Rabid monkeys with fancy tools

I have to take ethnic studies this coming semester !@@##$$%^^&&%$#@!#^

After seven months of absolute slacking, I’m starting to get depressed at the thought of hitting reality again. Going back to my studies at USM makes me queasy. Honest. O there goes the quease. Queasing.
It’s good to be back, but I’m back to the shit as well. All those problems just gush out like a bad case of diarrhea, everyday just more and more shit. Oh and I hate being so busy too. Takes some getting used to again.
So, I’ll be in my third year. Starting to panic, the idea of delving into the seemingly nasty working world soon, the thought of days of perpetual slacking gone forever (foreveroreverrevereververerr is the echo) and the knowledge that change is inevitable makes me want to curl up into a little ball and try to make myself as small as possible. It’s silly, I know. My goal seems so far away right now, I need to psyche myself up. I need to bloody write! Oh bugger it, I’ll just become an English teacher or something boring like that. The Me of last year would strangle the current Me for  saying that. I re-read my diary from secondary school and Myself from five years ago would suffocate herself if she sees where I am right now.
On a lighter note, Chong is back, so The Sienz is complete again for the time being.
Off I shall go to brave another sleepless night of worrying about the future. But you know what? I’ve got the perfect remedy for that. I just think of someone and all those worries momentarily disappear. That someone is so adorable (gushhhhh), he tells not-very-funny jokes and laughs at them and he checks out girls sometimes which makes me rather jealous (pouts) and he’s got this funny waddle of a walk and he’s got this strange laugh but he’s also so sweet at the same time and so unconventionally funny and oh I just love him to bits.

I’m pretty much gone after the fourth bottle. Which is 325L x 4. You do the math. My eyelid is twitching I don’t know why. Good night.

1. I want : a set of speakers.

2. I need : money to get those speakers.

3. I miss : my ‘freedom’

4. I wish : I had that ‘freedom’ again

5. If I had a billion dollars I would : live off the interest

6. When he looks at me I : smile and feel all warm and fuzzy

7. I love the show/s : Monty Python

8. When I’m by myself I : talk to myself .. shhh ..

9. When I grow up I want to: fly

10. I want to go to : Martinique or somewhere there

11. Sometimes I : get terribly lethargic

12. If i could i would : finish writing a profound, thought-provoking book. giggle.

13. My favorite food is : actually it’s mushroom soup ..

14. I love the movie : Moulin Rouge!

15. I love to : laze around, be with him *blush*

16. Most people think I’m : rather .. wild would be a mildly nicer way of putting it. I’m not. I’m pretty tame.

17. I want to get married in: this lifetime?

18. I can’t stand : it when he smiles at me I just want to gobble him up

19. I Hate : those restrictions

20. When people make me mad, I want to : curse them and their offspring

… and jetlagged like hell. I wouldn’t be blogging if I wasn’t, because it’s nearly six a.m. and I should be sleeping but I’m not and there’s nothing else to do. I spent two hours tossing and turning and another hour staring into blankness, wasn’t very fun. But other than that, everything’s so fine. Perfection. *smiles*
I wish I could have more time .. scrap that. I wish I could split myself into three, four, wait - five.
Quite a few things have changed. Buildings are done being built, some buildings disappeared. Things like that. Not that 5 months is a long time to be away from home, but it’s strange how long it seemed and yet how quickly it flew by.
I’m back for good. Pop the champagne, baby.
Cock it, I need to have breakfast with my dad in three hours.

Girls who smoke have less chances of bagging a guy, because generally guys prefer girls who don’t smoke. So the window for me is halved. Guys also prefer girls who don’t drink like sailors, so the window for me is halved of half, which is a quarter. Guys say they like girls who are unconventional, weird, bizzare, whatever. But at the end of the day, everyone wants someone normal, someone they’re comfortable with, someone who is sane. Which leaves zero window. Zerow. Whee.
I don’t pretend. I smoke and I drink. I can be normal, yes I can, I’m trying to convince myself. I lay my cards out open on the table, no physical inhibitions. So darling, what you see is basically what you get. Let’s not talk about the end of the day, I’m watching a tantric documentary about a man’s G-spot massaged, and it’s fuckin’ (no pun intended) interesting.
Bloody hell, cable is interesting! I just saw a couple shagging! I saw titties on tele! Amboi jakun-nya!

Friday and MTV plays party music. Damn Shakira can dance. I mean, she can really really dance and not make it skanky like the rest. Plus she doesn’t look like a drag queen or someone who has emptied an entire cosmetics shop make-up-wise. Lord, those hips are to die for. She could support an entire world on those hips. She could support anything on those hips. Those hips. Hips. Shakira. Hips. Muhhh …
Eric Prydz’s Call On Me came on after, and sweet mother of jaysus those women and one man are so hot. Makes me really want to take up aerobics (or continue where I left off, which was half an hour of Carmen Electra’s striptease aerobics) (don’t ask).
Tomorrow, finally, Daniel Radcliffe’s dingdongs! Sweet …