Sunday, September 27

Me Alice

I'm glad I stumbled onto this website, Neon Stilettos. Alas, there is somebody who has an affection for teacups and my all time cartoon favourites, Alice In The Wonderland. I was a fantasy fueled little nipper I was, I seem to gravitate to nonsensical, impossible logic of how should things work. Plus, I like tea parties. It looked fun and pretty.

Here's a cover done by Vogue Italia 2008, I don't what month exactly and I think the pictures are neat, however, I think Vogue Girl Korea was a lot more charming on it. Remember this one?

Gorgeous heels, I like the small details yet so frustratingly simple.

I've always think that lime green is a friendly colour, don't you think so?

Alice takes a trip down the tinsel town and this is what she ends up with, cigarettes and make up.

She's had too much, he's had enough.

I guess we've heard that one all the way round the world, and rightly so; we still can't seem to get enough of it. Are you capable of bouncing off the walls with a crazy fun addicted chick who is most probably going to finish your cigarette pack before you do? Or you'd rather tearing hairs with her about wild night escapades, constant inebriation, nail polish obsession, money whoring; ever wonder why do you put up with that only to get so little in return?

For I know such (pitiful) men and boys who will do anything for her to stay by her side simply because she's pretty. With this, I'm confident to acknowledge that beauty is a weapon, innocent by existence yet so grudgingly deceptive.

I wish women wouldn't use it as a weapon(I'm talking as if they're handling a gatling gun or something wth), because a weapon could backfire, therefore in turn hurt themselves as well. The door swings both ways, girl.

Enough with the military geek infused point there; I think beauty is a blessing. Or at least I think it is. Having beauty entitles you to yield a certain power, thus is a responsibility. Your beauty could light up a hope for ZOPFAN or bring a maelstrom of crushing winds and thunder; so it's your choice.

And remember,

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

- Margaret Hungerford

If you want me to be an obvious git; it means subjective you dolt.

Saturday, September 26

You're Curious

As if I didn't know it any sooner, if you're wondering who's the singer for the music in Chantal Thomass website; it's Biting My Nails by Genevieve Waite, not Tim Curry.

It's here.

Enjoy. I liked it too for a full minute, then turned it off.

Friday, September 25

Slap Me Please

I am most pleased with myself today. I got off my temper at my mother which was unbelievably rude of me to do that in front of people, gave a smug face to her boyfriend; spite the god damned uni security guards for which I wish to burn them to death with napalm for sticking in their nose into my private life and had the best worst news I could possibly get which is to have the family debt mounted up to another golden fifty grand, for which I’d like to hang my older brother on the ceiling fan for being such a useless piece of meat. Even maggots wouldn’t want him!

God, I’ve never been so angry and frustrated all my life that I simply lash out at anyone for any disagreeing with me or just rather, a slight bother will bring me to claw out their eyes and suffer my rage.

Normally, I am not like this. I like being calm and have my thoughts collected but today has gotten me off the hook. It diminishes my reputation to a nil!

I hate to lose my temper, but really when I do lose it; it means something. I don’t burst out things every day of my life even I’m supposed to. I always take precaution of what I say and do because it matters you know.

People out there aren’t very generous with their opinions, and second time chances are hard to come by so I’m not giving any look.

I’m an evil monster who should just admit one’s mistake instead of pointing fingers. I know that me and my family are going through a rough patch right now, but it’s not gonna be forever isn’t it? I’m sure one day we’ll get past these rocks and get back on the flat ground again. I miss those times.

What I really want to do right now is to run to my mother and hug her tightly, tell her that I love her and there is nothing in this world should ever hurt her feelings, and if I ever do, she has my full permission to slap me hard across the face even if it draws blood, I don’t care. I don’t deserve to be alive for the way I acted this evening before, so vile and just plain rude.

I haven’t said sorry either. It’s alright, I’ll make it up to her when I see her.

God, I wish to have the strength to remain composed at all times, please.

Thursday, September 24

The Godfather

via Neon Stilettos

As long I'm not acting daft, and begin to realize that I must set things straight; I am perfectly normal.

Under any circumstances.

