I cannot sleep. I just can't... I can't do anything. I can't do anyteeeeeenggggggggggggggggggg...
That Maritees is funny I tell you.
It's nights like this that makes you wish that there's an on-and-off switch right next to your ear. Then it'll save the trouble of trying to sleep. In any case, this night is a night of all nights. I somehow had a revelation. In my quest to search for the perfect slumber, I have somehow stumbled upon a few answers.
First of all, counting sheep do not work. I tried this. I tried it a lot. At one time, I reached ten and all of a sudden, the sheep started to turn into these perfectly juicy racks of flying, freaking lamb. I saw flying racks of lamb. Weird no doubt and also did not do wonders to my gastro-intestinal system. From trying to sleep, I ended up making myself an omelette. Why an omelette? Because we were out of lamb but were totally stocked on the eggs =) There was this other time that I tried counting these woolly, little mammals again. Funny thing is, there was this mid-air collision between two sheep. It was hilarious. Imagine two sheep, on their asses and dizzy from the head on impact between them. They even had those cartoon stars circling their heads. Come to think of it, I wonder why each and every time I count sheep, they're just 2D figures? Don't forget the baa-ing. OH, the baa-ing. Sheep sound so needy don't they? Here a baa, there a baa, everywhere a baa. It's just absurdly overdone. What are they trying to say? What do they want? Explain it to me in words with two or more syllables, Mr. Sheep. If not shut the baa up.
Secondly, drinking warm milk will only give me bad gas. Maybe I'm just lactose-intolerant. Or maybe in the midst of the tiredness and blurred sleepy vision, I care not to check the expiry date or the odd, soury smell of moldy milk. I just wanna sleep.
Next, counting will only go as far as to annoy the hell out of you. This is because there is no end. You can go to as far as 1,000,000,000,000,000,000 and still won't fall asleep.
Other things that I've tried are; pacing back and forth in my room which does wonders to your cardiovascular system; read a cookbook; sing myself to sleep which is horrible because each time I try to sing a certain song, I just can't remember the tune correctly; clean the hell out of my room; shower; blog, obviously; and draw.
Right now, I just want to sleep. I need sleep. If I fall asleep now, I promise not to take anymore afternoon naps.
PLEEEEEEEAAAAASSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEEEE.....
Its almost 7 and I am still awake. What to do now, what to do?
You know how I like to pull out something out of my former blog and paste it here? Yes, this is one of them. I just like the way the conversation unfolds. It was something deep and at the same time a revelation on some of the age old questions that I have to face... Conversation: me: dude, are you a gay virgin?
fren: No, i'm not.
me: so ur just gay!!?
fren: no
me: ur not?? so are you no longer virgin then??
fren: no!! i'm a virgin!! (getting agitatedly confused)
me: so that means your gay??
fren: I'm not gay!!!(mildly pissed)
me: Do you like guys??
fren: yes... i mean no...
me: if you dont like guys, why you hanging out with us?
fren: i like guys ok.. me: so that means your gay then??? and a virgin??
fren: yes... no... i don't know. dammit you and your questions!!! me: i know... but deep inside you know you need me to brighten up your day.. fren: ya ya... who else would I look for??(sighing and grinning) me: GAY! GAY! GAY! ahahhahahhaha fren: shut up.. dammit!!!
Daus isn't really gay and I don't have anything against gay people. I just like to mess with his head about his own sexuality sometimes to keep him on his toes. I think I did a fine job as well considering now that he has his own blog and basically is able to write a comprehensible and grammatically-tolerable entry. Although I can't really see the connection between his writing capabilities and discovering his own sexual identity. I'd like to think that I inspired him. But what do I know?
My second entry for the morning. Bella would be ecstatic... hahahahahhahaha
Not really. I don't even know where Congo is. What is Congo famous for? But wouldn't it be fun to come from a place that sounds so tropical. Brunei is tropical indeed. But I just don't understand why do people keep mistaking Bruneians for the cast of "The Gods must be crazy." We do not live in trees ok? Some do but that is a whole different story. What are the people of Congo called? Congoians? Congonese? Congs? Must consult the all knowing and all seeing Wikipedia.
*Wikis for Congo*
Its Congolese. I was close.
I just came out of Daus' blog. Nope, nothing to add. That's it. Daus blogged.
But it got me thinking. Is God a girl or a guy? I mean seriously, the books could be wrong. Let's face it. They were written in times where feminism was not even a word let alone an idea. I don't think they'd consider to weigh out the gender of the All Mighty.
Husband:"We have a God! And He has come to save us!"
Wife:"He? What makes you so sure He's a HE?"
Husband:"What are you mad, woman? Of course He is. Now go back into that kitchen and cook me my meal. While your at it, clean out my loin cloth. I said CLEAN!!"
