caticule

02:50 pm: Bye LJ
LJ Sucks...I'm moving house.

Email me if you want to know where to.

01:34 pm: I'm no sissy!
Ahaha..I entertain myself so much sometimes...I just received and sent this out to A...

A: bahbui!!!!! whahahahaah u going bonkers liao
why dun u take a walk into the mall and get some chocies

Me: I'm DA BUTCH!! Butch no eat Chocs okay!! And butch no use sissy word like CHOCIES. It's chocs. CHOCS. ME Butch..me eat condensed Whisky! Me go eat red meat now for lunch. Wait..do butches do lunch..or do they just say...gimme eat now?!

I am so amused by myself...

 

 

12:45 pm: I'm DA BUTCH!

 
Spring is in the air!! *Lalalallaala*....despite the termperature soaring to a high of 20 degrees only. Grr...and it was just 32 degrees two days ago. It's like having the feeling of needing to poop, only to start straining futilely the moment you sit down on the bowl. The season is having constipation and just can't push Spring out properly. What the hell....

 I have been ranting and raving at the group of inepts I have to work with this morning. Can't believe the multitude of ridiculous questions that I have been asked. For example, we have to copy the option prices of today, and some are highlighted to show that they are of a different type. We are supposed to note down which are the different types. Inept #1 asks me if we have to highlight the different types after we copy and paste them because the colours do not show up in MS Words.

Sigh...I'm so speechless...isn't obvious that you have to make some sort of note so that you know which are the different options? Seeing how you can't tell them apart??

Double sigh...

Just off to a bad morning. The good thing is, it's noon now, and my msn is quiet. I told Inept #1 to get some coffee before she started speaking to me again. And no, I wasn't being harsh (enough) as she asked me plenty of other retarded questions besides the one I just stated. They were OBVIOUS questions with OBVIOUS answers...as in, you could tell what the answer was just by looking at the webpage you were on. Even a pre-schooler would know.

That said, I don't claim to be the smartest person on the planet, in fact I think my intelligence level is rather average. When I think someone is dumb..they must be really dumb...for no one can be as average as me.... I did not inherit my parents' genius gene.

Today...today I am highly unmotivated. I'm supposed to get started on my Intellectual Property research paper. But for some reason, my fingers just refuse to manipulate the mouse to click on the Uni's Library website so that I can start getting some books.

I thought of tons of things to do before I opened my eyes this morning. It happens all the time. I would dream about going to Bondi, get myself hyped up to wash my bedsheets...think about going to the school library to get books, download options for our assignments....

By the time I open my eyes properly, I feel so exhausted. It's as if I'd already done all the things I'd been thinking of while lying in bed.

Perhaps next time I shouldn't think. I should just be rash and impromptu.

In case you're wondering what's up with all the paragraphing... I'd just got sick of having my words crammed together, seeing how I have no idea how to fix the template or html coding or whatever it is...I can't even fix the font size. I have no freaking idea how LJ works eversince they decided to upgrade their site into something quite unuser-friendly. I'm thinking of switching to blogspot or wordpress.

My left ribcage feels bruised. I have no idea why. Maybe I was wrestling with a bear in my sleep.

It's bright today. Very bright. I'm wearing sunglasses indoors because I have to leave the blinds open before moisture and mold starts creeping across the house again.

I am also stopping myself from going Bondi because I am in one of my phases where I buy things without thinking... My makeup is overpowering the wardrobe and I don't even use half the colours. Sometimes I open the plastic drawers I keep them in and just stare at them lovingly... My favourite pastime nowsadays (ahahaha...couldn't help with the Singlish) is to clean my brushes, rearrange my cosmetics...sniff them to check if they can still be used (trust me, an expired lipstick smells really funky). If I'm not doing that, I'm adoringly cleaning my shoes and bags. I bet A misses me like crazy because there's no one to clean her suede and leather shoes anymore. I take good care of my footwear and handbags.

If I return to Singapore, I'm demanding a room of my own.... I have too much stuff. This time, it will be like a REAL PERSON moving in...not just a couple of paper bags and some random books. Her toys have to share space with my toys. Bleah! And my clothes...seriously... I have not been able to solve the mystery of the ever increasing amount of clothes... I don't even think I shop that much...since I hardly have anything to wear.

