Stupid is as stupid does.

~ You know that appilcation called "We're Related" on Facebook?

You know, the one where you can add any relative of yours who are on Facebook as your relative and you get to define how you are related to said relatives?

Yeah, that application.

I have that application only because 1524379 of my relatives use Facebook and if I ignore one request, another 9385621 requests will come. So I decided to just get that application and save me all that drama.

Yeesh. I don't randomly add applications. You think I am THAT free to do that?
Please. Go wash your brains with Mr. Muscle or something.

Well, yesterday, I got a notification from this application. I wanted to see who added me as a relative this time around.

Boy, I had to do a double-take on that one.

Apparently, I am Barack Obama's fourth cousin once removed.

This is certainly new, considering the fact that all these years, I've been led to believe that my great grandparents were either Sri Lankan-Sinhalese or Malay, not a bunch of ang mohs.

My parents have been lying to me about my ancestors? OMG WHAT? HOW COULD THEY?

I am paralysed!
*sings Thriller*

I have connections in the White House. You have been warned.



~ I finally got a haircut after 87345267 years.

Instead of having long glorious locks like this:


I now look like Kyle Peek this:


I like it. I might consider getting a dye job done as well but we'll see.

And to the stupid Scouser over there, I DO NOT HAVE KYLE PEEK'S HAIR. I AM MUCH MORE ADORABLE THAN THAT.


~ My lecturer was talking about a particular topic which hit home real hard. I mean REALLY HARD, to the point I cried a bit in class. All I wanted to do was just escape and get away from it. So I left before the class ended, which is something I hardly ever do. I just walked all the way to the other block to hand in some things. I cried on the way going and on the way back to the block.

People wouldn't know. They believe that reading the first line of everything I say is the gospel truth about me. Please. Mr. Muscle begs you to use him.

I don't tell you things I don't want you to know, unless we're like-minded, kindred spirits; or we're VERY, VERY, VERY CLOSE. I may let you in just a little but I won't go any further than what you already know, because I REALLY DON'T WANT YOU TO KNOW MORE.

She's right. That is absolutely THE worst way for a young child to grow up faster.

It is still happening.



~ That 'Music of the Night' studio recording NEVER FAILS TO AMAZE ME, even if I've listened to it 72828154759 times already. Sigh.