In reply to a comment on my xanga regarding the merits of lj / whatever other service you might use, I have decided to explicate my switch (or rather return) to blogger:

True, LJ is cool; however; I've discovered a couple nice things about blogger:

a) Site customizability. With all those templates, you can't go wrong, man! I originally picked minima black (which is ok) but then, over spring break, watch me go crazy with redesign. Trust me, it WILL happen. Awesome.

b) It's picture support - WAH THIS ONE IS DAMN GOOD, LET ME TELL YOU. I just downloaded Picasa / Hello, and it's seriously pretty awesome. I've been playing with it, like, a damn lot. You just click click click what picture you want, then upload upload upload. Damn shiok, sial!

c) Last time blogger used to have a shitty comment system, now it's less shitty. I think I started the LJ / Xanga PRECISELY because every time cannot get comments. Damn sian, man, that time! Now, it's all better. Hence, byebye xanga / LJ

d) The url: here livejournal is actually ok, but then you still can't beat xyz.blogspot.com for a good location. Especially since I managed to snag bigfuck.blogspot.com - I think it's damn me, don't you?

e) Once again, free picture hosting. WAHHH!!!! AWESOME!!!!

f) Some people have an aversion to html. I do not. I have an aversion to not being able to type in a link / include a picture without clicking funny buttons above the text box.

g) I had another reason but I forgot it. Nevermind.

Anyway, for your reference, once again:
http://bigfuck.blogspot.com; because I'm such a big fuck.

I've decided that, instead of having a whole bunch of different journals, I should just stick to one. I mean, I love being read, and I love all your comments, but man, it's kind of stupid of me to be publishing on xanga, livejournal AND blogger, right? I'm starting a new blog, aptly titled 'The Big Fuck'; the URL is http://bigfuck.blogspot.com

Yes, that's http://bigfuck.blogspot.com

It's not up yet, and I might just stick with these 3 posting things for a while more while I figure things out, but yeah, come spring break, it's all shutting down.

Ok. Back to studying (by which I mean fooling around with my new blog, of course!)

Yeah.

Skipped class today. Every time I do something like this, I can hear my mother's voice in the back of my head, telling me to wake up, before I fail out of school, become a drug addict, end up cleaning rubbish, etc, etc, etc. This makes me unhappy. At the moment I'm looking for something to blame for my errant behaviour. I have decided on blaming the fact that I'm quitting smoking.

Quitting smoking is the best scapegoat for crappy mood, lack of concentration, lapses in self-control, general unhappiness, etc. etc. This is what makes it so fantabulous. At the moment I am eating milk & dark chocolate covered almonds (oral fixation, no choice), lounging around in my pajamas and updating my xanga at 6.33 pm on a Friday evening. Incredible, I know. Why am I doing this? Naturally, it is because I haven't been smoking. Ignore the obvious lack of logic. Smoking changes all sorts of things in your system, you know. You should be glad for me, anyway, seeing as to how healthy I'm getting. Us potentially reforming smokers need your support, alright? While you're at it, buy me more milk & dark chocolate covered almonds. These things are fucking amazing; I can't stop eating them and will soon become a fatty, as well as a shorty. Not that this matters, of course, as long as I get to eat these almonds. Awesome.

The roommate is off to New York for the weekend, which obviously means that I'm somewhat obliged to throw a party, right? I mean, this apartment, as I've said, like, a billion times before, is far too big to be alone in; we'll see if I can get rid of the smell of burning that's still lingering first, though. I tried airing the place out, but thanks to the snow outside, which is falling faster than fingers from a colony of lepers outside, I am stuck with this lingering burnt smell.

Ok, I suppose I should do work now. Bloody hell, I was having such a good time chatting online, as well. Damn it.

After seeing Wendy Cheng's blog (you know, the world-famous http://xiaxue.blogspot.com - best Asian blog of 2004, ok!) I have become damn depressed at having such a small readership; I now vow to revamp my blog (eventually) and put in lots of awesome anecdotes about my super-exciting (at least, according to some of the rumours that have been going around) life and also many pictures of myself (dutifully photoshopped to make me look awe-inspiring and super bad ass). When this will actually happen is, well, anybody's guess. Eventually, though, my blog will shoot lasers and fly and also transform into a giant robot, and everyone who looks at it will be blinded for five seconds then go,'waaahhh!!! this guy is a super bad ass!' and then they will be addicted and read it all the time, and I will be a blogging super star like Cheng Yan Yan. Awesome!

