Sunday, December 20, 2009

A gilded cage

I’m back. In Malaysia.

But I won’t be around for long.

Instead of elation and perpetual joy of being home and around the people I love and care for- I feel nothing but misery and yearning. Okay….alright, “misery” and “yearning” is kind pushing it. I’m more “miserable” and forcing myself to look happy. Here’s the thing that I’ve learned after being away:

I don’t belong here anymore.

I know that this sound pretentious to those that have never lived away from home before but its true. I haven’t been away for long but the moment I got here I realized that no, I no longer belong here. I moved away and time, as I - being the spoilt and entitled bitch that I have always been, naturally assumed that time will stop moving for me. That I would come back to a life that was the same as it was the day I left. My room would be just as messy, my mom would just be as naggy, my dad would be as nauseatingly overprotective, my friends would just be a phone call away and life would be just as wonderful, if not more. Isn’t that what holidays are for?

I was wrong of course. As I has always been most of my life.

Time did not stop. It went on without me. People moved on and I came home to a life that I am no longer part of. My room was not messy the way I left it. It was clean, spotless; you can eat a fucking burger off the floor and not be constipated. It was never like this when I was living in it. My things were missing. The stuffed toys that have been there since I was still cycling around the neighbourhood at 9 to my first heartbreak in high school and the ones that I hugged and kissed over and over again while I profusely apologize to their glassy, lifeless eyes for not being able to take them with me were missing. I asked my mom where they were. She said that she have given them away. “You’re too old for toys now”.

My mom gave away my childhood friends. She didn’t ask me, she didn’t tell me over our Skype conversations. She gave them away. The lifeless toys that I have imbued with personalities and who have been my only friends, back in the day when I had none and bullied for being the only fat kid in the class. The lifeless toys that I thought of with a smile on the long flight home. She gave them away. And that was that.

True...I am too old for stuffed toys. But old friends, toys or not, alive or not, deserve more then a fate in the hands of an ungrateful child or at least a goodbye, from an old friend….who have been away for a while.

My things were not at were it was. My mother, decided that even after decades of living in the room, I still have not found a suitable place to keep my things. So she rearranged my room. Putting things at different places then I had originally done. I am sitting in my room now but yet I can’t find a thing. It is my room. And no, I can’t find a thing. The whole purpose of a room is to have your privacy and to showcase your personality. She moved my things around and now I felt like my privacy has been violated. She put away my artwork because it “gets dusty out there” and now my walls are bare. It’s like living in a hotel room. But worst. Hotel rooms have no memories of your previous life. This one does, but yet it shows off none of it. And that hurts.

Freedom is, for lack of a better word, a drug. One taste and you’re hooked. I had my taste of freedom when I was living alone. I had the freedom to wear whatever I want, cook whatever I want, come home whenever I want. And then suddenly I’m back here again and all that is taken away from me. Suddenly, I can’t even come after 11pm. I feel old. I feel older then I what I really am and yet these people, my parents are putting all these restriction on me. You don’t give somebody a taste of freedom and take it away. It’s not that easy.

Being an Asian kid, dealing with parents with the single-mindedness of the Asian parental supremacy no longer bodes well on me. I can no longer tolerate these restrictions of movement, this subjugation of identity and the oppression of free thinking. I can no longer do this. What was once a safe haven is no longer one. I have seen what my wonderful life was really before I left, it was nothing but a gilded cage. I was blinded by all the shit that my father’s money could buy and I didn’t question much. As long as I have that kick ass shoes from Nine West, that sweet dress from Dorothy Perkins and a pair of brand new diamond earrings from Tomei for my birthday, I am set.

I am no longer that spoilt, materialistic bitch. Some things have changed. People changed. I have. My parents didn’t. The longer I am here, the more I realized that I can no longer be here. I can no longer abide to be with them, to see them see me as the child that I was and not the woman I’ve become. My place is not here. My life is not here anymore.

Even friends, they moved on without me. Getting married, getting jobs. Forging lives that I am no longer part of. I am home in my home country but I don’t feel like I’m home at all. I am a pretender, living in a strange room that not long ago used to be mine, in a family that could not see me for who I’ve become.

And I’m miserable.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Of things that are pissing me off during the finals: Part 4

You know what pisses me off? Okay to be fair…..a lot of things piss me off. I am easily irritable. Some poor fuck look at me the wrong way and I’ll be pissed for days. I should start taking anger management classes, but that is not the issue here. Since this is my blog, we’re not gonna focus on my anger problem. We’re gonna focus on the fuckers that are pissing me off right now, at this very moment.



