THEFT

Crooning on my STEREO: In My Arms by MYLO

TO A CERTAIN BITCH-THIEF WHO NICKED MY STUFF LAST NIGHT:

HELLO CHICKEN SHIT,

You fucking little puny criminal PUSSY.

Have you FUCKED yourself yet? Oh yeah, you CANT do it. YOU HAD TO BE A THIEF BORN OUT OF A SHITHOLE.

Tell me, HOW DOES IT FEEL TO NICK 30 RINGGIT OUT OF SOMEBODY'S WALLET?

THATS 30 FUCKING RINGGIT!!!!!!
THAT'S, LIKE, 5 QUID. 7 DOLLARS.

Happy? You are 30 ringgit richer now. It COULD have paid for my BREKKIE the next day. It COULD have bought me a crap CD. I COULD have bought MYSELF another round of Magarita Presidente.

YOU PRETTY LITTLE CHINK FACED BITCH,

I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL.

I HOPE YOU USED THAT STOLEN DOSH TO GET YOURSELF A CRACK FIX AND DIE from it.

I still remember your bullimic, slutty face of a CUNT.
YOU DUMB WHORE. You even forgot to nick my credit card. Were you too pissed to bypass free dosh staring at your face? Oh no. You have never seen a credit card before.

YOU EVEN STOLE MY FAVOURITE MOTIVI BELT. YOU ULTRA CUNT.

So, what are you going to do with it? Embark on a steamy S&M fuck session with your HIV PLayboy? If so,
I HOPE YOU STRANGLE YOURSELF FROM IT.

Damn you, BITCH.

France

Crooning on my STEREO: Torero by CHAYANNE

I am saying this for the very last time:

I am going to CANNES*
NOT PARIS!!!!!

If you want to spread the joy, GET IT RIGHT.

Media's Most Wanted

Crooning on my STEREO: When the Lights Go Down by ARMAND VAN HELDEN

Yesterday, I swear I almost killed off the entire TV Industry at work.
Until a phonecall from Paris saved the day.



NO. I didn't manage to leach on for corporate F1 tickets this weekend. Nor a free ride to the biggest RAVE in town. In other words, you wont see me at either of these two events.

I SUCK

Thats what the toilet rolls are for.

HAIL THE QUEEN

Crooning on my STEREO: She Wants to Move by N.E.R.D

Today I am going to bitch about my friend's aunt

A dumbass journalist was raving about a particular Malaysian woman who made it into Tom Ford's fancy portfolio of dumbass actresses in March's edition of Vanity Fair. The entire nation should kiss her feet for putting our insignificant nation onto the tinseltown map.

Our dear journalist goes on to glorify her painstakingly painful steps to stardom:

"....... how she gave up her dream of being a ballerina after an injury, was crowned Miss Malaysia and then married and divorced Hong Kong billionaire Dickson Poon before her career really took off..."

Oh wow. How tearjerking. I wanna CRY. I am SO SORRY that she fucked up her dreams of becoming a twinkle-toe ballerina. (A few years later we even saw her overcame all odds by managing high-action splits as a Bond Girl. Sure, the injury is permanent. )

It is so highly fucking inspiring how she rose mightily from the depths of all catastrophes to becoming the MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN MALAYSIA by winning the most bimbotic pageant ever held on Planet Earth. For social security purposes, she is going to marry the father of all toads JEAN TODT. I am so in awe of her consideration to marry an amphibian.

Tough life, isn't it? So much of BLOOD, SWEAT and TEARS. Even Ang Lee's impoverished trade with his blood just to buy his first betacam camera can't beat our heroine's courageous strive for success.

Read this again:

.... MARRIED AND DIVORCED HONG KONG BILLIONAIRE DICKSON POON BEFORE HER CAREER REALLY TOOK OFF....

Wow. Amazing.

HELLO??!?!!? SHE MARRIED SUCCESS.

Don't be STUPID. Don't be RIDICULOUSLY STUPID.

"We all hope to see bigger things from our Hollywood Star...."
Shut up, you dumb ass.

MONDAY SUCKS

Crooning on my STEREO: For An Angel by PAUL VAN DYK

7:45 am: ALARM BEEPS.
Me Thinks: Heh?........ What?........... WHY???

7:50 am: SNOOZE ONCE. I WAKE TO REALITY.
Me Thinks: God damnnit why in all heavens name cant this be a SUNDAY MORNING?? God please not let this be a MONDAY!!!!! this can't be true!!!!! oh heavens NOOOO!!!!!

7:50 am: I SIT IN THE LOO.
Me Thinks: Fuck the world. My life sucks. My life sucks. My life sucks. My life sucks....

7:52 am: I BRUSH MY TEETH.
Me Thinks: I look shit. I look shit. I look shit. I look shit. I look shit.....

7:56 am: I PUT MY CLOTHES ON.
Me Thinks: Fuck this skirt I look like a turnip. Screw my bloody fatty arms I've got chicken wings...

8:00 am: I EAT MY BREAD WITH PEANUT BUTTER
Me Thinks: May this stale bread give me diarrhoea and a tummy gag so that I can take a half-day leave...

8:05 am: I TURN ON THE TELLY
Me Thinks: Come on.... give me a national crisis so that all roads leading to the city will be closed...

8:20 am : I GET INTO THE CAR
Me Thinks: Shit. The engine works.

8:30 am: I AM CAUGHT IN THE TRAFFIC
Me Thinks: The janitor has a better job. I think I should resign this week. Maybe tommorrow? Or Friday when boss is in a less shitty mood.

8:50 am: I REACH THE OFFICE LOBBY
Me Thinks: Damn it. Office is not flooded.

9:00 am: I GET INTO THE ELEVATOR
Me Thinks: Why can't there be a lift suspension error on, let's say, the 21st floor?

9:03 am: I GET TO MY DESK. I SWITCH ON MY DESKTOP.
Me Thinks: 9 hours to go. My life sucks. I wanna get pissed.

9:05 am: I COMPLAIN TO ANY SOUL WHO WALKS PAST ME ABOUT HOW ANNOYING MY AFFILIATES ARE. I PLAY BLUR's GREATEST HITS ON MY SPEAKERS.
I sing to Blur's Universal. And it really, really, really could happen.... tra la la la...... SIGH.

AND THE DAY FOLLOWS UP WITH MORE BORING SHIT.

Now sing this:

DON'T CHA WISH YOUR WORKING LIFE IS COOL LIKE MINE ??