i have a dream

I was having problems sleeping one night, when I got the best idea to get ridiculously rich.

See, this is how it goes, I'll have 12 children, right?

And then I'll send six of them to the east coast of the USA and six of them to the west coast of the USA, where they will dominate the NBA (it's this basketball thing they have there, FYI) and face off in the Finals.

I'm sending six per coast because one of them has to be the substitute. I've thought of everything.

Anyhow, I will then proceed to bet a ridiculously large amount of money one half of my brood and tell them to win.

"Dude, like, Dad just called and said that you had to lose tonight."

"Fuck, we'd better be getting something nice for Christmas"

It's fool-proof, I tell you.

No way it can fail.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

best conversation ever

I was doing some work on the computer when a friend came online. We'll call her Anne, because that is not her name.

Anne: Hey, Fish, if I ask you a stupid question, would you get mad at me?

Fishballs: Heavens to Sally, what could possibly lead you to believe that stupid questions annoy me? But for you, special indulgences apply, because you have D-cup breasts and green eyes.

Anne: Why do you have to say things like that?

Fishballs: Because you KNOW it turns you on. Ask away, then.

Anne: Ugh. Anyway here goes: What's your favourite colour?

Fishballs: Vagina.

Anne: What the hell does that have to do with anything?

Fishballs: You misunderstand me, vagina is my favourite colour.

Anne: WHAT THE FUCK? WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO MAKE ME REGRET ASKING YOU QUESTIONS?!?!

Fishballs: You ask these questions, you get the responses, you regret them. And yet, time and again, you comes back for more?

Anne: Why did I ever make friends with you?

Fishballs: Because you loved my Asian nipples so. You wanted to nibble them.

Anne: FUCK YOU!

Fishballs: You'd really want to, don't you? I can tell.

Things degenerated quickly after that.

But it should be fine, because I just got an email from her asking for photos from some time back

She so totally wants me.

Dear Ladies,

Stop being attracted to assholes.

Love, hugs and kisses,
Fishballs

PS: Also applies to cunt-rags and dip-shits, please.

PPS: Also, metrosexuals, because them is the bane of all that is good in the world.

there's a secret

I dare not tell anybody.

I've wanted to tell you so many times in the past, but I just didn't know.

I just didn't know If you could take it, if what we have would be ripped to shreds if you knew.

But I'll tell you now, because I now know that I trust and love you.

Oh, how it burns inside, threatening to break free, but it musn't. Not to anyone else.

Not for anyone else, but you.

And you must keep it well.

Keep it deep and treasure it. Let it be the token of my trust, love and affection.

Are you ready?

Can you make this commitment to me?

Can you take this step?

Here goes, then:

I think I might be sexy.

i couldn't give a rat's testicles

I consider myself an honest person, so I'm just going to be blunt here, ok?

Our Messenger conversations in college were alright, I suppose. A little bit of entertainment for me, because, hey, what guy wouldn't want to explain the mechanics behind anal sex to an attractive lady?

But, now, things have changed, I wouldn't say it's you or me, because it's probably me and I'm a dick. But, really, I couldn't give a bucket of donkey's bollocks about the new guy who's trying to date you or your new Thai room mate who's really cute. And stop asking for gifts. And I don't give a retarded monkey's turd about what sort of undies you should wear to your date with the guy who's just SO fantastic. Having fake panic attacks because you don't dare to call him is no reason to wake me up at 3 in the morning. 3 IN THE FUCKING MORNING.

And you wonder why I've stopped talking to you?

Honestly, because it's like talking to a whiny-ass teenager. And it's getting old. Grow the fuck up, because I don't have time to handle your shit. Don't try to guilt-trip me because for that to work I'd have to actually like and/or care for you, and that stopped a LONG time ago. Our alleged "friendship" has been a constant stream of you asking me for shit and me stupidly giving it. Now, I'm saving it up for the people I actually give a shit about.