I’m gonna talk bout show off blogs.



You know………………those kinds.



“OMG! I went to the mall today. I bought pink toilet tissues to wipe my smelly ass with!”



*insert picture of said pink toilet tissue*

*insert picture of blogger’s smelly ass*

*readers collectively die from the sheer stupidity and fuckery of it all*



Really bish? Really? Is it really necessary for the whole goddamn world to know that you bought this and this on that and that day? Reaaaaly? Reeeeeaaaaaaly? Is your life so motherfucking mundane that buying random, worthless, fugly, cheap-ass shit need to be blog about? Reaaaaallllly?



I mean come on!!



There are exceptions of course. If per’se, you just bought your first house, your first car…these are life milestones. Then by all means; take photos. Blog about it. Go crazy. But does the collective world really need to know about how you went to One Utama today and bought Big Apple Doughnuts, complete with pictorial description of each doughnut? Is your life that sad and void of neither importance nor significance that buying doughnuts just became the highlight of your motherfucking week? Realllly? If it is then damn son, that is some sadass sssshyit. If you are running a shopping blog then yes, blog away bout the things you just spend your hard-earned money on. If you are running fashion blog, then yes, do tell us all about your adventures in the Jimmy Choos store in downtown London. Or wherever. I just made that up.



But really come on. Once in a while it’s fine to do that shit. Once in a while. Not all the motherfucking time. Blog about something else for a change. The weather perhaps. Your bowel movements. Your pet koala’s bowel movements. Something else other then how much money your drop today to buy that fugly-ass bag. You are more then the shit you buy. Don’t let your purchases define who you are cause that’s just sad. This whole fuckery of blogging of things that you have bought just to upped someone else and to show off that you are super-d-duper rich is just sad okay.



Cause, guess what? Wealth comes and goes and that shit you buy could or could not be pawned off. But genuine wittiness and talent for the dramatics such as the one I was born with could never be bought. So got sit in the corner with your 1000$- something bag and have a conversation with it while I entertain everyone with my amusing stories and become the life of the party. As I always am and you will never be.



So blog about that for once and stick it in your 1000$ bag. You pucchiaca.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009


I'm baaaaaaacccccckkkk!!

Okay to be fair, I'm not even sure that you guys were even aware that I was missing. Haha. But I have to complete 3 assingments that were due on the same day. 

1500, 2500 and 4000 words each. All on the same day.

You'll abandon blogging too dude. But on the plus side, I don't have finals. Just crazy ass assignments. I just submitted all 3 on Monday, slept all on Tuesday and now I AM FREEEEE!!!!!!!!!! Sem have finally ended for me. Freeeeeeeeddddommm!

Fuck yeah.

Blogging will be back to regular scheduling. And commenting is also back on. 

Fuck yeah!

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Blood on the Streets

Perhaps you guys, well those that have been putting up with my bullshit for more then 2 seconds now, must have realized that the Constantly Dramatic One have never really mentioned the part of Australia that I am currently calling my temporary home. This is cause I like being somewhat semi-mysterious....but more then anything else the though of being stalked scared the shit outta me. Jeysus, don't get me started on that particular episode of my life that involves an ex-boyfriend, actually being stalked and an almost police case. Just bad business all round.

That shit still gimme the creeps. There's nothing cool bout being stalked yo.

However, some shit is however, is really too cool to not share with y'all. With that said, I am currently studying in Brisbane. Brisbane, compared to KL is like a fucking kampung okay. My head and my heart hurts when I arrived here. I was like "Duuuuude, I gave up KL for this? The fuuuuccckkk....." But hey I have grown to like it now. Even love Brissy a bit. So it was last Sunday that I did a bit of stalking of my own.

I stalked zombies. In Brisbane.
In daylight. 

It was so cool. You don't get shit like this in Malaysia. It has something to do with charity and Halloween. You can read all about it here. Check out the cool photos. Some are mine, others are stolen from friends over FB.

A family of zombies. I really like the kid, she was so gamed being a zombie.

Took a pic with this chick where she was biting my neck. Hahaha!

One of the coolest makeup  I saw all day.

This bitch scared the crap out of me.

This dude, really, has no hand. I know this cause he goes to my uni and sometimes we ended up on the same bus. Brownie points for creativity.

