tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41956270324780935612024-03-06T05:21:44.072+00:00M i l k . t h e . c a tMilking it for all it's not worth.kuchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01273227734184780960noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4195627032478093561.post-23846228646094654162010-04-18T17:26:00.003+01:002010-04-18T18:35:33.362+01:00STFUGTFO.<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There's a saying that goes: "To each his own".</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I like living by that.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Because "it takes all sorts to make a world" right?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Some people like sky diving. Others like to stay at home. Some people like to do it the conventional way. Others like to poop in a cup and eat it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Therefore, to each his own.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I understand if you have strong opinions about it if this person is pooping in your yard and inviting your kids to eat it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What I don't understand is if you have a problem with someone pooping within their own private space and having a shit fest, within their own private space.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Do you have to eat it? No. Do you have to clean it up? No. Do you even have to witness it happen? <span style="font-weight: bold;">NO</span>.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You see...this is my life.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It is called '<span style="font-weight: bold;">MY life</span>' for a reason, because it is mine and it belongs to me. Whatever I do with it, as long as I do not get in your way, you should STFU and GTFO.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So I don't eat beef. Don't tell me what I'm missing out on. I've eaten it before, and I don't like it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So I like cats. Just because you don't, doesn't mean everyone else should too.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So I live a very boring life. That is by YOUR definition. To me, getting out of the house to buy sweets is just about as much fun as I can handle.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Therefore, STFU and GTFO, TQVM.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" target="_blank" title="ImageShack - Image And Video Hosting" href="http://img195.imageshack.us/i/signaturezrc.jpg/"><img src="http://img195.imageshack.us/img195/5885/signaturezrc.jpg" border="0" /></a></span>kuchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01273227734184780960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4195627032478093561.post-20379631671780063282010-04-14T13:48:00.002+01:002010-04-14T13:49:25.780+01:00Double Trouble.<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;">What are the chances of having car troubles in two consecutive days, when I haven't had any in my entire life up until yesterday?<br /> <br />As if I'm not emo enough!<br /><br />My car is being serviced, so I drove the Harrier to work.<br /><br />On the bright side, it started to fail only when I was near-ish to my home.<br /><br />The engine turned off several times at the traffic light after making loud clunking noises and I got stares from everyone around me.<br /><br />Shit shit shit. Call Papa! But he didn't answer :( So I called Mama and she did :)<br /><br />I managed to drive into my area until the temperature indicator literally shot up to H. H is for <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">HOT</span>! I immediately stopped by the roadside and put the hazard lights on.<br /><br />Waiting for my mum was pretty uneventful, until a car honked at me.<br /><br />HALLO! Why is everyone honking at me all the time! What did I do?? My hazard lights are on you smelly baboon! Grrr...I want to castrate somebody already lah!!<br /><br />Sigh.<br /><br />When I got home, I turned on the fan and had dinner with my family. Then the fan also started making clunking noises. I don't want to drive tomorrowww T.T<br /><br /></span></span><a target="_blank" title="ImageShack - Image And Video Hosting" href="http://img195.imageshack.us/i/signaturezrc.jpg/"><img src="http://img195.imageshack.us/img195/5885/signaturezrc.jpg" border="0" /></a>kuchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01273227734184780960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4195627032478093561.post-5320909262273488332010-04-13T15:48:00.003+01:002010-04-13T16:06:01.176+01:00There's Always a First.<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">What a horrible way to start the day.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I was honked at by another driver and when I looked at him, he pointed at my car and drove off.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Very helpful -.-</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I couldn't pull over as I was approaching the tolls and as I drove on, a car flashed at me several times. I know! I know! There's something wrong with my car but I don't know what it is!!</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Luckily, this guy rolled his window down and as did I, and he yelled to me that my tyre was punctured.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">O.M.G. I've never experienced being in a car with a punctured tyre before.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I wanted to pull over into the emergency lane, but there was a swarm of motorcyclists. When I was finally able to get in, I got honked at by those behind me, and one actually slowed down and hit the bonnet of my car with his hand.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">WtF! What am I supposed to do?! I'm not pulling over to put my makeup on you turd.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Anyway, obviously I called my papa, and coincidentally a highway patroller also stopped and helped us change my tyre.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">As I had to rush to a meeting, I took off in my papa's car and left him with mine.