Where has it all gone to?
Not to say that there aren't any happy days in a relationship but it gets pretty darn boring when he's in class all the time. And here I am as jobless as I've always been. People now deem me ketua kampung. Lol. I personally think it's funny but very offensive at the same time.
I also notice I've got a million drafts saved on my dashboard and I'm not ever going to publish any of the drafted posts because it's either about something silly/stupid or really philosophical and half done to the point I forgot what I was philosophically typing about. I am not about to make a fool out of myself anytime yet. Unless someone decides to hack into my Blogger account and find all my very "clever" drafts about breast augmentation, politics and corruption at the same time. Oops. You must be thinking I did a little poopsie, after all everyone thinks I'm a little she-bimbo with no brains, which is as they say, is worth nothing up there. And really, I don't mind because I know what my brains are worth. I'd also like the idea of someone paying me shitloads of money to just talk for hours about a single topic without stopping until they get so bored with me they'd rather give me money to stop dwindling about it.
I kid you not.
No wonder most of the people I know tell me I should be working in the Public Relations industry. Which is, of course, the road I'm not taking.
Today was spent with Hafiz for a few hours because he's flying to Vietnam tomorrow morning. And the fact that Ali had class until 4PM does no justice. Initially we were supposed to go get his baju melayu done at Sparkman Shop but they were closed and I read the signs all wrong and started swearing. It said Open on Monday, Wednesday - Friday 10AM - 730PM and somehow my brain was not functioning properly and thought they opened on weekdays every day without being able to fathom that Tuesday was not on the list. Oh woe is me. I'm sorry to whoever is in charge, I really did not mean to hope you go out of business.
Next agenda on the list was to have a proper loose/hangout session and he opted for Coffee Bean, but I was reluctant so he brought me to Delifrance instead. I love the French sodas and I've only had that sort since I've been there, thrice. Such a loser, I know. Making such a big fuss about a place I've only been to three times! Money talks, what. And I have none of the evil paper they call money nowadays. Such a sad, miserable life I lead. Suffice to say, I walked around in Japanese-army-style dirty brown apek shorts, a very quaint organic cotton T-shirt and ruffled, almost-coming-apart fuschia Birkenstock sandals, which mind you, are the most comfortable pair of slip-ons ever discovered (apart from the big hoo-ha about Crocs, I'm pussy enough to not try them on in case I get laughed at and the fact I find them hideous, so let's not make me a believer out of that). See? Nothing gets any better than a bum like me.
So there we were, in the midst of talking about everything until I got a text from someone at the workshop saying my car was all done. My heart skipped two beats faster, at least, and I was just going through the two puffs of my third stick of the day! I am amazed by how my body functions. I was especially happy that my car was done and ready to let me come pick it up. We left for the workshop and right there in front of my eyes (all the other cars were blurred out) was my lovely sweetheart. Got the keys from the front workplace where all the keys were hung out (he gave me these really ugly pair of Hilux car keys which I scorned at cause it was rotting only to find they were not MINE, cause I dont remember ever keeping my car keys in such bad condition) and skipped back into Hafiz's car to go pick my baby down the road. He left right after I stepped out of his car, very ungentleman-like, only to find myself sitting in a car with a flat battery with no fuel in it. I was fucking stranded and fucking pissed off by the time I got hold of Hafiz again and told him to immediately rush back to my aid.
See, the stupid thing was, I was not thinking straight. I was merely 10 feet away from a bloody workshop and to no avail never thought of the idea of them being able to get all that done for me. So he rushed back, this time very gentleman-like and waited with me while they got everything fixed, battery and fuel included. It took them at least about 45 minutes to get everything in tip-top condition again. And before I knew it, I was out cruising behind the wheels fit for a King! (If they prefer low-riders and mean pimped-like pickups, then, why not)
And to think, the last time I drove it was 4 months ago when the oil price was still at bay. RM50 of diesel only fills in a fucking less-than-half-tank! I remember just not so long ago when RM30 was half a tank on the meter. Now I understand the anguish from people who own cars. Because now I have to fork up my own allowance money to pay for that stupid car's tank. Uuuugh. The agony and horror. How I wish I got a Viva for my birthday instead.
But then again, if anyone is nice enough to give me a Bentley Continental GT or a Cadillac Escalade, I would never say no. That would be too much of a good offer to pass on.
AND I TAKE BACK ABOUT WHAT I SAID ABOUT THE VIVA FOR MY BIRTHDAY. I changed my mind. Because I want a pair of killer pumps from Prada, a brand new Gucci hobo and a white strapped Franck Muller Crazy Times. The whole concoction, please and thank you.
Aaaaaah, the dreams of a becoming 21-year-old in 3 months.
