I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor

It's been coupla days since we caught up with each other, and since I'm in an assbummed mood and have absolutely no inclination of elaborating on how were my two days. Here are the highlights of the game:

1. Got drunk and wasted on Ben's BBQ due to a really really awfully stupid game in which I was bloody unlucky, and to think I swore never to go near alcohol again ever since that nightmarish June'05 night. Jeenson and Justin were sweethearts and sent teetering tottering me to my front door before thinking it's safe to leave me unattended.

2. I burnt practically every inch of my skin in Sentosa today. Extra crispy. And probably shot my chances of getting skin cancer through the roof.

But in any event, both days were bloody well spent. I had an obscene amount of fun with the boys and girls respectively for both days. So far, they've filled my long holidays with enough craziness to last me through a hellish 2007 when I'm sweating for my As. Now, everything would be really be perfect if only my darling 0623A would meet up soon, because I miss my 11 jumping beans. B&Js with my sixers clique soon, cannot wait.

And in case you're wondering, no I didn't hit the books yet. Shoot me please, I'm going to perish two months later.

Stuck

I'm starting to feel the constraints of this blog. Maybe it's due to my own expectations, or maybe to yours. I am not really certain, but all I know is the walls are looming closer together whenever I post up an entry in Tale-Dujour. Suffocating. I have this crave or maybe an inner cry to revamp, and maybe even switch blog host. Livejournal, Xanga, just something else. Blogger isn't giving me the release I need anymore. It's like an old Nokia, overhyped and overrated, not to mention grossly commonplace.

Or maybe its just me. I've lost the ability and also the desire to piece my thoughts into neat senetences and a proper passage. Sometimes, no, lately most of the times, all I want to do is jot my day down in broken lines, like random thoughts. Like how a proper diary should be. My mind jumping all over the place, and every word don't have to be properly arranged in bloody coherence. I don't want to have to make like a secondary student and dutifully write a frigging composition everytime I logged into Blogger. It's driving me up the wall.

Colour me crazy, but I want my entries to look retarded to you. Like you can't make heads nor tails of what I've written sometimes. Abit nonsenical, abit whimsical. No more dull, straight, disgustingly understandable entries. Zilch. I want random, I want babble, I want rubbish. Capisce?

Should I stick it out till the end of this year? Make it meaningful of some sort, like closing a door and opening another. Waiting until 2007 comes, before changing blog. Or should I just shift now? To the heck with meaningfulness and appopriate timing, I'm doing it my way or the highway. But all in all, like it or not, I'm definitely saying Goodbye to Tale-dujour.blogspot soon. It's just a conflict between the impulsive side of me and the idealist in me.

Tell me what you think.

Fix You

She blew on the glass that seperates her from the passing trees and grey highways. Her breathe fogged the clear sheet in the biting Febuary chill. She drew a new face on her condensation, this time with crinkled eyes, just like her grandpa when he laughs. She missed her grandpa, him with his old tweed coat and cigar smoke. They hugged their goodbyes this morning before her mom hustled her in the car, about six hours ago. She wasn't sure why but he hugged her tighter and longer than usual, and there was a sheen in his eyes she didn't like.

She shifted uncomfortably on her seat, the leather seatbelt cutting painfully into her shoulders.

This time imperfect

You're cynical and harshly unforgiving on the little mistakes people inevitably make. You are always quick to judge and criticise the very quirks and character traits that make him him. It was that one incident, and now we all can't seem to get back what used to be. The friendly camaderie, the guiless joy we used to have every moment and all the you-got-my-back and i've-got-yours. Now its you-got-my-back and i'll-stab-yours. This isn't the way its supposed to be. I think he had done his penace, can we just forget the past and stop bitching about his actions everytime he turns his back? I'm sick of being wrecked with guilt every single time I look at him. Bloody hell, he holds us in such high regards, and trusts us wholeheartedly. Egads, I'm disgusted with myself. Let's drop it.

The human mind is scary and twisted.
Its a cruel world out there, how I wish I can duck under my covers and just make it go away, like those shadows on the floor.

Wind It Up

Wednesday night saw me with my sixers roaming Vivocity. It was Coffee Bean and plush seats to spend the 9pm away. We went onboard this docked ship which contains nothing interesting but provided a superb location for our narcisstic tendencies.

And I uploaded a few because Blogger is being difficult once again.




As Ril said, our nights together are always too short, and time always passes too quickly. But nevertheless, it was the usual familiar comfort they provide that made my day. The way they completely understand my twisted personality, and how they seemed to know instinctively that I was troubled. Like that old nursery tinkle, old friends are truly gold.

I cannot wait for our Ben&Jerry's meet up soon. And in the meanwhile, you know you're loved.

Fluff

Material Girls is so full of fluff and vapid nothingness that it will insult any female with the slighest sense of intelligence. The whole movie was about showcasing the Duff sisters in designer togs and maybe to take a cheap shot at the likes of Paris Hilton. What a waste of seven fifty and two good hours.

I should have listened to Sling and catch 007 instead.

Put your records on,

tell me your favourite song.

Netball camp was as exhausting as it was fun, and I will talk about it soon when I get hold of the photos. My muscles are screaming bloody murder, the simple act of sitting down requires a herculean effort and about a thousand winces. Just laughing can kill you. But nevertheless, it was worth it. (:

Because of my temporarily inmobility, I had to cancel today's meet up with K. So here I am, my ass parked in front of the computer, playing old Pokemon games. No more nasty exams to study for, no more of the cursed PW. Just pure self-indulgence, can you spell H-E-A-V-E-N?