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >*sob*</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I felt so terrible, as if I messed things up and left him behind to clean it up for me.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >*sob*</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I am so thankful that I have my papa to take care of things for me.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Anyway, this totally ruined my entire day. I was feeling bad, stressed up (the stress rash on my arm flared up like a big red <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">STOP</span> sign), and I was in shock.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Call me naive, but whenever I encounter unkindness and meanness (e.g. the motorcyclist who slapped my car), I find it very difficult to swallow.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Just like the guy who overcharged me for a durian because I was with foreigners. I hope my curse worked and he's choking on a durian thorn now.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I know that there are a lot of bad people out there, but I can hardly believe it when I actually witness it with my own eyes. It's unfathomable to me that anyone would act with such unkind intentions.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Anyway, many lessons learnt.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Sigh. Emo time.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" target="_blank" title="ImageShack - Image And Video Hosting" href="http://img195.imageshack.us/i/signaturezrc.jpg/"><img src="http://img195.imageshack.us/img195/5885/signaturezrc.jpg" border="0" /></a></span>kuchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01273227734184780960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4195627032478093561.post-39543665085668915002010-03-27T17:34:00.006+00:002010-04-06T13:56:51.770+01:00Do Not Touch.<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This is not a joke.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Have you ever held my hand or arm and noticed that it is limp and lifeless? Have you ever touched any part of me and I gave you a fake laugh?</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I have a confession to make.<br /><br />I'm coming out of the closet.</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />...<br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I do not like to be touched.<br /><br /></span> <a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUh1hImsdwm_OjW6pCP2KKKJJ3V4stW4Ev8MU1tV6GXCTWbUFXLceoEO9v0Gr7UZ51JmN87gHmRGQor3yk725_iTqIA6QPSAPDg17oE1uwVsBF63vUgX_QGEc6WEtw8AkeapNl9rCAGuE/s1600/DO+NOT+TOUCH.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 163px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUh1hImsdwm_OjW6pCP2KKKJJ3V4stW4Ev8MU1tV6GXCTWbUFXLceoEO9v0Gr7UZ51JmN87gHmRGQor3yk725_iTqIA6QPSAPDg17oE1uwVsBF63vUgX_QGEc6WEtw8AkeapNl9rCAGuE/s400/DO+NOT+TOUCH.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453381806362292498" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />THERE, I said it.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So if you're reading this and you have touched me before, I apologise. I never liked it, I just never had the balls to say it.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Well, I still don't have balls, but I'm saying it anyway.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What triggered this is a very traumatising experience.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Long story short, a lady plopped down onto an empty seat next to me, rather heavily. Her thighs flooded out onto my seat and I had to inch away from her. As she talked and laughed with her friends, her elbow nudged me and her thighs wobbled against mine.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It was a gross violation of my personal space.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I still get disturbing flashbacks to this day.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Then, the unimaginable happened. She leaned right against me with her arm on my right thigh (it still feels disgusting), mumbling something I couldn't catch.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Sorry?</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">" I enquired.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >The time, the time.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">She actually proceeded to grab hold of my arm and looked at my watch.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">HOLY MOTHER (@$%@&*$%&@& CUT MY BLOODY ARM OFF!!<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Okay, breathe in and breathe out...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">That's it. I do not like to be touched.<br /><br />And to answer your question, no there are no exceptions. I do not hold hands with girlfriends while we skip to the ladies'.<br /><br />1. That's gay.<br />2. I don't like to be touched.<br /><br />Take this analogy. You know how everyone has private parts, and you wouldn't touch them unless you are a husband/wife/gynaecologist/pervert/were asked to? Well, to me, my entire body is like a private part. Think of me as a giant vagina. Now, would you touch me?<br /><br />Therefore, do not touch my hair, my face, any other body parts, and my clothes. In fact, if I could push it, I wish everyone would keep at an arm's length away from me.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Don't talk to me about it, don't ask me about it.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Just. Don't. Touch.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Thank you and goodnight.</span> <br /><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" target="_blank" title="ImageShack - Image And Video Hosting" href="http://img195.imageshack.us/i/signaturezrc.jpg/"><img src="http://img195.imageshack.us/img195/5885/signaturezrc.jpg" border="0" /></a></span>kuchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01273227734184780960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4195627032478093561.post-47473232715753638652010-03-25T14:43:00.005+00:002010-03-25T14:53:20.701+00:00Enemy Spotted.