Er, well. I guess this is my big debut. So, if you looked at the date on the last entry and its contents, you'd probably be able to tell that i am not really that set on blogging. but, like britney says on her new cheapo graphics, but surprisingly good album, "another day, another drama". (from piece-or was it pieces?-of me) Labels: blog, debut, lascivious, loser, rant
Oh well. eh im not done, don't you dare stop reading. And would my darling friends please not chastise me on not having an existing blog. I think i shall complain.
WHY THE HELL DOES H'S* AND G'S** AND WHOEVER'S BLOGS ACTUALLY GET READ. LIKE, WTF.
*Honami **Gracia
Ha bloody ha, so much for anonymity. You thought i was going to do the "the names and events have been changed to protect the innocent." thing. Ha. YOU THOUGHT WRONG, MISTER. Or if you're female, ms, i guess. Like it says in (the actually kinda boring) Crank Yankers, "Screw the innocent."
So anyway, why THE HELL do their blogs get read whie mine just sit and wallows and get depressed and fat from eating too much chips in front of the tv? WHY?
Anyway, do you know what I REALLY hate? Of course you don't, I haven't told you yet. Well, I'm about to tell you.
PEOPLE WHO ORDER ME AROUND AND EXPECT COMPLETE, TOTAL OBEDIENCE.
Like, seriously. you give me a task I wouldn't otherwise mind doing, but actually say,
"I don't care, you will do it regardless of whether you like it or not! I am ordering you!"
Um, and what am I suposed to reply, "Yes, O master I shall pick up the scrap of paper on the floor."? Am I supposed to give you utter compliance, even after you so subtly(not) and jerk-esque-ly, literally ORDERED me around?
DON'T HOLD YOUR BREATH, LOSER.
I mean, ask nicely, don't bloody demand it like bloody loanshark. SOME people i know actually do that. SOME people over the age of 40 and happen to live in the same house as me. What are you, dear maman, going to do next? write O$P$ on my door? Because i am pretty sure that i am the only person in this house who owns paints.
Is it really SO BLOODY FRIGGIN much to ask that for once, I be politely and deferrentially asked, "Hello there, sweetheart, would you awfully mind cleaning out that rather messy tangle of clothes at the bottom of your desk?"(er yes, desk.) I mean, who cares that it won't work because a)It will NEVER, as in NEVER happen(noooo, not MY mother) and b)I would probably just go, "No, I like it. Don't touch it. Go away."
And i hate it even more when people lie to me.
"I'm not scolding you"
like hell you're not this is a friggin torture session.
"There have been no improvements to your behaviour"
Ah, the oh-so-handy selective amnesia.
"You don't do anything to help out."
Did you miss the memo? I'm not supposed to, I just sit around and complain.
"you create so many problems for me."
YEAAAAHHHHHH right like you's actually need me to create problems, you probably invented the damn things.
If people 14 years old and above(thats right, no stupid juniors. CCHHHHYEEEAAAAAHHH MAN) bunked together and had housekeeping come 3 or 4 times a week and only saw their parents when they wanted, the world would be a better place. *sniff sniff.
And thus ends my rant.
WORD OF THE DAY: lascivious (don't ask.)
truckloads of LOVE to Eileen, Honami, Gracia and Melissa whom I have bugged to read this first entry.
Except if you haven't read this, in which case no LOVE for you, you rancid, putrid, non-bathing cow(s).
OOHHOOHOOOOHHHHH I AM SOOOO EXCITED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
don't even ask me WHY, I will be the last to know.
You'll be falling this October,
12:59 AM <3
I'm J from KC. Pinoy ako. Sunny Singapore. Born on 20 September 1993.
Drama+Debate.