Monday, December 04, 2006

“oh make me over”

Adoi last night came home around 01:30. Couldn’t immediately go to sleep so I mucked about (half watching Dawson’s Creek Season 4, half playing Insaniquarium) ‘till it was about 2.30am. I seriously thought I was dreaming when my Dopod blared out the Tokyo Drift ringtone. YA AMPUNNN!!!!! Another autopsy at 5am!! Wahlau damn the chiarlat man… not even 3 hours of sleep. I didn’t even bother changing into casual clothes. Couldn’t be freakin’ bothered-lah. I just slipped into my pyjama pants, pulled on a sweatshirt, brushed my hair abit and bumbled drowsily to the morgue. It’s at times like these that I am oh-so-grateful I live a stone’s throw away from the hospital. I really admire those kids who have to travel the distance. Ah Iko lives in, like, Cimahi which, like, on good traffic occasions can amount up to an hour's drive. With the amount of time used for travelling to and fro I don’t think they even get to sleep a wink.

"I'm all I wanna be
A walking study..."

I think the blog theme FATgirl not so good feng shui-lah. Like nobody visit one. I know-lah last time I was abit of a closet writer but now I want my 5 minutes of FAME!! I want people to flood me with admiration and lurrrves. I want Hitz FM to beg me to read their morning celebrity tabloid news for them. I want Cleo to dedicate a special column for me to rave about my best new buy. I want The Star Two to feature me in their People-To-Lookout-For-2007 onwards. I want all nature of beauty/skincare labels to send me a week’s worth of sample of ALL THEIR PRODUCTS (especially those lovely lovely *bisou* worthy people from Crème De La Mer, La Prairie, Origins, SKII, Dior, Chanel, Guerlain, YSL, etc). I want to get invited as VIPs to launching of random events (heck I want to be so famous they’d PAY me to show my face at their parties). Did you know Paris’ rate is, like, US$100,000 or something for club openings and whatnots?? That should be me too!!

"Oh, look at my face
My name is 'might have been'
My name is 'never was'
My name's forgotten..."
... Hole, Celebrity Skin ...

So people send some sugar-coated *bisou* over-lah so I can start counting my fan base. It had better be more than my fingers and toes put together. (*hyukhyukhyuk*)

So I’m nuts. Cannot meh?

Speaking of turning nutella, lately I’m ON again with my wedding obsession and this trip I’ve been drafting out my guest list. Miss MasMas and the rest of my Indon colleagues have noticed a pattern to my insanity to which when the going gets tough, the tough gets bridal. I realized that too. Wonder what my subconscious is telling me hor? *giggles* Never for a second think that girls don’t ever think about weddings. We all do. From the crazy cynic to the hermit spinster. We NEVER NOT think about weddings. We love it. From the cake to the guests’ Thai silk table cloths. Go ahead and get all Miranda on me but if it’s the right man somehow or rather you’d surely want the right party. And parties take planning. Heck they NEED planning. I figure with me hitting houseman next year I might not really have that much of time to search for the ultimate dress or the perfect pair of heels so devising a plan now is actually *shrug* a DAMN good idea. Actually that’s not embarrassing, what’s humiliating is that I BUY BRIDAL MAGAZINES. Oh G*DDD ahaHAHAHA I do (pun intended). I really do. They make me feel all poncy-poncy inside. Sometimes I’d make cutouts of the wedding rings and stick them on my fingers to see what suits my chubby hand. And they wonder why I don’t have a boyfriend!! :D

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