<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What do we have here...</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV3ufPDMglTSQjxKgBHm2-g57uowmuXnIfKW9H3EI8WgWRi-yDQeDbR0tqgJx2VGPeIggx7h5OnYOFWzHCMQMp-Ewqbb1UdNulgOiqhclyZON2zBmFpiycbujKEAJ_b23sTs-VjwQ75Uk/s1600/zoomout.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV3ufPDMglTSQjxKgBHm2-g57uowmuXnIfKW9H3EI8WgWRi-yDQeDbR0tqgJx2VGPeIggx7h5OnYOFWzHCMQMp-Ewqbb1UdNulgOiqhclyZON2zBmFpiycbujKEAJ_b23sTs-VjwQ75Uk/s400/zoomout.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452582338090493682" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Zoom zoom!</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig4MLwyQyTfzNgNbeRz86gfP2KlC1WoHpQm85pzgTGg83Tq33Qq3YUBa5R9bRx9CuZKrC5ogeHVKKvvoMxubjcy9jJMKWaJC53c5zIMT8xUsvg_qDRtI24EsjdRyjpw1arH87N7jetp7I/s1600/zoomin.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig4MLwyQyTfzNgNbeRz86gfP2KlC1WoHpQm85pzgTGg83Tq33Qq3YUBa5R9bRx9CuZKrC5ogeHVKKvvoMxubjcy9jJMKWaJC53c5zIMT8xUsvg_qDRtI24EsjdRyjpw1arH87N7jetp7I/s400/zoomin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452582330142190146" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Ah...this is the lady who has fire in her hole.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">If you're feeling clueless, click </span><u style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://milk-the-cat.blogspot.com/2010/02/doctors-without-manners.html">here</a></u><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> to see how this wonderful person has been such an inspiration in my life.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The bomb has been planted.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Terrorist wins.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">P.S. - Spotted in SS2. You have been warned.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" target="_blank" title="ImageShack - Image And Video Hosting" href="http://img195.imageshack.us/i/signaturezrc.jpg/"><img src="http://img195.imageshack.us/img195/5885/signaturezrc.jpg" border="0" /></a></span>kuchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01273227734184780960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4195627032478093561.post-88679988949692263352010-03-18T13:18:00.007+00:002010-03-18T15:11:40.974+00:00Time Management.<span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"></span></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Disclaimer:</span> 'You' <u>does not</u> refer to a single person.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><br />Time management is a very important skill to have in life.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Did you know that Malaysians run on +8 GMT? As in +8 Got More Time-<span style="font-style: italic;">lah</span>.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >No one ever shows up on time, to anywhere. I don't know which country I was born in, but I absolutely detest being late. If clocks were people, I'd be one. I'd have a second hand, a minute hand, an hour hand, and a giant hand with 10 fingers to bitch slap you in the ass if you're late. And I'd tick very loudly indeed.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiWCpSrsB-7dwraaZ4TP9gI972Zenduojhyphenhyphen1y68axt-chD0V4Gg-s3C6Nm7pfZ0TFntWAx0GW4NmOcRnryItHasZeGLZUFXQsxGi1tbNxP8pfQyItBzBu1v16RtV9fUNxjGf8jWEU1KdU/s1600-h/clock+copy.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiWCpSrsB-7dwraaZ4TP9gI972Zenduojhyphenhyphen1y68axt-chD0V4Gg-s3C6Nm7pfZ0TFntWAx0GW4NmOcRnryItHasZeGLZUFXQsxGi1tbNxP8pfQyItBzBu1v16RtV9fUNxjGf8jWEU1KdU/s400/clock+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449963050194746210" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >(On that note, if I was ever late to something, it was due to unforeseen circumstances. Sorry.)</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Therefore, time management is a compulsory skill to have in life if you are my friend.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lesson #1.</span> My time is just as valuable as yours. I am not some hobo sitting around doing nothing unless I were meeting you. I work, I eat, I shit, as announced in my previous post.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh296-s8qo3lxx37e-BCUyjwSrCqbWjtEk59kxXBbSqYlEy5CaT6uUnLdwmE_nRMcFLScNmqjiZtJu3N7Xwkl3jzmVrqZAdTzkyEA_vX-QxG0kYohzyBC77Sbu9nb9Rtj3LgzoTa6BRKVE/s1600-h/hobo.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh296-s8qo3lxx37e-BCUyjwSrCqbWjtEk59kxXBbSqYlEy5CaT6uUnLdwmE_nRMcFLScNmqjiZtJu3N7Xwkl3jzmVrqZAdTzkyEA_vX-QxG0kYohzyBC77Sbu9nb9Rtj3LgzoTa6BRKVE/s400/hobo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449963060880548530" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lesson #2.</span> Don't set a time for us to meet up if it's going to clash with something else. If you forgot and realise it later, here's what you should do. You know that thingie with numbers on it? The numbers appear magically on your screen when you press them right? FREAKING CALL ME WITH IT.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrrrP7DMhc-pofM6VJADKVWFed0WXXju9C1wz_GavyFxvizWFR07W0uDEERn4whomsWF70GVr7UW7bKPyQ8mdLAi_eEefSlOtTvFzLN5ID2Tei3WYW-oADSsoidTJGxBLCdThtx_GSqE/s1600-h/callme.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 372px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrrrP7DMhc-pofM6VJADKVWFed0WXXju9C1wz_GavyFxvizWFR07W0uDEERn4whomsWF70GVr7UW7bKPyQ8mdLAi_eEefSlOtTvFzLN5ID2Tei3WYW-oADSsoidTJGxBLCdThtx_GSqE/s400/callme.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449963053078913874" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lesson #3</span>. When I call you to ask you where you are, Tell. Me. The. Truth. The phrase "on the way" is only valid when you are well and truly on your way to the destination in your car, or whatever else mode of transportation. It does not include being "on the way out of the house" or "thinking of being on the way".