5 days to Christmas

 

Hey gang, let’s meet up soon.

I second kor’s idea of the game cafe.

 

 

Fear of . . .

So I was looking up on the net if there is by any chance a name for the description of ‘fear of long fingernails’. Alas! No happy news.

Not that I want to shriek and pull my hair out when I spot long fingernails, no, not to that extreme… yet. It just makes the skin on my back crawl.

I have read in books where the characters, those lovely ladies, have their longish nails painted oh-so-beautifully in red. It might be beautiful, but in reality, too long nails are, simply put, disgusting and awkward.

To me, anything that is more than 0.3 cm (protruding, for the lack of better word now) is considered too long. Why the hell do you need such long fingernails for?!

I don’t get it.

To have a upperhand when it comes to cat fight?
Or to leave scratches on your darling’s back when you are hanky-pankying?

Elaborate nailart – those with jewels, sparkling thingies, dangling thingies and all the other little thingies, is another mystery. Nice to look on the display, kind of cumbersome in real life. Not forgetting to mention that the fingers usually look weird, I don’t know, but it seems to make your fingers look stubby.

If it leaves me at a loss at why females keeping long fingernails, it totally kicked me to the other of the world and buried me 6 feet underground at why males kept long fingernails.

Please, I don’t want to think about it.
But I do hope that one day, they make themselves bleed whilst cleaning out their nostrils and ears.

Why I brought up this fingernail topic? The guy who helped me stick the screen guard on to my hp had long nails… I mean, really long. Probably 2 cm on his middle finger (what? To point better with?).

Some guy I saw on the train had long nails on his ring and last fingers.

>_>

A nail clipper cost maybe 80 cents at those neighbour stores or night markets. $2.00 at diaso if you want those cutesy designs.

 

Morning Surprise

Blood, blood in the kitchen!

Not a good thing to find in the morning.

Not a good thing to be the first person to find this.

…

 

At least it is not really blood.

Wine. Just plain simple homemade wine (for cooking).

But I think I have been watching too much Detective Conan.

The first thing that came to my mind when I saw it was “OMG, where’s the body?!” when though I know it’s too diluted to be blood (I think).

XD

 

x x x

2 days after

I wish my mum would stop making this kind of things. I mean, it’s cool to have your own traditional thingies*. but I’m sick of smelling that sour smell that lingers in the kitchen. It smells like… unwashed laundry.

I hope the wine doesn’t turn bad because I’m talking bad about it on the internet. Surely it doesn’t know, right?

You know, superstition. My mum forbade us to talk about it when she was making it.  -_-

Yeah, wine-making and those dried meat + soy sauce, these 2 traditional recipes that I can do without. Seriously.

 

x x x

**Traditions are, in my opinion, generally cool. But when it comes to getting kicking a fuss over a tradition just because it was on the TV is silly. Spending hundreds and hundreds on a costume that you would barely wear more than twice and looks ugly on you is retarded. 

I’m like, “HAH”.

Children don’t lie when they tell you if the clothes looks nice or not on you. That’s what I believe.

So, listen to your daughter.

Especially when she says, “Mummy, mummy, the dress makes you look so old, and your bum looks fat.”

Just thank your lucky stars that she doesn’t know saggy boobs.

Or maybe she does. Whatever you do, just don’t repeat what your adorable daughter says in the toilet.

ESPECIALLY in the toilet. 

You will never know who’s in that cubicle.

 

Who says OL doesn’t eat?

OL = Office Lady.

dayever = works in office but not a lady, no matter who might argue (oh, I can think of at least one person, maybe he’s just being polite. Hah!).

7.00 : Enjoys a cup of coffee (instant coffee, regrettably).

8.30 (plus minus) : Reach workplace.

9.00 : Have my breakfast – sandwiches, hotdogs, bread, whatever that’s in my bentobox.

11.00 : Munches on biscuit.

12.30 : Lunchtime. Where-ever and whatever that satisfy our cravings and hunger. And time management.

Pasta and Orange juice from DOME… when there’s no time.
And no Korean instant noodle left…

15.00 : Tidbits.

17.00 : Tidbits.

19.00 : Biscuits.

21.00 : Dinner

23.30 : Sleep

I think I’m gaining weight. O_o

My snacks that I’m bringing to work! Probably last for 2 weeks.

 

Disappearing Day. Rant rant rant

Firstly, I’m a selfish, impatient, irresponsible, snobbish, impolite and easily-pissed-off person.

Since, I’m impolite, selfish and irresponsible, I’m not going to apologise for going MIA (missing-in-action).

Hah.

There were so many so many blog ideas, but every time I reach home, I was too tired to type up even a short entry, to tired to communicate to anyone – even my family. I swear I’m a worse hermit than you Troy.

Oh I did type up a reply, 2 days after I received your email, it’s still sitting pretty in my draft box, half way through.

So latest news of me – working office hours – 8.30 am to 6pm, usually staying back overtime for an hour or 2. In fact, I’m out of the house at 7.30 am back home at 9 pm. If you know me well, my energy level is usually low, easily depleted, by the time I reached home, it’s negative.

 

- – - Rant ahead - – -
You did read my disclaimer right.

I hate weekends. Because that’s when I would feel the slightest twinge of guilt for disconnecting with everybody.
But, usually, I spent my time doing work I brought back from workplace. Or sleeping. Or hiding in my room to avoid my family.

I am seriously seriously seriously grouchy and impatient with anyone who is not with my pace or wave of thoughts during these two stupid days of the week. Especially eldery and kids. I’m expecting to be stuck by lighting anytime now.

It’s not that I don’t love my work. I do. But I’m more of a lone wolf, rather than being dependent of others for information. I wonder how many times I wished that there is some sort of a E-library where I could get past years information of my company, so I don’t need to trouble others for it (i.e., wait for them to dig out some free time to entertain my questions). And I wish I have the time to finish my own part of work too.

I hate Saturday and Sunday. Especially Sunday.

I’m not a fucking dictionary.
And I fucking hate tell tale-rs.
Why I stay up late is my own bloody business, I like having eye bags, is that your problem?
I’m not a people-person.
And I hate people raising their voices at me.
Too bad if your voice is naturally loud, because it just meant you put me on permanent irritable state.
I’m unreasonable.

I know my silent state pisses the hell out of you.
That’s because I’m already in my irritable state.
Don’t say I’m soft.
I’m not. It’s just that I know my place.
I have a lousy temper, it’s just that it could be verbally or kept in that silent state.
I won’t give you a black face, I will just ignore you while childishly blogging it here.

And don’t start the crap of accusing me with the ‘always’ shit.

Don’t ever ever ever come and shit with me with the “You studied Business, so you should know this.”
So what happened to all your basic English?
Don’t come to me next time, I’m not your English teacher, and I’m not a dictionary either.

I’m childish because you make me that way.
I’m a bitch because you irritate the hell out of me.

bastard

Humans and your needs, wants, and the superficiality.

As technologies advance, I think the world is getting worse. Sometimes, all this ‘advancement’ is to hide what ever problems we have created, or the creation of more problems.

Getting more retarded.

I wish Doomsday is here already.

I think I need a punching bag.