It's the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you.

So, la-di-da. I am here to spread nonsense as I always do.


Sorry, I got distracted by someone flashing a pic of Harry Kewell in front of me.
Move!

And another just sent me a pretty picture of Tomas.

Why do I have such stupid people as friends!

*****

So I had a dream of a certain person during my nap yesterday.
Permission to laugh granted AFTER I have told you the whole story.


Anyway, I was at my cousin's place and I told him I was in the neighbourhood and asked if he was free to meet up. Apparently, he was and so, he came over and we hung out at his place and I met his family. He had two cats (Mind you, it's a dream, I don't even know if he REALLY has cats! For all you know, he could be having dogs or a snake as a pet!) and I was playing with the white one at first. Then I tried to play with the black one and it scratched my hand. Nasty kitty.

And boys being boys, he told me "I told you so!". He did give me a warning about the other cat, but as usual I am stubborn as a donkey. He took my hand and rubbed some antiseptic cream on it. And then we were staring at each other like what seemed like forever.

And then...

I heard Patrick Star screaming "HAHAHAHA! It's a giraffe! HAHAHAHA!".


For the uninitiated, that sound is my incoming text message alert tone. Mate ah, WHY???

And I woke up from the dream.

Cheh.

Okay, now you can laugh.

*****

There are parts of my body that I wish I could change.

The first would be my feet.


It's difficult to buy a decent pair of shoes with these ugly feet. My friends have nice feet and they have no trouble in getting shoes that fit them. I envy them like you can't imagine.

"OMG IS THAT A PIC OF YOUR FOOT??"
"Yeah"
"Fuck, they look like Crouchy's feet!!!"
*says nothing*
"Oh well, you know what they say about people with big feet?"
"They wear big shoes"
Our love for Notting Hill.


Even the mother thinks my feet look like his. "Yerr...your feet like Crouchy's! So long!!!" she said.

Another part that I don't like would be my legs.

I have ankles! Hahaha!

You see, contrary to popular belief, I have ugly legs. FAT. Which is why I hardly wear short skirts (apart from the fact the father thinks mosquitoes are going to bite me...not exactly what he meant by that, I'm pretty sure there's a hidden meaning to it).

So when I decided to wear a skirt for the colloquium, people said it was weird because they've hardly seen me wearing one. Some said I have nice legs. I doubt it. The other friends were just calling me mad because I kept saying how fat I am.

One big (pun not intended) part of me I wish I had the power to change is my chest size.


I get a lot of stick about my boob size. My friends make fun of me about it. It's embarrassing to the point I want to hide it, cover them up.

Of late I complain about my back hurting and the father came up with some reasons why it hurts.
Apart from the way I sit in front of the PC, the fact I drink yoghurt at night (I do not see the relation here), and the chair I sit on at home as the reasons for my never-ending backache, he also said that the size of my boobs contributed to the backache. Apparently, my top is too heavy and that's why the back hurts.

0.0 WTF.

Like what do you want me to do? Go for breast reduction surgery, is it?

I don't like it when people make comments about these things. Yes, I'm insecure, I have issues and I'm shy.

But of late, I have learnt to become comfortable in my own skin. I like the way my jeans fit me (but not the fact they can be pulled down to my knees without unzipping and unbuckling them). I am happy. I love my flaws just the way they are.

I promise not to talk about my weight or how much I hate my boobs or why is it so hard to find shoes in sizes 7 or 8!

Today's article in the NST really summed up how I feel about myself.

I'm comfortable in my own skin...

*****

Uh, random pics-lah, just for the sake of it.


*dies*

Bodoh, how am I going to study-lah if you keep corrupting me like this?


Gareth Bale and Robbie Keane.

Fine, I shall not talk about how adorable the boy is and what I want to do to him. Because there's only room for one paedophile here, and it's not me.


I'm off now. Don't miss me.