Little Boy Lost
I hate seeing paparazzi pictures of Ernests. Dodging cameras. He look so sad. Now I’m sad. Welcome to the ridiculous world of a psycho fangirl. She feels for celebrities and have zero interest in real life situations. The quickest escape route, in her defense.
Ernests is special. Yep, paid-for-Swedish-prostitues-Ernests. Th dude’s a keeper.
Love is blind, deaf and numb. Real or fake love. Doesn’t really matter to me. It comes to a point where I don’t care what you think anymore. Even what you’re saying to me is useless. Nothing’s gonna bring me down.
I need to start worrying. Cause the Latvian wonderboy can coax a smile even when I’m madpiss. The insanity.
AO is starting soon.
To be honest, I’m a little depressed. Why? Cause I’m not there dying of heatstroke.
Los Soberanos
I finally bought 2 Los Soberanos CDs! I’ve been dying to get them since forever. Contemplating back and forth cause of the cost of postage and it’s in Euros. Argh.
Saved quite abit thanks to Christmas. I love deals!
At times, waiting for the right time to buy something pays. This, coming from an impulsive yet plan-before-I-buy-anything buyer. It’s odd. I’m a walking contradiction. We’ve established that.
Can’t wait!
I noticed, I haven’t been able to blog lately. As in, full length entries. I think it’s the Twittering. Don’t feel the need to blog anymore. I used to think that the day I stopped blogging, is the day I don’t have anything else to say. Wrong. I stop blogging cause I’m going blind. And at the risk of repeating myself, I try to limit what I say and where. Tiring.
In other news, it’s 3.30am and I can’t sleep.
Before I leave, I discovered another kickass Mexican Band. Los Padrinos!
Geva
In an alternate universe, I’ll appoint him as my boyfriend.
In reality, he’s an Israeli singer-songwriter. And I want to have his babies.
It could get complicated, no?
Nervous Breakdown
nervous breakdown n.
A severe or incapacitating emotional disorder, especially when occurring suddenly and marked by depression.
A mere term to me, until last night.
Ghost World
I think I’m Enid.
Enid: How can you stand all these assholes?
Rebecca: Some people are ok, mostly I just feel like poisoning everybody.
Smelly Cat
My cat scratched my index finger. The one on my right hand. I’ve been using my middle finger for everything. I don’t want to remain rude. My finger is overworked. I feel a cramp coming. Trying to use all my fingers to type. Proving very difficult. The plaster is such a hassle. I can see blood. The cut is rather deep. It’s entirely my fault. I aggravated Spot. I told him he was a smelly cat. Smellier than the strays at the void deck. That might have triggered the sudden impulse to hurt me. “Bitch!”, he meowed.
