--

the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation
-Henry David Thoreau

it's like, a miracle and stuff

i'm actually up before the stock market's open.

there is hope for humankind afteall.

i wear pink

and i read chick lit.

yes, i'm doomed to be single forever.

ok. back to the chick lit. i'm up in boston, and i'm bored. so i look on the shelves of my sister's place, and she has sophie kinsella's "confessions of a shopaholic".

less than 2 weeks later, i've finished reading 4 of her books, and now i'm waiting for the other 2 to be available at the library.

i'm such a weirdo.

driving into oblivion

again, it was past midnight and i felt like driving without a destination.

music blasting, just turning aimlessly into roads you've passed before but never actually figured out where it led to, no time constraints.

stopped, took some pictures, got some weird looks from the after hours security guard, and a cat call from some young gal.

seriously. a cat call.

i was sitting there, smoking a cigarette, framing shots in my mind (damn, i sound fucking professional, don't i?) when i heard a "meow" coming from the parking garage nearby.

i look up, and catch a glimpse of someone moving away from the edge of the top level.

"hmmn, ed, you're starting to see things."

so i walk around. it's quite weird, with all the lights still full on, but not a soul around. interesting experience.

after a while, my ADD kicks in, and i head back to the car. as i walk to the car, i look up and see this girl looking down at me from the parking garage.

she waved, i smiled, and i kept on walking.

370

was reading old saved drafts just now, and all of a sudden i noticed that fish puke's a year old.

funny how time flies. i mean, i've been fucking unemployed for a month now (panic mode setting in), but i digress.

blogging has been fun. sharing stupid thoughts with god-knows-who is quite weird, although i know most of you retards that read this shit (stop slacking and go back to work).

so thanks, i guess, for actually reading my crap. i can't find a picture of my pimply cellulite filled ass, so here's the next best thing i could find as a token of appreciation. enjoy.

dichotomy

get back on the wheel again, running in circles, pretending life has a greater purpose

or

continue to be a bum, pretend that i can afford not to work.

eat sleep fat pig

i'm hungry. and tired. and in bed.

debating if i should go heat up some food and have dinner at 2 fucking am in the morning. why didn't i just go to sleep an hr ago before i got hungry?

let's analyze the situation.

option A : eat
i'll be nice and full, but i'll end up going to be at 3am, thus ensuring a wake-up-feeling-like-shit day, thus ensuring a day where nothing gets done. see the whole domino effect thing?

option B : sleep
stay hungry. maybe die of hunger in my slumber.

after careful analysis, i have decided that i can't risk dying young and pretty. thus i'm off to find edible stuff in the fridge.

bon appetit (see? i know french).

bread

like dandan, i love bread. not the usual wheat bread, but bread with stuff inside. custard, or whatever sweet fillings it might be.

so naturally, my sister decided to go to chinatown(which is totally out of the way) before her job on sunday just to make sure i have it at night when i have my hunger pangs.

thanks, sis.



oh, on a totally unrelated note, this is what happens if you lick yourself too much.

lazy bastard

caught napping in the spare bedroom.

i'll do anything for art

it was past midnight and i felt restless. wanted to get out of the house, but everyone was asleep, so i went for a drive, camera in tow.

drove around aimlessly for a while, then finally decided to do what i always wanted to do : stop the car on the off-ramp and snap time lapse pictures of cars on the highway.

so i parked the car on the side of the road, put on the emergency blinkers, and bravely walked on the shoulder, praying as cars zoomed by me at 65 mph.

i would've taken more pics, but i had to come back home to change my underwear.

tattoo story #3

i was still not over her. we still talked on the phone, and she made it clear that it was over. but of course my simple mind c(w)ouldn't understand it.

in my puny little mind, i still believed that she would one day wake up and realize that i'm the best thing since sliced bread. thus, when greyfluff came to visit, i dragged him on a 5 hour roadtrip to see her.

i showed her the tattoo of her initials on my arm, and whatever her response was, i interpreted it as the first crack in her shield.

hmmm...she's moved. maybe another tattoo would seal the deal.

so off we went, along with greyfluff, in search of a tattoo parlor in ithica, new york.

and we found one.

i decided on a dragon(how fucking stereotypical is that?). somehow i managed to convince greyfluff to get one too (sorry, dude). the so called artist drew a dragon outline on my left arm, with it's tail surrounding the initials. i took a glance at it, nodded my head, and leaned back. i think she sat next to me the whole time. she was probably thinking of what an idiot i was.

40 minutes later, i had a red dragon on my left arm.

the tattoos never changed anything between us.

too skinny

Atkins, the company that started the whole low carb diet thing has filed for chapter 11.

guess the company's bottom line wasn't fat enough.

damn, i'm so fucking funny.

seriously though, all these diets are useless. losing weight is a simple mathematical equation. burn more than you eat. so what if you eat 200 twinkies a day as long as you burn the calorie equivalent of 201 twinkies?

damn, i'm fucking funny AND smart.