Down the rabbit hole

Look I've finally bothered to get a tumblr. Please tell me you are smart enough to figure the url out.

OEI

Okay I just bought Harry Potter and the HBP (they were speaking chinese online!) and WTF DEMENTORS ARE NOT USELESS WISPS OF BLACK SMOKE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU DAVID YATES.

In case anyone stupid tries to argue with me that it is because of the muggles or whatever let me remind you that MUGGLES CANNOT SEE DEMONTORS YOU LOUSY FAT LOUT.

[edit]

AND OEI WHAT IS HARRY DOING WITH THE AFRO GIRL WHAT THE F___!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No it's not that I like him it's just that it's totally out of the book!!!!!!! Stop asking me to ignore the book you moronic asswipe the movie was BASED ON THE BOOK.

Heart of mine

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]Peter Salett - Heart Of Mine

Via pineappleupsidedown

Via sparklingfirewrks

Nyah I've been thinking this for forever.

Plot summary: twilight

Edward: I don't like Bella. I think imma change my bio class to chem or physics since I've taken it about eighty times anyway.

Bella: I don't like Edward. But ah, what is that mysterious gust of wind every night!

Edward: Oh no car gonna crash into Bella! Gonna save her with one hand cause I ain't gonna let her find out imma vamp, duh.

Bella: What are you?

Edward: ...........I love you Bella. Kissy kissy.

Bella: I love you too..... Kissy kissy.


Very succinctly summarized, if I may say so.

My caramel browns

I am still absurdly happy about my teeth I love my dentist!

Socially awkward penguin

HAHAHAH.

. Sometimes.

..It happens.

I CAN RELATE and just in case some of you have no idea who Spock is: Wikipedia

Happens to me EVA-REE-DAY.

Applies to you only.

Mine tried. Tried.

I DO THIS ALL THE TIME.

Via fuckyeahsociallyawkwardpenguin

Ugly

Via thelovelybones
(read, you lazy ass)

The point is, most some humans are totally unworthy of love.

You can be my maid

Via reblogif

Yes I know everyone knows this but you know, just to make it official.

I'm not that against it.... it's just the plot sucks and it's not worth the hype by all the hormonal teenage girls now go read something intellectual. Like my archives.

You look like a minotaur

I've just finished watching the Chronicles of Narnia and I seriously think there's something going on between the faun and Lucy. Seriously!!!!!!!!!!!!

And he's quite good looking, beneath the hooves and hair and whatnot.


He's beginning to look a little goat-ish to me though.

Hysteria

This is like, THE list, which you are not obliged to read but you will anyway cause you are a nosy little piece of shit.

1) My bowels are undergoing spring cleaning.

2) I hate it when people talk to me like my IQ is 10 (like seriously go away I don't want to explain why I actually understand why you are explaining it to me because I know you didn't get it the first time so you think I wouldn't too).

3) Surfing tumblr for any length of time makes me feel ugly. The time and ugliness are directly proportionate.

4) Chocolate ice cream dark chocolate ice cream bananas whipped cream chocolate ginger crumb cookie and mysterious pastry stick after dinner woah (expands sideways).

5) Going to sell retarded fps game I hope some noob buys it.

6) Hi-5 has a lot of innuendos, doesn't it? (5 in the air let's do it together...) Up till now I have not figured out what 'it' is.

7) Giant variety DOES NOT equal to giant savings.

8) Robert Pattinson's (sp? but who cares) hair looks the worn out mop in the corner of my toilet.

9) Has bruise on knee. No idea why it is there.

My brain screams no but my heart says yes

Kind of excited and apprehensive now.

I want to twist and yank somebody's balls arghhhhhhhhh any volunteers?

Sailin' solo

(Click to enlarge al' you mateys)

(flaps ears)

Via fuckyeahskinnybitch

So cute I want one!

No particularly intelligent title

The other day:

Me: Mummy I want to go concert.

Mother: Whose?

Me: Muse.

Mother: Har?

Me: Muse.

Mother: Har??

Me: ... M - Aiya you don't know one la.

Mother: Go there see them sing har.

Me: Hanna then see their grandmother meh.

Mother: How much?

Me: Cheapest two sold out, but want go also buy front row right?

Mother: HAR.....

End of discussion.

Darwin dating rules

Okay I just came across this dating website from a link of the website Claudia gave me (NO I wasn't looking for dating sites - I was looking at the list of Top 10 Bizarre Dating Websites.)

