ARGHH! I sprained my wrist during the bowling the other day. And my wrist fucking hurts like hell when I carry plates.

Anyway, I was Order Taker 3 today. OT the outside. Wahaha. I spend the first few hours inside, Jake got pissed, then I moved outside and talked silliness with Elenda Quek, the host. ELENDA ROCKS, can?

O-K-LA.

Oh yes. I currently possess my POSBank card.

I HAVE ACCESS TO MY BANK. Finally?

YAY. Finally! I feel like going impulse shopping.
Nah. I can’t. I can’t shop for nuts.

And, I won’t spend money, because my October pay is going to be awful, since I ain’t working that much no more.

Oh yay. CONGRATS Simone. You got into Storytelling. What a coincidence, I almost got into Storytelling. See, it’s fate, Simone, it’s fate.

Wo is me. Am I sharing 2 modules with Clarence, Germaine, Vivien, Eleazar?

Most is Eleazar with BaPho, CreTh and DrFun.
Then it’s Clarence with Color and Typo.
Next is Vivien with Typo.
Lastly, it’s Germaine, with none.

WHEE!!!
Can celebrate that ZHANG RONG, by Perspective, shares a total of 8 TOTAL modules, TOTAL modules, TOTAL modules, echoes fade out… so far.

Work tomorrow. Yawns. B2. So not nice.

Hey hey. I’m back from work.

Anyway. I wanted to continue from the last post.

I bought a Milo drink.
At home, I ate a fish burger. I admitted to Mother Dearest that I was fasting. Maybe that’s why me parents love me so much — because I’m so darn honest, I can never tell a lie.

WORK TIME! Ring a ling! Ok la, as usual I came early, because I can.

Busser 2. Whee. B2. Carry plates. Thank the Lord nothing broke today.

Finally I saw Lewis! Yay. I missed him so. Because he’s a great S1.

Jerlyn the HOST of course, wow, Jerlyn, you’re good at hosting.
Sirvin was also there. Wow. Sirvin contributed a lot.
Unlike Mavis.
Kay I dun say lerr.

Then my work was supposed to end at 10.
Jake ask me to extend to 11, then Louis (Tan) [S2] and Lewis (Ng) [S1] left. So Sirvin, Danny and me are the only runners left.

Danny leaves at 11.
I’m asked to extend to 11.30.

I did some maintenance.

But heck. It was BEYOND 11.30. I ponned cleaning the menu standee of some tables.

I followed my gut.

“Run!” a voice in me screams out.

I ran. Sprinted.

THANK THE LORD I caught the last 969. Otherwise, instead of a free ride, I’d have to pay a fucking $16 [midnight charge inclusive] (which I don’t have) to the scammers. Oops, urm, I mean taxi drivers.

Today was a good day.

If I’m right, I made $32.50 today. Not a bad amount, if I do say so myself, considering October is coming near, and my September pay is going to combine into ONE BIG FAT PAYCHECK. Finally. Oh. And school’s coming.

I feel special because I’m scraping 3 more CUs than most others. Grins in delight.

Ok, I’m off to sleep now. Good day, officer.

Yawns.
So tired.

Hmm. Let’s talk about what happened yesterday at ORCHARD cum MARINA cum ESPLANADE.

I waited at Orchard, from 3.55 PM, comes Ferooze, comes Standley, comes the Cherine and Jayne (4.30), comes Yi Ling @ the Mandarin Hotel. I like the camera in the handphone.

But bah! The hotel had terrible lighting.

The usual pose. The horrible lighting made the quality semi-bad.

Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou, Romeo…

Not watching any movie. So did something other than that…

Still thinking…

A-ha! BOWLING! At Marina or whatnot.

Pretty Yi Ling, superHOTwoman Cherine. I love Cherine’s hair by the way.

Wow. WHAT CHARISMA Yi Ling possesses.

Jayne.

I clung on Standley’s arm and it was quite nice. =)

Ah. Bowling. My first game of bowling I participated in, reluctantly. But, wow, I was good. Then the ghost came and put my bowling balls into the gutter. Longkang. Drain. Bah. 7 times in a row. From first to last la. Half the game wasted. But still, I know I can do amazingly. I got a couple of spares anyway.

Then I cried on Standley’s shoulder. Fake tears la. =) No tears to begin with.

For a first timer, I think I did amazing. Grins with pride.

Snazzy shoes. PLEASE.

