I don’t really remember where I left off. You’d think with the holidays here and all I’d be blogging more, but I guess not eh.
I do know that my fingers have itched to type an entry once or twice over the past couple of days though. Since I don’t carry my laptop around with me anymore, and I’m a bit of a snob when it comes to these things and refuse to snitch a couple of minutes on Rafee, Emily Macbeth or Loooocie (Hana, Jeremy, and Mickey’s laptops respectively) I’ve got to rely on memory. And my memory is pretty shite.
Anyhow, here’s some of the things I DO remember:
Of all people I’ve met since I got my eyebrows done, Jeevan was the first one to mention it. Weird. Well I mean Jovie commented, but she was in the room for some of it, and my mom, but she paid for it, and my sister, but she’s been pestering me to sit through the pain for YEARS now. So there you go. Weird.
I really really want a hamster. I know I’m not going to get one. But I still really really want one.
Did you know that a Quokka is an Australian marsupial that resembles the Wallaby? If I ever find out just why I was googling that tonight, I’ll be sure to let you know.
I wish I had a camera. That didn’t run out of battery within half an hour. And had decent zoom functions. Because then I could better share stories of the people I run into. For example, the guy at Sentosa. He was old. One of those old Chinese men who wear gold chains and suntan at the beach, but don’t actually work out, so they’re not fat, but they’re definitely nowhere near being toned either. It’s like you take a prosperous Chinese businessman (that’s the politically correct term for “bestowed with a giant beer belly” right?) and you poke a pin in his stomach and all the air comes out and the skin sorta just hangs there like a deflated balloon.
Anyway. So this man is at Sentosa, and he’s in a thong. Which isn’t too bad by itself, but he’s in a skin coloured thong. Which you know, might have been an error in judgment. Except it’s a skin coloured thong with a single thick white stripe that runs right up along the center of his member. Yeeeeeee-ah. And of course he’s invariably lain his mat out right next to a pair of young nubile white girls.
Yeah so I’ve totally just put myself off writing anymore because it was nasty beyond nasty, so I think I’m gonna go eat some of the chocolate I bought when I was with F earlier (yay 7-11! yay satisfying KFC craving! yay F-ness!) and maybe finish Anansi Boys. I bought that almost 2 years ago and never got around to reading it. Sad really. Pretty good so far. Hasn’t reached into the realm of “so removed from reality that it fucks your brain but when you put it down you get a total rush as you spiral back to this universe” just yet, but it’s totally getting there.
For some reason, I miss my cousin. He who looks like Sucre but claims he’s more of a Burrows man. Pffft. Whatever JayJ.
Wow. I really suck at phonetics.