So there's this website ('Darwin Dating - Online Dating Minus Ugly People') that only allows beautiful people to join. Good idea - until you see the list:

(Click to enlarge)

p/s. My teeth, though perfectly straight, are (to put it nicely) a creamy caramel now.

p/p/s. I am currently sporting a center parting. I like it.

p/p/p/s. Did I tell you about the hair on my knuckles?

Open house 2010

Soo said some of us will be selected as mascots for the event.

Amanda: I am Spiderman and I shoot white stuff.

I have thought of two more:

'I am Winnie the Pooh and I would like to drink your sweet nectar.' (slurps suggestively)

and

'I am Mickey Mouse and I would like to explore your tunnel.'

[edit]

Ooh wait another:

'I am Snow White and I could tidy up your jungle.'

or how about:

'I am Snow White and may I taste your apple?'

[/edit]

Cracked?

A way to pointed ears?

You should know

Via thelovelybones

Everything that glitters might not be gold

It may be a vampire.




The last one was from a facebook group. And I'm supposed to be doing my work, not watching Van Helsing but ........uh.

Don't think you are the only one

Blogsecret

You got dissed

Via nightmaresanddaydreams

Teehee

Via fuckyeahtwilightsucks

So we eat cum when hungry?

Via flashlightbatteriess

I don't like most of humanity

Uh

Yes you are ugly I don't like you yes yes yes!

Edit: post does not apply anymore. Nabei.

FML

Was already not very happy then found out Muse is coming to Singapore and got even unhappier because I most probably CAN'T GO. _l_

Cyril Takayama

Today, my life, and the world in general

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUU
UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-

Exactly how I felt yesterday.

Today, my life, and the world in general

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUU
UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-

Interview fail

Uh yea went to the interview for SBM club today. Very last minute decision.

Interviewee: Describe yourself?

Me: Um... I'm mean....

She looked plainly horrified and asked me 'but why are you mean!'.

This was followed by an awkward silence and then me filling the silence by explaining why I am mean to a bunch of seniors.

Undisclosed desires

Via fuckyeahalexanderskarsgard

Yeeha!
Thank you Alan Ball and all you lovely scriptwriters.

Guts - Chuck Palahniuk

Amanda went to her friend Jamie's blog, who came across this story.

It is utterly sick, and this is coming from a girl who likes watching people's head get ripped off.

Read, but not after food. I'm serious.

Inhale.

Take in as much air as you can.

This story should last about as long as you can hold your breath, and then just a little bit longer. So listen as fast as you can.

A friend of mine, when he was thirteen years old he heard about “pegging.” This is when a guy gets banged up the butt with a dildo. Stimulate the prostate gland hard enough, and the rumor is you can have explosive hands-free orgasms. At that age, this friend’s a little sex maniac. He’s always jonesing for a better way to get his rocks off. He goes out to buy a carrot and some petroleum jelly. To conduct a little private research. Then he pictures how it’s going to look at the supermarket checkstand, the lonely carrot and petroleum jelly rolling down the conveyer belt toward the grocery store cashier. All the shoppers waiting in line, watching. Everyone seeing the big evening he has planned.

So, my friend, he buys milk and eggs and sugar and a carrot, all the ingredients for a carrot cake. And Vaseline.

Like he’s going home to stick a carrot cake up his butt.

At home, he whittles the carrot into a blunt tool. He slathers it with grease and grinds his ass down on it. Then, nothing. No orgasm. Nothing happens except it hurts.

Then, this kid, his mom yells it’s suppertime. She says to come down, right now.

He works the carrot out and stashes the slippery, filthy thing in the dirty clothes under his bed.

After dinner, he goes to find the carrot and it’s gone. All his dirty clothes, while he ate dinner, his mom grabbed them all to do laundry. No way could she not find the carrot, carefully shaped with a paring knife from her kitchen, still shiny with lube and stinky.

This friend of mine, he waits months under a black cloud, waiting for his folks to confront him. And they never do. Ever. Even now he’s grown up, that invisible carrot hangs over every Christmas dinner, every birthday party. Every Easter egg hunt with his kids, his parents’ grandkids, that ghost carrot is hovering over all of them.

That something too awful to name.

People in France have a phrase: “Spirit of the Stairway.” In French: Esprit de l’escalier. It means that moment when you find the answer, but it’s too late. Say you’re at a party and someone insults you. You have to say something. So under pressure, with everybody watching, you say something lame. But the moment you leave the party…

As you start down the stairway, then — magic. You come up with the perfect thing you should’ve said. The perfect crippling put-down.