And no, I'm not going to give you an excuse for a justifiable action for which I am going to tell you right now. Look, I want to be the Don.

Yes, and I'm not crazy, plus I wouldn't even bat an eyelid if I were given a chance to be involved with the Syndicate.

Not any Syndicate mind you, the big time blowers floats my boat darling. Well, if I can't be the Don by any chance; being the Consigliere would put me at ease almost immediately--for at least ten seconds I think.

No, I haven't been watching the Godfather it was just a random book I picked up about the Mafias and such, and yes, Marlon Brando was sexy in his younger days, he's a fuzzy old man for a Don but I like the fact that he had a pet cat. It bridges the similarities gap closer between us, ooh I feel a bit like a Don Vito Corleone already!

My pet cat died. Either way stolen or lost its way home.

Anyways, as I was saying I mentioned earlier on that 'power is sexy' on my previous post before this and I still do find it sexy till now; if you tell me which girl wouldn't like a little bit of arrogance, wanting her man to prove that he's manly enough for her?

I want a man. I know, I do. A man who won't whine as frequently as I'm capable of but not likely to do it unless I want some attention from you. YES, YOU. A man who is able to provide me security especially when I'm walking about and there's a bunch of idiots ogling at me as if they've never seen a pair of legs before, he should possess the power of an immensely cold icy stare at them clowns to scare their pants away; or else get a pair of eye laser beams or something. You're suppose to make me feel safe. A man who can feed me like a walrus because if I'm hungry all the time, I'd probably be digging your liver out for suppe--umm nothing!

You know what I mean? A man!

Not some boy trying to teach me to adapt to his own liking. WHAT DO YOU KNOW YOU INEXPERIENCED LITTLE *takes a deep breath* GIT!!

The only girl you've ever been with is just as clueless as you are! No wonder it doesn't work!

Get a clue, damn it!

Actually, the last two sentences up there is somewhat applied to me sadly. :(

But hey, that's why we learn from the past, or rather a good ol' reason why the miserable subject History ever bother cropping up on the high school syllabus; making a right misery out of anyone. What you like History?! Get out of here!!

History classes, lectures, homework or anything that related to history is boring. We are done and over with it; could not wait any sooner to get away from it. But let's not take this matter based on one point only: Boring. Perhaps there was a manipulative factor that causes the dreaded subject to be boring!

Come back here you History book worshippers!

What makes History much more interesting is that you need a good storyteller. Not everyone is good at that. I'm not. A story told with full passion and effort is mesmerizing for weeks and your listeners can pass it on to others and they pass it on to another millions of people. A story that was barely even a story, half assed through the way; people most likely to toss it off their mind the second the next sentence came out your mouth.

I have lousy History teachers at high school. Plus, even lousier History lecturers at university.

Nyeh. Whoa, what an include to round up a pair of sentences!

So I want to be the Don. I know it's easier said than done, I barely picked up a gun in my life, let alone a battering stick or diver's knife; but I'm probably most harmful with a feather duster. I'd tickle you to death of course.

Never mind, I'll just use the short cut, probably flirt with some bloke who happens to be a Don and marry him off to me. Persuade him. Make him. Control him. Take him. Rape him!

Okay, stopppp.

Maybe I was dreaming back there, there's no way that's gonna happen, I mean, how would I really know that he is the Don or something? And the other question that will string along somehow. Questions, questions, questions...that's why I never bother writing them down! And forget about them later.

Had the misfortune to remember about it again but with the completely erased memory that I have run into this mental block before and repeat the whole process again. How lovely.

Anyhow, the pointless dialogue of the day have kept me well and satisfied for at least a few hours or if I'm unlucky, days I suppose. But nevertheless, I shall carry on with my charming fantasy of men in black suits and shades escorting me into a brightly colored ice cream van to get my 'fix'. You know? Triple chocolate chip sundae with extra whipped cream and cherry toppings; God I'm a slob and you know it.

Tuesday, September 22

Love Sex Love

I dread the day if I were ever to be at short ends, I wonder if I could have the strength to simply bend down and pick up the pieces slowly again, hopefully learning a valuable lesson along the way; rather to do better the next time?

I don't know, I'm lost.

However, I've find myself some distractions lately. Married couples gone wrong. Funny example was Boycie and Marlene (I know, I know, just cut it out will you?), I liked the way they had each other back(s).

Boycie said,"If I were to draw a straight line, I've would've used Marlene's chest!"

Or perhaps something I would relate to,"Come on darling let's get home, and ignore each other for the rest of the evening."

Haha. I love Boycie.

No, you didn't read, hear, nor see that. It must be your imagination.

Somehow I'm having a little fantasy going on in my head right now, which I'm pretending to be, let's not jump into conclusions yet, yes I know I said I love, I mean like Boycie, but that doesn't mean I super crazy sex obsessed with him!

But then again...maybe.

Alright, a 0.01% of maybe okay? I'm perfectly sane. I like boys. Ahem, I meant men.

There's nothing more appealing than a strong mark of masculinity, by all means is power, the need to dominate and rule against others, bow down to the supreme authority. Power is very sexy. Very, very, very sexy. Aaah...

I just love power. More than anything in this world.

Though I must say I have to gain several material things in this world to prove my worth, not to mention I've to put on a bit of work on myself too. That always.

Ho Hum, I still haven't got any response from that program I've wanted to join, wonder if they going to cherry pick me instead of those undeserving maggots out there, oops! Didn't mean it really, nah kidding. Tool.

It's going to be at 7th of November, and karma has it at 7th of November I have a *TEST* to be taken on that day; program starts at 8AM, exam starts at 7.30AM, so ffffffuuuuuuudge.

Fudge it.

But I really want to go!

Never mind I'll come up with something. Sure I will, for example, tell them that I will be late for about 6 hours I think? Sounds like a great excuse to miss out all the important activities! Aww! I hate this. WHY KARMA?? WHY?!

So then, I'm off to sleep. Goodnight Boycie, I love you!


Monday, September 14

So Old

(That website is a super eye candy! Go and love it! )

This is getting interesting by the day, I've just dropped by my local uni to see my bunch of kooky friends; well yeah everything was pleasant and so but just so happen I landed myself into a hype of this on going event in the uni; some sort of summer camp or something except they chuck you into a posh hotel to work on your leadership skills or something like that; the swag, sophisticated kind of atmosphere I think, or maybe I'm just being cynical but I'm thinking of joining in. Probably I'll meet a group of power hungry career motivated people who want to flaunt about their accomplishments in life; therefore making you their subordinates so that you follow into their footsteps. On a second thought, I might not want to go.

But guess what? Everything's paid for; a room for yourself, a full three course meals a day and god knows what else they're offering, it's going to be a three day programme for you to get on your butt to sharpen your leader skills. I wonder what are they gonna make them people do?

The only snag is they're choosing about 58 people to go, I guess I'll give it a shot right?

Yuppo, maybe I should go find a new hobby now. TTFN!

Saturday, September 12

I'm Woozy

via Gillo Filippa

I had a nightmare last night. That was the second time. I woke up feeling fear, scared and the sense of loss. I hated it.

It made me cry a while because I had gloomy feelings shrouding over my head and I could not put myself together to be sensible the least.

All I remember the most was the fear I felt all throughout the dream. It's like I'm chasing for something that's beyond my reach, and fail miserably.

The nightmare was something about who's dying and obviously died of course, and me being a soppy daft was so upset about it.

Come to think about it, it wouldn't be as bad as Iraqi sniper insurgents shooting up general war lord heads off in Myanmar during an illegal gemstone drug ridden trade while the American Embassy in England is being bombarded by some highly anticipated pro-Marxist atheist ruffians waiting outside with their clubs and broken glass bottles, and the Prime Minister of Malaysia finds himself in a very awkward position with the discover of his picture collections of young, naked Indian boys while China cease to dump unwanted dead bodies in metal crates deep into the Pacific ocean despite the UN warning; a call out to nature! Fishes will be fed off the bodies, not to mention the Japanese and Russians would like that very much since they do a lot of fishing; biggest exporter of fisheries around the world and South Korea would proceed to wage a war against the Middle East with the help of it's long time enemy North Korea; both have rekindled their relationship to a whole new level; they would put the Islam religion down in smut. By this time, the Muslims in Saudi Arabia and Indonesia will be raging in protest banging their fists on the tables demanding war and also a complete boycott of every non Muslim product off their shelves. Their women would be severely battered to let out the anger on them simply because they couldn't nab a yellow paled skin slitted eyes Asian to beat the hell out of him instead. The EU will call up for a meeting to discuss the current situation at the state of the world until Belgium decides to pull out simply because the rich gentlemen in Luxembourg wouldn't allow them for fear their exporting ammunition demands will be cut short in Antwerp; then later cause a riot from happy marijuana smoking peace keepers from Holland come in flooding numbers carrying picket signs, dressed like poufs, interracial make out and such; young people who finally understood making 'big' statements in life when all they ever do was getting stoned and shout about some nonsensical principalities rubbish which later when they grow older, they wished they're smart enough to think for themselves a lot more next time. Well, there isn't next time and just very surprisingly Thailand decide to invade Laos and Vietnam to support it's ever growing demands for a cheap industrial grounds, labor and natural resources. Thailand's the New China; pollution's getting rampant when there's another big hole on the ozone layer found on the Southern hemisphere, and whoops! There's two of them in the North Pole already! Laos would inconsiderably give in while Vietnam retaliates like a cobra snake, body counts all around the world rises up to a 1.5 million daily that's when Germany's secret society has been inventing poisonous transparent, odourless gas to be released at every existing major public train stations in big cities. The Zionists instead will get ready their stocks of nuclear war missiles dead ahead for Modern Age Hitlers, presumably guilty or not is no longer the matter; Al-Qaedas will seize a chance to jump on the band wagon and attack America by kidnapping every single American diplomats in the embassies around the world threatening to blow them up into a million of pieces with a video compilation of them dying torturedly sent to their families (which will secure a winning on Grammy for five years consecutively for Best Documentary) if the U. S. of A doesn't comply. Crazy radical power hungry money driven feminists will begin to blame men for the entire problem that's going on in the world now, with so much misery, depression, anger, perversion, violence; their yapping mouths and ridiculous agendas continue to make everyone's life a bit more difficult than it can get sparks off a nasty comeback from the shameless pompous male chauvinist club, both spreading hate and lies amongst genders multiplying creating a battle between the sexes all over again, the world runs on a single track mind of hate, pain, revenge, disgust, contempt, greed, lust, envy, lies; a bleeding dark symphony! All this while I'm in the comfort of my knickers blog bashing a (stupid) girl whom I know in real life with a strongly worded entry about her lack of creativity let alone her brain if she has one.

Yes, come to think of it, I suppose my nightmare isn't that horrible after all. Gosh, silly me.

Wednesday, September 2

Just Wondering

via Nast

I had just spent the entire day lying on my back with the laptop on my chest watching Fools and Horses from Series 1 to 4 and I'm just about to finish up the whole dealie. I am so utterly smitten that I feel my stomach tied up every minute of that show. They're simply brilliant, I don't know why, I mean I KNOW, but I wouldn't know how to put it. It doesn't stop me laughing at every word they say, that I can tell you.

Oh for god's sake you'd just have to watch it to enjoy it! It's downright hilarious, if you liked dry humor and witty sarcasms, but then again if you don't; IT'S STILL FUNNY. Trust me.

Somehow I've grown an odd crush on Boycie(a little dabble on Del Boy), maybe I'm just weird. Sick. I don't know, both?

Boy, what a wolly comment up there isn't it?

Anyways, that won't keep me from updating you The List I've made the other day. I made it up in my head; just so you know.

The List is just a pile of dude names I would seriously give no second thoughts to bang the living daylights out of them. I mean like real animal crazy carnal lust you're talking, yes and I have them wacky fantasies. Only on these guys though. It's very kinky if you must know.

Great, I sound like a pervo now. I guess, I'll just shut it and do the world a favor.

I must be joking you, no way I'm not contaminating your mind; I'm in love with these men! It's Love! Madness!