Basically, what I'm asking is: How about you leave me the fuck alone?

And please take your emotional rubbish with you, thank you very much.

Have a nice life. Far, far away from me.

poetry is a balm for the soul

There was a vampire named Mable

Whose periods were remarkably stable.

Every full moon,

She'd take out a spoon

And drink herself under the table.


I love the Internet.

pain is my friend

I yawned just now and the side of my mouth tore and started bleeding.

It hurts like six kinds of fuck. Which is saying something, because prior to this, I have only encountered four.

Motherfucking Jesus on toast with baked beans and fucking onions.

OWNED!

So, like, sometimes I don't like sleeping with pants on. No undies either. Yes, my twig and giggle-berries are on display for all to see. Don't judge me until you try it yourself. It's like a whole new experience and shit.

Also, I don't lock the door when I sleep because, well, fuck you, it's my room. My mother doesn't knock before she comes in.

You can see where this is going

About 2 in the afternoon, I pull my pants off and sleep splayed out on the bed, face down.

About a half hour later, I hear a collection of sounds: the click of the door knob, the slight creak of the door opening, followed by "AIYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"

Door slams. "WHY AREN'T YOU WEARING PANTS? NOBODY WANTS TO SEE THAT!'

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

That's what you get for not knocking, woman!

A few days later I was reading in bed and I hear this conversation at my door

Mom: Why are you standing there?

Sis: I want to use the Internet (the Internet line goes up to my room.)

Mom: Then go in and use it.

Sis: (in a small voice) he might not be wearing pants

Mom: Oh yeah, that's right.

I laughed so hard my damn near shit my pants.

masochistic entertainment

Reading SarongPartyGirl's comments board is like scratching a bleeding ass hole. You know it can't possibly be good for you, but you do it anyway because it itches like a motherfucker.

Ok, maybe not so much like scratching a bleeding ass hole.

Whee!

achtung!

So, it has come to my attention that Miss Furry reads my blog. I did not know this.

Also, apparently, Miss Furry figured out who Miss Sexbomb is and has been teasing her.

Miss Sexbomb has asked me to write something that will give her leverage over Miss Furry

So here goes:

Why do I call Miss Furry by that particular pseudonym? Well, she came to visit me in Sydney and we had to share a bed because of a) I lived with creepy people from China and b) there was no space. Anyway, while she was there, she didn't shave her legs on account I don't know the fuck why.

Miss Furry is a very affectionate sleeper, which is fine by me. But her little leg stubbles stabbed me repeatedly. Sometimes, it was like a cheese grater.

There were other happenings of which I will not speak of. Also, I have photos of Miss Furry having her boobs groped by a mutual acquaintance who has a gay twin brother (hey! holler if you want the photos eh?)

Sorry, Furry. It had to be done. Miss Sexbomb is way taller than you and can definitely kick my sorry little ass. You are kinda short and I can kinda run away from you :)

moments of incongruity

I have a best friend. It's very soppy, but it's true. I've known her for 13 years and it's one of those relationships where you can say anything and be completely honest and shit.

Now, this lady, we'll call her Furry (Sexbomb is now either a) choking on whatever she's eating or b) nodding approvingly at this very subtle pseudonym) is one of those people, y'know, popular in high school, life of the party, hundreds of guys chasing after her etc etc. Seriously, it's like one of those teen-angst tv drama cliches and she's the hot chick who is fawned after by everybody.

And then on the other end of the social spectrum, you have me, art geek, smells funny, spends way too much time on the computer and is generally shunned by everyone remotely resembling human. It's true. Excursions to the store for are like epic journeys, everyone just stops short of stoning me. I make small children cry just by standing near them.

We have nothing in common. She's Louis Vuitton and Chanel, and I'm Terry Pratchett and Xbox.

Yet for, some bizzarre reason, she's my best friend. It boggles the mind, I tell you.

And I miss her terribly because I'm fucking bored now and she's always good for a laugh.

monkeys make everything better

They really do.