Who’s that? Some Chinese girl. Who belongs to you.

After the game, I screamed, and SHOCKED an Adeline wannabe. Then on the way, I tugged on Standley’s wrist, but he threatened to slap me.

Ate / Broke fast at KFC. The fucking tables are so tiny la. God.

Yi Ling told me the first time she saw me was at the Prata affair, the one Edna/Fiery went to together. I left an impression, but Yi Ling did not, that’s why I don’t remember her at all from the prata. She said she sat opposite me? Hmm. Can’t recall.

Retards taking picture in KFC. HAHAHAHA.

T3h one and only Mizz Cherinee.

Jayne actually looks SKINNY! Pah-wer.

Then we went to Zara. And there were all these gross products like Gay-speaking Mouthspray, Irish Mouthspray, Virgin/Slut lipbalm (for me of course), and all the things she said.

FASHIONISTA! Hahahahaha. Groovy.

Sunglasses galore.

Sunglasses for whores. Haha. I just wanted something to rhyme with galore.

Ta da ta.

Jayne looks like a total butch! Oh my Gad.

Fuck me, I’m fucking good.

Notice the price tag on Standley’s forehead.

Then they all bought the SMELLY DURIAN mooncakes. (Cue Yi Ling’s departure.) I got a brownie. I love brownies. I love scouts too. But my allegiance is forever to Red Cross. CPR woots. How gay am I la.

Then went to the forever-got-cigarette-smell Esplanade and the 5 of us played Bluff. I guess I played differently from Cherine? Ok, play by her way. And I lost twice? And it was nice to see everyone lose at least once, except Standley, that effing bluffer. He always bluffs in the game la, but heehee, I don’t mind at all.

OMG HOW TO GO HOME?

See la. Who ask you all play bluff in the darkness of the Esplande until late late?

Then after so much confusion of the NR and the 174M, Ferooze gave back Jayne’s Laurier, the 4 of us took a cab, first to Toa Payoh to drop off the CHIJ girls, then next stop is Boon Lay.

The fucking fare was $24.45 for God’s sake. Thank God Papa Tan paid it with a nice $50 note. Shat our bankruptness.

Yup. I followed Standley home. I slept over.

How nice of him, right, to offer his home to me? Then his doggie Mabel was jumping around and sneezing, so poor thing!

And Cherine, you thought Standley was Uncle Tan? Haha. It’s in the genes. =) Ok, what crap am I saying.

Standley’s feet and the doggie!

Can I tell you the doggie is so naughty sometimes, lol. But overall, she’s obedient, and pwetty keyoote. And she’s skinny too. Whoa.

Then Standley went onto MSN, but I saw all this virus-stuff and oh gosh. So poor thing la, the compewter. So poor thing la, Standley.

Yup. I went to take a bath first, oh. His toilet was so spacious la. Yishun toilets are cramped like fuck. =) His toilet was probably twice the size of mine, you can walk around one la. (Yes, that’s how small the Yishun toilets are, Standley!)

He lent me a pair of pants.

I’m not comfortable wearing short pants, oh the irony. You can see the muscle tone in my legs, it disgusts me. It’s so buff and fatty. GAH. Not used to it. Plus, they make me look short. Woo.

Then I went to sleep.

With Standley.

I discovered I’m a very light sleeper. Haha.

Don’t worry, guys and gals, nothing dirty happened, although I think you wish we did something nasty in the dark. Haha. My handphone doesn’t have that “nocturnal” mode la, like the Paris Hilton sex tape colour — neon greenish. Nice.

Mabel kepo la. Sneeze sneeze. Third party. Bla.

Dear sleeping.

I had been awake since 9.30, but whatever.

Standley accompanied me to Boon Lay MRT Station, like a good boyfriend, I don’t know how to navigate Boon Lay at all.

Walk in the fucking sun oh man.

Then when he said “Bye” at the station, I was like, going to give him a hug, but then he gave an excuse like we would get arrested.

Gah. FOR WHAT?

HUGGING? I’ve yet to see a “No Hugging” sign, otherwise, fine $500. Those MRT signs are so lame. No Food/drink/durians (which is considered a food), oh fuck you, why don’t you say “no smelly things” and that would include Banglas kay?

Shalyn and Amanda Soon do that all the time, but do you see them spending 6 months in jail, $2000 fine or both.

Ok lo. Never mind.

Then going home I saw Sec 1 classmate/CCA friend Su Jeng like WO. Nice white-framed specs. Then on the way, bought a Milo drink.

