damn sui

i'm a walking wreck. in this week itself, i had a big bruise on my arm, four massive mosquito bites on my lower back, and to top it off, i fell this morning. now i have a pair of torn, grey, skinny corduroy jeans which i love so very much and an ugly wound on my knee. oh isn't life a bed of roses? i wonder what's gonna happen tomorrow. maybe i'll be hit by a car on the way to campus. who knows.

bobby's back!

bobby's back but i miss shorty. shorty makes me look sharp while bobby makes me look like a round mushroom. but everyone loves bobby more. so bobby it is. bobby better grow fast so i'll look like a sexy mushroom.

porcelain ballerina doll

i feel like a porcelain ballerina doll who is waiting for her tin soldier to dance with her, but he is too obsessed with the jane-in-the-box. he winds up the box, and watches her pop out. he does it again, and again, and again. i am completely forgotten. i want to call out to him, let him know that i am there. but i am a porcelain doll. everything's rock hard, except for my heart. it beats for him. i can't move my lips. so i just resort to standing there and watch the both of them have a splendid time. i inch closer to him, he doesn't notice me for he is too awestruck by the jane-in-the-box. i look up at her face. her makeup is shrewdly done, as though her maker was in a rush to sell her off. she is not a beauty, yet she has the power to encapture my tin soldier. night falls. darkness blankets herself outside the window, with a tinge of light from the moon. then the fireplace lights up. all of a sudden the room is filled with a shade of tangerine and warmth. the fire crackles and grows bigger. i feel a burning rage to throw jane-in-the-box into the fire, but she is bigger than me ten times. i have not the strength to push her in, yet i know that it is the only way to get my tin soldier back. i push her closer to the edge of the table, closer to watching her fall into the inferno. she realises that she is being pushed. jane's gigantic hands then reaches down, scoops me up and hurls me to the hard, cold, marble floor. i shatter into a million pieces. all that's left of me is pale shades of beige, pink and blue powder. the tin soldier is oblivious of my absence and continues playing with jane-in-the-box.

the emo guys and tolerant girls

no i did not get the title wrong. guys=emo and girls=tolerant. just to clarify that i did not get it mixed up. yes my dears, the once pumped up testosterone species who were patient are now being unbearably emotional and not to forget, sensitive. every lil' misunderstanding will take a 360 degree turn into the biggest catastrophe ever! its like a nuclear reaction, you see. nuclear bombs are small yet the impact is felt millions of miles away. too much hyperbole but you get what i mean. these macho males will not, in under any circumstances, have their ego bruised, not even from their close ones. once you pass an offensive joke(a joke is something said or done to provoke laughter or cause amusement, no serious elements in it whatsoever), seek shelter! the offended will be very very angry and unless you want to feel his wrath, stay away. hell hath no fury like a MAN scorned.

so what about the girlfriends of these people? if we're patient, we put up with it. if we're not, pack our bags and leave. however, most of us usually stay behind and bear with it. such loyal girlsfriends. *pats back* in my opinion, we're the guys and they the girls. because once upon a time, the girls were the ones who would rant and sulk and the guys would comfort and pester them. now the tasks have switched hands. the girls comfort the guys instead! a very discomforting scenario indeed. seems like the girls aren't the only ones pumped with oestrogens. curse the chickens injected with growth hormones!