King Kong wouldn't be half as good if he was a giant mule

does it bother you when we talk about this?

What do you fucking think?

Jesus Christ in a fucking helmet. I've spent the last 2 years trying to get over you.

YOU tell ME if it might bother me.

Blame me for being the fool that fucking cared, then.

Fuck.

na na na na na na na na BATMAN!!!

I saw Batman Begins last night.

THAT IS HOW BATMAN IS SUPPOSED TO BE!! YAAAY!!! CHRISTOPHER NOLAN IS MY HERO.

This time, Batman was SCARY. None of this George-Clooney-Bat-Nipples bullshit. Bwahahahahahaha! No whiney bitch Robin as well! Yaaaay!

Michael Caine is the fucking MAN as Alfred! Wise-talking British Butler!! Booyah!

Morgan Freeman as Lucius Fox! YEAH!!!

Gary Oldman as Gordon! Perfect!!!!

Katie Holmes as Rachel Dawes! Barely Tolerable! But tolerable nontheless!

Yay for the Batmobile! Is a fat-ass motherfucker that goes where it wants!!!

Yaaaay!!!!!!

Christian Bale as Batman! From "The Machinist" to this, who'd have thunk it?

poo!

Have you ever had one of those epic poos.

You know, you sit on the throne for about 20 minutes and strain and strain and push with all you've got through gritted teeth and the Archie comic that you've been reading is a crumpled mess in your hands (Archie comics are perfect toilet reading material, not too heavy and no concentration required) just when it feels like you're going to get a shit induced hernia, you're done. And a feeling of bliss, almost like, but not quite, that first orgasm with that girl who did that thing with her hands overcomes you for a few minutes.

When you turn around and there's this massive monstrosity of a fucker floating around rather smugly in the water, like some sort of blasphemous intrusion into the world. And you feel just a slight twinge of pride, because you made that thing.

Then you wipe your ass and toss the tissues into the bowl and you flush. The water swirls and the paper goes along with it to wherever it goes AND THE POO IS STILL THERE! AND THE FUCKER IS TWICE AS SMUG NOW!!!

"Hahahahaha, you will never flush me, you bastard! YOU MADE ME!! I'LL BE HERE FOREVER!!!"

And you wait for the toilet flush thingy to reload and you flush again. And the fucker just goes round and round. And you do it again. And again.

"Wheeee!" its says "Do it again! This is fun!"

You run downstairs and out to the yard and get a stick from the tree out back and run back upstairs again, ignoring your mother's strange looks.

In the toilet, you poke the poo until in breaks in half. Not so smug anymore, are you? ARE YOU!!!!

Then you flush and the SON OF A BITCH GOES DOWN! YEAH, BITCH, IT'S MY HOUSE! FEEL THE FLUSH!! BWAHAHAHAHAH!!

Then you realise that you're an alleged adult who's spent the last 45 minutes battling a huge poo.

And you have a shitty smelling stick in your hand.

yay!

After some rooting around, I FOUND A BOOK TO READ!!!

YAAAAAAY!

I have never felt more pathetic in my entire life.


Cookies are good for you.

bleah overwhelming

I have never been inflicted with this much boredom in my life. There is absolutely nothing to do. I have read every book in the house, finished every game on the Xbox, Nintendo DS and even the lame-o games on my Mac and fiddled with all my toys.

Nothing on the Internet interests me. Probably as an offshoot of the boredom, I feel no inspiration to draw anything.

My brain feels like it is a bowl of gravy. You know, the brown, unidentifiable kind they slop over the meat at cheap steakhouse. With little blobby, floaty bits in it.

My lethargy has reached epic proportions. Yesterday, as I lay in my bed, my nose started to itch. AND I HAD AN INTERNAL DEBATE AS TO MY NEXT ACTION!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!?!?! I HAD TO THINK IF SCRATCHING MY ITCHY NOSE WAS A GOOD IDEA OR NOT.

