Pills.

At least I have someone to teman me in stressing and freaking out. :)
Okay, maybe I feel like killing him or knocking him on the head with a coconut, but still. At least he's doing something since his exams are over.
So unlike mine. What is the point of Moral anyway? It's not like our levels of morality are going to increase after memorizing that bunch of lines. Our stress levels, maybe. It is the only subject I really do not care about getting an A on, besides Civics and Health. Useless nonsense.
I wonder what my emcee partner is up to. I haven't even called him. Maybe tomorrow morning.
And WordPress is not sending me the email they promised on my forgotten password, thereby blocking all possibilities of me accessing the JYM website. Ish.
I haven't packed. No way on earth are Angeline and I ever going to get to KKB on time unless I pray really, really hard instead of concentrating on my Science paper II. In which case I just might as well skip the test.
I feel confused and obviously, overly stressed, noting everything that has been happening in my life for the past...er...day. Which is a lot! Including trying to take six little Panadol tablets, which is not unusual behaviour for me, a Panadol-addict. But my mother thought differently and has decided she doesn't care what I get for this year's exams as long as I don't over-stress (and stop eating so much Panadol).
Like I would allow myself to get anything lower than a B. *shudders*
I promise, I'll try to chill, kay?

Between bimbos and retarded lobsters.

I had to post again. You see, I was so bored, I actually went blog-surfing. Why? I don't know. From this side of the screen, everything there looks so much better. But it's not. And I should know it.
Almost every blog I went to was stereotyped. Can you believe it? First stereotyped Barbies, now stereotyped blogs. And compared to my life, it's all so different. Which is a good thing, let me tell you, because I am completely satisfied that I am not posting those kind of crappily taken pictures.
Well, at least I'm not the only one who seems to be galaxies away from those kind of lifestyles. I'm finally in contact with Her Royal Highness the Queen of Bees again.

I miss the Munkies larhhh...I shall write a movie script for us. But maybe after the novel. The best thing about writing books is that you don't have a limit, as opposed to movies. I doubt they would screen something over three hours, no matter how fun we make Elmo.
Opening up the Munkie Memory Vault to write a story on us, I realized just how much we created for our little world. The RetardOlympics. Ice Lemon Tea. Happy Tree Friends. Bobo the Cow (no offence, it's just a memory). Recipe 4 Rhythm and the wacky choreography we came up with. King Kong Day. (It's June the 17th.) Emo month. The Retard Tables. The official MU table. Retardo the Prawn. I miss those times. And Miss Leow. I miss her too.
And the silver Mercedes of one of our basketball seniors. And the silver Kembara, which I would watch for on Saturdays, along with the Tomato Mobile. (Miss Tomato, I forbid you to allow your parents to sell the Tomato Mobile!) Can you guys believe I actually got over the air-headed prat? Yes, after practically a year of calling him an air-headed prat, I finally got over him. But life has not been the same since.
I miss the Jury of Gays. And our Supreme Hive Court. And our Royal Highnesses. Oh well. Life moves on. We move on with it. Grudgingly? Willingly. Daulat Krishaku!