my land

this morning, i wish i had not woke up and continue my cuddling with her, as she puts her arms around me, while we try to avoid the cctv in her office. i could feel her touch, so clearly, so real. i could actually smell her hair, her lotion bathed skin. her fingers playing around… to be continued…

23

the morning started pretty early, considering my shut eyes were at 230am. 6 hours of sleep is probably not enough if you are gonna be outside for the rest of the day, either crossing over to mainland or grocery shopping. the hot sun weren’t helping either, and i think the heat carried forward to the night.

i got myself 2 framed mini posters of audrey hepburn. the type of frames i love for all my posters, where you don’t actually see the frames. they are black and white posters, which hang nicely below edward norton’s black and white as well, “amercian history x”. now, i feel, that side of my room’s wall seems to be complete. it felt like miss hepburn was the missing puzzle among the dozens of cokes and cigarette boxes, 12 to 19 inch horror figurines and more standing in the glass cabinet.

mmm… arsenal’s 2 goals up and i’m lazy to blog. good night.

die!!!

beautiful songs the gay sang, the dead left with a big bang

puss

the bad side of human being surfaces when color of money is involved. if you can’t for your drinking, take my advice. DON’T FUCKING DRINK! what a fucked up midget. how much can a girl drink from your fucking one jug? we all fucking had our share of drinks. we all had a big gulp of the fucking booze. and the kedekut bastard turns out to be me. what a fucked up friendship i’m in. you are all a bunch of retards who thinks nothing else but themselves.

one little insecure soul needs the comfort of the whole gang to get her thru the so-called tough times without her “loving” partner who can never have enough of sex. how about the expired diva who’s mouth speaks of low profile and easy satisfaction in life, when her man have to worry and get sweaty palms whenever she sees a Roxy bag on sales which actually has a marked up price with little discount. the man himself should have bend his so-call principles of a loving relationship and get himself out of deep hole debts.

and talking about the man without control. look at the bastard who had to control his woman’s friends and how she should talk to her friends. all they need for their relationship to work, was for her to lose a friend. and let’s not get started with the flirty bitch who can’t keep her fingers off her handphone buttons to sms the lost friend, trying to rekindle any myth flame she thought she had with him.

let me save the best for last. the money minded, stingy little bastard who can’t even buy his own ciggerette. i don’t buy either but at least i have the courtesy to buy and give or share once in a while. again, how much could 2 girls drink from your fucking big jug of beer? how much you tell me? if you are so fucking calculative, why not you just fucking go out with a bunch of fucking accountants.

bravo, i know you could be reading this. keep this to your own entertainment purpose. no sharing with your gay rower partner. this is my anger, this is my punching bag, this is my life. share not with others, repeat not. cause it will surely break the circle of friends which i still do cherish after all the fucking words above. i myself have flaws which i would be denying as well. but that’s for others to judge, for me to accept… in time. when ah long comes back to life.

oh mandy!

here’s duggy, one of me birdday gifts… ah fuck it. i’m too brutal for this.  here’s a tissue box shaped as a yellow duck. i’m a big fan with rubber ducks. heck, anything related to ducks, i’m ON it.

the celebration night ended with her head on my shoulder. and all i could do was pat on her head. that was pathetic. if she were someone i’m trying to hit on, i would have put my arm around her. or much braver, stick my tongue into her mouth. but noooooooo. i gave her a pat on the head. what the fuck’s wrong with you.

i always thought loving someone was hard. trying not to love someone is even harder. fuck. what the fuck i’m doing.