I'm all *censored* up as of this moment on.

Actually it's been like this ever since. But hey, can't I make a statement? It's my space, ain't it? I don't owe anyone shit.

You know it hits you when :

1. you're as broke as a pauper,
2. you can't buy shit (like the latest games, that chic shirt, bracelets for your girl, condoms, etc) because you're a pauper,
3. you're stuck in a sickening job,
4. you have a tendency to have problems with authority due to point 3,
5. the authority from point 3 has a problem with you,
6. your girl thinks you're full of shit,
7. you're still procrastinating about taking up that degree,
8. everyone else is somewhere else,
9. and that somewhere else tends to be less shitty than yours,
10. your PC is all screwed (as much as you are) and is officially dead (which you should be now, you sorry, self-piteuos, conceited prick),
11. you can't download shit because of point 7,
12. and your pirate balls will be clamped legit, just because if you do so...
13. ...you won't wanna be going to jail because of that,
14. your best friend is still your PS2,
15. you still suck at Resident Evil 4,
16. you haven't been laid in a week.

There. 16 reasons why my life sucks. Before you troll on about how everyone has their own problems, let me tell you that I DON'T GIVE A FLYING *censored* about their shit. Not like I expect anyone to be bothered with mine. Don't start with that quarter-life crisis shit either.

Laugh like the deranged hyena you are, you bigot.

Done? Now go away.

The air feels remotely cold around here. Door keeps slamming. Noise. The stench. The adolescent screech of a wanton acolyte nearby. Cold. Crestfallen. What is here? Where is here?
I start to cringe. Hunger pangs. Nicotine pangs. Alcohol pangs. I start to crave attention. Can you not look at me that way when you talk to me? Shut up. Stop breathing down my neck. Dread. I want to feel tranquility. I want to stare at the sky. It is grey. It is raining. I like the smell. It refreshes me. A mordid, uplifting sense of ecstasy. The air still feels chilly. And it chokes. What do you want from me? Fuck mediocrity. Fuck mainstream ideals and notions. Fuck the nuclear stereo-types. Fuck complexity. Fuck the irony of the situation. I claw at the edge. I helplessly wave an out-stretched arm in your view.

Then I start to wake.

I hear you.

And I no longer understand what you are saying.

Egads! The horror!

No sweat lah zoukettes, this one the zouk in KL one.

By the way, has anyone had this tomorrow-ed yet? I reckoned someone would have.

Email : See this website www.click-six.com quite tor kong… I mean for a shop tt sells accessories.
I bought myself a hair pin there!

Phone Call -

Me : What did I tell you about shopping during lunchtime? You went to OG right, you naughty woman.

Her : I bought a very lovely hair clip only what. It's very nice mah and it comes in a pair maybe I can give one to you. And plus you must apply Axe Oil. Then I clip mine on my jeans.

Me : Hair clips belong to your hair not jeans! And I don't want you to lose a clip in that bush on my head and I don't want to walk around looking like a fag and smelling like an auntie.

I am dead as of the moment that comment was posted.

I've just carved an ear wax remover out of my pen cap.

Someone please hoist me up and maim my head off with a ceiling fan.