Such a cool mom. And the baby makes a good zombie accessory.

Then the zombies all went towards the blood bank....durn durn duuuurrrnnn.......

Leaving a trail of blood behind

And at the ATM, cause apprently zombies need to take out money to buy brains too. Heh.

And here's a badly shot video, taken by yours truly. It was quite a sight watching so many zombies waiting for the light to change and cross the street. 

And come next year, I am sooooo gonna be a zombie too! But a pretty pin-up one.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Finland: A selective pictorial

Remember the days when I used to blog more then once every other week?.....Yeah me neither. Remember the days when I put up pictures of myself? longer. Anyways, these are a few pictures taken from my Finland trip in June. 

I can't put up the most awesome, magnificent, breathtaking photos of the whole trip cause I'm in them....hence why those pictures are awesome, magnificent and breathtaking. Ahem. These are however, the less awesome pics. Hope you guys like it, cause it been a while since I put up any photos.

The transit at Amsterdam, where a crazy, old supposedly a "nun" stalked my giant ass.

Here you can see a cruise ship passing by the Suomellina Sea Fortress, a historical site.  It's really cool seeing the ship passing by right next to you. Notice the people on the island waving at the people on the cruise. Kinda funny.

As the ship leaving the island.


Random views of the town of Altoo.

I really like this picture. Really European.

This ride rotates you 360 as it goes up and down. My boobs hurt like a mofo in this.

More rides that made my boobs hurt.

Some kid that keeps on getting into my shot so I ended up taking a photo of it. That's right. It........Bring it on bitches.

Random pictures of downtown Helsinki.

A very touristy spot.

The famous Helsinki Fish Market. The reason why this photo was taken was cause dude on the boat was fucking cute. I got all sexcited.

The parliament house. I think. Not too sure. But its sure is pretty.

Angels and Demons. The translation still cracks me up.

There are of course more pictures. When I feel like it, I'll blog about this time when I walk around naked in public. In Finland.  True story. I bet you guys would wanna know about that.  Hehe. 

Till then my young pedawans......

Thursday, October 08, 2009

Time management. I haz it.

So what you guys do over the weekend? Me? Oh dude, I did some crazy shit. Let me break it down for you.



As you guys might have known; I have moved out of my previous place away from the crazy fucker that I used to live with. Yes, yes I am aware that I have not blogged about the fuckery that went on there that led to my departure. Reason is I can’t. Not cause I cannot…but because I get really pissed off whenever I tell the story. My loathing for him will never end even till my final breath. Worthless piece of shit. I now live in an off-campus student accommodation. Incidentally I now have 2 Malaysian girls as housemates. One is 25, postgrad student and this is her last sem in uni. Graduating beginning of next year. I am so jealous. The other one is a total stoner. Her room reeks of chronic. I could get high just walking past her door. But other then that, they are awesome. Postgrad likes to cook. A lot. I have only cooked twice ever since I moved in here in June. Woman print stuff off the net and cook everything. Stoner, other then being stoned half the time, have single handedly provided ample drama for me in this house. Woman have an equally stoner boyfriend with a temper. You can hear them fight almost every night cause they throw things around and then there will be silence cause they would be making out while smoking some of that shit and then later….well later you’ll hear her screams again. But different kind of screams…..If you get what I’m sayin. It’s always the same routine.



Fight. Smoke. Fuck.

I’ve gotten used to it.



So it was last Friday night and we decided that we’ll have a Scary Movie marathon in the living room. Scary Movie as in the stupid Scary Movies franchise with the stupid boob jokes and disgusting toilet scenes, not actual scary movies, mind you. By the time we finished watching the whole thing it was about 3 in the morning so I went to sleep and woke up at 7am cause I have a Career seminar at 8am Saturday morning. Fucking thing was 8 hours long from 8am to 4pm. Fucker. But I went for it cause it was free and they gave tips for resume writing, cover letters, interview tips, etc. Bla bla bla. It was boring as fuck. I went alone too cause none of my friends could be bothered to wake up that early on a Saturday morning.



Did I learn anything out of it? Barely.

Was it a total waste of time? Good God yes.

Did my ass went flat after 8 hours of sitting down? Unfortunately.



Last fucking seminar I ever went to. Came home round 4.30 and I was like “Okay, I’m gonna sleep. Fuck this shit.” Around 9pm my friend called and she’s like “We’re going clubbing tonight.” And I was like “Dude, I’m tired.” And she was like “I just broke up with-the-asshole-that-was-formerly-my-boyfriend. We’re going clubbing. I need to get drunk. I need you.” What do you say to that? Fuck man. So 11pm, Saturday night, tired and hungry I stood in line outside a club in the city. Felt like shit but at least I looked awesome in a purple dress and my 4 inch heels. Got in and forgot all about how tired I was. Just as I was going to score some free drinks from random horny dudes my phone rang and it was my other friend.


“I’m picking you up at 9.30 at your place tomorrow ya?”


“Tomorrow CD. We’re going to a water park remember? We made plans about a week ago?”

“Oh shit.”

“Where are you? Are you clubbing? But we made plans. You promised….”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there.



Fuck. Completely forgotten about the waterpark. Completely. Motherfucker. And then instead of doing the prudent thing and you know…go home. I ended up dancing in my 4 inch heels till they on the lights at 4 something in the morning. Talk about fucking your own self. We stumbled outside the club and we’re like okay “We need a cab. My feet hurt. Jesus!” and then someone shouted my friend’s name and it turn out it was her friend. They talked and I stood there with the rest of the group, barefooted cause my feet hurt too much and the guy was like hey “I can give you guys a ride. There’s only 4 of you. No big.” So there I was, barefooted on the sidewalk, mascara running down my face as it started drizziling a bit and I made a new friend- with a car- at daybreak. Could have been worst. He dropped me off at my place round 5 and I stumbled out of the car, into my room, into the shower and at the first blast of the shower, I tought I was going to crumpled onto the floor. I remember thinking “OMG!! I’m gonna drown! In my own shower! The irony.” But I didn’t. Did more stumbling into bed and I thought that was it.


Could have been minutes really when the phone rang. And my friend on the other line was going “Are you awake? We’re on our way to your place. Be there in 15 minutes!” Woman sounded too damn cheerful for a damn Sunday morning. I rolled out of bed, fell onto the floor- hurt like a mofo- and got dressed. Of course I could not find my swimsuit. Of course. When I need to hurry that’s when all kinds of shit go missing. But found it I did, wore it and put on a cover up and then just started throwing shit into my bag. Towel. Sunblock. Shampoo. DVD. Eh wait the fuck do I need a DVD? Honestly do not know. The next time my phone rang I was already out of front door.



Most intense Sunday morning I ever had. But I made it. I made it yo. That alone was a feat on its own. There was fucking kids everywhere at the water park. I wanted to kick them all. Fucking kids. I hate kids. At least it turn out to be fun that day. I think I might have like lost 4 kilos as well. You try climbing 8 flights of stairs carrying a big ass tube. Those things look light but they’re not bitches. They’re not. The whole day was full of standing in line, climbing flight of stairs and then hurling myself down huge ass slides and then screaming my ass off. A bit of tips ladies: When going to a water park DO NOT, under any circumstance wear a halter neck bikini top/swimsuit cause your boob will pop out coming down the slides. That’s all I have to say on that. That’s all. Fuck y’all if I’m going to say anything more on that.

We left the water park when it closes at 5pm and would you know it. I forgot to bring a change of clothes. Fabulous. So I had to wear the semi-wet cover up and instead of going home straight away, my friends just have to go for dinner. So we went and we chatted and the next thing I know it was 10ish at night. My entire body ached. I was so exhausted I wanted to die. Got home round 11pm and I didn’t even showered the second time. Got into bed still wearing my swimsuit and my hair drenched with chlorine. I never understand the saying “Tired to my bones”. After that weekend, I do. Oh good God, I do.



The on Monday…..on Monday I went to court.



Chill. It was for my Media Law class. Case study for a paper regarding defamation and libel in journalism. Fucking court case was at 8am. I had to wake up at 5ish cause I have to take 2 buses to court. What a bitch. I would love to talk more bout the case but I am not at liberty to divulge the information pertaining the case. Some ethical fuckery. What do I care. I just need the stuff for my paper. And that was the end of my crazy ass weekend.



And no, I dunno how I did it either. All I know is that my body still aches, my feet still hurts and I’m going clubbing again tomorrow night. This is indeed, the party phase of my life.

Thursday, October 01, 2009

Too old for peer pressure

You know….I am a motherfucking 20-something years old.

20-something years old!

