Filed under: Life | Tags: 10 Things I Hate About You, Celebrity, Death, Heath Ledger
“I hate the way you talk to me. And the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare I hate your big dumb combat boots. And the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick – it even makes me rhyme. I hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh – even worse when you make me cry. I hate it that you’re not around. And the fact that you didnt call. But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you – not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”
(1979 – 2008) R.I.P Heath;
Fondly remembered & sorely missed. I hope you’re having a good time hanging out with Jimmy.
I know it’s silly but watching this video now makes me want to cry.
Filed under: Fashion, Life, Too Much Info, Youth Culture | Tags: Family, Fashion-trashion, Nu-rave, Topman
Oh Topman, must you really be such a strong advocator for passé youth-subcultures. Admittedly, this whole NuRave sub-culture did fascinate me for a moment, in the same way poo-related entries amuse me on Too-Much-Info, or why people call it “taking a dump” when you’re actually just leaving one, but this has really gone too far hasn’t it?
Listen kiddos, skinny red jeans don’t look that good unless you’re Jack White, and even then, Nu-Rave is too 2007. D is pushing for Semi-Nudity to be the next big thing in 2008 but i don’t know how far that will catch on. John Galliano did it in the early 90’s with heaps of chiffon, and then there was the whole Jelly-Kelly Birkin bags movement(Yuck!), but you never know.
I don’t care if the next fashion trend is just as annoying, i just want them nu-rave/geek chic turds to stop dressing like that. Over-sized glasses is making my 85-year old diabetes stricken-visually impaired Grand Mother look like an Anna Wintour-esque style icon. And rest assuredly, unless bedwetting is trendy, she certainly isn’t.
Filed under: Life, The Unexplainable Things that Seem to Only Occur to Me | Tags: Birthday, Essay, Quarter-Life Crisis, School, Work
Weird dreams aside, I am finding it disgustingly hard to focus on my 3000 word paper due in a week. And it’s apparent that all i can do about my problem is wordpress it instead of finding the time to figure out my project. I cannot write to save my life at this point.
Oh my god. I will be the death of myself. Adderall only takes you so far it seems.
This post is also a public apology to those i have snubbed or are going to snubbed due to my cell-phone inactivity. I am punishing myself for being such a stupid distracted bitch until i have atleast churned out at 1.5k words worth of material.
Substandard, no less. Yup, I pretty much have an F in Life at this moment. Two days ago I suffered a mild quarter-life crisis panic attack.
Characteristics of quarter-life crisis include:
- feeling “not good enough” because one can’t find a job that is at one’s academic/intellectual level
- frustration with relationships, the working world, and finding a suitable job or career
- confusion of identity
- insecurity regarding the near future
- insecurity regarding present accomplishments
- re-evaluation of close interpersonal relationships
- disappointment with one’s job
- nostalgia for university, college, high school or elementary school life
- tendency to hold stronger opinions
- boredom with social interactions
- financially-rooted stress
- loneliness
- desire to have children
- a sense that everyone is, somehow, doing better than you
- desire to write poetry under a shady oak tree
Straight from the horse’s mouth (wikipedia), the truth bible my friends. Anyway, Adrian managed to put it in perspective for me by telling me that “atleast you’re not pregnant”, which in any other situation would be extremely clever and funny, but it only really reminds me of my lack of love life in that department. But truth be told…as much as i vex about being sex-starved and single (ok, not really), i really don’t have the time to keep up with anything substantial. Damned this selfish bone in my body i guess.
Alright, I’m off to sit in a corner, wear a dunce cap and rock repeatedly back and forth with a glazed looks in my eyes. And also, see you at Warren’s birthday on friday at you know where. Wow, here he is turning thirty having lived his life almost half over, and i’m freaking out about getting started working in the real world. I am such a twat. Heh.
Filed under: Life, The Unexplainable Things that Seem to Only Occur to Me | Tags: Dreams, Font Copulation, Pointless Worrying, Tattoo
I’ve been having weird dreams consistantly for the past week or so. They’re harmless so i’m not complaining as long as they stay away from the whole “i-am-naked-in-a-very-public-place”/”being-attacked-by-rabid-fourteen-eyed-squirrels” theme i think i will do just fine.
Most of them have running story-lines with recurring motifs like this tattoo work i dreamt a friend of mine had inked on to the back of his right arm. I just HAD TO crudely ms-paint it out so i’m going to apologize in advance if it resembles the mentally handicapped love child of hot sweaty dingbat font sex. Personally i think it looks more like WingDings 2 explosive-diarrhea after several helpings of mexican bean/jalapenos product; but hey, who’s to say they don’t look exactly the same?