That’s the Spirit of the Stairway.

The trouble is even the French don’t have a phrase for the stupid things you actually do say under pressure. Those stupid, desperate things you actually think or do.

Some deeds are too low to even get a name. Too low to even get talked about.

Looking back, kid-psych experts, school counselors now say that most of the last peak in teen suicide was kids trying to choke while they beat off. Their folks would find them, a towel twisted around the kid’s neck, the towel tied to the rod in their bedroom closet, the kid dead. Dead sperm everywhere. Of course the folks cleaned up. They put some pants on their kid. They made it look… better. Intentional at least. The regular kind of sad, teen suicide.

Another friend of mine, a kid from school, his older brother in the Navy said how guys in the Middle East jack off different than we do here. This brother was stationed in some camel country where the public market sells what could be fancy letter openers. Each fancy tool is just a thin rod of polished brass or silver, maybe as long as your hand, with a big tip at one end, either a big metal ball or the kind of fancy carved handle you’d see on a sword. This Navy brother says how Arab guys get their dick hard and then insert this metal rod inside the whole length of their boner. They jack off with the rod inside, and it makes getting off so much better. More intense.

It’s this big brother who travels around the world, sending back French phrases. Russian phrases. Helpful jack-off tips.

After this, the little brother, one day he doesn’t show up at school. That night, he calls to ask if I’ll pick up his homework for the next couple weeks. Because he’s in the hospital.

He’s got to share a room with old people getting their guts worked on. He says how they all have to share the same television. All he’s got for privacy is a curtain. His folks don’t come and visit. On the phone, he says how right now his folks could just kill his big brother in the Navy.

On the phone, the kid says how — the day before — he was just a little stoned. At home in his bedroom, he was flopped on the bed. He was lighting a candle and flipping through some old porno magazines, getting ready to beat off. This is after he’s heard from his Navy brother. That helpful hint about how Arabs beat off. The kid looks around for something that might do the job. A ball-point pen’s too big. A pencil’s too big and rough. But dripped down the side of the candle, there’s a thin, smooth ridge of wax that just might work. With just the tip of one finger, this kid snaps the long ridge of wax off the candle. He rolls it smooth between the palms of his hands. Long and smooth and thin.

Stoned and horny, he slips it down inside, deeper and deeper into the piss slit of his boner. With a good hank of the wax still poking out the top, he gets to work.

Even now, he says those Arab guys are pretty damn smart. They’ve totally re-invented jacking off. Flat on his back in bed, things are getting so good, this kid can’t keep track of the wax. He’s one good squeeze from shooting his wad when the wax isn’t sticking out anymore.

The thin wax rod, it’s slipped inside. All the way inside. So deep inside he can’t even feel the lump of it inside his piss tube.

From downstairs, his mom shouts it’s suppertime. She says to come down, right now. This wax kid and the carrot kid are different people, but we all live pretty much the same life.

It’s after dinner when the kid’s guts start to hurt. It’s wax so he figured it would just melt inside him and he’d pee it out. Now his back hurts. His kidneys. He can’t stand straight.

This kid talking on the phone from his hospital bed, in the background you can hear bells ding, people screaming. Game shows.

The X-rays show the truth, something long and thin, bent double inside his bladder. This long, thin V inside him, it’s collecting all the minerals in his piss. It’s getting bigger and more rough, coated with crystals of calcium, it’s bumping around, ripping up the soft lining of his bladder, blocking his piss from getting out. His kidneys are backed up. What little that leaks out his dick is red with blood.

This kid and his folks, his whole family, them looking at the black X-ray with the doctor and the nurses standing there, the big V of wax glowing white for everybody to see, he has to tell the truth. The way Arabs get off. What his big brother wrote him from the Navy.

On the phone, right now, he starts to cry.

They paid for the bladder operation with his college fund. One stupid mistake, and now he’ll never be a lawyer.

Sticking stuff inside yourself. Sticking yourself inside stuff. A candle in your dick or your head in a noose, we knew it was going to be big trouble.

What got me in trouble, I called it Pearl Diving. This meant whacking off underwater, sitting on the bottom at the deep end of my parents’ swimming pool. With one deep breath, I’d kick my way to the bottom and slip off my swim trucks. I’d sit down there for two, three, four minutes.

Just from jacking off, I had huge lung capacity. If I had the house to myself, I’d do this all afternoon. After I’d finally pump out my stuff, my sperm, it would hang there in big, fat, milky gobs.