If you take a look at Darwin's Theory of Evolution, we are all just freakishly mutated monkeys and monkeys are actually the ones that are true to themselves. The only difference is that we shit in closed confined spaces, away from the public's eye. Seriously, we have societies, they have different species with different levels of superiority. We eat using forks and knives, the use sticks and rocks to eat. We go to hair salons, they meet and pick out ticks from each other. They smell each others behinds, some people kiss behind. Don't you feel so much like a hypocrite now?
I bet if everyone on this planet ran fast enough at the same time in the opposite direction of the Earth's rotation, the planet would come to a halt and everyone would stand still, turn to each other and ask," NOW what?!!?"
Just realised that the phrase,"What's up your ass?" mean. When you have severe constipation, its difficult not to have a really cranky day. Not that I have had severe constipation. Come to think of it, I haven't been to the loo to do no. 2. It's almost 4 a.m and I haven't shat all day. No wonder I can't sleep. My bowels are crying for release. I was so caught up in enjoying the day that I actually forgot to GO. So THAT'S why I woke up 2 hours ago feeling something was not complete. I still have this morning's dim sum in me. By the way, I feel overstuffed. I had dim sum for brunch, a light dinner and then pizza on top of the dinner. By the end of the day, I actually turned down a donut.
AN OVERPRICED, CHOCOLATE-Y, RING-SHAPED PASTRY FROM "FUN DONUT"!!!!!
I turned it down.
I still think about it every hour or so. We could have had something special. Alas, there are limits to the capacity that one's digestive system can endure in the span of 18 hours. My mind was saying "yes", but my stomach was saying," not again."
Oh, donut, thou will be remembered.
There, that was a brainless entry. I often get complaints regarding how lengthy and complex some formations of sentences can be as my fingers and brain connect to form an entry that is a product of some weird inspirational moment, that I've decided, for the sake of my friends, to actually tone down the length and use shorter sentences in hopes that they would not fall out of consciousness trying to decipher every single idea I write.
*grins*
Good night, everyone. Remember, the boogeyman awaits your slumber. Look under your bed. I dare you... *evil, maniacal laughter*
And now, presenting, some Bulgarian chick's rendition of Mariah Carey's "Without You".
HEAD FOR THE HILLS!!!!!!!
Kidding. Enjoy.
Some may not be able to sing but other's should just be laid to rest. I love this video. I don't know about any of you but "tulibu dibu douchoo" sounds more like the mating call of a sneezing pigeon than English.
By the way, if anyone happens to travel along the highway that leads to the Gadong roundabout tunnel from Muara, please be wary of a driver who's going opposite the flow of traffic. There was this freaking maniac that was on the wrong side of the road!!! Coming from that tunnel!!! ON his way to what seems like, Muara. True story. I had witnesses in the car. They would vouch for me. All I can say is that, I have two theories: He was drunk; or He must've been a tourist, maybe European. Maybe he's just a drunk European tourist. Who knows!!!
This is an e-mail forwarded to me by a very close friend, Victoria. I know she loves reading about herself so I'll just say a little bit about her. She's actually below average height. But I do consider her as a very good friend and she should think of this when she's kicking my ass in the days to come.
Anyways, the abovementioned e-mail. Very hilarious and at the same time disturbingly scary. Heed this warning my fellow man. As it will save an eye or two.
This is an actual letter from an Austin woman sent to American company Proctor and Gamble regarding their feminine products. She really gets rolling after the first paragraph... PC Magazine's 2007 editors' choice for best webmail-award-winning letter....
Dear Mr. Thatcher,
I have been a loyal user of your 'Always' maxi pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the Leak Guard Core or Dri-Weave absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.
Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from 'the curse'? I'm guessing you haven't. Well, my time of the month is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call 'an inbred hillbilly with knife skills.' Isn't the human body amazing?
As Brand Manager in the Feminine-Hygiene Division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers monthly visits from 'Aunt Flo'. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend's testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey's Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy!
The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants... Which brings me to the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: 'Have a Happy Period.'
Are you fucking kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness -- actual smiling, laughing happiness is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything 'happy' about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on
Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreen's armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory.
For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like 'Put down the Hammer' or 'Vehicular Manslaughter is Wrong', or are you just picking on us?
Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flexi-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullshit. And that's a promise I will keep. Always....
Hormonal indeed and hilarious as hell but I now have more clarity to the pain that most women and Daus have during their monthly periods. Thank you Vicki. It really did make my day.
P. S.: I have no idea how to put "monkey puppet" in a sentence. Nor am I any good at IELTS either. Go figure. I have sucky English.
