... would be so much better if Ibises were extinct.

But at least we had people like this...


... for entertainment.

But was a good day overall. And certainly a good night.

... having a blog tracker makes me reconsider my blog address:

Some guy in America typed, and I quote "two men come sneak up to a women and try to get her clouths off" in Google.

Um. Yeah.

Another one went with "women who don't make eye contact with guys at a bar", which isn't too bad, I suppose, unless they're the same guys who plan to sneak up on her to get her "clouths" off.

Still doesn't beat the "macaroni and cheese sex" and "femme obese" hits I got, though :D

... it's the... 5th week of uni, and I'm finally starting to feel the pressure. Reports, journals, presentations, and I only just found out yesterday that I have a mid-semester exam on the 4th of April. Check your calendar. It's a Saturday. I have an exam on a day I should be snoring comfortably in my bed.

Day was pretty blah, and the fact that certain people wouldn't shut up in the lecture hall was quite irritating. But when I was at the bus stop staring at the ashtray next to me, which was smoking for some reason, I did start talking to an elderly man from Switzerland, who, amazingly, has heard of, and even been to, Brunei. Oooh. He was telling me about all the changes the Sultan of Oman had made since he ascended the throne, and the places he's been to, but unfortunately I had to cut the talk short because it was like 9PM and I despiiiise walking through my neighbourhood at night.

But it's nice to meet people who've been places.





I wonder what it is, what in bloody hell's name, that could've happened in a guy's adolescent years to have made him into a pussy-driven pseudo-Casanova. I'm telling you, if Ego were a person, my pet machete would have quite the feast.

I was going to elaborate on double standards and how the world would be like if women could be promiscuous without having SLAG being essentially tattooed on their forehead. Or how some males (note careful avoidance of the term 'men'. There hardly seems to be any real men left nowadays.) are the basis of conflict. Yes, behind every great man, there is a woman. But behind every stereotypical boy (particularly those I and possibly you have encountered), there is a brain tangled in several layers of cobwebs quietly sobbing in its little neglected corner.

Men owe their lives to women, because we nearly lose ours, in giving them life.

Plus I now believe modern technology has basically rendered males useless. Or at least since the opening of the world's first sperm bank.

Haha.

... people are just meant to be alone.

A cursed woman - tied, tethered, chained to the confines of reality, all the while in clear view of euphoria.

Just... out of reach.

Eluded by the Divine.



I'm done.

... the visuals.




[edit]

Let's take a little survey here.



Does that look like a:
a) cat
b) rabbit
c) chicken

If you answered b or c, I hope your genes don't proceed to pollute the human population. Or that you don't have any cats where you live.

Slevin Kelevra says (11:31 PM):
eh apakantu dp mu ah
ayam ka

.Jamie says (11:31 PM):
THATS MY CAT YOU DICK
hahahahahahahahahah

Slevin Kelevra says (11:31 PM):
oh now i see it
haha mcm headless chicken yo

But I'll forgive him because his dimples are cute.

[/edit]

... will be boys.

I've always despised the "game" people play when it comes to relationships. It's simple, if you like someone, you like them. Don't make someone believe something if it's not true, just to boost your pretentious little ego. Apparently people are supposed to "[not] hate the players, hate the game." But since the game entails people adhering to the so-called-rules of that game, I don't see why the whole concept and everyone in it shouldn't just shove it.

But bloody hell times like these I feel like unleashing a full-frontal attack myself.

Chocolate chip cookies, please give me strength.

This isn't a very good picture of the drawing I made, will upload a better one sometime.

... only took like 5 minutes to draw this, so don't bother to judge.

Although I did spend about 4 hours on a pencil sketch that I'll upload later, feel free to judge then.

... who's craving cupcakes? :D



Not an amazing feat, I know. But I thought it was cute.


[edit]

I didn't draw this, but I thought it was brilliant:



[/edit]

.Jamie has three weeks to catch up on because she was too lazy to go to tutorial [insert maniacal laugh here]. says:
alrighty, imma go read the... hmm let's see...

.Jamie has three weeks to catch up on because she was too lazy to go to tutorial [insert maniacal laugh here]. says:
17 chapters i have to catch up on

sneaks says:
o.O

sneaks says:
watafak

.Jamie has three weeks to catch up on because she was too lazy to go to tutorial [insert maniacal laugh here]. says:
wahaha

.Jamie has three weeks to catch up on because she was too lazy to go to tutorial [insert maniacal laugh here]. says:
for my second lecture for one of the subjects i had to read like 40 pages.

.Jamie has three weeks to catch up on because she was too lazy to go to tutorial [insert maniacal laugh here]. says:
business is fun (Y)

I have no weekend.

... trying to regain whatever little dignity you thought you had.

Guess what?

I'M FREE! FREEEEEEEE :D

So I'm looking forward to any changes I should implement following my recent release from emotional hell. (Although arguably, I was at the eh-why-bother stage for far longer than I thought, considering my current apathy. Or maybe I'm just in denial. Whichever.) So first things first, I think maybe it's about time I lift my vanity policy. I don't take that many pictures of myself, and I think I've put a grand total of 3 pictures of myself on this blog, initially due to anonymity purposes, but the whole Facebook thing on the side sort of defeats the purpose. But hey, screw that, I've the right to market myself.

And am, by the way, so not looking for anyone. A cute girl, maybe. But I've had enough of the two-headed sex, the majority of which, unfortunately, seem to rely on the southern one.

... chronology of your (known) "adventures"

January 2009 - complete fuckfest. At least four different girls, all unsuccessful. Somehow, you were pardoned

4th February 2009 - complete pardon. return of the Title.