Oh wait, I do have things to wear...they are all winter wear. I've been going crazy buying winter stuff for the last two seasons. I am constantly on the hunt for the perfect winter coat...and I have never given that up. Along the way, I fill the need by buying coats that end up making me look like an auntie. I'm trying to put away the winter stuff, and I realised, the storage bags under my bed are already too full and my wardrobe is bursting at the seams. It's like this magic wardrobe where you can almost shove in an infinite amount of stuff....but recently I've been testing its limits...

I've also been testing the limits of my room space by contemplating putting in shoe racks. The shoe racks are still lying in the Personal Chef's car. They have been there for almost 3 weeks. I can't motivate myself to go to the garage.

What's the point of trying to arrange everything and create space and all that...I'm not even sure if I will be here after graduation...seeing how some people are procrastinating themselves into outer space. I could be wilful and just run off I guess...wahahahah....

Must have an update about my hair. What's an update without hair?

My hair is....gross. It's sticking up without any apparent thought to order, and the longest strands are touching the back of my shoulders. The shortest strands are barely pass my eyebrows. That's how crazy and disorderly my hair is. I swear it's developing into a mullet. I'm going to be a true-blue bulldagger with a mullet. Where the fuck is my wallet with the chain..and do butches here do the FUBU jeans thing? I don't have a baggy enough checked shirt...oh wait...A has one, and luckily it's hanging in my closet. We thought it would be good winter-wear-at-home (? I think...she might get insulted and would have meant for it to be worn out)...I have Bluntstones!! So I have my butch shoes...umm..I can't do anything about the boobs...but I can make up for it by puffing out my gianganticus tummy, so that three become one (if you get my drift). I am also trying to grow out my eyebrows by not plucking them, so by the time I am ready to out myself as a butch, I will have Frida Kahlo eyebrows...and maybe a moustache to match. A will look like an ultra High Femme next to me, and my parents will weep buckets.

I think I can make a pretty good butch. I know how to use a saw... and I roughly know how to put water into a car battery...and I know where to stick the crocodile clips if you need to jumpstart a car... and I think I know how to take out the U-pipe under a sink... I can kill lizards... I'm more man than a lot of butches out there. Wahahaha....

WAHAHAHAHAHA...

sorry.. sorry...sorry... -_-"

Beautiful girls always have moustaches...can't remember where I heard this, one of my very ching chong Chinese aunts i think.

Anyway it is once again a too-long post and I have chatted myself off the point terribly.

I'm DA BUTCH OK!

Gimme eat.

11:51 pm: Super unhealthy me
It's amazing...how shitty my lifestyle is at the moment. I know it's weird marvelling at your own degeneration, and I know it's not healthy, but the days just slip by so quickly I don't notice how absolutely unhealthy I am. I don't exercise, I hardly get out into the sun and fresh air, I smoke almost a pack of 25s a day, and usually at night I'm tippling some kind of alcohol to conk myself out. I sleep at 2 am, I wake around 9 ish or 8...I am tired most of the day. My diet consists of instant noodles, random indian take-away food or pizza...and oatmeal. I don't take breakfast, my lunch is around 2 or 3pm (it depends). Sometimes I forget and I just eat dinner around 8 or 9pm. My left wrist is fucked..it's been hurting for weeks and I can't bend it to support my weight when I get off the bed. The other night I ran to 7-Eleven and the next day my thigh and leg muscles ached for 2 days.

Today I happend to glance into the mirror and I got a slight shock that my neck looks like it belongs on a chicken. The collarbones are sticking out like death and my arms are flabby and spindly (if that's possible). My skin is sallow and I have permanent dark eye rings.

Man..super unattractive.

I tried to be slightly healthier today. I ate an orange. Vitamin C counts for something right?

02:00 pm: State of degeneration
My parents would have said it's all in my head, but these days, I am so chockful of assignments and research papers that physically, I keep gagging. Every half hour I will have a puking sensation like someone sticking a toothbrush down my throat. It's really disgusting. Either that, or it's my diet which has gone to shit. I'm either surviving on instant oatmeal, or oatmeal flakes (tastes like cornflakes but kinda harder to crunch), or a quick fried rice made with some sort of canned meat and vegetables. I feel sick thinking about it now. For lunch I had canned minced pork with cucumbers fried with rice. It was quite yummy...but after the second day of eating that same thing I feel truly awful. I still have at least two more huge ass containers to get through because I made A LOT....so that I wouldn't have to cook or trudge down to the shops.

