I’m going to stop cooking myself supper. My maggi goreng is seriously lethal. Since this morning, I can’t stop dozing off and I’m strangely horny as hell. It’s madness. I’m going to hit the gym now.
Category: Ranting Is a Right
Ass long day.
I’ve been a trooper today. I had a 10am class but woke up at 6am to hit the gym. My body seemed to have recalled my old workout regimen. I wasn’t huffing and puffing on the stepper like previously. This is awesome, cause I don’t need to fear anymore about starting over.
Classes were so boring I don’t even want to talk about it. Anyway, I brought camera to college and took a couple of pictures. Look at my hot chick friends…sorry, request for contact numbers will not be entertained.
Retrospective rant.
Every time I walk out of a class, I feel like I’ve learned lesser. Frustrating!!!
I am having one of those moods. Bawled my eyes out while listening to 100 Years (Five for Fighting) and Breakaway (Kelly Clarkson). I know the lyrics aren’t anything close to depressing, but the music just moved me.
Wore miniskirt today. In the elevator with 7 or so people, classmate asked, “Why do you wear so nice today?”
Did you mean I normally don’t wear nice clothes? Or worse, as I knew for a fact that I didn’t look fantastic and yet you still asked such a question made me unbearably embarrassed what’s more with 7 pair of ears listening, I could almost smell their imaginary vomit. My answer was, “Well, being a girl, sometimes you just want to feel feminine, but thanks”
There are many questions that you shouldn’t ask people. One of my major peeves is when dumbasses ask me how much is the top/jeans/bag/shoes/etc I’m wearing. It’s as bad as asking one how much his or her salary. Back in high school, I had a jakun of a bitch who went as far as to flip the label of my top to check out the authenticity. Like what the fuck? She also took the trouble to check out the authenticity of my LV light blue vernis purse that Mom bought for my 15th birthday. Being 15, I didn’t know better and had only appreciation for Mom’s gesture until that bitch audibly insisted it was a fake, in the presence of various strangers. In truth, I hated it more than anything, that she indirectly put my Mom under a bad light. What did she expect me to do, strangle my Mom to death? A classless bitch will always be a classless bitch.
What is a classless bitch (localised version)?
1. Grammatically challenged.
2. Aigner-ed from head to toe (including rip-off scarf from Kelantan).
3. Over-dyed hair.
4. Dirt-clogged, cracked heels wearing designer slingbacks.
5. Sunglasses for hair accessory.
6. Blue contacts.
7. Skin akin to surface of the moon.
8. Kohl overload.
9. Student, clerk, receptionist or unemployed but likes to wear mismatched (unintentionally) pantsuit.
10. Plays golf (Matter of fact only went to a cheap ass driving range, once – fetching sodas for her fat sugar daddy wannabe cum Proton Saga owner).
*Bonus 11. Usually a gossip too. Then again, gossips come in the unlikeliest form, even professionally educated individuals; a shame truly.
Going to do some chores then hit the gym.