it's august.

YOG was ridic save the part where they lit up the watch tower.

tomorrow is my chemistry SPA practical.

and more importantly of all,

I'M DOWN WITH A BLOODY FLU!

yesh. again. at the most crucial moment...... I GET THE FRIGGIN FLU.

if only i had a dollar for the number of times i've blown my nose these past few days, i'd be swimming in money. now allow me to explain how i acquired this unfortunate malady.


this, my friends, is the influenza virus. or as i like to call it, Bob.

so now Bob here has in his belly 8 noodles. perpetually. he's currently going through a punk phase here, hence the studs and spikes (you know teenagers... always trying to 'express' themselves as an individual). you must also know, he hates broccoli and wears them as a form of disrespect.

HE IS ALSO THE CAUSE OF MY DISTRESS.

someone sponsor my flu vaccine. if i get another flu within the year, somebody gonna hurt real bad. *glares at person who transmitted the flu*


anyhoo, time for the usual unusual bed time story.

i was riding the MRT home with my heavy china guitar in tow. i was minding my own business (which in other words meant that i was staring at people). after a long while of being jostled about and being tsk-ed at for being a blockage, i settled against the pole.

*cue people coming in*

right in front of my were people who i inferred were secondary school teachers. some how, they always manage to dress the same way. they must have some annual congregation to decide what horrible mismatched outfit they're gonna wear every day of the year.

so there they were in all their holy sec school teacher glory, complaining about how they were coerced into playing sports with the kids.

"Seriously," says one of the learned ones " the only time they (students) are well behaved is when they're having class test! otherwise, they're a nightmare!"

and she goes on talking about how some kid hit her with a hockey stick but when she turned around, she could find him. her excuse? " i was disoriented." at this point i was wondering how on earth ANYONE could not spot someone holding a hockey stick. how did she even know it was a hockey stick if she hadn't seen the perpetrator?

out of curiosity, i gave her the up down. she looked like any ol' teacher: long sleeved blouse and maternity pants. and a PRADA handbag. how many teachers possess branded bags? i figured her shoes would be somewhat interesting so i looked down and gasped in horror!

okay, in a nutshell, her foot looked like it was bound by beige wrap plaster cloth with her big toe hanging out.

THE END.

i should consider venturing into the realm of children story writing. there are probably less that 200 words per book. all i need to do is find myself an illustrator.

anyone willing to work for nuts? i've got plenty of almonds i want to get rid of...
6:35 AM