You know what's worse? It took a whole 15 minutes to decide that scratching it was probably a good idea.

html

Remember how I said I was going to learn HTML in a week?

Yeah, that didn't work out so good.

Java I can do. C++ I can suss out after a few hours. HTML eludes me for some reason.

Taking breaks to read comic books just made matters worse.

Father's Day

It's Father's Day today.

I felt like I should write something long and rambling about how much my father has done for my family and I at the expense of his health and time. But ultimately, I'm not confident of being able to pull off something of such emotional significance with a language as limited as this.

Then today, with a single gesture, he showed me that there was no need for that sort of thing. He already knows it, I already know it. Everyone else doesn't need too. Words get in the way of something like this.

Happy Father's Day.

dear Sexbomb

HAPPY SEX DAY!!!!

Subtle, no?

Love, hugs and sloppy kisses,
Fishballs

boo fucking hoo

I've been going through my DVD collection, watching them one by one. I went through all 3 extended editions of The Lord of the Rings in a single 12 hour marathon. I will not be doing that again in a hurry. Urgh.

Anyway, about the 9th movie in ( Hellboy, director's cut), I realised that I was actually feeling a little sad. Not that Hellboy is a particularly sad movie, it's actually quite fun. Anyway, this melancholy feeling didn't go away. Then I realised what it was.

I was missing the people that I had watched these movies with.

Fuck. Trust me to feel sad on a sunny Saturday.

I'm going to get some ice-cream.

Vrooom.

Fuck.

Feeling bizzarrely frustrated.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK.

Typing "fuck" in capital letters is not helping.

EVERYONE AND THEIR MOTHER IS A WHORE.

buh?

I slept till really late. And then I woke up. And then I went back to sleep some more. Now I've got that fuzzy, cotton filled feeling in my head.

I'm actually looking forward to the semester starting so that there'd be some sort of structure around my life. I haven't got enough will-power to follow a self imposed one.

I'm going to eat some more wasabi peas.

brrr

I just watched that show on MTV (I shouldn't, I know) where they have these people who want to look like celebrities and apparently MTV bankrolls some cosmetic surgery for them. Then it hit me: MTV IS PAYING MONEY SO THAT SOME PEOPLE CAN LOOK LIKE SOME OTHER (famous) PEOPLE!

I mean, how would you feel if somebody on cable television said that they wanted to OWN YOUR FUCKING FACE!

Fuck. I am going to take a shower and see if I can wash this freaky feeling off.

that's what friends are for part 2

I was drawing the other day and getting quite into it when I got this sms, it totally threw me off. Once again, it is from Sexbomb. She so totally rocks, I tell you.

Sexbomb: My breasts are shrinking :(

Fishballs: Heh?

Sexbomb: My tits are getting smaller. Bra is getting too big :(

Fishballs: Ever consider that the fabric of the bra might be stretching? You know, after washing and all that.

Sexbomb: Nope, because my face is not as round as it was during summer.

Fishballs: Well, I hereby pledge 2 ringgit to the "Make Sexbomb's Boobs Bigger" fund. Also, thanks to this conversation, I now feel like a blonde bimbo

Sexbomb: Heh, glad I could help.

Dear lord, I love my friends. It's the sign of a truly great friendship when you get random messages from someone in the middle of the afternoon bemoaning the size of their boobs.

There was another conversation about nipples, but I can't remember it. Damnit.

PS: Remember, guys! She's hot and Asian and she's a total tigress in bed. She's left men whimpering in her wake of debauchery. Uh. Someone told me, that is.

PPS: And before anyone asks, I'd totally have gone after her if I didn't have the incurable disease of falling in love with lesbians.

uhh?

There's this blog that I read on a regular basis, (I'd link to it, but I'm new to this blog thing, I'm not sure what the etiquette is so I won't) and I'm somewhat of a fan because it's intelligent and the author's posts show that she actually knows what she's writing about. That and I secretly live vicariously through her blog because her life is far more entertaining than mine right now (don't you fucking judge me, everyone needs their little escapes into fancy).