</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Should you fail to adhere to these three points, I have been known to leave. In fact from now on, I will leave if you're late. I don't care if it's your birthday or your funeral, </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><s style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I will go home</s></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" > I will eat your cake and then I will go home.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >That aside, please do not take this as an attack. I do not hate you, otherwise you wouldn't be my friend. But your lack of time management makes me very, very angry and when I'm angry I should not be allowed to operate heavy machinery, such as driving a car away from our intended meeting place.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Other than that I still love you.<br /><br />But only if you're a girl. I don't want to get pregnant.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" target="_blank" title="ImageShack - Image And Video Hosting" href="http://img195.imageshack.us/i/signaturezrc.jpg/"><img src="http://img195.imageshack.us/img195/5885/signaturezrc.jpg" border="0" /></a></span>kuchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01273227734184780960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4195627032478093561.post-67948820902683651682010-03-07T08:40:00.010+00:002010-03-07T10:54:08.616+00:00Shhh...it.<span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >I was away for a business trip last week. For the three days that I was there, I have three pimples to show for it, and three reasons to explain it.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Stress.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Sleep deprivation.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >And constipation (50% of the stress comes from here).</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><br /><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Yes, I am one of those very bad travellers who just cannot 'go' outside of my house. That particular orifice literally closes up shop and goes on an extended vacation.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir2SfIT9wip02QF4BTlROID5i7vVVbCyfv9VWvIJkaAGB0mlh2Hv0XLctXktOFtDQc4NLzoxmhElCgP3sSlKvF9J9C2Y7x8RRjL-TqNMDib-7kE8hSaEFn7e4G2SBFm_UGNj3ObGjc3BY/s1600-h/brb.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 137px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir2SfIT9wip02QF4BTlROID5i7vVVbCyfv9VWvIJkaAGB0mlh2Hv0XLctXktOFtDQc4NLzoxmhElCgP3sSlKvF9J9C2Y7x8RRjL-TqNMDib-7kE8hSaEFn7e4G2SBFm_UGNj3ObGjc3BY/s400/brb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445817628233235490" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><br />I'd rather hold it in until I'm literally so full of shit I can't sit up straight.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUH8awfAf5U7VGTOJI0Wt7DwoFHXvYohDLo6T1d8zwKMkNSBwLkv8OPIVBZ8ev4zJd0lbeLikckb9YjHFqAn9IZjEVJ1heAa4Spj2wPHjrHlqug-0N7c_W_6aNZ7jqYdUwqA-Nz-gXZVU/s1600-h/wantngng.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUH8awfAf5U7VGTOJI0Wt7DwoFHXvYohDLo6T1d8zwKMkNSBwLkv8OPIVBZ8ev4zJd0lbeLikckb9YjHFqAn9IZjEVJ1heAa4Spj2wPHjrHlqug-0N7c_W_6aNZ7jqYdUwqA-Nz-gXZVU/s400/wantngng.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445809926249416482" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >The moment I landed in LCCT, my bowels started to move. I screamed at my mum over the phone to get here, PRONTO. If I'd screamed any louder I would've made chocolate buttons right there and then.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyfZtk8-xfcA24lU3wVZmOUoD2hs5fmNXMgs4_ayVmnBcUSZdY7URQ7fltbaJ9qQZDjpqFeCIyOBdtcEkEvrHdVgyU1V49ElsOBaP4FPVS09AWaTdVzQn4Fx7Jk_VtZEdJliiTIUFmI94/s1600-h/peanutbutter.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyfZtk8-xfcA24lU3wVZmOUoD2hs5fmNXMgs4_ayVmnBcUSZdY7URQ7fltbaJ9qQZDjpqFeCIyOBdtcEkEvrHdVgyU1V49ElsOBaP4FPVS09AWaTdVzQn4Fx7Jk_VtZEdJliiTIUFmI94/s400/peanutbutter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445809902993625298" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >So today, I want to talk about shit. Heck while we are at it, let's talk about farts too.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Did you know that women shit and fart too?</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >And they sure don't smell like strawberry cupcakes. I know mine don't.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdroy1YKGDuIUvQanf0DwzMS-hWcRws4uylzM8pb7p48EmDMnkZ3MqCaAAbmdo2m0HITACUqt_ovPGkA2GT-Uoh3VCBmHbU6krGk4NLl7wIhFev8RTnCTrS_YG2PiZJduJJyNKi52BuSA/s1600-h/strawberrycupcake+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdroy1YKGDuIUvQanf0DwzMS-hWcRws4uylzM8pb7p48EmDMnkZ3MqCaAAbmdo2m0HITACUqt_ovPGkA2GT-Uoh3VCBmHbU6krGk4NLl7wIhFev8RTnCTrS_YG2PiZJduJJyNKi52BuSA/s400/strawberrycupcake+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445810013910510402" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Hohoho...not after that three-day trip anyways.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >I found myself hesitating to explain whenever someone asks me about my pimples (this happens a lot as I hardly have any pimples since I came back from overseas).</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Yalor...stress ma...some more not enough sleep...and ummm...</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><br />CANNOT PANG SAI WOR!"</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >You may think that it is gross for a lady to proclaim such a thing, but the fact is, women, for example, ME, do shit and fart. Occasionally at the same time, sometimes with sound effects with varying intensity, depending on food consumption.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >But my point is, it seems to be such a taboo for women to discuss their bowel movements. We do eat, and the waste has to be expelled out of somewhere. And when it is, birds do not sing, pink unicorns do not prance about, and there sure as hell won't be any elevator music playing.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Our shit is as smelly as men's, sometimes even smellier. Then birds die, flowers wilt, and dung beetles commit suicide. I've witnessed it with my own eyes.