alone.

Maybe I’m envious of how some girls have their girlfriends to call out for sudden coffee dates. Or enjoying ice-cream and a good gossip. “I’ll swin by your place in a bit.” Tonnes of photos plastered all over FaceBook. Candid. “No no that’s not my good side, try again!” Window shopping, giving each other fashion advice, poring over the same fashion magazines. Sharing dreams and office/work stories. People-watching. I meet with friends in groups. I hang out with colleagues in groups. I have difficulty trying to communicate with girls, and I’m a girl! The only person I seem to talk to is the boyfriend. Other than that, it’s the bros – geek talk, shop talk, game talk. No one to motivate and go running or pick up pilates together or join marathons together. No one to call in the dead of the night to talk about the scary insecurities without being patronised. No one to be that first person you call, just because they’re female, to gush over something awesome that’s just happened without feeling second-rated.

I’m lonely. I’m alone. This feeling sucks.

after the turnover.

It rains. There’s something wrong with my lenses, just the right, because it’s the only one that suffers so much. Strained optical nerves and this itching from hell. Bloody hell I tell you, I bought it from a legit supplier and I still get an infection? Not sure if I’m keen to see the doctor just yet. Four people in the company gone, just like that, leaving us with manpower of 11. Come the next event I’m going to be doubling up in more than one place and that pretty much terrifies me. I can almost feel the pressure and the immense load of work that’s gonna be pushed and served on my lap. How quaint.

gone.

Running on about 4 hours worth of sleep. Endless meetings. My eyes can barely open and my head hurts too much to think. Everything is sorta on auto-pilot. Just do what’s on the notebook and cross it out (with gratifying flourish) once it’s been completed. Can’t even believe that it’s already close to 7:30pm. Phones have been ringing non-stop and the stupid rings are driving me fucking insane.

So many things to do. People are rushed to do things and when they can’t it pushes back the schedule by so much. So tired. Need to sleep. Maybe shouldn’t have gone mambo-ing, the week after would have been more advisable. But I had fun.

well well well

We can talk about dignity. And then we can we can talk about being insulted. Or disparage, discredit, ok maybe not discredit. In anycase. It’s a good thing we have pr0n, because it makes things easier for some people. Would have turned out to be an ok day but well, maybe I ruined it, maybe I didn’t. It doesn’t really matter to me anymore. And within two days, I managed to spend $300. That’s before giving parents cash, paying the sister back and my credit card bill. Plus, setting stuff aside in the savings account. I have less than 1k for the month. Four more weeks till the next payday. SURVIVE!

hit rewind.

One day, we’ll wake up and find our heads displaced. Our bodies are nothing more than a mass of mottled-green tentacles and we slither about, rather slowly, like snails. Yes, with a trail of slime in our wake. But maybe someday we might wake up with horns growing out of our foreheads and have hooves instead of hands and feet. I’m still amused by how so many people could respond and react to but one change in FaceBook – the status. Would they think happily ever after ever lasted? Tsk. So deluded.

Why do people take such things seriously anyway?

Blogs are for light-hearted things and when you want to rant about the government. Well, not really the latter but hey, shiny happy prawns! Who needs the grumps when you can wallow in anime for self-pitying company?

they don’t love you like i love you.

Holy jumping bananas. Left4Dead is so much more fucking awesome on PC. At least, it’s a hell lot easier to control. I’m in dire need of more zombie-blasting activity. I just have one very LONG gripe to make.

Photoshop is a must. Necessary. If the company you’re in now doesn’t have it, leave. Seriously. You have no idea what rubbish they’re gonna toss you with and expect you to pull vector rabbits out of your polygonal ass. Little changes are expected to be tossed to the respective agency. Like, oh make this bigger and that smaller and the alignment is just. so. fucked. up. The best thing is that, you’re not the planet the agency revolves around. They have many more planets and some of whom pour more glittery gold dust into their moneybags.

The point here is that, photoshop is a must. It is a necessity. You will give birth to toads (be you man or woman) without it or worse, suffer the horrible mutiny of maggots. Not that any of it made sense.

if you understand this, welcome to my world.

What sucks.

Having body hangups when you ought to be over it. The term “curvaceous” is blasphemy if you ask me. It’s like a swear word, vile and disgusting. Nothing more than a euphism for the word fat. No, I do not want to be curvaveous. Neither do I want to be voluptuous. I do not want curves, I never did. I was happy with angles and lines. It’s so easy to be a circle, harder to be ruler straight. What bugs and irritates me the most are those patronising placating words. It drills right behind my eyes and turns everything red. Rage. Annoyance. Irritating. Anger.

Dear god. I’d really appreciate not being curvy and what not. It disgusts me and makes me feel like crap in the morning, noon and night. I would rather be bones than have all this excess. I don’t care what the magazines say about men liking women with some meat on their bones. I think its utter fucking bullshit. The dating ritual is disgusting and ridiculous. You work so hard to look good, look perfect, look right. Yet when you get into a relationship, you blow everything away. Become lazy, ignorant, selfish. The mantra, loving a person for who they are regardless of how they look and are. Nothing more but lies to cover up your own selfishness. Because of your complacency and selfishness at refusing to work to keep yourself looking proper for that person.

That would explain a lot of things.

I wonder how much it costs to get lipo here.

Julien watches how the skin folds in fat retribution as Augustus sat down. He stifled the grimace that threatened to fall upon his face. If there was one thing more disgusting than being forced to drain a junkie’s blood, it was that of a fat man. The blood was riddled with toxins, with fat and cholesterol and sometimes if you’re ‘lucky’ you get that sick tang of diabetes. The vegans, the athletes (those who weren’t on steroids or body enhancement pills), tasted like marbled beef. But he hadn’t been coming across them as of late. As he tuned himself out of Augustus self-absorbed monologue, he tried to tempt himself into the false delight of partaking in dinner tonight. It was going to be hard. And it isn’t just because of the taste.

Sometimes fat people were just so fucking fat it was so fucking hard to find that nice juicy artery to sink your fangs in to.

the fat-asses of the world.

The one thing that simply irritates the shit out of me when I take the lift is when people who get on the first floor, press the button for the 2nd or 3rd floor. I guess I’m sorta forgiving if they’re getting off on the 4th floor. But really. Would one or two flights of stairs kill you? With an ass that big, you really need the exercise. ARGH!

I feel so stupid. Hahah. Broken beyond comprehension. I’m so tired. Don’t be sad when I’m gone. I’ll be happy enough if you remember me.

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