I am no longer a child questioning everything yet knowing nothing at all. I am no longer an adolescent lovestruck by some pretty boy in a boyband that would probably be defunct within a year’s time. I am no longer a teenager filling out my training bra. Nor am I that 18-year-old fresh out of highschool, wide eyed with possibilities that would probably never be realized. I am a motherfucking 20-something years old. I am seasoned. I live alone on a motherfucking continent away from the land of my birth. Okay. Just get that shit straight. I am a fucking adult and as an adult I should not even be blogging about this fuckery. But then here I am, doing just that.

“CD, you don’t smoke? Wow, what a loser.”

The. Fuck.

Let’s all take a moment here and examine this. The worthless piece of shit who said this to me was

a) 20-something as well
b) a fellow university student
c) supposedly, an “adult”

So again: The. Fuck.

I stared at him. Flabbergasted. And I asked “What did you say?” Cause he couldn’t possibly said that to me, did he now? And he repeated the same thing. But this time he added “All the cool people smoke.” I searched his face for a trace of humour and could find none. Seriously. What are we, a bunch of 16 years old over at the school yard trying to act cool? What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Is he special?

So I said;

“Oh I’m sorry. I’m a loser now because I opted not to burn and poison my lugs day in and day out just so that assholes like you would think of me as “cool”. You know what, I am comfortable with myself. I don’t have to smoke and waste my money by buying a goddamn box of cigarettes that cost like what? 12 fucking bucks so that assholes like you would think I’m cool. So yes, I am a loser. I am loser because I am comfortable with myself and proud of myself that I do not spend thinking of what people think of me and try to “be cool” and “fit in” the way you do during every waking moment of your insignificant little life.”

I sat there and waited for a comeback cause I was geared up for a fight. He looked embarrassed and kinda shuffled away and did not make eye contact with me the whole night. Which was a disappointment cause fucker really pissed me off. I did however, told him off in front of like 4 people. If he meant that as a joke then it was stupid fucking joke cause that shit pissed me off so much.

I mean what kind of statement is that?!! I still cannot get over it. We are adults. This kind of fuckery should not even happen. What the fuck happen to freedom of choice and respecting people? What about non-conformity and individualism? I should not be dealing with this kind of mentality when in uni man. A place of higher education, my giant ass.

Don’t get me wrong. I have no issues against smoking or smokers. Almost all my friends here smoke, I live in a smoking house- both of my housemates smoke and I dated smokers. I have no issues with them. The reason why I don’t smoke is not for health reasons. Fuck that. I’m stingy. Fucking cigarettes are expensive and I like to shop for pretty dresses. It’s either cigarettes or pretty dresses. I have priorities bitches. But that’s not the issue here.

The issue here is that I’m just fucking pissed off that someone would say that shit to me. I’m too old for this fuckery man.

Monday, September 21, 2009

This day, 20-something years ago...

You know, when I was a kid.....I can't wait to grow older and become an adult. Now that I'm an adult..............this shit sucks ass man.

No, no "Happy Birthdays" bitches. Ain't nothing happy about growing old. Tomorrow after sending in my assignments, I'm gonna go out and get my first anti-aging cream. And more black eyeliners considering that I'm so fucking emo now. After that I will go out and live my life fully cause my days are numbered. The thing is......I would probably kill myself when I hit 30. So now is the time to live out loud.

Le sigh.

So enjoy your day. I'm gonna go sit in a secluded, dark corner of a coffee shop somewhere and reminisce of days gone by while sipping black coffee with tears trickling down my face. Then I will go to a museum and absorb the culture and art that Australia have to offer. Cause even while being emo, I still have an artsy-fartsy-pretentious-snob reputation to maintain. And what's better then the richness of art on the very day that I am being reminded…..once again, of my fleeting youth and ultimately; my mortality?

It’ll be like a scene from a Godard movie. Only you know…..not French.

And then come Friday, when all my friends have finished their exams and send in their assignments, we’re gonna take a one hour drive to the best strip club in the state and have a stripper give me a lapdance. Cause you see, lapdances are one of the things old people like me could enjoy.

So suck on that, younger people who are reading this blog. Suck on that.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Being an aspiring journo sucks donkey balls

Holy fuck.




I am freaking out like a mofo.



I have a 4000 words essay AND a 1000 words essay due on next Monday- on my fucking birthday and I am only starting on both now.




The 4000 words one is on the analysis of Australian periodicals spanning from the 18th century to present. I had to find copies of 18th century newspapers and then spent 5 hours studying it cause I can’t take such precious documents out of the library. Also this assignment carries 50% off my overall mark. 50%!!!



Shitting bricks yo. Shitting bricks.



And the 1000 one is on the significance of critical journalistic reviews to myriad forms of media (films, books, music etc) and its effect on the public.



My brain is going to motherfucking implode man.



No posts most probably until after my birthday.



Till then…enjoy your assignment-free lives…..



You bastards.



Thursday, September 10, 2009

Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the library.....

So I bumped into him the other day.

By him, I mean
him who broke my heart into a thousand pieces, ran a tank over it and then blew up the pieces using a liquid nitrogen bomb so that when I thought the scar have healed…the radiology after-effects acts up and I realize that I have never truly healed afterall.

My heart is like
Chernobyl now thanks to him.



That was too dramatic even for me.

Mah bad.

Following my last post regarding Geek Boy, I did what I said I would do. I called him one hour before our date and cancelled it. Originally I wanted to say that I got held up in uni cause I fell down a set of stairs and I’ve broken my leg and couldn’t possibly be able to meet up with him on time. Broken leg and all. But I didn’t. What I said was: “Apparently I made other plans and I didn’t realize it until now. Guess I can't make it today.”

Which is all kinds of mean.

The cycle of hurt goes on.

I’m sure you’d agree with me.

So it was Thursday evening- last week, not today- and I was in the library. Skulking round the bookshelves searching for a research book that I need for my assignment….and I couldn’t seem to find it. I decided to find a librarian to help me out with it. I was making my way across the library foyer towards the Help desk when a friend of mine shouted my name. It was this dude I know from class so I ended up having a bit of chat with him when I felt somebody was looking at me. I turn around and of course, it was Geek Boy. At the Help desk. He wasn’t looking at me of course when I turn my head. But it was him.

It was his stupid hair. His stupid shirt. And his stupid red sneakers that I chose for him. He wanted the green ones, but I made him get the red ones. Back in the day you know.

The first thing that came to my mind was “Be cool CD. BE COOL. You can handle this.” and the second one was “THANK GOD I LOOK SUPER CUTE TODAY!!” Which I totally did you guys. I was wearing this short pinafore and it kinda look like this:

Minus the beret.

But waaaaay cuter. Cause we’re talking bout me here.

Thank you Universe for letting me look cute when bumped into my semi-ex or Asshole-who-played-me-like-the-fool-that-I-was. Thank you for small victories such as this.

Thank you thank you thank you thank you.

So I carried on talking to my friend, acting all blasé. Cause shit like this doesn’t faze me. Cause I’m too cool for school. Cause I’m so cool, I make Antarctica looks hot baaayybeeee. 

...............But inside I was freaking out like crazy. What if he throws a scene here? What if he comes over and talk to me? What would I say? What would I do? Talk civilly? Be cool? Cry? Beat him up with a giant copy of encyclopaedia Britannica? What? WHHHAAAAAAT?!!

He was still at the counter when my friend left. I have the option to stand behind him in the queue and act like civilized adults....OR run up to the second floor of the library and hide behind the bookshelves. I chose the later.

Cause I’m cool. And totally mature like that.

So that’s how I spent last Thursday night. Hiding behind bookshelves. And dealing with feelings I thought I have killed. Also, to add icing to the is his birthday. I just realized that like 2 mins ago as I was typing this........................................................................


Wednesday, September 09, 2009

An imaginary conversation with you lot

If you guys are wondering somewhere along these lines:

“The fuck is this woman blogging so much?”

Then the answer is:

“This woman have a 2000 words paper due on Friday at 4pm and she have just done 1,300 therefore have another 700 words left but yet procrastinating like a mofo.”

If you are then led to wonder:

“Hhhhmmm what is this assignment about?”

Not plagiarizing.

Well then I have to answer:

“Journalists have been known to be jailed under the charge of disobedience contempt in court for refusing to reveal their sources. Should journalists be protected from revealing sources in the court of law? Discuss the merits of both sides of the argument. (2000 words, no more then 2,500)

Of which then I have to ask:

“Show me the mofo who could write up till 2,500 and I will beat the living shit out of that sonofabitch!”

Perhaps that last one wasn't quite a question but in point of fact; a statement. The sentiment however, was conveyed stupendously.

The End