Makes u wanna reach for that remote control and be thankful there's no one u need to share it with

Why girls fight over men, I’ve always wondered. Given half a choice, I’d rather fight for the remote control at any given time. Unlike men, the remote abides by your pressing. U just got to push the right buttons. With men, there aren’t any buttons. They got switches. You either turn them on or off. (But of course they are adorable.)

Now back to my point, a wisecrack once said no worthy man is worth the fight. Speaking with the advantage of hindsight, I’d advocate that. Cause u see, months ago I got involved with someone from work. Unbeknownst to me, a relatively new colleague shared the common interest. Apparently, my then philandering man made his maiden move on her. For some reasons I did not want to know why, he retreated and well... you know the rest.

In the short months when he and I were seeing each other, I encountered loud snide remarks on the elevator and awkward scrutinizing moments from the jilted one (I honestly thought I had lipstick on my teeth when she intently stared at me one morning). What probably angered her more was my blasé reaction towards this whole dramedy . In all honesty, I thought this whole episode was pretty insignificant. Granted there are moments where I envisioned kicking her sizeable trunk but on most days, the matter was rather inconsequential.

To cut the chase, I decided not to be an idiot anymore and chose to end the relationship in the most civil manner known to mankind (she was not a deciding factor in the decision btw). She finally got her coveted man and the last I heard, he dumped her for another. This is no surprise but recently as I watched her scrambling around picking up the pieces of her broken pride, I felt a wave of sympathy. Call it a women’s instinct to stick up for the poor, torn and jaded or whatever you want but a part of me wanted to give her a hug and some strength. But then again...

Who the hell gives a damn.

When I want to, where I want to.

Rough week. God’s way of reminding me that I’m no super hero so pls do not even think of attempting to jump off from the 7th storey locker room. Note to self: I can’t fly. It would be a miracle if I even have time to breath, much less fly. Albeit the crazy madcap race that got me breathing thru my scalp, I am sated. This will reward me. Oh yes it will. I am a hair’s breadth away.

PS: To the bed I’ve been avoiding all week, see ya this weekend. Keep it comfy pls.

This is long overdue

To you, ass-wipe,

I am tired of ur endless display of desperation because I am swarmed with work (I would equate irregular sleeping hours with a baseball bat up ur ass if u so much as scream my name ONE MORE TIME when I’m at work), my studies (I’m just a hair’s breadth away from completion), my significant other (my cape crusader and the epitome of everything patient) and my life.

As of 7 months ago,I am no longer able to command the sun and the moon for you cause I much rather the world revolves around me and people who matters. Hence, to curb ur constant uproars of hysterics and crazy exhibits, may I suggest u see a psychologist, increase ur Prozac dosage and start pulling ur head out of ur ass now. ( Oh n u can also stop kissing my ass no matter how necessary it seems for u to do so at times.)

And if it bothers you now that my life, even with its glitches and fault, is near perfect, then please remove ur gun from the holster, point it to ur chest (cos ur brain is too small to be an appropriate target) and squeeze trigger once.

Cheers.

PS: 7 months is too long a time for you to be bitter, mister DIVORCED (??). Get over it already.

Its my party and I cry if I want to

I wish for the optimism and exuberance of a 2 year old child to help me through these trying times. No I’m not fired. My love life is at its optimal peak and the financial sectors have yet to see anything red (thank heavens!).

I just had a birthday. That’s all.