6th February 2009 - the Departure. Enter fake tears, conduct Oscar-winning performance at the airport.

7th February 2009 - proceed to contact previous flames, claim you're single, despite FB relationship status.

8th - 24th February 2009 - probably trying to get into other girls' pants, all the while professing your feelings of "love".

24th February 2009 - be spotted with another girl. Denied when confronted (of course)

4th March 2009 - the Reveal of all your lies. Again, denied, over and over (and over) again.

Done, and done. If it weren't for my previous policy of not revealing details about my significant others, I'd be ratting your cheating little ass out.

Hisss.

P/S: "Kalau ku menipu mati tah ku ari ane." how much of a compulsive liar could you be, to utter THAT when you're lying.

... to Cosmopolitan, studies have been conducted to simplify (even further, in most cases) the minds of our only natural source of manipulation and/or grief: men. But to make it more interesting, maybe I should support some of these surprisingly accurate studi.es with the stereotypical male we women have probably encountered at least once since hitting puberty.

When a guy is into you, he will subconsciously try to maximise the amount of space he takes up to assert status.

This includes spreading his legs when seated, stretching his arms across the back of a chair. Now the whole taking up space thing is one issue, since most of the guys I've come across can't seem to comprehend that doing this actually makes it just a tiny teensy little bit hard for anyone sitting next to them to get comfortable. Say, in a movie theatre. And it doesn't seem to matter than there're armrests in the way, which should make for a pretty good obstruction (and save you valuable blood vessel constriction); it's just section so-and-so of that stupid little imaginary handbook some guys carry around:

Step One: Enter cinema;
Step Two: Enter designated row;
Step Three: Suddenly realise that's not very gentlemanly, but that it's too late to back out and have partner go in first because you're holding the drinks and popcorn and will probably bump into her and spill it over menacing-looking bald guy sitting in front of you;
Step Four: Wonder why menacing-looking bald guy is watching Twilight alone;
Step Five: Take a seat;
Step Six: Proceed to spread legs as wide as possible despite resistance from partner and/or unstretchable quality of pants due to to the waist being somewhere below your ass instead of where it should be.

Now I'm all for asserting status. I believe I'm asserting status when I make witty interjections into a conversation. But the leg-spreading? There should me a limit, like your knees should only spread as wide as your shoulders; that's the most optimum distance a guy should keep between their legs, since any less and other guys may assume that they have no balls.

Skinny jeans suddenly entered my mind. But I'll leave that for a whole other post.

Men with elevated levels of testosterone might have trouble committing, because the hormone suppresses vasopressin and oxytocin, both chemicals that encourage bonding. Signs a guy has a high testosterone level:

- A strong brow
- Defined cheekbones
- Thin lips
- A pronounced jawline
- Broad shoulders
- A muscular body
- A large penis
-A ring finger that's longer than his index finger.

Now let's take a semi-fictional case A. His jawline is quite defined. His cheekbones aren't all that defined, and his lips aren't thin. His body is slender yet quite toned, but his shoulders are quite slumped and not that broad. In fact, he doesn't have most of these qualities, and definitely not a particular one. So by all means he should be a committed guy, right?

Wrong. Oh, so wrong.

He prides himself with being some sort of expert on women, entering the battlefield solely with the idea that most women are slaves to flattery. He sits casually (with legs spread wide, of course) with his friends, seemingly in conversation, but his eyes dart around the area for a sign of his prey.

Success! A woman has just entered the area. A statistical report appears in his mind:


"Ohoho" he mutters, "Now we shall have some fun." Now he knows the basic rules of approaching women. He knows there's a much higher chance of a girl to reciprocate a guy's flirting when there are mutual friends around, and if the guy makes his presence known (eg. joking around with the whole group), which is why he targets girls who are just outside his circle of friends. Once the Prey has taken notice of him, of course, there's a subtle glances and eye contact that lets the Prey know that he's interested. Unfortunately it seems like she's about to take the bait, what with case A being relatively good looking (I say relatively) and good-humoured.

This will probably lead to Prey falling for him, and, in her head, be the start of a beautiful relationship. Of course further along the way she'll realise that this is not the case, since unbeknownst to her, A has been hunting for other women, resulting in heartbreak, disappointment and just plain anger.

Moral of the story?

Carry a taser around. It'll be useful, trust me.

... that being in my gene pool automatically makes you awesome.


Mind you, we hardly ever chat.

See that post down there about me freaking out about my assignments?

Turns out not only did practically the whole class didn't do it, I didn't even have to hand it in for marking or anything. Was purely for discussion, and I probably didn't have to spend any time on it at all.

HEHWHEHEHWHEHWEHWHEWHWHHWHEWWWWHEEEEEE

... was one of the 3 times I've ever really considered killing myself. Because my body sure was trying to.

Which of course rendered me useless from doing my assignments, which I'm rushing now and seriously hoping they don't really mean 500 words for each question, because what with my headache and certain bastards talking on their phone at 2000 fucking decibels even though this is a fucking LIBRARY, I am pretty screwed.

And this is only my second week.

I miss JIS and its nonchalance ): I mean yes, the teachers whip you when you don't do your homework. But at least you can afford to ignore them all and still get a good grade. Good news about my course is that 3 out of 4 subjects this semester don't have exams, BUT tutorials count towards it.

I'm sorry if I don't get that distinction after all, mum.

Oh well. Time to kick my own booty. At the cost of my brain. HHWHEEHEHWHWHWHEHWHEHEHWHEHE~


(you may now visualise me ripping off my clothes and doing a raindance - only, y'know, use some mental Photoshop skills and paste my head on Nicole Sherzinger's body)