Not to say that there aren't any happy days in a relationship but it gets pretty darn boring when he's in class all the time. And here I am as jobless as I've always been. People now deem me ketua kampung. Lol. I personally think it's funny but very offensive at the same time.
I also notice I've got a million drafts saved on my dashboard and I'm not ever going to publish any of the drafted posts because it's either about something silly/stupid or really philosophical and half done to the point I forgot what I was philosophically typing about. I am not about to make a fool out of myself anytime yet. Unless someone decides to hack into my Blogger account and find all my very "clever" drafts about breast augmentation, politics and corruption at the same time. Oops. You must be thinking I did a little poopsie, after all everyone thinks I'm a little she-bimbo with no brains, which is as they say, is worth nothing up there. And really, I don't mind because I know what my brains are worth. I'd also like the idea of someone paying me shitloads of money to just talk for hours about a single topic without stopping until they get so bored with me they'd rather give me money to stop dwindling about it.
I kid you not.
No wonder most of the people I know tell me I should be working in the Public Relations industry. Which is, of course, the road I'm not taking.
Today was spent with Hafiz for a few hours because he's flying to Vietnam tomorrow morning. And the fact that Ali had class until 4PM does no justice. Initially we were supposed to go get his baju melayu done at Sparkman Shop but they were closed and I read the signs all wrong and started swearing. It said Open on Monday, Wednesday - Friday 10AM - 730PM and somehow my brain was not functioning properly and thought they opened on weekdays every day without being able to fathom that Tuesday was not on the list. Oh woe is me. I'm sorry to whoever is in charge, I really did not mean to hope you go out of business.
Next agenda on the list was to have a proper loose/hangout session and he opted for Coffee Bean, but I was reluctant so he brought me to Delifrance instead. I love the French sodas and I've only had that sort since I've been there, thrice. Such a loser, I know. Making such a big fuss about a place I've only been to three times! Money talks, what. And I have none of the evil paper they call money nowadays. Such a sad, miserable life I lead. Suffice to say, I walked around in Japanese-army-style dirty brown apek shorts, a very quaint organic cotton T-shirt and ruffled, almost-coming-apart fuschia Birkenstock sandals, which mind you, are the most comfortable pair of slip-ons ever discovered (apart from the big hoo-ha about Crocs, I'm pussy enough to not try them on in case I get laughed at and the fact I find them hideous, so let's not make me a believer out of that). See? Nothing gets any better than a bum like me.
So there we were, in the midst of talking about everything until I got a text from someone at the workshop saying my car was all done. My heart skipped two beats faster, at least, and I was just going through the two puffs of my third stick of the day! I am amazed by how my body functions. I was especially happy that my car was done and ready to let me come pick it up. We left for the workshop and right there in front of my eyes (all the other cars were blurred out) was my lovely sweetheart. Got the keys from the front workplace where all the keys were hung out (he gave me these really ugly pair of Hilux car keys which I scorned at cause it was rotting only to find they were not MINE, cause I dont remember ever keeping my car keys in such bad condition) and skipped back into Hafiz's car to go pick my baby down the road. He left right after I stepped out of his car, very ungentleman-like, only to find myself sitting in a car with a flat battery with no fuel in it. I was fucking stranded and fucking pissed off by the time I got hold of Hafiz again and told him to immediately rush back to my aid.
See, the stupid thing was, I was not thinking straight. I was merely 10 feet away from a bloody workshop and to no avail never thought of the idea of them being able to get all that done for me. So he rushed back, this time very gentleman-like and waited with me while they got everything fixed, battery and fuel included. It took them at least about 45 minutes to get everything in tip-top condition again. And before I knew it, I was out cruising behind the wheels fit for a King! (If they prefer low-riders and mean pimped-like pickups, then, why not)
And to think, the last time I drove it was 4 months ago when the oil price was still at bay. RM50 of diesel only fills in a fucking less-than-half-tank! I remember just not so long ago when RM30 was half a tank on the meter. Now I understand the anguish from people who own cars. Because now I have to fork up my own allowance money to pay for that stupid car's tank. Uuuugh. The agony and horror. How I wish I got a Viva for my birthday instead.
But then again, if anyone is nice enough to give me a Bentley Continental GT or a Cadillac Escalade, I would never say no. That would be too much of a good offer to pass on.
AND I TAKE BACK ABOUT WHAT I SAID ABOUT THE VIVA FOR MY BIRTHDAY. I changed my mind. Because I want a pair of killer pumps from Prada, a brand new Gucci hobo and a white strapped Franck Muller Crazy Times. The whole concoction, please and thank you.
Aaaaaah, the dreams of a becoming 21-year-old in 3 months.