There’s still work later. Haha.

Yay. I found two of my colleagues’ blogs by… Google, of course. So simple. I search Sirvin and Jerlyn, two beautiful unique names, and yup. Both from TP’s Engine school, Year 1s.

[[ Jerlyn Lau ]]

[[ Sirvin Lian ]]

Google is creepy. Going to Orchard walk walk layda.

If you haven’t figured it out already, layda is ‘later’ in Australian. No duh.

Whee. I finished combining all of the 9 tracks of Disc 2 of Back to Basics of Christina Aguilera, now I can listen to the pleasures of all NINE in 5 or 6 minutes. Unbelievable. V i c t o r y.

Let’s talk about work, because I want to talk about something, and work is the only thing I can talk about.

I was S1. Serve food. Yay. Exciting. I did opening too, which made me uber uber tired.

Today was unexpectedly busy, but the set lunches didn’t really sell as fast as yesterday. Yay. I served food. Yay. How nice.

Jake was like, “YOU’RE S1?!!?!” in disbelief. She’s scared I might break the Three Soupbowls again. Wo. Then I tried facing my fears and terrible past as I attempted to carry 3 soupbowls… again. Scary la. SCARY.

I was literally trembling, shaking, shivering, whatever, as I lay down EVERY food AND drink today. Wo.

Then these 6 expat men came in, all angmoh and tall/gigantic. Jun Hong HATED these type of people, FREAKS, he calls them. I myself thought it was quite unnatural to reach heights of 1.95 metres. What a small world. No pun intended.

Not bad customers. Though one of the expats whined about “Don’t put sauce on my Sirloin Steak!” Blaaaa. Wasn’t that bad, really. They’re really quite OK customers. I’ve dealed with worse, believe me.

I’ll tell you the things customers do that annoy my managers/colleagues.

1) Customers who take too much bread for their own consumption (Most S2s)
2) Customers who demand too many things “Warm water/bread/chilli sauce/pepper/more sugar/etc.” (AhBa/Most of us)
3) Customers who change tables (Michelle)
4) Customers who complain/talk in a tone (A few of us)
5) Rarely, customers want the bread hotter. Simple. Put in microwave. Haha.

I’ll tell you the things that annoy ME.

1) JC students. Irreputable! Yes, they ARE more annoying than poly students, don’t ask why.
2) Customers who don’t say thank you/acknowledge our service.
3) Customers who IGNORE my guidance.
4) LONG TABLES of 7 people or more.
5) Babies. Toddlers. Children.
6) Customers who want small plates. (Pet peeve damn it!)

I hate it when I go “Our soup of the day is …” then the customers are so busy talking to themselves in Mandarin. Yes. It’s ALWAYS Mandarin when they ignore me.

So today, Jake went to the Duty Manager, Pei Yi, and talked in Mandarin, and Jake said my name. BlablablaEdBlaBlaBla, right after Pei Yi lectured me about using Wee Mui’s password.

Guess what?

I GOT MY FUCKING PASSWORD.

Like, finally. About time.

Let me list all the passwords I know.

Jerome: 8532
Ahba: 7421
WeeMui: 0914
Mine: 1497

Why 1497? My home number since forever! 6***1497! =)

Unfortunately, Jerome and Wee Mui are no longer working at Cartel. (Yes, Ferooze, celebrate that the “short bitch” is not working here anymore.) But still, I have 2 passwords at my disposal. Wahahahahahaha! Siao.

Anyway, I’m OT3 on Saturday, so my 1497 will come in handy.

Elenda keeps laughing at my actions and Jake keeps calling me cute.

And Mard’s long name is “Mardianna”. Ooooh. Mard. A girl, eh?!

Just 4 minutes ago, I had a good decent chat with (ooh I wanna insert a vulgarity here soooo badly) Kero.

That was the hilariest conversation I had ever.

Wow. I feel like spewing out some flowery dialect-varied insults right here right now. But. No. I refuse to. Even though blogging is “freedom of expression”. OH WHAT THE HECK. I don’t care.

Fuck it.

Ok la. Stop here. The insults I REALLY want to type out would be about 7000 words long? Urm, yeah.

So, Kero, why out of all things you call me creepy? Yes, I know you’re reading this. Wow. Call me sarcastic aye? I’m really not that sarcastic. That’s Fitrah. Otherwise, I’m just a plain, normal, boring teenage guy.