After that was more diving, to catch it all. To collect it and wipe each handful in a towel. That’s why it was called Pearl Diving. Even with chlorine, there was my sister to worry about. Or, Christ almighty, my Mom.

That used to be my worst fear in the world: my teenage virgin sister, thinking she’s just getting fat, then giving birth to a two-headed retard baby. Both heads looking just like me. Me, the father AND the uncle.

In the end, it’s never what you worry about that gets you.

The best part of Pearl Diving was the inlet port for the swimming pool filter and the circulation pump. The best part was getting naked and sitting on it.

As the French would say: Who doesn’t like getting their butt sucked?

Still, one minute you’re just a kid getting off, and the next minute you’ll never be a lawyer.

One minute, I’m settling on the pool bottom, and the sky is wavy, light blue through eight feet of water above my head. The world is silent except for the heartbeat in my ears. My yellow-striped swim trunks are looped around my neck for safe keeping, just in case a friend, a neighbor, anybody shows up to ask why I skipped football practice. The steady suck of the pool inlet hole is lapping at me and I’m grinding my skinny white ass around on that feeling.

One minute, I’ve got enough air, and my dick’s in my hand. My folks are gone at their work and my sister’s got ballet. Nobody’s supposed to be home for hours.

My hand brings me right to getting off, and I stop. I swim up to catch another big breath. I dive down and settle on the bottom.

I do this again and again.

This must be why girls want to sit on your face. The suction is like taking a dump that never ends. My dick hard and getting my butt eaten out, I do not need air. My heartbeat in my ears, I stay under until bright stars of light start worming around in my eyes. My legs straight out, the back of each knee rubbed raw against the concrete bottom. My toes are turning blue, my toes and fingers wrinkled from being so long in the water.

And then I let it happen. The big white gobs start spouting. The pearls.

It’s then I need some air. But when I go to kick off against the bottom, I can’t. I can’t get my feet under me. My ass is stuck.

Emergency paramedics will tell you that every year about 150 people get stuck this way, sucked by a circulation pump. Get your long hair caught, or your ass, and you’re going to drown. Every year, tons of people do. Most of them in Florida.

People just don’t talk about it. Not even French people talk about EVERYTHING.

Getting one knee up, getting one foot tucked under me, I get to half standing when I feel the tug against my butt. Getting my other foot under me, I kick off against the bottom. I’m kicking free, not touching the concrete, but not getting to the air, either.

Still kicking water, thrashing with both arms, I’m maybe halfway to the surface but not going higher. The heartbeat inside my head getting loud and fast.

The bright sparks of light crossing and criss-crossing my eyes, I turn and look back… but it doesn’t make sense. This thick rope, some kind of snake, blue-white and braided with veins has come up out of the pool drain and it’s holding onto my butt. Some of the veins are leaking blood, red blood that looks black underwater and drifts away from little rips in the pale skin of the snake. The blood trails away, disappearing in the water, and inside the snake’s thin, blue-white skin you can see lumps of some half-digested meal.

That’s the only way this makes sense. Some horrible sea monster, a sea serpent, something that’s never seen the light of day, it’s been hiding in the dark bottom of the pool drain, waiting to eat me.

So… I kick at it, at the slippery, rubbery knotted skin and veins of it, and more of it seems to pull out of the pool drain. It’s maybe as long as my leg now, but still holding tight around my butthole. With another kick, I’m an inch closer to getting another breath. Still feeling the snake tug at my ass, I’m an inch closer to my escape.

Knotted inside the snake, you can see corn and peanuts. You can see a long bright-orange ball. It’s the kind of horse-pill vitamin my Dad makes me take, to help put on weight. To get a football scholarship. With extra iron and omega-three fatty acids.

It’s seeing that vitamin pill that saves my life.

It’s not a snake. It’s my large intestine, my colon pulled out of me. What doctors call, prolapsed. It’s my guts sucked into the drain.

Paramedics will tell you a swimming pool pump pulls 80 gallons of water every minute. That’s about 400 pounds of pressure. The big problem is we’re all connected together inside. Your ass is just the far end of your mouth. If I let go, the pump keeps working - unraveling my insides — until it’s got my tongue. Imagine taking a 400-pound shit, and you can see how this might turn you inside out.

What I can tell you is your guts don’t feel much pain. Not the way your skin feels pain. The stuff you’re digesting, doctor’s call it fecal matter. Higher up is chyme, pockets of a thin runny mess studded with corn and peanuts and round green peas.