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhehThYhmKQcXC2Cei8f77Q3rmaQIOQAWGTeNQIVDgzj9bpVayKk_KoqDfCxeLBgxXIzSF9MYmj4VgYpSjowwyL_uGdDzXF6JNglBRIemf5IgCW7-y3A8a3AMmfQVX7D-Hm2fu9MHklxPg/s1600-h/AN028_DUNG_BEETLE+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 385px; height: 289px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhehThYhmKQcXC2Cei8f77Q3rmaQIOQAWGTeNQIVDgzj9bpVayKk_KoqDfCxeLBgxXIzSF9MYmj4VgYpSjowwyL_uGdDzXF6JNglBRIemf5IgCW7-y3A8a3AMmfQVX7D-Hm2fu9MHklxPg/s400/AN028_DUNG_BEETLE+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445814832980617522" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Sometimes I take a long time, sometimes a quickie, sometimes they're like Hershey's kisses, other times like whole Snicker bars. I don't think they'd taste as nice though.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9venEciLNdoPkuL5ycMWlaiUvfrpLUbdfXe3l062po1gTyVVRSDNyy3uzuyHEYVA7mmmQY0LerwQmjOtbkNPKxQ4pjWm9ZFRhzltkx7icf2R6mzNUTeukNV7hxN4uxvFa3azjNP2iYb8/s1600-h/hkisses.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9venEciLNdoPkuL5ycMWlaiUvfrpLUbdfXe3l062po1gTyVVRSDNyy3uzuyHEYVA7mmmQY0LerwQmjOtbkNPKxQ4pjWm9ZFRhzltkx7icf2R6mzNUTeukNV7hxN4uxvFa3azjNP2iYb8/s400/hkisses.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445809895909550386" border="0" /></a><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjKUZGNtxNjkWhhrVbvV_4iLYrjyEuFx4Z3Evxki8aLzX9Ia3pCCSQhtmM2U4khTd28zifqz8B7SmkIYxbfMB7NzN2e9U12ZZHo2VkRbMYICvv1AY93R9CGWa-XVEw8uVZu5axi1Rf8Y/s1600-h/snickers.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjKUZGNtxNjkWhhrVbvV_4iLYrjyEuFx4Z3Evxki8aLzX9Ia3pCCSQhtmM2U4khTd28zifqz8B7SmkIYxbfMB7NzN2e9U12ZZHo2VkRbMYICvv1AY93R9CGWa-XVEw8uVZu5axi1Rf8Y/s400/snickers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445809906114956306" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Anyway, after the three long days, I came home and 'pang' until the 'sai' also screamed for help.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Kthxbye.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" target="_blank" title="ImageShack - Image And Video Hosting" href="http://img195.imageshack.us/i/signaturezrc.jpg/"><img src="http://img195.imageshack.us/img195/5885/signaturezrc.jpg" border="0" /><br /></a></span>kuchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01273227734184780960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4195627032478093561.post-75434602122315115542010-02-22T11:54:00.007+00:002010-02-22T23:14:14.734+00:00Doctors Without Manners.<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Ladies and gentlemen,</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I have an announcement to make:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >KLINIK LING</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> IN TAMAN MEGAH SUCKS. DO NOT GO THERE.<br /></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The only reason why I hate getting sick since I started working is because I have to go to panel clinics. Panel clinics suck in general, but Klink Ling is at the top of the suck pile.</span><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi99SoHqYSxoGCUiMnN9IIziZUjhvKzIVvajl3H0dcl2b-7LoKCrCu2-HOLCO4pzlR0mZ0lNzIRzDvedy-3FFvtD5KXwTPA1R4aKIeihMKByXRAIi6aF_kZonYPx3lVrdJBIhX8IUJdL14/s1600-h/klinkling.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 326px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi99SoHqYSxoGCUiMnN9IIziZUjhvKzIVvajl3H0dcl2b-7LoKCrCu2-HOLCO4pzlR0mZ0lNzIRzDvedy-3FFvtD5KXwTPA1R4aKIeihMKByXRAIi6aF_kZonYPx3lVrdJBIhX8IUJdL14/s400/klinkling.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441209908482129570" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I should have known the moment I entered the clinic. It is a fairly large one, with more seats than the average clinic (yes I've been to quite a few in my lifetime) but there was NO ONE there. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Mei you. Tarak.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I got called into the consultation room pretty quick to a DR. LEE SIH SHAN. She is a giant bitch who looked as if she ate the second most giant bitch in the world and realised too late it is expired and pickled.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As I entered I said hello, which was greeted with a blank stare. I took my seat and waited for her to say something, and was taken aback when she stared harder and said, </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >"So?"<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So, I</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">described my ailments as her eyes glazed over with utmost interest and she poked about my ears, tongue, etc. and concluded that I have contracted a virus.</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"What virus is this?"</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> I asked. She gave me a 'you-stupid-bitch' look and retorted, </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >"There are so many virus in the world, how you expect me to name one?"</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Right</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I was brave enough for another attempt.</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" > "How did I get this virus?"<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A more intense, fiery 'you-stupid-stupid-bitch' stare. </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >"From anywhere lah. The air, environment."<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Oh, so I've contracted </span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >a </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">virus, not just ANY virus, from ANYWHERE.</span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Gee, it could be a Trojan virus since I'm around laptops a lot.