Saturday, February 11, 2006

my freaky valentine

Is it normal to be freaked out by your V-Day date? Hmm. I didn't even intend for it to happen. It's kinda... circumstancial. Driven by guilt and pity. Man, if he finds this blog I'm D.E.A.D. That'll be me splashed out on the front cover of New Paper (because Straits Times wouldn't bother), posing a (literally) deadly pose with a machette.

I may need more than one emergency call to release me from screaming agony. Thank goodness I have a lovely dinner with my evil twin to look forward to afterwards.

If Syd's right, I'll be the most unfashionable entity in SMU on V-Day as I won't be carrying a bouquet of flowers around.

This is singlehood... Am starting to regret breaking up with V-Day just round the corner! What imperfect timing. Sigh. A really bad period to act heartless. And dare I say it? I miss HIM aka Gary. I miss his distinct scent and the effortless cuddles (now that I think about it, our cuddles always leave me in an awkward position... but I get used to it). But mostly I miss the feeling of being in love with him, like how I was last year. It's totally different now... Think it's impossible to go back there again.

My emotions are so screwed up now that I might even fall in love with Mr. Machette... *pauses to think* Or NOT. One of the reasons why:

Background: MSN chat, I was telling him about Emix's upcoming Patron's Day performance.

Mr. Machette: So what are you guys wearing?
Me: Just cropped top and baggy pants...
Mr. Machette: Oh I see. Wear a wristband. And don't forget the cap. The cap is very important for hip-hop performances.
Me: Oh yeah okay.

Things I could've said but didn't because I was being nice:
1. Actually, our choreographer wanted our hair down and messed up; only the boys are wearing caps. Plus, we'd be wearing colour-coordinated stockings as sleeves so a wristband will be totally off.
2. You're not a dancer, so shut up.
3. I'm not about to take style tips from a Chinese guy who wants to sound black but can't quite pull it off.

I HATE being told what to do by guys who are totally clueless. And I HATE posers and I HATE poser-wannabes even more. And I HATE being arranged a V-Day date without me even being consulted to see whether I'd be okay with it. Like, HELLO, why do you presume that I'd wanna spend it with YOU?

Hmmm okay. What I typed above are pretty mean words. Which goes to reflect how frustrated I am because otherwise I'd keep mum (and just bitch silently).

So if he finds this blog...

...

...

To be continued.