Here's my guide to end it all. Some of the simplest ways to take those dull moments when life seems so redundantly slow and to fill them with something productive. Best of all, IT"S FUCKING FREE, BABY!!!!
Boredom tip no. 1: Plan your own funeral Yes, that's write. Plan how your funeral would be like. Why? Because weddings are so over done and funerals are one thing that you cannot have full control of. Do it now before it's too late. It might even save you some dignity. I mean how much formaldehyde can one use to preserve you? Open casket or closed? Do you really want people to see how ugly you are after you die?
Boredom tip no.2: Plan your own suicide. If you went to as far as picking out the flowers for your funeral, you might as well plan how you would go and how your corpse would like. Fuck fate. Why wait when you can do it yourself? By the way, if you actually went ahead with the first two tips, I seriously think you need help. Any kind of help. Please!! Seek immediate help!
Boredom tip no. 3: Throw stuff at a friend. Rubber bands, lit cigarettes, empty cans, bottles, shit even are fun projectiles if put to good use. Why a friend? Because a stranger could turn out to be someone with a good throwing arm. That would definitely suck, don't you think? Pick a friend who you definitely know couldn't hit an elephant standing in front of him with a bowling ball to save his own life.
Boredom tip no. 4: Make your own nuclear missile. Why not?
Boredom tip no. 5: Trash talk your own foot. At least it won't be able to outsmart you and launch an arsenal of insults right back at you. That would be stupid. You being humiliated by your own foot. I mean seriously, if you run crying from your own foot, you might as well consider tip no. 2. Or at least let Mr. Hand slap you across your face.
Boredom tip no. 6: Fart bomb someone. This is easy. If you feel the urge to fart, hold it in. Look for a potential victim/friend. Place soon-to-be-whipped ass as close as possible to person's face while at the same time trying not to arise any suspicion of your intention. And then, let your anus unleash the wrath of your anus. Very fun at parties.
Boredom tip no. 7: Smoke. Again, why not?
Boredom tip no. 8: Create your own imaginary friend. Are you EIGHT?!!!? Fuck that. But if you must, please, please, pleeeeeaaaaaaaaasssseeee, don't even try to make out with him or her. That's just plain weird.
Boredom tip no. 9: Read my blog. Yeah, why not?
Boredom tip no. 10: Read the other links on my blogroll. I don't want those people to think that I'm playing favourites. Besides, I don't even like them. HAHHAHAHHAHHAHHAHAHAHHA...
Enough crap for one night. Go to hell everyone. I am feeling the very the malicious.
P. S. Author is not responsible for the consequences of the actions of the people who actually did all the things listed above. If you are injured or humiliated in any form whatsoever as a result, you are probably an idiot and deserved what's coming to you.
Why does it keep raining these past few days? I personally like it when it rains because for one thing cold weather is very good sleeping weather. But what the fuck man? This is too much. If I sleep more than I do now, I'd probably have to stock on Indomie and hibernate until the weather returns to it's normal self.
The first few days it was a luxury. After a long, dry week, it was a much welcome change. However, now its become excessively absurd. I mean I can't go out because of it. My afternoon futsal ritual is practically silly. Its more like my afternoon play-and-wash. I am not one who is against playing in the rain but the fact that you practically shower in the middle of a game is not a concept that everyone like especially if the rain drops are the size of grapes. I might as well bring soap and shampoo into the futsal court and run naked while trying to challenge for a header. That would work wonders for my giblets.
Speaking of giblets, I was in the toilet just now and I realised how cold the water was. God save all of you from experiencing the spray of cold water on your nether regions. Everything just... well, all I can say was, it did nothing to boost my self-esteem. To be naked and cold and pretty much terrified if it would go back to its original size is no laughing matter. SO I was in the shower and naked. I mean, BIG FRIGGING DEAL?!!!?
Who doesn't strip naked in the shower? What kind of person are you? Are you one of those who shower with a bathing suit on? Then, you, my friend, have a problem that only a trip to Amsterdam and a few hundred hours of therapy can help.
With that experience, I think I have a slight idea of how a certain body cavity examination with a very, very cold metal speculum feels like. Funny how doctors never thought of warming up their instruments when they want to do an invasive procedure. It's just plain evil I tell you.
The abovementioned speculum.
Okay, I'm done. That was fun to write. Hmmmmm... I've been thinking about something lately. I seriously don't see the link between missing disc and not wearing undies *eyes Tzen*. What is it?!? *groans* Whatever. Somebody's going to have explain it to me.
-He Who Has No Name-
I prefer to be nameless but somehow that isn't working. I rant about anything that comes to my mind and most of the time my fingers won't do what my brain tells them what to do. Hence, the typos.
The abovementioned speculum.