Food For Thought
I'm the grass under your shoes, a blue piece of paper carried away by the wind, heavy machinery, a mix of the good, the bad & everything in between. Emilia, Seventeen, Spastic.
I'm the grass under your shoes, a blue piece of paper carried away by the wind, heavy machinery, a mix of the good, the bad & everything in between. Emilia, Seventeen, Spastic.
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The Daily What
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Videos
Myra
Aza
Lesmoking
Syafstuff
Ashraf
Miss Pix
Sophie
Liy
Nasyaaa
Ilya Malik
Naressa Khan
BASH
Eka Nazhwa
Pwnator
The Daily What
archives
5/17/09 - 5/24/09
5/24/09 - 5/31/09
5/31/09 - 6/7/09
6/7/09 - 6/14/09
12/6/09 - 12/13/09
12/13/09 - 12/20/09
1/3/10 - 1/10/10
5/17/09 - 5/24/09
5/24/09 - 5/31/09
5/31/09 - 6/7/09
6/7/09 - 6/14/09
12/6/09 - 12/13/09
12/13/09 - 12/20/09
1/3/10 - 1/10/10
What happens in ifmindshadtoes, STAYS in ifmindshadtoes.
December 14, 2009 @ 11:48 PM
I'm not as half as interesting as I would like to be
Twelve o'clock. Muted TV, check. Horizontal position on the couch, check. Glasses, check. Endless tabs of Youtube videos, sigh check.
This is my second week of doing...absolutely nothing. Funny, I didn't think I'd end up so bloody bored so quick. I should get a job. More specifically one that pays. But that would mean waking up at 7, cold showers and bland 4 ringgit lunches. I'll start January. Yes, January, I promise. Pinky promise. Cause we all know pinky promises don't mean squat. Truefaxxxx.
I'm running out of things to distract myself with. Shiny objects don't catch my attention as easily as they used to. My cat doesn't even want to lie under my stinky armpit anymore. Aren't cats supposed to love humid, dark and stinky places? Or have I mistaken cats for cockroaches? Pota(e)to pota(h)to.
My mom wants me to start taking up baking. Her Martha Stewart 'bible' is a bit too anal-y for my taste I'm afraid. Clarified butter? Jebuz. When did normal, run of the mill butter start to go out of (culinary) fashion? And I don't know about you but I find separating egg yolks from egg whites completely unnatural. I MEAN COME ON WHAT'S THAT ABOUT?!
I don't know how I'm going to stand three months of this. I'm terrible at relaxing.
I'm not as half as interesting as I would like to be
Twelve o'clock. Muted TV, check. Horizontal position on the couch, check. Glasses, check. Endless tabs of Youtube videos, sigh check.
This is my second week of doing...absolutely nothing. Funny, I didn't think I'd end up so bloody bored so quick. I should get a job. More specifically one that pays. But that would mean waking up at 7, cold showers and bland 4 ringgit lunches. I'll start January. Yes, January, I promise. Pinky promise. Cause we all know pinky promises don't mean squat. Truefaxxxx.
I'm running out of things to distract myself with. Shiny objects don't catch my attention as easily as they used to. My cat doesn't even want to lie under my stinky armpit anymore. Aren't cats supposed to love humid, dark and stinky places? Or have I mistaken cats for cockroaches? Pota(e)to pota(h)to.
My mom wants me to start taking up baking. Her Martha Stewart 'bible' is a bit too anal-y for my taste I'm afraid. Clarified butter? Jebuz. When did normal, run of the mill butter start to go out of (culinary) fashion? And I don't know about you but I find separating egg yolks from egg whites completely unnatural. I MEAN COME ON WHAT'S THAT ABOUT?!
I don't know how I'm going to stand three months of this. I'm terrible at relaxing.