Anyhoo, the point of all this is, apparently she posted some nude pictures of herself on the blog, and this has brought down all sorts of hoo-haa with people yelling about obscenity laws and what not. I won't comment on the artistic nature of the pictures but I saw them around the time they were first posted before any of this gained momentum and my immediate reaction was "Oooooh! Cool." And then I went to take a poo.

It's a picture of a nude lady, folks. There's nothing obscene about it. What's with the big controversy? Is it because she's Singaporean? Surely they know about sex, boobs and nipples there? How else would little Singaporeans get made?

SarongPartyGirl is my new hero! Bwahahahaha!

wasabi peas

I HAD WASABI PEAS TODAY!!! THEY ARE RIDICULOUSLY GOOD!!!

I must buy a truckload.

Also, Batman Begins starts tomorrow. Colour me excited. Christian Bale as Batman is genius. However, Katie Holmes with her annoying smile and oddly saggy face threatens to ruin the experience. Oh my God. Tom Cruise,like totally, dropped Nicole Kidman and ended up with her. I think the Scientology has made him slightly stupid in the head.

Also, in today's news, David Hasselhoff is the fucking man. I mean, he totally saved Spongebob's wimpy ass. And he had a talking car. But it kept calling him "Michael" when OBVIOUSLY, his name was David. So I guess he trashed it. I would do it too, if some dumb-ass car kept calling me Michael.

WASABI PEAS!!!!

I'd apologise for the random nature of the post but a) I am a dick and b) I have next to no readership. Also, c) Your mother was a whore who did whorish whoring. With whores.

Continue your infinite wallowing in the depths of futility, brief mortals. Your unceasing stuggles against inevitability amuse me greatly. Also remember to floss.

sex.

A very close friend of mine said to me once that she thought sex was overated. For some reason, this saddened me immensely. It wasn't just what she said, it was the way she said it as well, flippant and blase, as if it was some sort of food that she had tried and had found less than impressive and overhyped. It made me wonder, what sort of experiences could she possibly have had that would cause her to have such a nonchalant stance in regards to one of the most intensive experiences a human being could have in his or her lifetime. Then this lead to more thinking (this always leads to trouble): how many other people think this way?

I'd just like to state here that I'm not some sort of super sexual tyranosaurus with the chiseled, sculpted looks of a Greek God. In fact, I'm as far away from a Greek God as you could possibly get. But I'm not repulsive enough to scare women away, and that has resulted in a quite a few experiences in the past.

And let me just say, every single one has been a god damned experience of a lifetime. Every single time has been a learning experience, about myself and the other person involved.

How could you ever reduce an experience that burns with such intensity into the mere words from a language created by monkeys to tell each other where the bananas were? The English language just flails lamely in the attempt to describe the emotions and sensations involved when two people (or three! or more!!) let all their inhibitions fall away with their clothes. Gods, using a crude a word as "arousal" to describe that wave of sensations that runs along the length of your spine when you see your partner closing their eyes and opening their mouths just slightly to release that small sigh of pleasure is like asking a 600 pound silverback gorilla to embroider a small Oriental lady's hankerchief.

For those few hours, every single sense that you have is amplified a hundred-fold. The way the skin feels as you run your finger tips over it, the soft, wet smells and sounds that fills the room, the heat you can feel just below the surface of the skin. Good grief, for the span of those few hours that is as close as you can possibly get to another person without being them. Overrated, she says, with a sneer of derision on her face. Jesus Christ on the Batmobile, pay a little more attention. See things as they are in that moment. Not just see, feel, smell. Take it slow. Of all the times in your life to be fully concious of the here and now, this is it. Why are you hurrying to finish it off so fast? Life going to be short regardless of anything you do, so take the time to savour the experience. SAVOUR. With a capital everything.

