and I broke my back. (Illiterally, if you're too dumb to catch it.) This time, I'm not allowing such irony to repeat itself.

Once broken, the pottery will never be the same. So to hell with the world.

I hate you.