Gosh. Kero gave me a freaking lecture. Like I’m going to take that sitting down. You think I’m you is it? You think you’re your mother is it? Mother scold child.

*spits*

Enough.

I can play the psychology card now. Let’s begin.

Kero is probably giving me a lecture for being so “sarcastic”, why? A little bit of sarcasm don’t hurt nobody, and in addition, I’M NOT SARCASTIC. Like I said, it’s a matter of perception… so. He scolds me for being so-called “sarcastic”. Cannot take it? Hurt? Hmm. Sensitive? Or should I say OVERLY sensitive? These things can’t be helped, ya, Kero.

Then he starts insulting me with random TOTALLY irrelevant words like “freaky” and “creepy”. Reason? Bruise my ego. Haha. But I can also play the REVERSE psychology card. You’re just calling me names with no evidence whatsoever, and continuing to repeat the same thing, and using the gender analogy as reference.

Gosh Kero. I’m not stupid. (I’m so tempted to say: “But YOU are!”) Kero, if you’re reading this, good. Mr.Psycho(logist) will tell you the dealio. You are just putting forth your “dominance”, just because in your past, you haven’t been dominant/brave as you realize you can be. I applaud you for that, Kero, but you’re doing it the wrong way.

You don’t have to be so aggressive and insult a total stranger like I, to assert your dominance. You ended with a reasoning. Good. Mature enough. But not as mature as it could have gone.

I, on the other hand, was willing to accept any of your requests without second thoughts, only if you had been nicer. Well, maybe you’re not a nice guy after all. (Holds true; it explains his breakup with Colin.) Now that I’ve experienced a fragment of what Colin felt, I have a new outlook on you. But I shall not talk about my perception now. I just know that your childhood has been rough, heck, your romantic life has been rough, so I understand that you just release your tension on “innocent bystanders” such as I, without realizing it.

Anyway, I’m taking a mature and neutral stance right now. I apologize for calling you “not-a-nice-guy” because of my experience chatting with you.

I mean no harm. I, unlike you, will not insult people I don’t personally know. And yes, I am bitchy on my blog sometimes, because it’s FUN TO BITCH (you would know?). But yet, I’m able to stand here, with my dignity in tact, and accept you for who you are, regardless of your words, whether you meant for them to be hurtful or not.

Now, I’m scared for your other friends/family/total strangers that come upon contact with you via school/meet-ups/social gatherings. I hope you don’t rub them the wrong way; like what you did to both Colin and I.

Thank you for understanding.

I somehow expect my tagboard to be filled with vulgarities now, but hell, you expect me to cry? Haha. You think you insult me/my height/my penis size/my parents/my grandparents you think I’ll cry and insult back?

Oh yes. Kero. There’s a difference between BITCHING and INSULTING.

I bitch.
You bitch. AND insult. Being literal here. Nothing against you, once again.

Have a good day, Gary Soh.

What can I say. Worked today? Same old same old.

I broke a soup bowl today. And my spirits too. Welp, pick myself up. Now I fear carrying 3 soup bowls. Gah.

I submitted my schedule today for next week’s work. 2/10 to 8/10. It wasn’t easy.

Yesterday I told Denise my social life is a bust. Not kidding, and well, I’ve gotten used to it. Cry? No.

I don’t know. I guess I’m stronger. Given the situation of breaking the soup bowl, you would expect me to cry, wouldn’t you?

What can I say. Cartel/Work has made me a mentally stronger person, and I have to accept humility.

My spirits are down right now. If only I knew anything that would cheer me up… I guess, I have to plough through the night.

Oh. And I have a sore throat now. AGAIN. What the fuck?!

Boogers. I just wanna carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters.

Yay. Went to work. B2. Again. 12 to 4 PM. $20 made just like that. Tomorrow same schedule. Only that I’m OT. Order Taker. Woohoo. Dances.

Oh, did I tell you we have a new manager? His/Her name is Mard. At first, I looked at the nametag it looked like “Mario”. I’m cock-eyed. But really. The powers in Cartel are damn androgynous, is Mard a guy or gal? Fuck la, I can’t tell, with that short hair, and lack of boobs… huh. But all butches don’t have boobs anyway what. Jesus.

Wow. Since my entry today is so short, let’s go into rampant bitch mode shall we?

WAHAHAHA. I want to touch on my favourite topic.

NO. NOT SEX.

