Where's my Mc Shit sticker?

The thing about boycotting is that my friends now have something either useful or stupid enough to bright their facebook wall.

And it's pretty annoying to find myself unintentionally limited by their do's and dont's.

Dogs.

Prekuel.

I'm writing a book. A monolog-type of book. In malay.

It's about a punk who's missing his glory days. Of how he fucked up his life, his ideology and his dreams. All by knocking up his girlfriend.

There's one big problem, however.

I don't know how to end it.

LRT.

There are time when you wish you were the guy who's sitting right in front of you. In that navy blue skinny jeans, in those washed out denim shirt and in this packed public transport. Whom long messy hair is waving at everytime he turned to check on the view outside.

Shit.

Nah, you just wish you had his hot girlfriend sitting on your fucking lap too, no?

Snake.

I read an article on the net yesterday on the day of birth and snake. It says that those who was born on Sunday is under the snake running away from fire into the water category. Long story cut short, he or she will be having a hard life.

I started my new job earlier this month. The new life. My previous job was easy. So does the life.

I need a hard one. So I quit.

But then only I realised something. Instead of letting myself be the snake who ran away from fire into the water, I opted to be one.

I am fucking genius.

Back.

See. I told you guys that blogging is one hell of a fucking seasonal shit. Now I guess everybody is busy with either instagramming or tweeting. You see how technology is killing our people by inside. The conspiracy?

They doing books now? What??

By the way, don't wait for my next post. It took me how many months to present to you this hell of masterpiece, so to come out with another, that might take me years.

That is to say, if and I say if we can find the right submarine-cum-ship to survive this coming apocalypse.

Till then, see you guys in Capetown.