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiayGDxXHFp4_-F-xLpHplBjs96mikjRvYyVXrIGsEzwvjAAYx7LdICqZNlXtNuJcuUkqMv19EtQPv-gJRHnvE32s4tgYWjS-nbicPpIiuqu8UyGwlN1J26qWQCUVArZVU17TNC5GmrOk8/s1600-h/popup+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiayGDxXHFp4_-F-xLpHplBjs96mikjRvYyVXrIGsEzwvjAAYx7LdICqZNlXtNuJcuUkqMv19EtQPv-gJRHnvE32s4tgYWjS-nbicPpIiuqu8UyGwlN1J26qWQCUVArZVU17TNC5GmrOk8/s400/popup+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441038196650050482" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >She proceeded to mumble about the medicine that she was gonna give me, such as a medicine for my headache, a medicine for my sorethroat, and so on. Then she stared at me again.</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />"That's all?" </span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >I asked.<br /><br />A curt nod.<br /><br />Oooh if only I didn't need a medical certificate from her I'd have given her a piece of my mind. I have never felt so insulted in my entire life in 2010.<br /><br />DR. LEE SIH SHAN, just because your vagina hasn't been touched in a long, long time, it doesn't give you the license to act like one. Unless you graduated from the Univaginasity of Giant Lonely Vaginas in Vaginology.<br /><br />You are a smelly, dusty vagina that even hobos don't want to be associated with.<br /><br />Go F yourself. Oh wait, you probably already are.</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >P.S. Found her on Facebook. She has a whopping total of 26 friends. Someone please give her a 'Loveliest Person with the Sweetest Smile' award now!</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" target="_blank" title="ImageShack - Image And Video Hosting" href="http://img195.imageshack.us/i/signaturezrc.jpg/"><img src="http://img195.imageshack.us/img195/5885/signaturezrc.jpg" border="0" /></a></span>kuchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01273227734184780960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4195627032478093561.post-9830963054400290392010-02-16T16:01:00.007+00:002010-02-16T16:24:45.275+00:00Raison d'ĂȘtre?<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It's been a while since I touched, or even thought about my blog.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Today I watched <span style="font-style: italic;">Julie & Julia</span>. I enjoyed it a lot, and it made me wonder about the possibilities of making something big out of simply writing in a blog.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This is the reason why I kept giving up on my blog. I start one hoping to bring some meaning into it, rather than just random rambles about what I ate today or what 'kawaii' top I bought at a cheap price. But then it eventually becomes a chore, because inspiration comes to me only as the rain comes to the desert.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Anyway. I've always liked writing. I suppose what I want to do now is to find a short-term goal to tie the posts in my blog to. To give me a sense of purpose, that what I write is working towards something meaningful. Otherwise I'd be stuck in a perpetual cycle of re-editing a post at least 10 times (literally) before I can be merely satisfied with it.<br /><br />I don't want my new projects to be left half-baked like my pathetic Grade 5 piano skills and my one year of learning French.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Ideas anyone?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Or is anybody still reading this blog that hasn't been updated for at least half a year now?</span><br /><br /><br /><a target="_blank" title="ImageShack - Image And Video Hosting" href="http://img195.imageshack.us/i/signaturezrc.jpg/"><img src="http://img195.imageshack.us/img195/5885/signaturezrc.jpg" border="0" /></a></span>kuchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01273227734184780960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4195627032478093561.post-88891006919150083052009-07-22T14:52:00.007+01:002010-02-16T16:23:04.540+00:00The Cyber Emos.<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >What is a cyber emo? You heard it here first.</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >Go to your Facebook home page or scroll down your MSN list. Chances are, you will see personal messages such as "<span style="font-style: italic;">My life is like broken glass</span>", "<span style="font-style: italic;">I hate the smell of rain...it reminds me of how lonely I am</span>", or "<span style="font-style: italic;">I'm like fart - people runaway when I'm around but they can't even see me T.T</span>" or some other bullshit like that. In fact, I bet you all my money that you'll see more than one of these.</span> <span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcXEW9PxtvomZc_YxXJs72Hj6t6RnSyYF6-DpJc5SGxH_F5xy3iLEQjMdmDvOwXf-BhZIa4RS8hd1MKgyrS384Sarn7tcsr1kUbqh5CvKZGK5WqCUv-Jm1kTAbRl69iQZ9nAHsnqAPLEQ/s1600-h/untitled.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 154px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcXEW9PxtvomZc_YxXJs72Hj6t6RnSyYF6-DpJc5SGxH_F5xy3iLEQjMdmDvOwXf-BhZIa4RS8hd1MKgyrS384Sarn7tcsr1kUbqh5CvKZGK5WqCUv-Jm1kTAbRl69iQZ9nAHsnqAPLEQ/s400/untitled.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361305601961351698" border="0" /></a><br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >These people make me wonder. Are they starving kids in Africa? Are they dying in war? Or were they merely dumped by a lover? Pricked by a wood splinter?</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >I tend to be skeptical, which is against everything I've learned at university, but I just can't help it. Can you blame me for doubting someone who constantly pines and moans about how unfair life is? Do they even know what is REAL suffering? I don't profess to know it, but I know people who DO know it, and they're not even half as pathetic as cyber emos are.</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >If you fit into the 'cyber emo' bill, ask yourself these questions - Do you have friends and family around you who show concern whenever you get into one of your emo rants? Are you reading this right now on the Internet, maybe while chatting online? Are you clothed, well-fed, and warm? - and if your answers are yes, then what do you REALLY have to complain about?</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >And if you merely think that being 'broken' or 'damaged' like Edward Cullen (see: Twilight) or whatever is the new 'cool' thing, think twice.