The topic is… music on blogs. Like, what’s with music on blogs? Or on personal websites? That is so 20th century, please. People have long matured from the stupidity of songs on blogs, prime examples include Cherine, Jayne, Xiaxue and I. Yes, the four of us have been blogging longer than SOME OTHERS.

I would love to flame those innocently unaware of uninformed bloggers who still have music on their blogs, be it iWebMusic or whatever other crap assed trojan-based prone-to-keyloggers music software they have, but I’m much better than that. Like I fucking mentioned, people have moved on from music.

If I wanted music on my blog, I would have fucking loads of Paris Hilton, Christina Aguilera and Evanescence by now, wouldn’t I? Even lovers of music like me can sustain from uploading annoying pieces of poopoo music to my template. No one in their right mind, especially in 2006 FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, should have music on their websites any more. UNLESS it’s a music-based website, like Launch! or AOL Music, but those websites are far from few. Or your band’s website.

But since you’re reading this, I assume you don’t have a band, because if you had a band, you would probably be busy jamming and getting wasted and puking all over Clarke Quay.

Anyway.

Even on Friendster. Music on your profile? How humiliating!

Don’t ask me why people don’t have music on their websites anymore, I’m not that sure too. But one thing’s for sure. I despise blogs which have music (haha, like you didn’t see that coming?). COME ON. Get a grip already. If I wanted fucking music, I would ask for it, non? But why would I ask for music, when I have loads of it on my computer slash MP3 player already? No logic, much? So one day, you’re listening to Lily Allen’s best song ever entitled, “LDN”, when suddenly you happen to stumble/bloghop onto someone’s … blog.. and it rings out the very fucking annoying chimes of Tokyo Drift.

Not only does it drown out the beautiful harmonies of Miss Allen, but in comes the Most Overplayed Song of 2006, without warning, how rude, I know. Well, the Most Overplayed Song can be tied with Doofus Powter’s Bad Day but hey, I’m no critic, who am I to say which song’s the most overplayed. Ok, maybe it’s the “We’re SOARING, FLYING ~~ there’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach”… hey. But I like the song kay. I like High School Musical. Musicals own my socks.

My favourites are Buffy’s Once More With Feeling, and High School Musical, oh yes, musicals are 7 and a half-th heaven.

But do *I* put those wonderful songs on my wonderful blog? NO! Even though I love to listen to them on loop for 17 hours a day, I wouldn’t be so stupid as to put that as background music, would I? That’s just moronic.

Alright, alright. As a victim of BLOG’s BACKGROUND MUSIC .. can we label it “BBgM”? Yes. Well, as a victim of BBgM, I have just a sound (no pun intended) piece of advice (yes, ACTUAL advice) for y’all people with songs on your blogs.

WORK WORK WORK. Hah. 5 to 11 (something. PM. As a B2. Clear tables.

OK, so it was quite a nice day. A lot of families today, thus, lots of small plates used up. Sigh.

I swear, Jun Lum and Boon Peng are talking about me behind my back.

But.

GUFFAW.

Doesn’t everyone? I’m such a hot topic, and I’m not sure why. Ponders.

Whatever.

At least Sashikala is working; whee~~~

I checked my schedule for next week. DAMN NICE. I think I’m working 5 or 6 days out of 7. Got a combination of B2, S2, S1, OT and OT3. I can slowly drown myself in work, now that I have no social life. The money doesn’t motivate me. It’s just the I-really-got-nothing-better-to-do-so-work-is-the-only-option option. Nicely done. I can’t wait for my own OrderTakingPassword, because Sirvin and Boon Peng, who have been working lesser weeks than me, have their own FUCKING PASSWORDS. Yes. Put the “fucking” in front of “passwords”.

Oh Jake. If only you knew how frustrated I am.

Blah. Doesn’t matter.

Just now as I was eating breakfast at 10 PM with my Fatty Rice (Nasi Lemak), Elenda expressed her interest in being a barmaid in Cartel. Cool. I think she surely will, if she stays long enough. Elenda is cool. She played the oh-whats-this-on-your-shirt-then-flicked-the-tip-of-my-nose trick. I love this girl.

Hmm. Around closing time, I dropped a bunch of plates, making a lot of noise, commotion and whatnot. It wasn’t because of the weight. It wasn’t because my wrists were tired. OOOHHH NO. The simple reason was because of tertiary imbalance. Simple, I told you, simple as that.

