The mysterious case of the disappearing cash-
Two weeks from payday, a poor young man finds his account magically drained, devoid of any trace of evidence except from those dreaded words on the screen of the ATM machine- "The amount exceeds your available balance". The ATM is either your best friend or worst enemy. It tells you if you're a rich bitch or a sad sorry penniless loser who doesn't know how to save money.

No, don't call Sherlock- he'd be too busy investigating something more worth his time like dead dames in English countryside manors. He couldn't be bothered if your money is missing , and neither could anyone else. -Right, you may insert a sad pouty face here if you wish-
It's a classic scenario: how after two weeks from payday, your money seems to have gone, and it leaves you wondering if it's the fault of the ATM machine. Or if you've really been that much of an irresponsible spender.

Or how when you have $19.99 in your account and the machine only dispenses a minimum of $20. Oh! Or how the machine only gives out $50 notes and you're sadly left with less than that inside your account.

Must learn to save. Grr...

One dacquoise. Some hokkien mee. At 30 minutes past midnight.
This is another Bridget Jones's Diary.

This goes out to everyone who stands in the bathroom stark naked looking in the mirror, wondering how you could shed a few pounds or be more toned in certain parts of your bodies, squeezing so hard to make your abdomen magically dissect into neat little pieces of six (or eight), when two would not even appear.

When sometimes you wish that pecs could be as easy as a breast implant.
When sometimes you wish that a few centimetres would do you good.

Well it's all passe because it's a feeling that we've thought of a time too many.

It's true that this blog has been collecting dust (And i bet you're thinking how many times I've used the phrase 'collecting dust' already as it is) Add another 2 to your 'collecting dust' counter. Three.
It's also true that I am utterly tired of my blogskin since it has a text window width of an Asian virgin. Yeah, my blog habits have been clamped up and tightly ungenerous.

So in light of such a circumstance, I have decided to let the creative juices flow liberally out of this open window of inspiration. The metaphorical va-jay-jay if you would call it that- the lovely grey matter- the brain. If all that didn't make much sense, then nevermind. This blog was never meant to be completely understandable anyway. This is a random article that you read for your pleasure, or temporary appeasement from your boredom if you'd prefer to see it that way.

This evening, I have decided to show you a violent clip from one of the video game previews I chanced upon while browsing reviews for any Wii titles which I may be interested in, because well... you know, my birthday is coming up and I might get a Wii game to pamper myself

PS: If you wanna get something for my birthday, vouchers from clothing lines, beauty products, make up brushes, wii games, board games or anything hand made are greatly appreciated. Wow that was blunt.



Moral of the story:

All that is Greek ends in tragedy.
And Greek violence is bad for mental health.

I didn't go out this entire weekend, and instead I embraced tele-vision.

Expect more snacking if you choose to do so, because telly is a smothering bastard who'll invite the chocs and sweets to come rolling in.
Not before long, you'll also realise that such a sedentary lifestyle will cause you to grow rolls on your tummy. Yeast powder in your gut.
Unless you want to become a fluffy poofy jiggly jongle, indulge in your basic aerobic exercises which I will be involved in within the next 20 minutes.

I know I like to procrastinate. Procrastination is my gigolo prostitute.
And I fit greasy dollar bills into his Elastic Versace underwear.

Well... In the words of Britney Spears' Break The Ice:

It's been a while
And I know I shouldn't have kept you waiting.
But I'm here now.

Gee, what a cheesy start to a new blogpost

I'm back after a long break.

This time with broken shards of acrylic for a heart.
I didn't want to end it because I knew he was the one.

But I need time.

We say alot of embarrassing things in our lifetime. But none quite as nonsensical as the voices in our heads. Now now, by no means does that equate to schizophrenia. Hardly anyone seems to entertain these external voices. They call it madness. Perturbed eccentricity. Cuckoo.

For the past few months, I've had a dozen of these ridiculous characters swimming about my mind- swimming in a pool of squelchy blood vessels is quite gross if you'd ask me, but I let them swim anyhow. They have a term for these characters, believe it or not. Everyone has them in fact. They're called your 'gatekeepers' who stifle any form of creativity or optimism and make you a complete worry wart.

Well then, them gatekeepers must have had quite a party in my head I suppose.

But the party's over I'm afraid.
No. I shouldn't be afraid.
The party's over, laconically speaking. Fin.

And I've added yet another count to the list of embarrassing things spoken in my lifetime.

On Wednesday morning, it is said that my life will change. For the better of course- I only condone happy endings. Then again, should the bastards ruin that for me, that will be another story. Another story for another time.

This will be a great week- I'm expecting it to!