Alright, alright let's not get carried away here; I haven't given out names yet. Let's start with the first one.

1. Clive Owen

Finally, the secret is out. Apparently a greased up fat ball cat came out of the bag, and it was bleedin sloppy alright! Clive Owen is perhaps the only man who'd ever made me shiver in my...uh, thighs and has the most perfect rugged look I've ever dreamed of! I mean did you look at his jaws? I sworn could've creamed my..I mean, get an exhilaration looking at that only. Ooh you wouldn't know what would I do to get with him alone. In the library. Reading books. And all that stuffs. Real hot ain't it?

2. Billie Joe Armstrong

I've been wanting to nail him since the last five years and he keeps turning me down simply because he's married. I told him I'd lose my virginity to him but I guess, it didn't matter as much as his family. He said to me, "Do whatever you want with it cuz I don't want it," and doesn't that break a junior highschool-er's heart? Very much, but I still keep him close somewhere in my heart; and its his denial that made me want him more, oh my god I think I have a problem! I do. I'm in BLOODY love with him that's what it is! However, my heart shall never be at rest once you've set your eyes on me; till then I shall fritter away in void solitudes or bask into another man's arms thinking that I'll never be happier without you. Well, that was a part of my sick fantasy of this bloke; I wanted to pretend that he's my undying love and I will wait for him for as long as I would like a silly old stump gone senile.

And that is all of The List.

What? Of course there's only two men is in The List! What, you think that I'm some kind of a sex machine that goes out and hunt men then eat them for food? If I would, I don't think even Kegel's exercise could help me out let alone what's the point of me being a woman later then?

I've made a wise decision striking out Pete Doherty and John Challis names so that-- well, okay I know I fancy Boycie too but I don't think he's qualified enough to be in The List. And no, I'm not thinking of going at Del Boy at all. Just Boycie. But it's like I'm making out with a grandfather! What if his denture creams are mint? On a second thought, I like mint- hang on I mean, he might just die from his sinus attack or god knows what else old people die from while I'm in a middle of...never mind. Anyways, I'd like to hug and have a good chat with him will do me all good and proper. As for Petey, that's a no brainer or do you need me to point it out to you? I've seen him naked, and it's ghastly. End of story.

I like men. It's a sentence that could send you away for miles of reasoning why. You know, real men not boys. Not those men-looking model boys gracing every single page in the perfumes, clothes, accessories, footwear ads in Vogue magazines. Do you believe that most of these boys are not even twenty and they freakin' look like bloody forty! Dudes here in my country are twenty and they look like a pathetic twelve; but the thirties and forties are no better because they've gotten so fat which is a national crisis as there's more tubby people around now and plus, their hair is falling all over the place. Ew, gross. That makes me a pedophile if I, dare I say, ogle at them model boys? What in the world do they eat? Get chemicals pumped into them so that they turn into a raving estrogen lunatics just to grow a boy in an instant? I wonder if his willy is instant too, I'd like to know thank you very much! Probably it's damn well DEFECTIVE at the rate he's growing, it's like those chickens in their coups getting fed all day waiting for the moment before you send it to the slaughter house, then BAM! Chopped its head off, and you'll have it nicely served in a curry dish at the next Indian restaurant you can find on the block.

God what the hell? Where did that come from?

I guess I've had too much on my plate and I had to get it off; anyhow the mundane grey blog I have out there is beginning to be a nuisance; I'm in a middle of a blog war if you know what that is, and I guess this blog is what I've got to escape some of the emotions in my sappy head wanted to say without being judged at every word I've typed in here. At least I'm not reduced to a mere sneering contest within pretentious airheads(yes, there are sad existence like them) who think they could pull off an epic comeback with their futile 100 word or less, 300 at most because anymore would tire their brains out or worse, a social outcast in their circle of conformity. These people wouldn't exist if there's no one to clean up after them, do their dishes, perhaps even wipe their bums if you will; too bloody dependable to be nowhere near independent.

Hope it's not much of a surprise to you for the slight difference of content on the blog, let's just put that as a welcoming post for September. Hooray!