It's the midsession break next week...but I will consider myself lucky if I even manage to step out of Randwick. A paper is due immediately after the break.. and I have hardly started. Sigh. I keep wishing that shoe-elves...well in this case, assignment elves would miraculously sneak into my room at night and start typing up my papers for me.

I look damn gross...lank dank hair with the roots growing out...wearing the same ratty red housecoat day in day out (the sleeves are fraying).. my house socks have holes in them from constant wear... my glasses are crooked because I didn't bother to take them off while falling asleep...my hair needs a wash and a comb...I wonder how much further I would degenerate before I get arrested for being unkempt. My room looks like a typical paper miner's room. As usual, books everywhere on the floor or table, papers scattered randomly over  available surfaces...overflowing laundry basket, unmade bed, receipts from grocery shopping sprinkled on top of everything, overflowing ashtray and dustbin, table covered in cigarette ash and coins...blah. Feel disgusting just looking at it. I tried cleaning up, honestly I did. The room was clean last Friday and I cleaned it again on Sunday. But with fresh influx of more assignments, the room has resigned itself to its current sad state.

Eh, I'm making an effort to go out. I'm having coffee in the city for a few hours later in the afternoon...but I have to rush back for an online meeting with my finance group members.

By the way, I hate magpies still. Bloody birds.

12:33 pm: A not-so-quiet day

Woke up at 7 am this morning because the sounds of banging were so loud they were reverberating around the walls of my room. My neighbours were once again carrying out some kinda of renovation work. This renovation work has been going on and off since...oh...June? Well, at least they stopped around 10 am, but it would have been nice if it was carried out at a later hour... I have to get used to this wake up early policy of these Australians...seems like 5 am is a normal time for them to rise and 8 pm a normal time for them to go to bed. Perhaps if A moved here, I wouldn't have to stay up late for our webcamming sessions..and my sleeping hours would adjust. But then again, I like late nights as it seems to be the only time the whole world feels like it belongs to me.

The Personal Chef is away for a month in Singapore and Tokyo... so I have the whole house to myself. Last night A asked if "ni zi mo mah?" (do you feel lonely). I do...but not totally... I'm kinda used to it, and besides, even when the Personal Chef is around, I kinda keep to my room unless we are sharing dinner. I've worked quite a bit to make my room my haven, and even though it's far from perfect, seems like for once it's somewhere of my own. I paid for it and I don't have parents intruding...and the whole room is decorated in my own style, albeit a rather budget-y kind of decoration. Given a choice, I would strip the wallpaper, put up pictures and posters, move the telly console and shoe racks outside. If the whole house were mine, I would take everything out from under my bed and stick it in a cupboard somewhere. As it is, the underbelly of the bed is like my storeroom.

I am skimming through the days, hardly noticing the dates and months...surprises me that it's only been two months since I got back from Singapore. I've been spending most of my days in my room. I wouldn't say that it's totally boring, because thanks to the internet I travel all over the place while sitting here with my blankie drapped over my knees. However, it would be so nice to have someone visit me... When CG came it was fun to rediscover the city...fall in love with it again.

Some thoughts about if I do go back to Singapore after my studies:

I honestly have no idea. Might be a bit bitter? Might feel trapped after a few months after initially being glad to be home? I think about all the rules and laws and fines and charges for things...and I feel so annoyed. Like paying more for public transport...like people complaining and being inconvenienced by ERP gantries, like CPF caps and restrictions...COEs... peak hour charges for cabfare...the classism of the society (study only till 'O' Levels, so must be stupid and poor)... stereotypes about foreign employees/ employers doing better in jobs... GLBT community always kept on the hush-hush side... girls with the same hairstyles and clothes everywhere.... money...all those talks about money....no littering, no jaywalking, no bicycles on trains, have more babies, have to get married to own a HDB....the stickiness of the weather...ALL the accronyms, besides those mentioned in this paragraph, there's like CTE, PIE, MRT, CBD, SRP, NIE, AYE, MOM, MOE, MOH, SPH, TTH, EPS, GST, T2, T3 and god-knows what else.

I remember having this funny conversation with CG, where we were trying to make a sentence that consisted mainly of Aussie colloqualism.
I said something like : I wanted biccies for brekkie but my wife wanted a chook on the barbie...so we ended up having an argy-bargy.

I should make up something with Sing speak: I was leaving my HDB to go to the CBD for work via the CTE, then I realised how much I had to pay for ERP and hence I ended up taking the MRT.

Lame lame lame...but....