That’s all this soup of blood and corn, shit and sperm and peanuts floating around me. Even with my guts unraveling out my ass, me holding onto what’s left, even then my first want is to somehow get my swimsuit back on.

God forbid my folks see my dick.

My one hand holding a fist around my ass, my other hand snags my yellow-striped swim trunks and pulls them from around my neck. Still, getting into them is impossible.

You want to feel your intestines, go buy a pack of those lamb-skin condoms. Take one out and unroll it. Pack it with peanut butter. Smear it with petroleum jelly and hold it under water. Then, try to tear it. Try to pull it in half. It’s too tough and rubbery. It’s so slimy you can’t hold on.

A lamb-skin condom, that’s just plain old intestine.

You can see what I’m up against.

You let go for a second, and you’re gutted.

You swim for the surface, for a breath, and you’re gutted.

You don’t swim, and you drown.

It’s a choice between being dead right now or a minute from right now.

What my folks will find after work is a big naked fetus, curled in on itself. Floating in the cloudy water of their backyard pool. Tethered to the bottom by a thick rope of veins and twisted guts. The opposite of a kid hanging himself to death while he jacks off. This is the baby they brought home from the hospital thirteen years ago. Here’s the kid they hoped would snag a football scholarship and get an MBA. Who’d care for them in their old age. Here’s all their hopes and dreams. Floating here, naked and dead. All around him, big milky pearls of wasted sperm.

Either that or my folks will find me wrapped in a bloody towel, collapsed halfway from the pool to the kitchen telephone, the ragged, torn scrap of my guts still hanging out the leg of my yellow-striped swim trunks.

What even the French won’t talk about.

That big brother in the Navy, he taught us one other good phrase. A Russian phrase. The way we say: “I need that like I need a hole in my head…” Russian people say: “I need that like I need teeth in my asshole…”

Mne eto nado kak zuby v zadnitse

Those stories about how animals caught in a trap will chew off their leg, well, any coyote would tell you a couple bites beats the hell out of being dead.

Hell… even if you’re Russian, some day you just might want those teeth.

Otherwise, what you have to do is — you have to twist around. You hook one elbow behind your knee and pull that leg up into your face. You bite and snap at your own ass. You run out of air, and you will chew through anything to get that next breath.

It’s not something you want to tell a girl on the first date. Not if you expect a kiss good night.

If I told you how it tasted, you would never, ever again eat calamari.

It’s hard to say what my parents were more disgusted by: how I’d got in trouble or how I’d saved myself. After the hospital, my Mom said, “You didn’t know what you were doing, honey. You were in shock.” And she learned how to cook poached eggs.

All those people grossed out or feeling sorry for me…

I need that like I need teeth in my asshole.

Nowadays, people always tell me I look too skinny. People at dinner parties get all quiet and pissed off when I don’t eat the pot roast they cooked. Pot roast kills me. Baked ham. Anything that hangs around inside my guts for longer than a couple hours, it comes out still food. Home-cooked lima beans or chunk light tuna fish, I’ll stand up and find it still sitting there in the toilet.

After you have a radical bowel resectioning, you don’t digest meat so great. Most people, you have five feet of large intestine. I’m lucky to have my six inches. So I never got a football scholarship. Never got an MBA. Both my friends, the wax kid and the carrot kid, they grew up, got big, but I’ve never weighed a pound more than I did that day when I was thirteen.

Another big problem was my folks paid a lot of good money for that swimming pool. In the end my Dad just told the pool guy it was a dog. The family dog fell in and drowned. The dead body got pulled into the pump. Even when the pool guy cracked open the filter casing and fished out a rubbery tube, a watery hank of intestine with a big orange vitamin pill still inside, even then, my Dad just said, “That dog was fucking nuts.”

Even from my upstairs bedroom window, you could hear my Dad say, “We couldn’t trust that dog alone for a second…”

Then my sister missed her period.

Even after they changed the pool water, after they sold the house and we moved to another state, after my sister’s abortion, even then my folks never mentioned it again.

Ever.

That is our invisible carrot.

You. Now you can take a good, deep breath.

I still have not.

- Guts // Chuck Palahniuk

I swear

Will. Not. Go. There.

I think you've had one m&m too many

Just because I put my food on the table does not mean I'm offering them to you.

And you do not say 'Can I have one?' and then proceed to take three.

You also do not pretend to talk to me and take my food when you think I'm not looking.

And if you take my food, please do not ever stick your entire hand in the packet because you have about 10 times more cooties than the average person.

