like a story told by the fault lines in the soil.

sometimes i really want to give up my seats to pregger ladies on the train, but i really don't know if they're pregnant or just plain fat. what if i give up my seat to someone who i thought was pregnant when all she had were loads of lovehandles? she might slap me and i might get more pimples than i already do have due to the germs on her hands. lately i've been touching my face a lot. like resting my hand on my chin. this isn't good. i saw my pictures from secondary school and.. ew. terrible really.

i remember the other time we went to.. KL i think, and i walked past this beauty products booth thingamajig. and the two ladies there practically shouted (in malay of course), "girl, you don't wanna try out our products is it? your face many pimples!"

yah man if that made you think i would want to buy your products, you seriously have to consult jlo or something. tsk, ruthless marketing scheme.

anyways, i haven't had food since 1 and i feel hungry although i'm not. it's like.. wow.. 7 hours is long, you should be hungry, so in that sense, yup i am hungry. i was happy i got through the gates at the mrt station just now cos it was a barrier between me and chicken pies. i really wanted to go get some but i tapped my ez-link before i let myself think about how awesome they taste.. okay now i really think i'm hungry.

i realise my blog has been following many graph comm rules. like dark grey fonts on a white background, sans serif. no caps. it kinda makes me feel good.

like how conor makes me feel all nice and mushy inside. most talentedest guy ever, i say. next to jonny. or the actual thom (who's crazy). but nehmind thom-the-fake i still love you all the same. :)

11 hours is a prettay long time to be in school.