Monday, February 21, 2005

stories, stories, stories.

beef, beef, beef.

this has got to be the best lesson in human relations.

i was looking forward to a night of bodyrock on Saturday but all i got was bad publicity. i know i've always liked talkshows but i never said i wanted to be a topic of discussion myself. Saturday Night Live meets Jerry Springer. all the essence of a good primetime drama with a cast of sorts.





speaking of which.





(ready?)





drunk girls should just shut the fuck up and go face a wall in one corner, let alone getting involved in people's affairs. i'd like to give you a piece of my mind and tell you how fucking ridiculous and stupid you were, but that would just cramp my style. let's not forget how you looked like, either. and what kind of a fucking fake accent was that anyway. yes, you. i am directing this towards you. the one who couldn't control her mouth but had the balls to push it. just you alone.


since when did you become a spokesman?


uh oh. LaserMouth Fai v5.0 activated.








you listen here. and you better listen good.







i have no time for childish debates or petty arguments. and this is definitely not gonna evolve into a blog war. not by my standards, at least. i am gonna give you the lowdown just this once and you better fucking read this through thoroughly. and i mean thoroughly.

it appears to me that you have no fucking idea what is going on and you obviously don't have the full story or even the decency to go find out. but then again, like as if it's any of your business. don't get me wrong, now. i don't blame you for reacting the way you did. it's all in the name of being a good friend, innit? granted. i'd have done the same thing, actually.

but here's what separates me from you.

at least i have the decency to be diplomatic about my opinions and not get into people's faces, at least not under the influence of alcohol. how bloody convenient. if i didn't know better i'd have thought you were on something else. 'cos you were so dodgy. so fucking dodgy. did you know you were spewing out rosy, flowery, pseudo-angelic words in your drunken state? while trying to brain-wash a stranger by using soft intonations? what's up with that? taking a low blow by trying to say shit behind my back. literally. which school of ethics did you come from? that's right. you can't fucking remember. and i can bet my ass you're telling yourself right now that it didn't happen. that's right. tell yourself you weren't all that dramatic that night to two strangers who don't even see your fucking point or share your point of view. you might as well. 'cos i wouldn't wanna have to deal with such embarrassment if i were you.

and to top it all off you had a fucking leaf in your hair while you were talking.

jezzuz.

just how stupid you feel right i will never know.

but you make for mediocre budget comedy.

'cos the fact of the matter is that people around you that night were aware of the fiasco and just how you wack you were. and lo and behold, the next day most of my friends were asking what your problem was. indirectly you became a topic of discussion. just how do you do it, i don't know. but it sucks when you have to grow an extra inch of skin, doesn't it? good luck to you on your next visit to Jiak Kim Street.

and my, my. you had the cheek to dispense baseless information just because a situation was at hand. i bet you felt really good telling people i score girls for kicks. a long line of girls, i heard. however it felt for you, i hope you realise just how fucking hypocrytical you really are when you recap not too long ago and think of me as a real person. helping you out when you yourself were pissed drunk (again). "Thank you, Fai. I really appreciate you sending us home...."

screw you, drunk twat.





now to the other, more important person.

you.

you know just how bad this has become. you think i'm saying all this just for the fun of it? you think i like dissing people off publicly, subsequently making them feel lousy about themselves? don't blame me for this. your friend just had to push my buttons. and you of all people should know just how volatile i can get when people poke their noses into my private life. i am not blaming you for not warning them earlier how dangerous it is to come messing around, but she could have just shut her trap and not piss the shit out of me. don't get me wrong. i do see your point. and i know how shitty it feels. but it's not gonna help anything if things were to just carry on like this. already i can hear calls for my head in the stands.

but funny how familiar those voices sound, though.

i think you've had your fair share of stories. and the last thing you need is for the dearest close to you to be affected by them. i know you've been there. i just hope you still remember how utterly disgusting it is when people say shit and not have anything to back it up with.





oh. speaking of which. again.





it has come to my attention that someone in your circle is doing a papparazi and has been busy, well, publicising my name in the most unflattering fashion.

and now you find yourself in a fix.

to believe or not to believe. it's either the loyal friends who would protect you to death or the boy who has his reasons for leaving. whatever it is, i hope you think about it and use your logic. but if you do choose to believe the hype and listen to the stories, i would like to say a very big thank you to whoever it is that has put me in front of a firing squad. kudos. whoever you are, your stories worked well and i will forever go down in history as the Promiscuous Bastard of the Year. gossip folks. gotta love them.

did you say your friends weren't thinking straight? i say they still aren't.

don't make me look at this whole fiasco as a juvenile episode. you know their mentality differs from yours and you'd just short change yourself if ever you believe what you hear.





but then again.





who am i to ask for anything.

bedroom*hair @ 4:42 pm

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