Happy ever after *sigh*

I've been busy. REAL busy. Busy getting busy. Busy getting ready for school, busy giving tuitions, busy smiling my aching mouth at silly nei neis at Plaza Sing, busy pah to-ing, busy movie marathons, busy accumulating clothes/shoes/bags/wallets/pencil cases/etc/etc/etc. Oh you get the idea.

Just in the midst of busy-ness, I had a simple fast bowl of instant noodles. I slowed my engines to gear for school next week. No night work. No Stupid Big Haired Aliens who's deaf. No Hi-this-is-the-new-3D-face-scan-sir/ma'am (all said in one breath coz otherwise they'll leave). No wait-a-min-i'll-check-for-you. Yea! Not that its much of a torture. Just that I'll be so afraid that those-whose-mouths-will-rot-if-they-say-thank-you ever complains about me to karen/nameer/mustafa/zixiang. Those are SCARY creatures.

Ah ha! Enough about these power scaries, let's talk about ME! I LOVE talking about me. Much as I like to show all my hols pics, I do realise it takes a long long time to load, so too bad babes. As I was saying, I was eating my noodles, my mom talked talked talked talked talked talked talked talked talked talked talked talked talked talked. I don't know if she bottled up all these words in her coz nobody was home for the past months or she preserved that segment for my ears. Sadly, she didnt talk my ears off.

She was going on and on about how she's got this friend whose hubby will buy her a necklace of pearls of he goes japan, diamond pendants if he goes america, LV if he goes paris. Then proceeded to ask me if I feel my dad's a man who dotes on his wife. Frankly speaking, my dad's just an average husband but a superd father. Like what I said before, their marriage's of tolerance and getting round each other. At times it gets intense. Mind, intense meaning at war not passionate OH-I-LOVE-YOU intense. My dad's responsible. That's all. We are his family. My mom's demanding. Period. She's got no idea what's real reality really. They can reach a standing. Most of the time. Take note, its just most of the time.

Then she asked who has the perfect family. No one truly. None of my dad's side. None on my mom's side. None of my friend's. None of my colleagues. To think my familys considered the best deal. That's not the family I want. If this is the best I get, what is marriage?

When I was naive, I gorge myself silly on fairytales, bust my diet on happily-ever-after and stuff myself full of prince charming. Never ever again.

I'm not being hard to please. But how can I be please with inferior standards? Hm....& I forgot what I want to say anymore.

The Queen Commands

See that crown at the very top of the picture? I've got a gold necklace, ring and bracelet of it.

What I'm trying to say is just I AM THE QUEEN.

NOT each & everyone of us are. Some are really shit. In any case, here's a picture of Queen Tendzil's sweetie.

"There's BIG spiders in our house!" exclaims the Mom.

"Where?!" I shouted. Preparing to jump on a chair. & destroying it in the process.

"Oh I pinch it dead le" Showing me the ant like spider.

Now you needn't wonder where I got my dramatic genes.

& I mean to post up pictures of the wonderful little trip to Desaru, but after uploading the pic(and it is so bery a lot) Sims is much more appealing. Plus it's tough work sieving the REALLY really good shots of me from the numerous VERY good shots of myself. It is such a chore to be me you know.

The trip's cute though. With the walkie talkie, it feels more like a Sherlock Holmes going on desert field trip. The durian pit stops, sea sports thrill, cheap seafood feasts, midnight fireflies, it is a wonderful trip excluding the brown water experience.

The hotel posted little cute cards explaining the water's suffering from a slight discolouration. They suggest letting the water run. I let it run, hoping to get a little soak after being in the sea. Half a tub later, I see mudwater. I dont know if I got cleaned at all or not. But this experience didnt affect firefly expedition.

More on the trip another time. I am so very depressed about my financial state. Not to say I regret my buys, but I love money as well as fashion. What can I do?

P.S. I realise the previous entry's corky. But there's something wrong with the keyboard at work you see. Either that or my fingers gotten retarded. Which is like, impossible. So see, low quality at work.