Monday, December 26, 2005
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Sorry for the Great Yuletide Disappearance. But, really, like you cheap bastards care whether I exist or not. *Gooseberry*
So, in order to make you bitches care about my existence, like it or not, I shall force you into a world of Fangying Propaganda to start with.
Christmas is a good way to begin the Mass Hypnosis.
Christmas Eve Eve:
Dear Whoever's-bothered-to-read-this:
This year's Christmas Eve Eve was the BEST Christmas Eve Eve I've ever had. Breakfast with my parents wasn't particularly interesting... wanton mee for the first meal of the day wasn't really my cup of tea. Then my father had something to attend in Kallang, his company Christmas Celebration or whatever, so he dropped me and my Mum at National Library and left.
National Library wasn't really interesting. So now that sounds like a really boring mid-morning to midday. But while we were sitting in the library my Mum told me so much about things that I may not have the need to know, but should anyway. That my Grandfather died on Christmas Eve twenty-odd years ago, and I confirmed with my Mum that one of my uncles has cancer. But thank goodness, it's in the early stage, but still... sigh, when will people ever realise all that smoke and booze isn't doing them any good.
Must something terrible happen to you before you realise what's precious?
Enough of all that "sigh-sigh-shake-head" stuff, let's move on to lunch. Dad came and picked us up. To Chinatown. BEEHOON!!! =). Then my parents decided that I've waited long enough. I've lived without music for months. It's time I get a...
NOT AN MP3 PLAYER, YOU MINDLESS TREND VICTIM. IT'S A DISCMAN.
A nice, sleek, shiny new discman.
LONG LIVE PAPA AND MAMA!!!
And I've chose the right time to buy one. Along with it came a pair of passive speakers and a gift voucher entitling me to a free pint of ice-cream from Tsuki's Most-Hated Brand, Haagen-Dazs. Oh well, their ice-cream isn't good anyway, all hard and stiff with too much sweetness. Even Walls produce better ice-cream than that. But a free pint... half a litre, free of charge... that's my ice-cream supply for a school month.
After all that afternoon fiasco, we headed home. For dinner. And for boredom.
Christmas Eve:
Dear Anyone-Who-Decided-To-Succumb-To-My-Propaganda,
This is the most pointless Christmas Eve ever.
Spent the whole day spring-cleaning.
Spent the whole night attending the Great Yuletide Squeezathon in Orchard Road.
Not my idea of a good Christmas Eve.
Christmas Day
Dear Somebody-Who-Patiently-Reads-My-Entry,
This has to be the most terrible Christmas Day of my life.
SPRING-CLEANING! PERIOD CRAMPS! BLOODY RUSH IN MY UNDERWEAR! NO CHRISTMAS CHEER! NO CHRISTMAS PARTY! GOT INFESTED BY DUST! MADE ARCHAEOLOGICAL DISCOVERY IN THE STOREROOM UNDER THE STAIRS! CLEANING! DUSTING! SIDE LEAKAGE! MENOPAUSAL MOTHER! NO SHOWER TILL MIDNIGHT!
Merry Christmas?
Boxing Day
Dear The-Wonderful-Soul-Who-Soldiered-On,
Boxing Day was better than Christmas Day. I went to a gathering with my folks. It's those people on their Europe Tour Group.
First reaction when they see me: "YOU'RE A SPITTING IMAGE OF YOUR MOTHER!!!!"
It's not entirely boring, I actually enjoy intellectual discussions with the adults, it's a bit like being on a talkshow, one solitary teen versus at least ten adults.
Plus, you get good food. The curry was fab.
I think you've persisted long enough. I shall let you go now.
Bye, Penis.
[fangying] [8:18 PM]