</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >I'm not saying that I have a heart as hard as rock and cold as stone. I too, experience the NORMAL ups and downs of life - being emotional over the littlest things to the more serious matters and going through days thinking of myself as the pitifullest creature on earth. But I turn to the people closest to me to remind myself that I have them, and having to endure 'material sufferings', if you may, is the least of my worries.</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >As I look out the window and see a man crossing the road with a fleshy right leg and a left metal one, I feel thankful for my hairy, fat ones. =)<br /><br /></span> <span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" ><a target="_blank" title="ImageShack - Image And Video Hosting" href="http://img195.imageshack.us/i/signaturezrc.jpg/"><img src="http://img195.imageshack.us/img195/5885/signaturezrc.jpg" border="0" /></a></span>kuchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01273227734184780960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4195627032478093561.post-69467938484117524652009-06-26T22:50:00.003+01:002009-06-28T03:02:56.780+01:00The Ultimate Competition.<span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />Random: I had a really intense dream yesterday about getting at least 10 </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >SACKfuls of those biscuit M&Ms </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >(the ones in blue packets as opposed to </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >yellow or brown ones) and I was desperately loading them into my </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >backpack. Then a pelican flew past me, with a lobster on a leash tied to its </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >leg. I'll show you.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfypxXm2euCxbmQ3kZ50TIDnKPuffdLAp8LcyI23bEyQ0FTM70BpX1aG_8gdH4cO_WVQ6jndZt7yseNdt6-MQY8vL9VuV4Ii2XmjJusvJ1EL5g8FtewWvWB0LnetEg7fb2d3pFThVS4M/s1600-h/pelobster.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfypxXm2euCxbmQ3kZ50TIDnKPuffdLAp8LcyI23bEyQ0FTM70BpX1aG_8gdH4cO_WVQ6jndZt7yseNdt6-MQY8vL9VuV4Ii2XmjJusvJ1EL5g8FtewWvWB0LnetEg7fb2d3pFThVS4M/s400/pelobster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351769914826543234" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />Have you ever tried to release some of your stress by telling someone how stressed up you are only to have them tell you how much MORE stressed they are?<br /><br />Example.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">You:</span> I'm going nuts! I only had 1 hour of sleep last night and I still have two more assignments to do!!</span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Annoying person:</span> Don't even start! I had only <span style="font-style: italic;">HALF</span> an hour and I have <span style="font-style: italic;">THREE</span> more essays!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">You:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">*ignore*</span> Ugh I can't take this anymore, it's bad enough that I already have the flu and fever.<br /></span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Annoying person:</span> I have the flu, fever, <span style="font-style: italic;">AND</span> sorethroat!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">You:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">...*HADOUKEN!*</span><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg47j4UF3Ylrx7pqGsf8nfcX7xTXQpukG-RyEjoxZluNX2kcXsLFTc-Q4ZkchQmdt_u-cuhMDMk5HBDsk_c98K7t33jc9Fk5QaNLrnX17k9hb63DXm-wPswNVn52ZTmJQbLj42nzh3OddU/s1600-h/hadouken.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 108px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg47j4UF3Ylrx7pqGsf8nfcX7xTXQpukG-RyEjoxZluNX2kcXsLFTc-Q4ZkchQmdt_u-cuhMDMk5HBDsk_c98K7t33jc9Fk5QaNLrnX17k9hb63DXm-wPswNVn52ZTmJQbLj42nzh3OddU/s400/hadouken.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351769903747615426" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I just like the lobster. A lot.</span></span><br /></div><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >Oh, I didn't realise we were competing. So you win and the fanfare is supposed to be starting anytime now? Great, let me grab some confetti and smash it into your smug face.<br /><br />I don't give a rat's arse whether it's true or not, I just want to vent MY feelings. YOU is friend, ME is complaining, YOU is shutting up and listening. Since when suffering and stress became so happening?<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWtp6P_rxcR6tDWTErCLiAmxZ_NF8DwgKNqXXNTdHgx19w6Ktg40I2BaX0_imkgqEKbcVBlmFwAnVDh9LYJtk-uWJ0aDn0NJYWQTOiobjtQeoDfI52L4J3Sf0Bo-WPN95IO9LrDV7k_W8/s1600-h/ass.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWtp6P_rxcR6tDWTErCLiAmxZ_NF8DwgKNqXXNTdHgx19w6Ktg40I2BaX0_imkgqEKbcVBlmFwAnVDh9LYJtk-uWJ0aDn0NJYWQTOiobjtQeoDfI52L4J3Sf0Bo-WPN95IO9LrDV7k_W8/s400/ass.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351774387171651442" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">No animals were harmed during this photoshoot.</span></span><br /></div><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >Is it because a higher degree of suffering deserves more sympathy and/or attention? Awww poor you, you slept <span style="font-style: italic;">HALF</span> an hour less, have <span style="font-style: italic;">ONE</span> more coursework than I do, and have <span style="font-style: italic;">ONE</span> more illness. Whoopdedoo, get the bloody tissues out, <span style="font-weight: bold;">I'm going to have an orgasm</span>.<br /><br />With the lobster.<br /><br />And maybe the rat.<br /><br />Or not.<br /><br />We'll see.<br /><br />Bye.<br /><br /><a target="_blank" title="ImageShack - Image And Video Hosting" href="http://img195.imageshack.us/i/signaturezrc.jpg/"><img src="http://img195.imageshack.us/img195/5885/signaturezrc.jpg" border="0" /></a></span>kuchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01273227734184780960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4195627032478093561.post-19503357952481188512009-06-26T06:26:00.004+01:002009-06-28T03:03:29.198+01:00R.I.P. Michael Jackson.