I'm probably as cynical as they come(hur hur) but I'll probably poke myself in the balls with a blunt stick before I end up THAT cynical. Especially in regards to something like sex. Which only really works when you approach it with as much naivete as possible.

It's 4 a.m. I'm going to my empty bed to sob quietly into my pillow.

apples and oranges

I just got back from a trip to KL with some members of my family. I was asleep before I even hit the bed. Right about now, I could do with a small horse to eat. Bleargh. I haven't been taking my medication and being this drained is a bad bad sign. I should go see a doctor or some shite.

And to the obnoxious wannabe poser who took his time moving his car when he knew I was waiting for the parking spot: Have a 13-inch dildo on me and fuck yourself on it, you misbegotten wretch. Oooooh, fancy car with all sorts of mods, eh? Looks like someone's got issues with the size of their ding-dong. Move your rancid ass next time you fucking mongrel, people have better shit to do than to watch you slowly fuss around your car with that ass-hole expression on your face. No one is impressed with your stupid vehicle with its shiny lights. SHINY LIGHTS DO NOT MAKE YOUR CAR GO FASTER, YOU BAG OF SOILED TAMPONS!! Your asinine need to dye your hair platinum blond because you're ashamed of your ethnicity makes me sick. YOU'RE ASIAN, YOU PRANCING KEN DOLL!

Argh, I'm too tired for this shit.

hey you!

Yeah you! You there! You see this finger? Oi, look here, motherfucker. You this fucking finger? YEAH?!?! DO YOU SEE THE FUCKING FINGER, ASSWIPE?!?!?!

You see it? Good.

I scratched my ass with it. Wanna sniff?

oooh.

Everytime some guy proclaims himself a metrosexual to his friends, Jesus kills a bunny rabbit. Not just any bunny rabbit, one of those cute ones about the size of the palm of your hand and one floppy ear.

I am up to here with self-proclaimed metrosexuals. Get over youselves, you fucking cunt-rags, life is more interesting than spending the afternoon plucking out your ass-hairs one by one.

And ladies, I'm beginning to suspect that you're more intelligent than the men, so stop encouraging them.

that's what friends are for.

This is an sms conversation I had with a very good friend the other day. It explains a lot about me and the way I interact with the people that I know. It also shows the sheer amount of tolerance she has, I'll call her Sexbomb for her privacy (Edited for grammar and spelling because I am crap at sms)

Sexbomb: Hi! So what're you up to? I'm in bed now :)

Fishballs: Oh boy! Talk about impeccable timing. As I type this, I'm on the toilet bowl having a poo.

Sexbomb: Oh boy, I DID NOT need to know that. I'm so glad you feel comfortable enough to tell me that. Tell me another
thing: Why did you bring your phone to the loo?

Fishballs: Just in case there's an important call, and when there is I won't have to come running out of the loo with my pants around my ankles and poo trailing out my ass.

Sexbomb: Oh good God! I didn't need that detailed an answer. Good poo session though?

Fishballs: Yar all done now.

Sexbomb: Good to know.

Fishballs: Sharing is caring, darling.

It rambles on, but that was the main bit. Now, why did I post this? I was having a conversation about poo with an attractive (devilishly so, single too) Asian lady who's half-way around the world lying in her bed. Possibly in a langurous fashion. But that aside, I did it because, well, sometimes its better to have something right in front of you and a matter of public record just so you know that you weren't dreaming while it happened. When's the last time YOU had a conversation with an attractive lady about poo?

I lead blessed life, I tell you.

FUCK

PLAN YOUR FUCKING PROJECT OUT BEFORE YOU ASK ME TO FUCKING DRAW.

Don't fucking lay everything on me on the last fucking day before its due. It is 6 fucking a.m. in Sydney and you have it due at fucking 10 a.m. God damnit. Plan the damned sequences before you make me lift my fucking pencil. Don't ask me what I think off the damned sequence on the last fucking day. Don't send the fucking document at 6 in the fucking morning asking me to edit it when its due in 3 fucking hours. IT'S NOT MY FUCKING PROJECT.