Thank God there were like 2 tables of customers left. I had that feeling, that feeling where you know you’re helpless to do anything, and you’re simply anticipating for it to happen, so why resist right?

And you’re slowly and carefully expecting so much noise to be made, so much mess to appear, and time slowly pauses for a while as your brain goes in overdrive for no apparent reason. KAPLASH KAPLING and so the noises go. Olive oil and chilli sauce splashed everywhere. Guess I have to wipe it. Gosh.

In a state of shock was I in!

Everyone stares.

Jake snaps me back into reality as she says I should just put the plates behind. It seems so blurry now, yet, I should just forget it. No broken glass after all. Plastic and metal can’t break either. So… it’s just a mishap. I pray to God to have mercy on me, never such an “accident” happen to me again.

Oh well.

Sorry for accidentally grabbing your thighs in the bus, I was just in the zone. Loves you.

Today at work, I wanted to act gay.

No la.

I came in extra early today so I can check on my S2. Cut bread, serve water. But I got a pleasant surprise when CELEBRITY…. PRISCILLA CHEN came by! With her boyfriend. Who I didn’t really notice because Priscilla is GOH-GEOUS!

At first, Sirvin was all like, “Isn’t that the Channel 8 star?”

Then I saw her, with my own eyes. I was jumping up and down like a little gRrl, and telling my Duty Manager Michelle and my Inventory Manager Lisa. Lisa went, “Ooooh, I know already!” when she served the dunno what.

I got close and served her BREAD. She said, “THANK YOU!” to me! OMG OMG! I almost fainted. Thank God, once more, that she came during the non-busy shift.

WOO. Thank God I was S2.

Jun Hong was the lucky bitch and got to serve her her Grilled Chicken.

Priscilla, her highness Chen, wore like damn thick makeup. Her foundation was as thick as Creme Broulee and as white as the purest of yun. It’s so obvious her make up artist did her make up for her. She really stood out from the crowd with her complexion. Flawless and I can’t help but to feel a little dizzy thinking about the whole celebrity-comes-to-Cartel idealogy.

Omg. The P5 was Yong Kiat. OMG I think I might have a crush on him. Because of his broad shoulders, Andy-like hair, but amber-hued, and cute fake-virgin moustache, nice face… ahh. And he spoke to me. It’s just infatuation, it will pass. I hope.

Eg1) “Is that (bread) enough (to last) till closing (time)?”

Eg2) “Can you grab a knife for me? Or a spoon also can.”

Eg3) “Bye!”
Me: (me topping up red wine vinegar) “Bye!”

HEY!

Not nice! I can’t identify any gay guys in Cartel. I’m like so pissed. They all like to touch my back or tap my shoulder or put their arm around me (like what Jun Hong did to me just now and I didn’t know how to react). Maybe there are a few there, but they’re damn discreet lo, and they’re doing a damn good job staying discreet.

How come Sirvin already has a fucking password to take orders, while I still have to use Wee Mui’s fucking password. You must put a ‘fucking’ before the word ‘password’, because it sounds more dangerous that way. That fucking way.

When Elenda’s shift ended, she ordered an Eastside Brownie Stack.

Oh my f***ing God.

That is the ultimate pleasure of tastebud-tingling dessert delights of heaven. I’ve never eaten anything from Cartel, and that is the one thing, that, out of a possible hundred, that I would kill to taste.

Even though she offered some to me, I declined.

It wouldn’t feel right.

Jake keeps calling me cute. ARGH. Never ends. I will always be a cute boy. Never a pretty boy? Dunno if it’s my way of talking, or my delivery, or my looks. Is Jake attracted to me? OH NO. She can’t be. She’s a butch. Butches don’t fall in love with guys like.. me. Nah. They don’t.

Only ONCE have I been called a playboy. Ha. That felt nice. I know no one else has been called a playboy before. Grins.

Pretty boys catch my eye.
So do hot guys.
So do girly guys.
So does Priscilla Chen.

Oops. It’s the fasting month already?

Wow.

I’m at crossroads.
Be a loyal filial son/brother and abide to rules and have a clean conscience
OR
OTHERWISE?

Oh Mother Teresa. I need your guidance.

“You know what?” you say.

“Fuck him. Just fuck him.”

I finally smile.

“That’s my boy,” I proudly whisper in your ear.

I kiss your forehead and caressed your cheeks. I felt like a proud parent. Finally, I see something blossoming in you. I kiss your forehead once more.