<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />This is not a hypocritical post about how much I love and miss the King of Pop.<br /><br />This is a post about an <span style="font-weight: bold;">ordinary human being</span> who happened to live an <span style="font-weight: bold;">extraordinary life</span>.</span><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />I have never paid much attention to Michael Jackson. Sure, I've seen his amazing moonwalk and crotch-grabbing dance moves and heard some of his songs but admittedly, I never fell in love with him the way the rest of the world did.<br /><br />So when I received news of his passing, my heart didn't miss a beat. It only struck me as a sad event of a loss of a human life. I wasn't at all surprised when I logged into Facebook to find my entire page filled with updates about him, but I was taken aback with what I discovered when I spontaneously decided to do a little research on this so-called musical icon.</span><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Five first reactions prior to the 'enlightenment':</span><br />1. That joke about him being a poor black boy growing up to be a rich white lady.<br />2. Paedophile.<br />3. Freaky, bizarre.<br />4. That image of him dangling his child over a balcony.<br />5. He likes grabbing his crotch.<br /></span><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">Five facts after:</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >1. As a child he was abused by his father.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">2. One family accused him of sexually violating their son - evidence was inconclusive and 30 other questioned children all denied that he was a paedophile.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">3. All other allegations were doubtful - his own sister La Toya who later withdrew her accusations, a lady who was later revealed to be a former maid he had fired, etc.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">4. A statement he made that woke me up to the fact that no matter how rich, talented, <span style="font-style: italic;">amazing</span> someone is, he/she is <span style="font-style: italic;">still just a human being</span>. This was released after a strip search was performed on him following 'evidence' given by the accusing child regarding the 'physical description of his genitals'. I wasn't aware that penises could look that much different from each other.</span><br /><br /></span><blockquote><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">"<span style="font-style: italic;">As you may already know, after my tour ended I </span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">remained out of the country [US] undergoing treatment for a dependency on pain medication...There have been many disgusting statements made recently concerning allegations of improper conduct on my part. These statements about me are totally false...I will say I am particularly upset by the handling of the mass matter by the incredible, terrible mass media. At every opportunity, the media has dissected and manipulated these allegations to reach their own conclusions. I ask all of you to wait and hear the truth before you label or </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;">condemn me. Don't treat me like a criminal, because I am innocent. I have been forced to submit to a dehumanizing and humiliating examination...It was the most humiliating ordeal of my life...But if this is what I have to endure to prove my innocence, my complete innocence, so be it.</span>"</span></span></blockquote><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />5. His life from then on went downhill.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">In his life, he was put under a microscope and subject to all sorts of lies and accusations not many could have endured. Upon his death, he is hailed a</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">nd worshipped as a much-loved legend. This is what society today has become. We build people up to knock them down, and there will be leeches jumping in for a ride along the way for that 15 minutes of fame, extra cash, or both, even till the very end.<br /><br /></span> </span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAl3faFRG5vhGzXMYUKOcc7G_o7nOKRNUBxkJOVMT2Xq0yVsCSNn6yNrENjpfmBcQABke4Kib5y7fDkvBWmXuZTogI1fAfgMpVsHr8CYQ80R4uFhC8ZXdL4PUGd7kvOmZKwTob59-pAew/s1600-h/14127783.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 302px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAl3faFRG5vhGzXMYUKOcc7G_o7nOKRNUBxkJOVMT2Xq0yVsCSNn6yNrENjpfmBcQABke4Kib5y7fDkvBWmXuZTogI1fAfgMpVsHr8CYQ80R4uFhC8ZXdL4PUGd7kvOmZKwTob59-pAew/s400/14127783.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351483761860621154" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:verdana;">Posted by gossip blogger Perez Hilton but later taken down.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">[click to enlarge]</span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Lesson of the day: <span style="font-weight: bold;">Never jump to conclusions</span>. Often said and often heard but <span style="font-style: italic;">much less often practised</span>. If only I could get a dollar - or better yet, a British pound sterling! - for everytime I looked at someone and somehow come to the conclusion that I just 'know' some things about him/her by 'instinct'.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">For example, I know I'm very pretty, but at the same time I'm a really nice person </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">too. =)<br /><br />Rest in peace Michael Jackson, in death may you finally get the peace that eluded you in life.</span></span><br /><br /><a target="_blank" title="ImageShack - Image And Video Hosting" href="http://img195.imageshack.us/i/signaturezrc.jpg/"><img src="http://img195.imageshack.us/img195/5885/signaturezrc.jpg" border="0" /></a>kuchinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01273227734184780960noreply@blogger.com0