Friday, December 08, 2006
♥ We can't even sing

So freaking tired.

Training drains energy, really. It's only 8.30pm and I've been craving for bee-eae-dee since 8pm. And the only reason why I'm still here blogging is because I want to tell Priscilla the dumb who doesn't have a freaking tagboard at her freaking blog something.

Priscilla, send me whatever html codes you have. Change your password to something dumb like IAmAnIdiotWhoDoesntKnowHowToInsertTheTagboard and send your username together with those html codes to my email. I'll get it done, and if I'm not feeling so tired I'll tell you how I did it. But it's a secret babe, you can't tell anyone how I inserted the tagboard because, duh, everyone knows how to do it. -.-

And to Sokmui, Ichigo is not the brand name of apples. It's my new boyfriend. I mean, he. He's the guy you see on the right side of this page right now. And isn't he sweet. With his cute orange hair and that big blade.

Uhhhhhhhhhh.

As you can tell, I'm drunk. I don't talk so mad normally do I. Yea, I'm drunk. I should get some sleep. My eyelids feel like it's burning. And haaaaa. I'm talking cock, like always.

I think you should just skip this entry.

And I didn't forget the video of Fiona, ooops, I mean the next Singapore Idol, singing. Just plain lazy because I hate waiting for browsers to load. So I don't feel like uploading anything.

Time to catch some Zzz. By the way, I was joking about the drunk part. I knew you'll fall for it, you dumb. Hahahahahahahahaha.

But I still sound drunk, I know.

Before I go (I'm long-winded, yes, I know), I shall tell you a joke.

CPU: I'm in charge here alright. I control all of you.
Speakers: You shut up. I control your fucking voice.
Monitor: You all shut up. I'm the monitor.
Mouse: Don't look at me. I'm just a mouse.

And if the joke's not funny, it's because I just created it. And 103.5% of my jokes are not funny. That leaves only 5.77% of funny jokes. They add up to 100% alright, my Maths Rocks as much as Fiona's singing which rocks as much as my Art. And Fiona, stop saying the shoe I drew is an oval. It's a SHOE.

...

Gone for real.