Thursday, June 23, 2011
Donkeys don't feel bad, at all.
As a personnel on duty, I am under obligations to withdraw last making sure that the facility is secured, proper and somewhat sterilized.
The thing is, I acknowledge that and yes I will complete my task with due integrity and responsibility.
The other thing is, some people, or perhaps donkeys too, delay your trip back home-sweet-home.
And it's as though they're given the privilege and authority to do so.
I understand that some may encounter difficulty completing outstanding assignments.
That's cool, I can totally understand that and even offer my assistance if our workscope overlaps.
But geez, this someone is sorta like doing OT - the stuff that is not required in your day's load.
Correction - Extensive OT.
If anyone were to wait for me to knock off, I would be extremely embarrassed and sorry. As compensation, it's right for me to assume his duties and make sure it's executed well.
Now, beyond the time spent for this post, I am waiting for someone to finish OT at normal pay.
It's 7pm and I am usually dismissed at 5.30pm.
Perhaps try to spare a thought for others?
You are commanding extra pay for the time spent post-office-hours.
I am selfish, but what about me?
I am not given another $4 worth of my services within this same period.
And I am, made sure, utilized/excavated to the core because unfortunately, this is an obligation.
Thanks a lot. At least all but one understands my plight and tries to rush through and leave earlier.
I appreciate their effort.
Oh and I finally hear the deng-deng-deng-deng.
That's the audio when windows shut down.
Yay, am I the only one left on Earth who finds such actions unbearable?
arghhh
Friday, June 17, 2011
Cancelling the K = me singing non stop at home.
It's sorta like a compensation since I've been taking care of my voice the entire week and was completely anticipating all the fun and pop and country.
Oh wells, 15 songs on the current playlist.
A mix of not-exactly-classic classics and fresh pop.
Christina Perry, Shontelle, Jessie J, Gaga, Kathy Beth Terry, Adele and Taylor Swift are the tops of that chart.
Taylor Swift needs to come to Singapore for another concert.
Missing the 1st one is like the bigggggest regret in my life.
I'd go for Adele's one too.
And prolly Gaga's.
But Gaga will probably be too expensive.
You are literally paying for the avant-garde flamboyance and buttpalms.
Seriously, the buttpalm was damn sexy and stylish.
She may not be as great as some other singers, but she is a performer.
She makes sure she does her best on stage, and gives in everything to deliver that oomph.
We can obviously see that passion burn and devour the entire stage.
You don't need to be the best.
Just devote, believe and enjoy.
That's what she's been doing and should continue doing.
People think I am obsessed with her, and has become enslaved as another crazy little monster.
But just look at every live performance.
That aura of professionalism just overwhelms the audience.
Every single time; even behind computer screens.
Of course you need to be of a certain standard to be able to sing and not turn horny people off.
Trust me, there are people whom once opens their mouth, unleash all evil.
Their mouth is like a pandora box.
YOU MAKE SURE THEY NEVER GET THE KEY, OR ELSE.
OR ELSE I'D MAKE SURE I KILL YOU ALONG WITH THAT THING. THAT THING.
Right, I guess karma comes back around, cause now I'm the one that's hurting yeah.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
There is a reason why I usually blog when cranky or fed up.
I mean, if you are enjoying your wonderful life somewhere somewhat, then why would you be blogging anyway.
I'd rather resume that life and not waste a single bit away on this not-exactly-time-consuming but still a dumping ground for the most prized possession - time.
Which is thus the reason I frequent this time/land-fill so much.
I seriously don't feel like doing anything with anyone anymore.
Just come up with some itinerary for an aloof, dejected individual.
Alone, I don't need to care if anyone else has time.
I don't need to care if anyone else bothers about the distance.
I don't need to care if anyone else bothers about the people who are going.
I don't need to care if anyone else bothers about what I intend to do.
I don't need to care about anyone at all.
Just myself. Because I am entirely sick and tired of caring.
I am a fucking bitch.
Like seriously.
Not literally though.
I say what people want to hear.
That it doesn't matter. No problem. It's ok. I don't wanna anyways.
But the thing is, it's not ok.
I don't even know why I said so.
I really don't know.
I was trying to think of the reason for the past 5 minutes.
Because it's the right thing to do so?
Maybe, oh wells.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Let's just say that being a bitch and a professional is mutually exclusive.
Unless I am given substantial incentive to not blabber and share inside tabloid with the rest of the world.
Ok maybe not the rest of the world, but my dear friends and family already form 98% of this galactic rubble I belong to.
Don't get me wrong, it's like a rubble because the edges are flawed and uncertain and only that.
Nothing stays constant, or you can say that everything is ever-changing.
These relationships with the people I appreciate transforms with time.
We were once strangers, not even bothering to make any eye contact with one another.
A do-without in our lives.
Then, I don't know if it's a chat, or some physics maniac may say it's a force of attraction between any 2 mass, that drew all of us closer.
Somewhat somehow, things start to change.
Lunch dates were initiated; pillars were formed, I mean human-pillars; and then there were movies, and chalets and shopping and games.
But waking up to realisation, if you haven't already done so, it's not these activities that are important in our lives (let me exclude riches here, it's fucking important too).
It's not even the shitload of crap and illogical crabs we talk about all the time.
It's the presence.
The mere presence of these people - this group of people who stays for you and remembers you for who you are.
And even who you really are, understanding that everyone's bound to have some compartments within our hearts and minds that are better made private and unknown.
They accompany like an accompaniment.
In sad symphonies, there's always this strong, steady and supportive bass that will guide the melody to greater dynamics and emotions.
Even in marches, there's accompaniment to make sure you don't stray and go out of tempo.
You may be wondering what's this post all about.
Is it another bitchy ass talking about the greater meaning to life?
Or some guy who thinks he knows everything?
It's not.
This is an appreciative note to everyone in my life, who has in someway or another, left a trampoline behind for me to jump on (like those in doodle jump), and propel me onwards. It may not necessary to a higher platform (where aliens are) than where I was, but at least you prevent me from falling low.
A googol of thanks to you.
Hey, I know you are horny so let me rephrase.
A ten thousand sexdecillion of thanks to you.