dear all,
the tag board is fucking up my blog site.
regardless, i shall still post a new entry because today a banana in a pyjama suit flicked a switch for one of the gazillions of light bulbs situated in the sparkling myriad of light and wonder that is the inner recess of my thought (read: my brain, asshole).
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my mind is full of deep insight and wondrous knowledge, but as of now this revelation is not exactly relevant to what i am about to say. unless you worship me and call me sifu like sara does.
*bellows in deep, thunderous voice* then, mortal, you may continue to bow down and kiss my feet.
fuck. no, i so did not mean that sara does that. dont hit me, da jie!
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this little belter of an idea (which hit me sometime on the train home from paya lebar as i was bordering on deliriousness due to lack of sleep) basically went along the lines of something like this:
b2: "are you thinking what im thinking, b1?"
lionel: "shut up, fuckface. im not your goddamn fag buddy."
" seriously, im thinking that im gonna be 21 real soon. im only 21 once goddammit. fuck clubbing, i do that all the time. im thinking like, maybe i should get a chalet or hotel room or something, so that i can host some really loud music, plenty of friends and copious drinking til the wee hours and not hafta worry about some fucker rat on me and shut down my little joyride. whaddya think of that, you queer little banana you?"
b2: "... can you just stick to the goddamn script, you moron?"
lionel: "oh, alright. whatever bakes your noodle... christ, i cant believe im actually saying this... okay, here goes - i think i am, b2!"
b2: "..."
lionel: "what now?! i said what i was supposed to say, didnt i?"
b2: "we're supposed to say the next line together, asshole."
lionel: "oh yeah. jeez man, im sorry - i completely forgot. on 3 then: one.. two... thr..."
b2: "its washing time!"
lionel: "its party time!"
*lionel stares pointedly at b2, who is standing rigidly in his faggoty striped jammies with his yellow jaundiced hands upon his hips; b2 returns the stare with equal fury*
b2: "you gigantic asshole. now we gotta reshoot the whole damn show."
lionel: "fuck this. i dont wanna wear some oversized banana suit. hell, i already got an oversized banana of my own. i wanna get drunk and laid. im outta here, faggot-boy."
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admittedly, it didnt really go something like this. there's abit of deviation here and there, you gotta ask b2 for the full picture. or was he really just a figment of my imagination? ah well.
basically, im thinking of getting like a chalet or a suite or something. of course, since i have more guy pals than girl pals it might turn out to be a teeny weeny bit of a sausage fest. gee, i dunno. looks like i gotta break open the whole indemnity form thing again.
but i think ahead of myself once again. comment on this or reply on the tagboard if its up and running by the time you read this. as-soon-as-fucking-possible.
p.s - dearest siblings and friends who have been faithfully reading my blog since the day of its inception: i love you all. my migraine is killing me and i suspect (and i think you've realised) i have been talking gibberish all day. alas... good night, world! i am an arts fag. wootwoot.
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music wise: im fucking tired, people. still, because i love music and i love you all, i shall dish out a recommend with my last breath of coherent air. today i have been playing refused on my ipod quite a bit, because the catchy punk-core sounds seemingly help to blot out the headache.
featured band: refused
key listens: new noise & liberation frequency
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