when transgenre music is the best cure.

no there's no such word as transgenre. but who cares.

as they say, there's nothing in the world that a slice of chocolate truffle cannot cure, atop fried mee and 10 pounds of lard.
i got home after lecture, and stuffed myself. it must be fate, because i got a stomachache after that and all i ate is now gone.

i would have happily chosen alcohol over food anytime. vodka for breakfast, gin and tonic for lunch, jack daniel's for dinner and XO for supper.

and every saturday i would have whiskey for tea. the kind that's 50 years old.
sundays will be reserved for wine tasting.

so yes, i feel awful. it's all just a phase isn't it? the same old sick cycle.



i don't need a lot. i really don't.
only people like me who's got all their neccessities satisfied complain about not having enough.
day 1 of self-renewal.

and self-renewal equals being back to my loud, bitchy, who-gives-a-damn persona. except this time weight loss is part of the plan.

i'm really a contradiction. i like to ramble, but i don't like to talk. i don't eat veggies but i don't suffer from constipation. i like guys but i think most of them are asses all the same.

it's so much easier if you just live for yourself. like that taylor from OC season 3. sure you're lonely most of the time, but it's easier.

I blogged @ 9:17 PM