It's impossible to blog on weekends.
I woke up this morning to a spiralling room. My head was spinning, the room spiralling and it was the worst headache ever since I downed my caffeine intake. I shut my eyes and I see *bleep*'s face.
Hangover from last night?
Hardly.
Jun's party was awesome: Great company, healthy food, good fun (Pictionary, 'I'll-push-you-into-the-pool' threats, Wii) and an even healthier mood theraphy.
No booze.
Then again, someone (I heard it was Ryan?) gave Jun a bottle of what seems like an expensive high quality liquor as a birthday gift and Nigel kept asking for wine and champagne.
Oh yeah, no booze.
Her cake was in the shape of a Chanel purse and it was delightfully cute! When the cake came out, and the crowd started singing 'Happy Birthday', Mark caught a glimpse of that cake and exclaimed (self-assuredly, I should add): "Eh, Prada bag!"
The other guys proudly corrected him. Omg, mak cik betul.
Acutely emotional?
At this point, not really. The results are out and they turned out pretty good, but slightly below expectation. MJ passed away and it only bothered me for a few hours. Malaysian Studies ended and it was liberating. Fi left for Banting already and I found out from someone else who was completely unrelated. It did put me off a little, as if I was already invisible. Arief cancelled lunch because his planet orbits around his girlfriend and it not only set me off, it is also proof of my invisibilty.
But still, I show no symptoms of being acutely emotional.
Him.
Yes, I believe so. He is causing this turmoil as a debut.
Guys are like fruits. When they're ripe, they're like these appealing and vivid bunch of fruits. And let's not forget their sole purpose of being fruits: Keep you healthy.
But if you refrigerate them for too long (even if you don't, it's almost the same thing), they'll get putrid and disgusting: Their venom contaminates your carbon base life forms.
Shit. Stupid gibberish.
Anyway.
You should've seen him. His face spells ARROGANT at first sight, but beyond his face just might be something less than arrogant.
Garbed in crisp white long-sleeved shirt, first three buttons let out to purposefully
exhibit his sculpted chest. He spoke to everyone with poise (excluding me) like he owned the room and its people.
He would approach, create a conversation, keeps it up for at least 5 minutes and as he was about to make an exit from the circle, he'll flash an oh-so-winsome smile that could make you topple and says: "Pleasure talking to you, see you around."
One could easily get a cardiac arrest.
Under 30 minutes, I could sum him up to these without even having verbal contact with him. Just occasional glancing and customary human greeting like smile and wink.
- Sometimes he rests his elbow on tables and chairs, he'll deliberately flex his biceps as he speaks to you to make sure you can't get your eyes fixed on his. You'll start to tremor, feel perturbed and then asked to be excused to regain self-control.
- And the way he laughs! It wasn't a typical macho laugh. It sounded almost sincere as though he was laughing at something seriously funny. It was adorable.
- He has good posture. When he stands you could see how aligned he is with the wall and how perpendicular he is with the centre of gravity. Literally.
N the fuckety farcical fe-male (oh how I miss a female companion) says that I am immensely smitten ('because, my dear, you could describe his everything! so, tell me about his torso..') and that I should pursue him ('that means talking to him- spitting words in his direction- and make him feel the need to excuse himself to regain self-control).
Amusing.