There it is: a cherry bomb, a hand, and a buckle. How…odd.
Other than the rather obvious point D raised about how i am slowly losing my sanity, i don’t think this is an other-wordly interpretation of imminent danger. Is it?
That’s nice. Now i can add nerve-wrecking Paranoia to the list of pointless, empty worries I’ve accumulated over the past few years. Dear Karma-Killer and Why-is-Fetal-Distress-Equally-as-Comical-to-Me-as-Fecal-Distress, you have been relegated to position No. 2 & 3 respectively.
I’m off to bed. If i meet Freddy Kreuger tonight, I’ll be sure to tell him you said Hi.
Filed under: Politics, Television | Tags: Cry baby, Hillary Clinton, Obama'08, US Elections
Who else was thrown off by Hillary Clinton’s misty eyes?
(View: Video & Media Backlash Article)
Ann Lewis… you are ….a goddamned genius.
I didn’t buy a single second of it though. Wot a Phoney Baloney I’d cry too if i needed to win over New Hampshire. Tears usually get me what i want too. Not that it really matters in the end cause whichever democratic party wins the losers/winners still have to establish a united front. Hang in there, Team Obama, don’t let this damper yer spirits!
We need more coverage of the elections in the local news. I’m sick of tuning in at nine thirty, only to find out a new miracle-healing, 4D-giving, hippopotamus-faced tree has sprouted in Ang Mo Kio.
Filed under: Life, Too Much Info | Tags: Birthday, Fetish, Goldendoodle, Midgets
I’ve decided what i want for my 20th Birthday - a little troup of midget minions!
Oh man oh man oh man i Freaking love midgets. And not in that kinky necrophilic/bukkake/2girls1cup.com fetish sort of way. They’re like adorable non-choking hazard polly pockets with their tiny arms and their tiny legs. I just wanna dress them up and take them out for walks and teach them how to shin-kick attack/beg/fetch/roll over and play dead, all on command. My own personalized litter of little people filled with ALOT of fun. Wow! Pet puppy < midgets, fo’ shizzle!
Filed under: Life, Television, Travel | Tags: first, public transport, Television, wga
Ahoy, i am jumping on the wordpress bandwagon!
I have to admit that i spent a good two minutes trying to figure out if the word bandwagon was spelt separately or together. Not that i’m a grammar nazi, it’s just that the shame of being corrected for my spelling is quite unbearable really.
Today passed by rather uneventfully. I honestly don’t expect to re-enact Jack Baur moments daily but heck, a little bit of excitement would be fun. Maybe escape a burning train-wreck (unscathed, no less!), wrestle a savaged escaped circus bear and find my soul mate. Or maybe i’d find out that i’m a sufferer of retrograde amnesia and that my entire life after the horrible horrible car crash that killed my entire family 10 years ago has been a truman-show-esque farce.
Ugh, I’d bet twenty anyone from the WGA team has more talent in their left pinky than i do at script-writing. I’d stick to sitting in the spectator stands about this but who can blame me really, seeing as to how they’re still on strike while the rest of the world goes tv-cold turkey. Thanks for getting the Golden Globes killed off, for getting your production crew fired and for causing a US$80 mil. economy loss just cause all y’all are in a royalties dispute, douche bags.
You might be glad to hear that I finally picked up my check. I got up way too early for my own good. 8.30am - an achievement if you spent the entire night staying up finishing the final 2 seasons of the extremely trashtastic Sex and the City. Other than my sexual knowledge jumping up by a notch and my IQ dipping by around 20 (after 4 seasons of the O.C, 11 seasons of South Park, 6 seasons of SatC, 3 seasons of Grey’s Anatomy & One Tree Hill and countless of Comedy Central/MTV re-runs, it stands at roughly…38, the approximate mental age equivalent to that a 6 year old child), i’ve concluded after 96 episodes that Sarah Jessica Parker looks like a farm horse and that most of her wardrobe looked like they were fashioned out of post-christmas day present wrappings.
Anyway, who else is mad about the apalling hike in cab fares. It is eating into my cigarette and coffee money! I’d take shared public transport but my proximity-issue is getting the best of me. This morning i had to stick my face next to a window covered in a thousand bus rides of filth just so the creepy stale smelling greasy haired man sitting next to me wouldn’t be able to lean in too close and breathe down my neck. Really, jostling for a spot on the train in the morning with sulky mid-life crisis suffering grown ups just makes my fucking day. You’d think a 40 year old working adult would have the decency and manners to just MOVE TO THE BACK. I’d shove people but then i’d get their grimy 9-5 dirt on my hands.
Okay, Another online web journal entry, another day.
Good Night.
