I thought a dead cockroach was chasing me.
I feel guilty because I had to force myself to blog again. It's like.. exercise. When you do it regularly, it's easy to keep up, but if you let yourself go and try to get back into it, it's suuuper hard. Could it be? Has Nam been exercising? Yeah right. Do you see flying pigs? Cos I don't. And if I did, I wouldn't be sitting here blogging. I'd be outside with my pig net, fo shizz.
I am not a fan of the ads on the Sydney Morning Herald website. I always surf the net (the idea of me surfing anything is ludicrous because I am so extraordinarily uncoordinated, but anyway) with like 50 tabs open, so when some weird voices start talking and music starts playing, it's pretty darn hard to figure out where it's coming from. Usually I assume that some demon spirit has taken over my computer and is trying to send me evil subliminal messages and take over my mind. *Head rotates 360 degrees*
My brother and his lover (I have a knack for these badass rhymes) came back from China recently. I received a peculiar but much appreciated gift from the lady; it was a hair comb crafted from authentic yak horn. I must admit, brushing my hair has never been so appealing. If someone got me a bong made of yak horn, I'd probably take up smoking pot as well, just for the same novelty.
Years ago my brother tried to convince me that Yakult was made from yak's milk. It was probably all a part of his well thought out ploy to secure the last bottle for himself. I didn't believe him though; it was far too tasty, and there were no hairs or anything in it. But I did believe him when he said that branches were going to grow out of my ears because I swallowed an orange seed. He laughed and then added that he'd pick the fresh fruits from my ear-branches and make orange juice to drink. It was at this point that I cried and he called me dumb for not knowing that I'd need soil in my tummy for a tree to grow. I didn't know whether to be insulted or relieved.
This is a yak. It is being milked.
Anyhoo, time to rant about the mean bus driver because I don't like mean people. Mean people deserve eggs in the face! And not because eggs are full of protein and minerals which are great for the skin! Mean people deserve salted eggs in the face, so they'll both be messy, and dehydrated. Then when they try to use toner, it'll burn like a fricken biatch. Yeah, in your face! Pun intended! Why am I using so many exclamation marks?
The recount won't be as rivetting as the original because I've already told two people and since then my rage and abhorrence has since simmered down.
So on Friday I had to public transport my way to Parramatta Westfield Shoppingtown (yes, because I'm still on my learner's licence) to buy presents for kiddies. No, not my own. I believe in abstinence before marriage.
Annoying things about the bus driver:
1) He stopped in the middle of the road rather than pulling over to the bus stop. Then all the cars behind him got annoyed. Consequently,
2) When I boarded the bus, he closed the door straight away (almost on me) and zoomed off. I performed the whole embarrassing almost-but-not-quite-stacking-it-and-looking-terrified thing for the other passengers to see.
3) Then he gave me all this attitude for not having my fare ready even though I'd "been sitting at the bus stop for so long already." Twice. Well excuse me, Mr ASSdriver, I've never been on this fricken bus before and even if I had, you shouldn't be so rude because one day you're gonna get punched in the face.
4) When I apologised (for what?) he did not reciprocate, and just told me to cough up the money.
5) I had to pay him while clinging on for dear life.
6) He was ugly.
Man, summer makes my face sweat profusely. I need a balaclava made of terry towelling. Then every so often, I could take it off and wring it into the gutter.
SPOT THE DIFFERENCE!! Love these. (click it if it appears cut off)
I am not a fan of the ads on the Sydney Morning Herald website. I always surf the net (the idea of me surfing anything is ludicrous because I am so extraordinarily uncoordinated, but anyway) with like 50 tabs open, so when some weird voices start talking and music starts playing, it's pretty darn hard to figure out where it's coming from. Usually I assume that some demon spirit has taken over my computer and is trying to send me evil subliminal messages and take over my mind. *Head rotates 360 degrees*
My brother and his lover (I have a knack for these badass rhymes) came back from China recently. I received a peculiar but much appreciated gift from the lady; it was a hair comb crafted from authentic yak horn. I must admit, brushing my hair has never been so appealing. If someone got me a bong made of yak horn, I'd probably take up smoking pot as well, just for the same novelty.
Years ago my brother tried to convince me that Yakult was made from yak's milk. It was probably all a part of his well thought out ploy to secure the last bottle for himself. I didn't believe him though; it was far too tasty, and there were no hairs or anything in it. But I did believe him when he said that branches were going to grow out of my ears because I swallowed an orange seed. He laughed and then added that he'd pick the fresh fruits from my ear-branches and make orange juice to drink. It was at this point that I cried and he called me dumb for not knowing that I'd need soil in my tummy for a tree to grow. I didn't know whether to be insulted or relieved.
This is a yak. It is being milked.
Anyhoo, time to rant about the mean bus driver because I don't like mean people. Mean people deserve eggs in the face! And not because eggs are full of protein and minerals which are great for the skin! Mean people deserve salted eggs in the face, so they'll both be messy, and dehydrated. Then when they try to use toner, it'll burn like a fricken biatch. Yeah, in your face! Pun intended! Why am I using so many exclamation marks?
The recount won't be as rivetting as the original because I've already told two people and since then my rage and abhorrence has since simmered down.
So on Friday I had to public transport my way to Parramatta Westfield Shoppingtown (yes, because I'm still on my learner's licence) to buy presents for kiddies. No, not my own. I believe in abstinence before marriage.
Annoying things about the bus driver:
1) He stopped in the middle of the road rather than pulling over to the bus stop. Then all the cars behind him got annoyed. Consequently,
2) When I boarded the bus, he closed the door straight away (almost on me) and zoomed off. I performed the whole embarrassing almost-but-not-quite-stacking-it-and-looking-terrified thing for the other passengers to see.
3) Then he gave me all this attitude for not having my fare ready even though I'd "been sitting at the bus stop for so long already." Twice. Well excuse me, Mr ASSdriver, I've never been on this fricken bus before and even if I had, you shouldn't be so rude because one day you're gonna get punched in the face.
4) When I apologised (for what?) he did not reciprocate, and just told me to cough up the money.
5) I had to pay him while clinging on for dear life.
6) He was ugly.
Man, summer makes my face sweat profusely. I need a balaclava made of terry towelling. Then every so often, I could take it off and wring it into the gutter.
SPOT THE DIFFERENCE!! Love these. (click it if it appears cut off)
Comments
i love you!!
this is why you're a part of our awesome 4!!
LOL @ Yakult coming from Yak's!!
and dw, i'm uncoordinated too. probably more uncoordinated than you. HA!
-poong
wow i didn't know u had a blog! :P
ill visit more often ahahahah
woww... that sounds like bad luck with the bus driver
and LOL Yak ehh..?
*ponders* i wonder if they make curtain roads out of Yak horns :P
anyways
i love spot teh differences too!! sooo fun! :D
byeee
Anderoo
And nobody can out-uncoordinate me!
ANDEROO, I've had a blog for a couple of years now I think. And don't worry, I've had nice bus drivers since the mean incident. Spot the difference is the besttt.