The thought of all that makes me so SIAN.

You work like a dog for long hours....a lot of your pay goes into your CPF. You might not get to see it ever because first you have to hit the targetted amount by the time you are a certain age (like in your mid to late 60s). If you haven't hit the ceiling, you won't ever get to see it...how many people actually live beyond 80...and the amount they dole out to you in annuities is so miserable even a pet dog can't survive on it.  In effect, you own something that you will never get.
Since this money you contribute from your pay to your CPF is never really seen, and you get a house with the CPF, in effect it means if one day the government is ever overthrown and the CPF system denounced...since you bought your house with non-existent money you thought you earned, that means the house you live in is non-existent as well.

Even in the event this doesn't happen, nothing in Singapore is yours anyway. Your car belongs to the banks, your house belongs to the government...they can sell it to developers and force you to 'enbloc' it even if you are not willing.. when you sell your house all the money has to go back to your CPF. Goodluck if you made a loss 'cos that means you have to find extra cash to buy your next house...banks wouldn't even want to finance you. Worst of all, you OWE the CPF money after all that tragedy...even your kids belong to the government... the country keeps inviting foreign 'talents' in to take over your jobs because they say there aren't enough locals to do it, and once these foreigners milk enough out of the system they leave and go back....what's the difference between being here in Australia living as a second class citizen, and being born in Singapore but living as a second class citizen. At least as a second class citizen here I get rebates and discounts for public transport and events. And what is mine is mine...I can drive my damn cheap car till the day the car engine breaks into a gadzillion pieces and it still belongs to me. And at least...even if my Superannuation is miserable, I still get my money at retirement.... And transport...yes Singapore has public transport more efficient than here in Sydney I must say. But at what cost? The MRT is constantly upping its fares, taxi fares are almost the same as the ones here, the bus fars continually increase with no improved results in the buses themselves...at least here, even if the public transport leaves much to be desired, it is balanced out by its cheap cars. No need to pay ERP gantry like a mad person just to get into the main shopping district, no need to pay pricey COE on top of your car insurance and road tax....There should be some give and take...not give and give like what I keep doing back in Singapore.

Yeah, I may sound like an ungrateful citizen of my country...but honestly, all that at what cost?

Sigh..just bitter....

05:10 pm: Cos I'm bored and unproductive
Because I am absolutely unproductive today (besides cooking for myself the second time in 2 months), I have decided to grace lj with my presence again. And no, I'm not writing a long post. Promise. I mean I will really try.

Things that I HATE:

Names
- Florence
-Jonathan
-Nicholas 
-Shawn
-Amanda (I just don't like the way it rolls off my tongue, makes me feel like I'm lisping)
-Ian (it's like me trying to clear my throat)
-Ivan
-Adrian (me and Crappy Girl really dislike this name...we agreed that there were some stereotypes attached to it.)
-Besides the above, I also hate over-creative names like Noven, Jovan or whatever names that end with VEN or VAN.
-I also despise creative names like Amaris. Seriously...give me a break...

It's not your fault if you have the above names because your parents just weren't creative/ OVERLY creative enough. However it is your fault if you decided to change your name. You could be swell person...but a name could really ruin it all. i named one of my guinea pigs Saturday once. She got eaten up by a stray cat. The wrong name could really fuck up your life. Also do not give your children names with initials like I.N.K just because you think it's cute. Think of the repercussions to his/her life later on.

To get on with it, I also hate:

-Greasy hair
-Greasy skin
-Soggy hands
-Clothes that have been ironed badly
-Burnt onions
-Touching people's dirty underwear (it happens a lot when you live with other people)
-People who don't knock on your door before entering
-People (especially those you aren't that close to) who eat off your plate without asking
-Dirty fridges
-Finding A LOT of expired food sitting around in a cupboard
-Noisy dogs
-Cats that scratch you for no reason
-People who don't look where they are going

The list goes on. And to prove that I am not a sour bitter person, I do have things that I absolutely love:

-Chocolate...everything except when they get creative and put it in seafood...
-Kueh Tutu
-Steamed crabs (including Cold Crabs)
-Talking rubbish to CG
-Hanging out with my friends
-Getting teased by A
-The feeling of Choob's tummy after she eats
-The look of green apples
-A cynical comedic book
-Climbing Coogee
-Sunset (cliche-y but the sunset here is so pretty)
-That random rainbow that appears to the left of my window after it rains each time
-Hot milo with a lot of condense milk
-My first cup of coffee and cigarette in the morning
-Tomato pasta/ Pesto Pasta from Zellini's. The Soy Latte is good too.
-When K calls my name, stretching out the last syllabus, and squeezes the breath out of me with her big boobs
-Going somewhere with a purpose
-Going somewhere with a purpose with A
-Going nowhere with no purpose with A
-Going nowhere with Crappy Girl
-Pistachio/ rum 'n' raisin/ Cherry Garcia icecream. Oh..and French Vanilla. I love French Vanilla icecream
-Shopping with a purpose and loads of $$
-Doodling with a purpose (ahaha..oxymoron)
-When A makes me try her food even if it annoys me.. I still kinda like it...
-A giving me opinions about clothes when shopping
-When A holds my hand when she's sleeping
-I finish a paper and I know it's not sub-standard


And so on...see? Okay lar..this entry isn't that long-winded.
I'm hungry again, thank goodness I have leftover tomato-ey pasta. Love.

10:15 am: Super Duper Long Entry for my own indulgence.
All these people, all these promises.
The good thing is, life is suddenly an endless road of opportunities and potential.
I no longer feel caught and pressured to be something, at least for now. I have an idea, which I think is great.

Today I looked in the mirror and my hair was longer than it had been for a long time. Still short for most people, but to me it's freaking long. So long that I have a fucking parting! Hello 1998!

The weather is getting warmer. It's down to shorts and my old Sec Sch PE tshirt. Funny how I feel like sucha kid in it. I feel connected to Crappy Girl whenever I have it on, because she owns one too, stolen from a friend because she lost hers. I don't have my school uniform anymore, just the Guides uniform. It was the grossest uniform ever, thick, hot and scratchy. Like burlap!! I wonder what's going through the school's mind when they order the manufacture of such horrendous garments. Obviously, comfort is the last thing on their mind because they just want that uniform to last 4 years.

My JC uniform was equally gross. It bound one at the waist and hips. Not a very good thing for people short in the waist and round in the tummy and hips. I remember hating it so much that on the last day of school I started ripping out the stitches for expansion. We used to say that the original colour of the uniform was white, till the founder saw someone fall into a puddle of mud and thought it was the prettiest colour ever. PUKE.

I remember trying to pillion in that damn uniform. Trust me, it is a FEAT trying not to flash while hopping on. It was the un-coolest garment ever. It served its purpose in stopping us from going to town, because it was so awful...to be seen in it was like the most embarrassing thing ever. We used to disguise it by untucking our blouses... I used to borrow a spare pair of trousers from a guy friend in the same school, just so that I could have more freedom walking around and breathing.

I hated JC. Half my time was ducking around staircases trying to avoid my History tutor. The fun times were playing truant after recess, sneaking out of the school trying to look nonchalant. It helped that the school was open to the public because we shared our running track. I remember a short fling with this stupid chick. She used to bring me dyke books during recess and we'd read it. I lived behind the school, and from there, it was a short trip from the humid canteen into a heavenly air-conditioned room with a king-sized bed. I loved my room. It was awfully plain, but had the most humongous windows, a humongous bed that I divided into 4 sections. One section for eating, one section where my favourite books were stacked (for easy reach), one section for clothes that I just threw there and wanted to wear again, and one section...hmm... i don't know... for my legs when I was lying flat?

I loved sitting on the window sill and smoking. I loved that I could see if my parent's car was returning or leaving... I loved that my girlfriends could wait outside on the main road and wave to me. Made me feel like a princess trapped in a tower. I loved the empty construction site beneath my windows. I used to throw all my garbage there. Empty cigarette boxes, finished stubs of cigarettes, spurned lovers' gifts... when I moved out, I remember looking down and seeing this HUGE mountain of cigarette boxes and cigarette ends. There was Lalang growing around the thrown out presents. This sad teddy bear (I think?) given by I don't remember which gf had some weird greenish tinge on it. I hate soft toy presents. To me it speaks of last-minute thoughtless gifts.

I miss jumping around from 'appointment' to 'appointment'. mIRC was such an exciting time. Everyday I woke up and had all these meetings with this girl and that girl and their friends. I found all the lesbos living in my area, and Gardens became a thriving dyke park once again. It was Cafe Cartel one night to meet the yes-we-think-we-are-upperclass lesbians and Violet KTV for the Canto lesbians, and Chomp Chomp for the always-hungry ones. Cafe Cartel and Coffee Bean...what can I say? It was like the place to 'see and be seen'. I hung out there so often with various friends that I could tell who was new to the area and who were the 'old birds'. I remember there was even this cafe eventually, that was run by two very tai-tai lesbians who talked all the time about getting facials and whatnot. They welcomed dogs into the cafe, a relatively refreshing concept in those days. I remember ordering Malt Chinos from them. Whatever that was... but it tasted maternal and comforting.

