HAHA I WANNA "ELOPE" WITH SHOWBOY.

He saw Nicole Kidman. I HATE YOU. And I wanna go there. Or anywhere la actually. Except Thailand. Big no-no to Thailand.

Happy New Year and all that jazz.

I love the friends I've made. And the ones that I have, always, all ways. Yay. Another reason to smile... and they send the best text messages that can really make you feel like as though a lightbulb exploded inside of you, into fireflies... okayyy, not very creative, I know.

To awesomeness. *clinks*

Out of touch.

I've written a really long entry, in preparation of twenty ten. A reflection.

Simply can't bring myself to publish it.

I can't say it's been a fantastic year. But it isn't ending too badly either. And there are many a times when I've laughed, squealed and clapped... way more than I weep. Funnily enough, the moments that are most chronicled are the emo momo ones. Hence.

I think next year will be dedicated to penning down bright, happy thoughts. Broccolee shall be channeling positive, perky vibes.

I think my blog here has truly served me well. I'm not one who sticks to things long term. But here I am, still... and it's been three years. I say that's a damn good achievement?

Hmmm. I think I'm gonna be way more focused, starting today. Cause I don't have much time. It'll come together. It has to.

HONEY.

Oh baby I've got a dependency
Always strung out for another taste of your honey

It's like honey when it washes over me
You know, sugar never ever was so sweet?

I always like songs with honey in them. Hah.

Fan-girling all over.

I just wanna tell all of you that...

I LOVE JENNIFER ANISTON.

I REALLY REALLY REALLY LOVE HER.

I want to ask her how she did it all. Ask her if she thinks I should get lypo... or a boob job, or butt implants. And ask her if John Mayer thought her Body is a Wonderland... or if she could ever get over Brad Pitt. Ask her if her heart still breaks or if her breath gets caught when she see pictures of Brad and Angie pushing their zoo of kids... Ask her if she keeps a hate-box or maybe a memory box of stuff from her Pitt days... Or did she just throw it all out.

Ask her if she ever cried to sleep... or is Gerard Butler there now to kiss away all her tears. Most of all, i'd ask her to please have an honest conversation with me. I'd never leak her secrets out, I mean, I LOVE THAT WOMAN!

Imagine if she shared with me her worst regret... like, was it not wanting to have kids with Brad? Or maybe she had a secret abortion because she can't bear bringing kids into this polluted, tired world! And what kind of hotdogs she likes (i mean, did she stick to being a vegan?)...

I sound like a nutcase. But yeah, I wonder, most of all... if she's frozen inside.

Maybe some things are better off frozen... don't you think? Like ice-cream. And yes, i think frozen yoghurt's good too. And ice won't be ice if the water's not frozen either.

Making sense.

I can't see any good happening.

If there is no such thing as coincidences, that leaves me
to conclude that there must be too many people on earth and He got a
teeny bit annoyed up there, orchestrating His subjects.

I'm a good example of bad casting, in God's grand production. No
grudges held against You, rest assured. I am not that brave, nor strong.

What can I say? My role...here, is to take up and play all the wrong
roles. That makes me the right kind of wrong.

You, you're just wrong.

Sent from my iPod, Lola Smokah

Blue Shoes.

Don't feel like walking strong,
Shufflin' along on my way home.
Trudgin' down that shopping street,
Where we used to meet.
But I ain't buying.
I'm wearing my blue shoes and crying.

My wordy blog needs a jolt.

My legendary moma! Note the resemblance?

We're cold, we're bold and our sharp chins are cleverly used as weapons, our straight teeth to trap you real good. HAHAHA.

Broccolee burger at KFC!

...so figured some pictures would liven it up a bit? My Broccolee layu already. Feeling lazy to type much. So that wraps it up. I actually have lots and lots of pictures of food... and animals. Wild animals. Some other time then.

Lucky i'm not.

I know perfectly well, just how lucky I am.

But it doesn't mean that I'm happy. Honestly, sometimes I feel like... expired coleslaw.

Thailand sucked.

Know what's the most ridiculous part about Thailand?

I CAN'T FIT INTO ANY OF THE JEANS THERE. Levis, for instance, carry up till a 31. And yes, I know that 31 is rather huge here. And I wear a 28 (omg i cannot believe i'm shamelessly sharing my jean-size... but who cares, you all know I'll never be small) but apparently over there, their size 31 is like a 27!!! And that is their largest. I can't even get it past my ginormous baby-bearing but very flat hips.

I swear by the time i visited the 7th store, I wanted to shove SAWADEEKAH up their fucking tiny asses.

Just kill me now. I'm like a Big Mac in Thailand. And the rest of them are like the mini, improvised chicken nuggets that you get here (yes, i swear mackers cut down the portion of my fav nuggets)

Best part ever? I gained 2kg, cause I was overly depressed. See, I could only fit food into me. And food's the only thing that fit me over there.

Spectacles

I finally settled on a pair of specs, after hunting for 3 days. Ever since I read/saw esqar's holiday pictures... I was very inspired by her friend (mewmew). Cause she had the most fitting pair of specs for her face (very cantik okayyy, her with specs)! I never saw anyone look soo good in specs, to the point where I was actually moved (or possessed, rather) to go out and hunt for one.

Suddenly, I needed to get THE SPECS. If i cant meet THE ONE then i'll get THE SOMETHING else that can be... attained easily, on so many levels -.-

I look the same in any kinda specs. So it's quite difficult.

Hmm. I'm rambling on, aren't I? Ok la. I think I'm gonna go check out the Singapore flyer now, with the family. Sigh? Going out with my family makes me feel weird. Like I'm under surveillance and interrogation? And I'm really not sure what we will be talking about... What can we talk about? Nevermind. There's poppye's mashed potatoes I can have laterrr!

Sent from my iPod, Lola Smokah

Refusing to work.

One of the main reasons I quit all the 3 jobs I was holding on to come
december... is because I want to be able to feel like my December's
been spent lazing around. I'll be working most of my life anyway. So
what's the hurry?

But working and schooling... However, makes me feel more accomplished.
Like I'm juggling so many things. Like I'm superwoman and I don't need
any saving. Like I'm independant and competent.

I guess I like role playing. But I don't like committing to the roles.
Major trouble there.

Sent from my iPod, Lola Smokah

I work for you, you pay me on time. Bloody hell.

I feel a little too lazy to commit to the volunteer work I signed up for.

But no. MUST. SEE. THROUGH. IT. Must be down at Wilkie Edge by 5pm. Today. It's raining. Time check: 3:07pm. Arghhh. It'll be fun. It has to be. It's my own personal attempt to get closer to art. Huh. I have to like it (even though i still don't fully appreciate it), sometime... so i figured...

I don't want to be dubbed irresponsible. Yet you know what... it's starting to irk me when people take their own sweet time to pay me, especially since i've already delivered and performed!

Like come on. Stick to your part of the deal. It's slowly killing me, making me think twice/four times about that lovely necklace that I would have bought (on my 6th "visit" at the shop) should my clients make the payment promptly. But I feel weird chasing after money, so, I hope that my subtle email reminders can work wonders. Talk about delayed gratification -.-

I suppose it's a good thing. I'm learning to separate my wants and needs. And I needed a purple wallet. Hence.

Holiday season.

I hate December.

December's like a conveyor belt that goes at whatever speed it pleases. I'm constantly left behind, running after my baggages

Screw you, December. I'm just not ready for twenty ten. Though, i kinda like the way it rolls off my tongue.

TWENT-TEE TEN.

Here goes nothing.