Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

I hereby express my deepest condolences to the three stooges. One pageant contestant who looks like Donald Duck and doesn't know whether describing a dream date means describing a real life person or an imaginary blow up doll. One journalist who thinks his england is oh-so-powderful but looked like a stiff cock (complete with that dick head) on stage during an international event held in our sunny island a while back. One paedophile, who despite his religion, probably wanks looking at the portrait of the Virgin Mary behind everybody's back.

Erm, Amen?

Saturday night is a good time for Melancholy and me to spend some quality moments together. Especially with this song on repeat.

Somebody - Depeche Mode

I want somebody to share
Share the rest of my life
Share my innermost thoughts
Know my intimate details
Someone who'll stand by my side
And give me support
And in return
She'll get my support
She will listen to me
When I want to speak
About the world we live in
And life in general
Though my views may be wrong
They may even be perverted
She'll hear me out
And won't easily be converted
To my way of thinking
In fact she'll often disagree
But at the end of it all
She will understand me

I want somebody who cares
For me passionately
With every thought and
With every breath
Someone who'll help me see things
In a different light
All the things I detest
I will almost like
I don't want to be tied
To anyone's strings
I'm carefully trying to steer clear of

Those things
But when I'm asleep
I want somebody
Who will put their arms around me
And kiss me tenderly
Though things like this
Make me sick
In a case like this
I'll get away with it

I have never really fancied taking medicine. So when I had one tablespoon full of enlightenment forced down my throat twice today, I told myself that maybe, enough is enough.

As John Locke would say, "Who are we to tell anyone what they can or cannot do?"

Maybe this really is my destiny.

Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself.

Choose your future.

Choose life.

Your Driving Is is: 69% Male, 31% Female

According to studies, you generally drive like a typical male. You're confident in your driving skills, and hardly any situation gets the better of you. And while you may have a few tickets under your belt, you're still a very good driver.

It is weird when my mother asks me the same questions that I have on my mind. It is even weirder that her son has no answers for her nor for himself. Maybe this inquisitive mind runs in the family, from my mother to me. Perhaps I should learn to be more like my father. He has this uncanny ability to do things that would leave me puzzled for a moment, but later on marvel at how he actually subconciously predicts the future and drop me hints about what to do through his small little actions and words. Subtlety, that's the key.

This feels like 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42..

I would like to say sorry to the organisers of NJC's senior prom for the graduating batch of 2000. I'm sorry I had no idea that prom is actually such a big thing in the school calendar and I didn't bother to turn up nor pay up. I skipped prom to spend my fren's last few moments in Singapore before she left for Maldives on a one week plus vacation.

It took me till 2330hrs on 31st July 2006 to realise my mistake for not attending such a big social event. ryN* and I were walking to the carpark of her hall. We walked and cutted into the path of a guy and a girl (presumably freshies) who were standing there. We were barely one step away from the guy when he said out loud to his friend "Hey thats my J.." And then we took one more step and he continued "C prom queen!" Wahahaha wad a cockster lah. I'm rather sure ryN* and I weren't communicating using hand language. If you're still not sure how near we were walking in between the two of them, its what the soccer commentators will call a questionable offside decision by the referee. We were almost in line with them when the guy started talking! I was so scared that he was gonna kneel down and kowtow lah. Wah sey man, ryN*! Now you can walk around and lao lan sia.

That interesting encounter aside, I'm rather happy that I've joined a special and elite community. I now hold a proud membership card of newurbanmale.com. So next time you guys wanna buy stuff from there and want a 10% discount, just lemme know! Funny thing is it says 'For men with good taste' on the back of the card. I didn't know that protein really tastes so good. I'm gonna show the card to girls and convince them about this often misrep fact. Wahahaha! You still don't get what I'm saying? Call me and I'll tell you.