We're at this stage in life where we reminisce too much of our near past, worry too much about our near future, are
too clueless about everything that can, will, may happen to us, think we know alot, think we don't know anything,
am confident about the wrong things, take pride in wasting time away, want too much but want to do too little.
Ohwell.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
How I'll die
I suspect I'll die of
1. Paper cuts. I get cut by paper as often as meal times. It's an approximate 3 paper cuts a day. And deep or not, they always bleed alot (EH RHYMES!). That's not the point, the point is I don't feel them until I see the blood. Or if the cut is really as deep as Aaron's voice. TEEHEE.
2. Muscle aches. Because I'm a stubborn sorethroat (pathetic alliteration) that likes adding on muscle aches to muscle aches. My stomach's still hurting from the sit-ups, but I like that pain. Alright alright. Nobody dies of muscle aches, I know I KNOW. What makes you think, people die of paper cuts meh? Why never raise your objections earlier?
3. Delusions. I imagine I'm talking to somebody when I'm blogging. Like, are you even listening? Stop playing with your phone and listen to what I've to say won't you? No? Then why should I be talking anymore? Talk to your phone lah!
4. Laughter. Whoever said laughter is the best medicine is an idiot, a loon, a moon, a toon, a fgoon. Nevermind you can't pronounce fgoon, that's not the point! The point is my colleagues at work (duh, then what, colleagues at home?) are so funny I'll die laughing because my abs hurt. Alright then theoretically I'll be dying of muscle aches and not laughter... but well, my point is it hurts to laugh dammit, it hurts to laugh.
5. A total lack of sleep. It's what, 5 minutes to eleven and I'm not already in bed but instead sitting in front of this horrible thing called the computer and typing and blogging about how I suspect I'll die, while hyper-ventilating at the same time? You think that's not severe enough to cause death? You think so? You really think so? Alright then. You win, happy?
And now another minute just passed. What's the world coming to, stop stealing our seconds away from us little black men from Momo, we deserve it since we paid for the buffet (seconds of time, seconds of buffet... get the joke fgoon?)
ALRIGHT. I should try to get some sleep. Did squash make me high, or was it the strawberry ice cream Priscilla? ._. Nevermind. Byebye.
10:45:00 PM because I say so
1. Paper cuts. I get cut by paper as often as meal times. It's an approximate 3 paper cuts a day. And deep or not, they always bleed alot (EH RHYMES!). That's not the point, the point is I don't feel them until I see the blood. Or if the cut is really as deep as Aaron's voice. TEEHEE.
2. Muscle aches. Because I'm a stubborn sorethroat (pathetic alliteration) that likes adding on muscle aches to muscle aches. My stomach's still hurting from the sit-ups, but I like that pain. Alright alright. Nobody dies of muscle aches, I know I KNOW. What makes you think, people die of paper cuts meh? Why never raise your objections earlier?
3. Delusions. I imagine I'm talking to somebody when I'm blogging. Like, are you even listening? Stop playing with your phone and listen to what I've to say won't you? No? Then why should I be talking anymore? Talk to your phone lah!
4. Laughter. Whoever said laughter is the best medicine is an idiot, a loon, a moon, a toon, a fgoon. Nevermind you can't pronounce fgoon, that's not the point! The point is my colleagues at work (duh, then what, colleagues at home?) are so funny I'll die laughing because my abs hurt. Alright then theoretically I'll be dying of muscle aches and not laughter... but well, my point is it hurts to laugh dammit, it hurts to laugh.
5. A total lack of sleep. It's what, 5 minutes to eleven and I'm not already in bed but instead sitting in front of this horrible thing called the computer and typing and blogging about how I suspect I'll die, while hyper-ventilating at the same time? You think that's not severe enough to cause death? You think so? You really think so? Alright then. You win, happy?
And now another minute just passed. What's the world coming to, stop stealing our seconds away from us little black men from Momo, we deserve it since we paid for the buffet (seconds of time, seconds of buffet... get the joke fgoon?)
ALRIGHT. I should try to get some sleep. Did squash make me high, or was it the strawberry ice cream Priscilla? ._. Nevermind. Byebye.
10:45:00 PM because I say so