That fact that I have been blogging more frequently at night only points to the inevitable fact that my days have merged into nights, and in the wee lonely hours of my office I sit hunched over my lappy.
This morning is a morning of no inspiration.
Nil, absolutely.
I've been staring at my screen for the longest time, eager to pounce on some marketing work, and for the last 2 hours achieved the commendable task of rearranging 2 speech bubbles over and over again, before the program jams, and I restart it and shuffle the speech bubbles around again, and it jams, and I restart and continue with my compulsive obsession over these 2 stupid splotches of emptiness.
I was moping around earlier, and found myself conveniently next to the loo hole. I started to miss fondly the slightly more spacious loo back at The Tanamera. Plus, that loo had a really good 12th story view, and when I felt like it, there was a neat little ledge I could squeeze my small tight ass to perch on and contemplate deeply on life's eccentricities, while wondering (at the same time mind you - that's what your right left brain is for isn't it) how loud a crash I'd make if I toppled over onto the Guard post just below.
I don't quite like my shophouse loo.
Its dingy, a weak awful green (or issit blue? One of those senseless debates you can busy yourself with while on the stinker), and just absolutely no space to stretch your long shaven legs.
I'm cranky.
I effectively have 11 people's bu**shit to deal with,
I haven't slept in the last 2 nights,
I don't have a thrilling enough social life,
Singapore roads have a speed limit of 90,
and I just found out I have to resubmit my bloody coaching exam coach demo clip.
WHERE'S MY CHOCOLATE?!!?!!
If you would've known by now, the tittle of this blog is downright misleading.
Anyone telepatic enough would know that the last time I went out on a date was also the last time I shaved.
So I'm sitting here, next to the last shrivel of a date, listening to Divinyls croon about how she touches herself, at 3.30am in Office.
I don't know how I ended myself up in this situation.
Neither do I know why I decided to blog about it. Honestly of all the significant things I've done in my life (like take part in a Beer-drinking competition, or stick panty-liners on the backs of innocent passer-bys), tonight doesn't even come close to anything fun or almighty.
The last time I felt a thrill of any sort was when I almost crashed into a truck at a junction while talking the the phone. But that'only lasted a split second.
Sure, running a business is fun.
Leadership and recognition has its perks,
But that means no more whining.
Or frolicking naked in the rain.
Or watching my parents freak at my piercings in indecent areas.
Or wearing panties on my head and fooling around.
Or mooning people in cars.
Or making out with random (hot) strangers.
Or waking up at 7pm for breakfast.
Or diva shopping days.
Or acting like a kid.
Or being a kid.
Or breaking out in spastic cuss words in restaurants.
Or being grumpy.
Or drug-induced sprees.
Or shocking pink hair and stockings.
Or shameless flirting and groping.
Or long meaningless tans.
Or complete abandonment.
Or repeated replies of 'I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know'
Or long boring dates.
Or long boring relationships.
Or crazy halloween nights.
Or obsessive game playing
Or obsessive crushing.
Or gossiping.
Or conversations that revolve around me and no one else.
I'm 23 and spunky, with a bright future, and singing along to
911 into an empty bottle listening to my voice vibrate against plastic.
I think I'll indulge in that date right about now.