Those were the days when Gardens was trying to be the next Holland Village (although not really there yet, it was still more down-to-earth). The lesbians were slightly 'classier' or it could've been the same set that I used to see in the early 90s, just that everyone suddenly grew up and learnt how to go salons for haircuts, grew out their baby-fats and realised that maybe...just maybe some of them were not that butch after all. There were all these cute androgynous girls running around and confusing Church people on Sundays, and giving you secret knowing looks. There weren't as many femmes with a butch leashed to their shoulders... it was suddenly the 'in' thing to go 'both' ways. It also made it slightly harder to spot the femme girls since they no longer had their butch buddies to out them to the world.

My boring t-shirt and jeans/ shorts with stupid concave haircut was suddenly seen around every corner. Of course, that was just in the world of Gardens. Outside, I knew that everyone was still the same old same old...just that the Gardens had a beat of its own. It was like whenever 'new' girls dropped in, us people from this kampong would eagerly lap up their news of the outside world...what were the lesbians doing in Taka? What about those who lived in the East? (The West was just very butchy to us somehow and we couldn't be bothered). Then we'd sniff our noses because we felt we were more 'advanced' than those outsiders. Labels...what labels?! We were all NO-LABELS! Though I'd always insisted that I was a femme...which they found a novelty. Very novel meh?!

Some girls in Gardens drove jeeps and SUVs. They owned little lap dogs like Malteses and Schnauzers (one even owned a damned daschund which couldn't sit up). They felt they were the upper middle class (when all of us were just sadly bourgeois) with their flashy Gucci sunglasses and LV bags. We used to sit around the cafe and giggle loudly, imitating those girls with them fake accents. " OH DARRRRLINNGGG" (air-kiss, air-kiss!). They always ordered Bloody Marys from this restaurant or something next to Cafe Cartel...which I found insanely weird, and talked about sueing various people.

Okay. I am going to stop here with all the reminiscing...getting bored...next time!

08:21 am: One knows it's spring when...
I know that it's spring when I start burning my tongue on tea that I left next to the window for a minute.
The bloody birds also chirp louder. I took off my second thermal layer last night and lay sweating in my sheets.
It's Saturday and I have a full day lecture that ends at an unknown time.

10:53 am: Stress, a movie, and a woman that ate her head

Suffering bouts of anxiety in occassional pockets of time. I HATE THIS!

I've written more than 2000 over words for my research, another 1500 to go. Unfortunately for tomorrow's presentation, from which I am taking some of the research, I have not hit the 1500 word limit. That's because my research has hit 2000 up to a certain part, but I haven't completed it enough to finish up tomorrow's synopsis.

Also stressing out about the finance assignments. One is due the week after, and I haven't even met my group members. I feel sick to the stomach everytime I think about it. I also have another presentation due on Wednesday.

My only consolation is that if I have done the majority of my current research, I don't have to worry about the other one which is due the same week as this one. And then I have the last research due in the last week of school...about a month from now... I think? The only problem is, I don't know what I am writing about.

And I hate my finance lecturer because he has smilingly sworn to make our finals so hard. Just because someone totally aced the midsemester exams...and got full marks. I hope that bastard dies because now I am panicking so hard I feel that my hair should all turn white or fall out. The fact that nothing is happening to my head just amazes me.

Lastly, I watched The Mummy last night. My thoughts on it? Don't bother unless you are a big fan of the first two. It just isn't as good as the first (which seems the case for most trilogy movies?).

I was sitting in the bus last night, making my way to Hoyts cinemas. This woman of XX nationality sat next to me. She had the biggest nest of hair ever and she kept scratching it. She also smelt overpoweringly of ginger juice. I was stealing sideway glances at her when I saw her scratch her head hard, pick something out of her hair and put it to her face. My first disgusted thought was that she was going to smell her fingers. Then she just opened her mouth and popped whatever it was into it. She did it a few times and I decided that I should change seats.

Why are people so gross?!!

And yea... Happy 5th Year Anniversary Baby!