Scene for dummies

I thoroughly dislike people who put 'music is my life' or 'my life revolves around music' or shit along that lines when they listen to songs who have lyrics like............eh eh ella ella wtf?

Yes music is cool or rad or whatever you call it but you are not.

Self discipline fail

Uhmm I promise I will start on Az tomorrow soompah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

Hur hur hur

Via retardgirl

At this rate I'm reblogging I might as well get a tumblr but...... why the trouble?

Bushed

Via schoolboycrush

For all of you out there who have... you know, a baby earthworm.

I like twiggies

(please enlarge to get a clearer view of the man boobs.)

Saw this on fb through Jomaine and I had to repost it.

The resistance

Ugh mfm tutorial I totally love calculating Rate of Return on Total Assets wowee!!!! (troll language)

Supermassive misconception

I think it's most unfortunate that Twilight chose music from Muse for their soundtrack.

Now retards are associating Muse with Twilight and thinking that Muse wrote songs for Twilight. Pui.

Fine indeed

Via hollywoodsfinest

Oh I just watched him wink for about 20 times, whoever he is.

P-p-p-p-pangsai face

Via fuckyeahotmalecelebs

Ah.

You know, I dislike Lady Gaga. Of course it is not because she kissed Alexander Skarsgard, you don't be childish.

Juicebox

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Battlestar Galactica

I've finally finished up my work and I feel like a 1000 year old tortoise whose penis is dropping off.

Goodnight, all you unhealthy booger chompers who are up this late.

You are not hot enough to be this crazy

I just wanted to post the title. It's from pistolwhipped .

< Alternative skin

Via fuckyeahbeatles

I think everything starts to get funny when you've been working on your ICA for too long.

Go away Nina

Seeing that Amanda updates her blog as much as I eat I went there again and look what I found!

Via fuckyeahotmalecelebs

Omg? I can be the toilet bowl and you can be the shit in me.


p/s. there's a fuckyeahorlandobloom! I like him best as an elf though. Those elvish ears are orgasmic. Oh yeah he can invade my ship too.

Quotoble quote

"Everything also put up there! Like people don't know what you doing will die like that."

-My mother on facebook

Braveheart

I am currently teaching my mother how to use facebook. So she was navigating around, trying to figure out how to use it when she accidentally closed the window.

"EH HOW WHY LIKE THAT HOW TO GO BACK!"

I also edited her profile caption to "I don't like doing the laundry." and she just found out.

Pork and beans

My mother asked me if I wanted to go to Din Tai Fung and of course I said "Yes!" with a sudden burst of energy.

She then told me that we are going with this distant distant distant relative from Venus who wanted to see "how much I have grown".

.

@ lostgiirlxx_92@hotmail.com

Hi. Are you feeling lost and lonely? Do you feel that your life has no direction?

Your Ah Beng boyfriend just dumped you, you couldn't find the cardigan everyone was wearing in Bugis Street, you lost your glittery eyeliner, you ate one piece of chocolate today, your rebonded hair is frizzled etc.

Feel lost no more!

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Please transport yourself to Antarctica. And stay there.

Today

I am a hermit cause I didn't go for the BBQ. Am kind of regretting it now cause I'm thinking of barbecued sausages. :<

Pui you

I am stuffing myself with chocolate after chocolate and it is not helping, you lying, scum bug scientists.

Forever young

WHY IS MY HAIR NOT LIKE THIS.

(Likes Fin's pm)

TO THE WORLD, FOR GOOD MEASURE.

Frolicking

The day I took my braces off:
Seeing how happy I am, I shall dedicate a song to all of you - Crooked Teeth by Death Cab.

Miss murder

My progress somehow wasn't saved when I've already unlocked about 10000 more gigs and earned idk how much @!#$.

By the way Claudia Tan and Ong Wanling I found bits of pizza on my couch the next morning from the night before.

Overdrive

When my mother finds out that I haven't put away my clothes she reacts like she just found pot under my bed.

I would laugh if I'm not the one she's getting all pissy at.

Off the pill

Alive again

C'mon Rockband faster now.

FOR YOU

You know what? You are a cunnilingus. A stupid cunnilingus.

A crooked smile

Yes I was still wearing my braces. Now that I look back they look... kind of er xin.

I have found that using this effect in photoshop makes all my pictures look vaguely artistic, even if they are candid shots of nothing particularly meaningful .

Like a photo of myself preening.

I must've died in Soul Calibur/Street Fighter.