P-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face!
I am so in love with Lady GaGa. I just love her songs and I especially adore her hair and her getup. So.. so COOL. Like highly stylised cosplay.
Ought I get a wig? Ought I? And wear thick black eyeliner with winged tips, all cat-like, all mysterious? And a bodysuit? Where do I find a bodysuit? And five-inch heels! Oooh!!! I'll just die.
Alrighty. I am going to learn to dance. I have to. And I am going to hit the karaoke joint soon and indulge in strawberry drinks with too cute names.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
gaga
it gets to me
Lalalala... I FEEL USELESS.
What am I doing wrong? What is going wrong?
I need to change. It must change.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
revenge of the mascara
As I was driving home today, I recalled a moment in time - a time before I knew the importance of eyebrow grooming.
God.
I had really awful looking eyebrows then. They were oddly shaped. Sparse hair with high arches. Now I check myself in for eyebrow threading sessions whenever I'm in the Bangsar vicinity. Else, I'll just do a bit of plucking and trimming. Not too great, but I manage.
By the way, did I mention how much I love Dior's Iconic Lash mascara? And this Maybelline thing with a name too long I forgot what it's called.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
lamentable manisfestations
I spent Valentine's Day at an inter-media bowling tourney - and naturally, the team lost. My best score was 67 - and I ranked at 132 out of 137 players in terms of score. OK, at least I wasn't last. And I managed to score a strike once.
I play better badminton. Or so I'd like to think anyway.
There wasn't much to do by way of being a single on a day when some love-themed meal and a super sappy romance movie are compulsory. So I went and bought myself two pairs of thongs - which now I regret buying.
The first, a midnight blue see-through thong with silver glitter I realised upon reaching home that I'd grabbed the wrong size. It's a size bigger and it was hanging on the little thong hanger with a big '8' on it. Way to go. I'm so not going to return it. I'm going to donate it to my friend who happens to wear size tens.
The other was this quirky pink and silver thing with ruffles. It reminds me of when I was eight. When little girls' swimsuits had the little ruffle-bit pretending to be like a little bit of a skirt. Damn. I never knew thongs can make me look and feel juvenile.
I don't know if I ever want to wear it... like what if I had to get undressed and I was seen in that pink thing - that looked so cute at Topshop five hours ago? I'd be a laughing stock. Nobody'll think of my credibility as a journalist anymore! Oh goddammit.
And I regret my hair trim. It wasn't supposed to be that short. Now for some nagging reason, I think I look older - which isn't much consolation when I just recently turned a year older. Dammit. I'd have much rather stuck with my brittle ends if I'd known it'd turn out like this.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
the madness that is Thomas Sabo
I've been rousing myself into a mad frenzy - all because of Thomas Sabo and his special charms.
The magical psychadelic VW van!!! OMG!!! OMFG!!!!!!
I MUST HAVE IT!!!!!!!!!!
So, I have been spending the last two days gluing my eyes to the computer screen, drooling at pictures of the special charms made by Thomas Sabo.
I shall join a cult. If they offered me Thomas Sabo.
You can't buy me with money, you can't buy me with cars, you can't buy me with clothes, you can't buy me with sex but yes, you can buy me with Thomas Sabo.
I shall worship Thomas Sabo forever and ever.
And I am getting that VW van.
Monday, February 9, 2009
ook
Having an iced Ipoh white coffee at 10pm was a really bad idea. I couldn't sleep and ended up crawling into bed at nearly 3am - after enthusiastically singing along to the same two songs on loop (Jason Mraz's The Remedy and Franz Ferdinand's Take Me Out) and chatting random rubbish with a few friends to get myself tired.
And then I ended up having a weird dream before waking up feeling agitated about something, nothing, OK, maybe something after all but I'm not saying what. It's just too stupid.
Coffee makes me anxious.
I don't know why I bother with coffee when I know how it makes me feel. I get all fidgety in my seat, like I need to poo. Actually, I wanted to poo earlier but since my mind latched onto an incredibly lame idea to make me all the more anxious, all thoughts of hitting the loo was flung out of the window. Wait. I think it's coming back.
And then I feel like I need to bang my head against something. Preferably a wall. I have a great urge to just jump up and down in one spot. Scream. Fling myself onto the floor and roll about in utter madness, as a sign of protest. What I am protesting again? I don't know. I just feel like I need to protest.
Of course, it makes me want to down some anti-depressants. 'Cos they make me mellow like that.
Ook. Ook? Ook.
I think I'll go sing me Losing My Mind.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)