In other news, I smoked my first cigarette since Saturday, and, to be honest, I feel a little sick now. I know, it's damn un-badass to be sick from one cigarette, right? But then again, I've come to realize that it's even more badass to kick an addictive habit like smoking ciggies. I imagine that come next tuesday (projected date of my last cigarette), I will take out the cigarette, smoke it in a business-like manner, and then say bye bye to nicotine and be smoke free for life; the dialogue will go like this (yes, my smoking habit can talk; I'm just that sort of guy):

Me: Ok smoking habit, you make me sick. I feel sick already. I think I'm damn smelly. I'm going to take a shower now. Get the fuck out of my life.
Smoking Habit (SH): But...what about all the good times we had?
Me: I was deluded. And impressionable.
SH: Don't lie; you felt damn good and you know it. You'll never feel that way about another substance again, you know.
Me: WAH!!! You're damn full of yourself ok? Let me ask you - I spend all this money on you, visit you every day, clean up after you, etc etc - when is the last time you did something for ME?
SH: Just think of all the cool people you got to know through me, all the long nights I kept you company through, all the times you were alone and nobody wanted to be your friend; I WAS YOUR FRIEND, I MADE YOU LOOK COOL.
Me: Maybe so, but did that really make me happier? All it made me was smellier; I'll admit I met a couple cool friends through you, but then, what about all the cool people I didn't meet because they thought I was a smelly SOB?
SH: LIES!!! LIES!!!
Me: Calm the fuck down, bitch.
SH: YOU NEED ME!
Me: No I don't, it's over.
SH: HEY I DIDN'T COME TO YOU ANYWAY! YOU CAME TO ME, YOU BASTARD! YOU CAME TO ME!!! AND YOU'LL COME CRAWLING BACK BECAUSE YOU'RE WEEAAKKKK!!! (my smoking habit starts laughing hysterically and jumping about like Lady Macbeth when she goes crazy)
Me: That's it. Get the fuck out. (I go into bow stance and punch my smoking habit in the face, and when it tries to claw my eyes, I block, and then SPEAR it in the cheebye and throw it out the window, in all it's foil-covered glory)
SH (as it falls down my window): YOU LOVE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (SH falls against the sidewalk and explodes into a million tiny bits. Beggars walking by pick up tiny bits and ask passerbys for lighters, then smoke all the tiny bits and eventually die of lung cancer. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.)
Me (dusting myself off): That's right, bitch.

Oh, what a glorious day.

Fatty bom boms are damn groooosssssss (sorry, fatties!)

What is up with people who wear those bare midriff things when they have little bulges sticking out? I think it's damn disgusting. I mean, I guess I'm damn mean to fat people in general, but seriously, nobody wants to see these rolls of blobby, springy, fatty things going boing boing boing all over the place, right? I wonder how fat people feel when their pudgy tummys bounce up and down. Sometimes, when I have a stomachache, it feels like my stomach is churning. Maybe fat people feel like this all the time; that would be damn sucky for them, right? It's something like how I imagine girls with large breasts feel when they don't wear bras; everything goes up and down and up and down. I don't like dangly bits; this is why I wear briefs instead of boxers; yeah, maybe it's bad for sperm count, but at least things don't bang against each other when I need to run somewhere. Maybe they should make pot belly holsters for fat people, so that their tummies can stay in one place instead of bouncing all around; I bet this would make their lives a little easier. Also I wouldn't have to see their exposed bubbly tummies, which still gross me out.

On another note, my spring break plans have fallen to pieces, thanks to my being played out by a very lazy somebody. In case she's reading this, I'm still super disappointed. Damn sad, man! So, anyway, here are my options for spring break:

a) buy ticket to New York (price - 213 dollars and rising)
b) buy ticket to London (price - 300+ dollars and rising)
c) buy pre-modded PSTwo and GTA: San Andreas (price - 300 dollars and falling)

Note: options a and b are way cooler (with b possibly being the coolest) but they can only get more expensive; ie - going to wherever will also involve spending bucketloads of money on going out, buying presents for people I stay with, eating, etc. whereas c will mean that my spring break will be spent in chicago, playing games like a real dorkface. Also, c means that I will be damn distracted for a while, playing all these games online. How? What do you guys think? Better send your suggestions in fast! Right now, to be honest, I'm really leaning towards the PSTwo, mainly because I'm a huge dork.

Yay yay video games!

Oh, here the girl comes (you know, the one who dua me for spring break) I'm going to go scold her for a bit.

Peace out!

I am hungry.

I'm sitting in front of my computer (I've been doing this far too often lately; it's alarming - I really don't want to be a dork, you see) with a bag of rock candy, but I don't want more sugar. I can feel my stomach walls imploding.

Some days I am a hungry monster and I have to eat. That's what hungry monsters do. It's a hard life being a hungry monster - you open your fridge and look for food and you're like, 'grrr...where's the food?' and then you realize that everything either takes about a billion years to prepare, or otherwise just wouldn't be satisfying. I mean, there's, lik,e hummus and pitas and stuff, but I really don't like hummus and pitas. I'd much rather have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. All the peanut butter I have left, though, is kind of stale. I mailed it back to myself from Amsterdam, and since I never got round to eating it, it smells kind of funky. To be honest, it kind of smells funky for other reasons as well. Suffice to say, I'm not eating that stuff. Hells no.

Anyway, so back to being a hungry monster. There's ham I think, in the fridge. I don't really want ham. I could eat some cup noodles, but that makes me sad. I really wonder why I'm hungry all the time. When I was little I used to suspect I had worms in my stomach, eating all my food. This would totally explain why I'm always hungry, and yet somehow totally manage not to grow. Perhaps it has something to do with my lack of sleep, which is also inextricably linked to my penchant for staying up writing stupid stuff on my blog. Damn it, the cards are all stacked against me. I will be short and miserable forever.

I will also be hungry.

Like a hungry monster.

Someone send me food, please. I'm so damn hungry.

I got quite a bit of work done today. Then I met the Singaporeans at Jimmy's. I had, like two beers. They were in really small cups. I bet each cup was, like, maybe half a small bottle. The girl at our table probably had more alcohol than I did. At the bar, I mean. I came home, and felt like I hadn't drank anything, so I drank another beer. Then I drank another beer. Then, I drank a third beer. After three beers, I was a little tipsy. Right now, I have a melon drink in front of me; I've just done the dishes, taken out the trash and had three beers. It's almost three in the morning. I need to take a shower. My melon drink has about two shots of tequila and two shots of midori in it. It still tastes prettty good, though. I think this is evidence that I'm a little tipsy. No, actually I think it does actually taste pretty good. Maybe I'll have another after this. Where am I going with all this? I don't know. Maybe I should go to sleep. Yeah. Maybe. Holy cow. Yeah.

I mean, yeah.

Fire Fist!

So I just watched a bunch of wushu clips from www.wushucentral.com and I'm thoroughly convinced that I will never be any good at this stuff; it doesn't mean that I'm going to give up, I'm just acknowledging that wushu will, at best, be yet another one of the ways in which I flutter but never fly, much like Japanese (and other random languages), drawing, mixing drinks, cooking, writing, cleaning (though i doubt there are ever going to be any world cleaning championships), theatre, academia, dancing, playing the guitar or photography. I guess, all things considered, I have a pretty long list of random talents (though, to be fair, I wouldn't call them talents - more like things I can bullshit my way through); still, it would be nice to somehow attain mastery in one of these things. I used to watch things like Legend of the Condor Heroes and imagine that, one day, I'd meet Hong Qigong and master the xiang long shi ba zhang, or be able to fly or some nonsense like that. Even if this were even remotely possible, I have to admit that even the venerable master Hong would probably be, like, yeah, well, kid, there's this other dude who's more flexible, so bugger off. If I were in Legend of the Condor Heroes, I'd probably have to settle for being the dude who tries to marry Huang Rong and is pretty clever (who was this, Ouyang Ke? I forget) but in the end gets poisoned because he's too ambitious and not the number one super power fist of death dude.

Nonetheless, this doesn't mean I'm going to give up, on any of the things I like doing. Like I always say, I might look like a jackass on the dance floor, but at least I'm into it and look like I'm having fun. I'm not one of those crackers (sorry, white boys) who sort of half-heartedly flail their arms, looking like they borrowed their bodies for the weekend and haven't really read the instruction manual. Instead, I'm the guy who's so far on the ground he looks like he needs a periscope, yet still grooving. I don't care that I look like a dumbass any more; I think I've finally grown up enough to be beyond that. If being able to throw a couple punches, make a couple poses and kick some ass (here, of course, we define ass very broadly, like, say, maybe I could fight off some panhandlers ... if they were crippled ... and also drunk ... and, err, maybe hadn't eaten in a couple days), well, yeah, that makes me feel good. That's pretty much good enough for me. Damn straight. Also, one day I might really meet Hong Qigong and, because of my awesome never-say-die (unless I'm tired, in which case all bets are off) attitude, he might teach me how to fly. Or maybe shoot dragons from my butt.

Yeah, we'll see who's laughing then.