Stop worrying about the goddamn useless fucking details that don't fucking matter. "What colour to colour the fishtank?" FUCK THAT!! You haven't even finished the main sequence yet! You haven't even PLANNED the main sequence yet! IF YOU HAVE NO MAIN SEQUENCE NO ONE IS GOING TO FUCKING CARE WHAT THE DAMNED FISH TANK IS COLOURED!!! ARRRRRRGH!!!!!!!! WHERE IS YOUR PROFESSIONALISM?! FUCK THAT! WHERE IS YOUR GOD DAMNED BRAIN!!!!

It's like working with a damned school kid. This last minute whiny bullshit isn't cutting it anymore. Stop acting like a damned amateur. Fuck it, you're in the final year of the God-damned degree. I adore you. But please, in the name of all that is fucking decent in the world, GROW UP.

It's not as if I don't have my own shit to handle. You already know that everyday is a damned struggle for me but I make time for this because you're a good friend and I love you.But it's been like this for every single project. I was stupid to give in, but not anymore: I'm not helping you out anymore if this state of affairs going to continue. You made the shit. Clean your own fucking ass.

It's times like this that pseudo-teetotallism hits hard. Jesus Christ on a fucking tricycle, I think I just gave myself a hernia.

urgh.

I feel so sick now. Excess moisture is drippping out of my nose. Well, moisture isn't really the right word. The viscosity is just slightly higher than water but not as thick as mucus. And it's mostly clear, aside from the occasional semi-dried booger swimming around and the odd air bubble. I wonder where it all comes from. It's probably brain-coolant or something. If it IS, then that would explain the stuffy feeling I have in my head. It makes sense, as the brain-coolant leaks out, the temperature of the brain increases. This in turn expands the air contained in the sinuses and hence, the pressure in my head increases as well. Bwahahahahaha! I gone and dun der science!

My face feels like it is about to explode and I am experiencing feelings of irritation in regards to everything that is not me right now.

music.

Ms Norah Jones has got a voice that is like sex for the ears. I want an alarm clock with her voice on it. Good grief. I'm going to take a cold shower.

get away from me

Does it look like I might be terribly interested in learning about your religion? I am reading a book and having a coffee. Does it, I repeat, look like there is a possibility, however remote, that I would be interested in participating in a dialogue in regards to your faith? Does it even look like I might have an interest in you as a person? Your religion appears to be the totality of the definition of you as person and I have no interest in speaking to mono-dimensional people, nor do I have the time to find out if I am wrong. Yes, I'm sure that if I "give it a go" it might enrich my life, but the point is, I don't really give a donkey's bollocks.

Now please, go away. You're breathing my air and you're getting in the way of my lovely day. Do not even THINK about offering that pamphlet to me. Things are bad enough as it is, but they will quickly hit the fan if you do not read my lips and BUGGER OFF.

Aren't things lovely now that we understand each other?

haiku II: this time its personal

A plate of chicken rice
Temptation in hues of beige
But you make me fat


Holy crap. Feel the emotion in those lines burn across your conciousness. DO YOU FEEL MY PAIN!!

haiku

Oh, bowl of noodles,
You gleam like golden sun-beams
But now, I am full.


That's right, I am a POET, motherfucker. Bwahahahaha!

homecoming

My little sister has come back from Sydney. So the total amount of sarcasm contained in the house has increased. She is currently engaged in her favourite activity ie: Lying on her bed, watching television and cleaning out her ears with a q-tip. She is a strange one. I am still two minds about her coming back. On the one hand she's home and safe and she's fun. On the other hand, the sarcasm is so thick sometimes you can't breathe.

Now I will attempt to learn HTML in 7 days because the layout of this blog is boring me. And I want to plaster some of my artwork here.