Happy Birthday Rui

Wrapped up on OP yesterday and that was the end of the exhausting all-nighters, frantic rush to get reports printed, crazy deadlines, useless advices and endless edits of the written report. The presentation went relatively well, considering how the projector refused to start up at first and the volume almost defeaned everyone. But my dear members managed to pull themselves together and gave it their best shot. It's all over now people, so lay off the caffeine aye?

Lunch at Compass Point with Merelda was fun, we roamed the mall for a couple of hours before I had to buy the cake for the birthday girl. The silly girl did not want to go home and in the process threw Kahlai and the rest into a frenzy, trying to get me to meet somewhere in the shopping mall without being too conspicious. And thus, I ended up at the airy corner beside the elevators like a lonely deluded outcast with a cake. But all was worth it, for Rui. In

terestingly enough, we were caught be the mall security for lighting candles in the mall, for fear of setting off the water sprinklers. Well I say you only live once, nothing like being marched down to the security office and being reprimanded for intentionally trying to set the mall on fire, threatening to bring in the police to brighten your teenage years. I think most of us were stifling laughter whilst being scolded, and they took it as cheek when all we were thinking was how surreal the whole situation was.

Anyway, enough talking. Here are a few of the photos that night;


The birthday girl. Eighteen burning candles.

There were only two of us because Lisda couldnt make it, Khairyn was sick and Flora was apparently missing.





Resident celebrity figure.

The birthday girl, looking pretty. And me looking like something the cat dragged in.



It was mad fun all in all, as it always is with this eleven crazy people. I'm looking forward to Sentosa, my loves. We are going

And once again, HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY RUI! We adore you.


Met up with Jiayi today for dinner at the Horizon. It was great catching up with her life, I felt like I didn't talk to her in years, but the easy flow of conversation between us was not yet lost. We yakked and yakked till we were both exhausted but nevertheless, thoroughly satisifed. It was lovely meeting up with you, Yi. I cannot wait for next tuesday's Pizza with the boys.

Its the holidays, time to do some serious catching up with those beloved ones in my life.

Retail Therapy...

...is God's compensation for women when He gave us menstruation, pregnancy and cellulite.

Have you ever felt the rush when you see a designer item you like marked down to a quarter of its orinigal price? And in your size too.

It's practially orgasmic.

Different friends, same kinda love.

Friday's Vivocity's trip with Shahril(s) & Pris was cancelled because Pris was down with fever all of sudden, but I'm guessing it's probably due to over-exhaustion from the constant late-nightouts and lack of sleep. But all is good, because we will meet up next week soon enough. But still, that day didn't turn out to be a disappointment because my lovely classgirls decided to troop down to CoffeeBean for some heavy sugar rushes and heavy gossip. Attention to all CB fans, from Monday to Friday, after 6pm, all cakes are given a 50% discount. (Tong, are you reading this?) Naturally, we bought several of those diet-busting confection to share around. I had the most fabulous time, to dish about classmates, laugh over Eils' s kooky games, and plan many many clique/class outings over brownies, apple crumbles, cheesecake, and frappes all around. These girls made my friday good and well spent. (:

And Sunday saw me spending the day with my sevens at Cafe Cartel. And here, I shall let the photos do the talking.

And there's me, intently studying the menu. And Tong is so in love with the glossy magazine-like menu that she actually contemplated on sneaking one home.

The FOOD. The girls loved the ribs, but I wasn't really into pork so there was nothing much to wow about. The lagsane wasn't bad but the supreme platter was a let-down. But the freebie crusty bread was good! Call me a cheapo, but I crave the simple stuff. (:
Tong & Han.
And the craziest dish around, some sort of viking whatsoever. I cannot really remember the name, but this monster is made up of 7 scoops of stretchy vanilla and chocolate ice-cream, dozens of macademia cookies, and drizzled with hot fudge. Can you spell, DECADENCE? It was meant for 4, so stated in the menu. But we hd 5 girls, and we had difficulty finishing it. So be warned. But it was the highlight of the entire course.
Mel told me the stretchier the texture of the ice cream was, the more fat content it has, just my luck to have someone taking courses that specializes in this kind of area.

We took a photo like this, because nobody wanted to show their bulging tummies.
With the sevens, there's always time for narcissm.


Ended off the day hanging out at Han's house, watching She's The Man and looking through secondary school photos. It was bittersweet nostalgia, I remember those times with these girls, it was all fun and laughter. Until now, I never had a bad time with them before. (Knock on wood!)



Its all so bizzare how we ended up together, seeing how we all come from different classes and different CCAs. But sometimes, the best things in life never needs a proper explaination.

Musing

Life's abit like those glossy female magazines you secretly sneaked a peek at when your mother's out grocery shopping when you were 12.

Magazines like CLEO, ELLE, HERWORLD, FEMALE. These magazines seemed to have your life neatly categorzied under many sections. Your fashion phases, when you went through trying to look like a pink fluffball falling under Fashion Don't. Your prom night, falling under a Fashion Do. (For now, at least.) The time when you spilled bubble tea on the MRT and the the pearls went rolling down the aisle and the time when you were running to grab the best shower stall in a co-ed camp and your Hello Kitty panties slip out of your clutch and onto the floor of the crowded hall, all under Embarassing Moments. The many insecurities you harboured the past years, about your figure, about your friends, about your boyfriend(s); it's all in the Q&A and Dear Aunt Kellys.

Imagine, if someone really did made a magazine of your life, wouldn't that make for an interesting read? (: