Good luck and please.. kick ass.
..because you only live once!
The fuck, how come I didn't know? Basement Jaxx is coming to perform on home grounds through the merriment/countdown to New Years' Eve.. and there's nowhere else I'd like to celebrate. Kick-arse funky music? I'll take two of that.
Sssup!
11:57pm, in the uniform that'll expire it's validity status (at least, to me) in an approx. month. It's as if I'd like to mouth out loud, "Hold up, time!" but.. that'd be ultra ridic and spastic. The point is: I was 7 in '99, foreign atmosphere, uncouth and fresh-blooded. A decade passed, now compressed into bits of memorabilia in the form of pictures, blog posts (ha!) and scribbles penned black on the back of receipts. Ah, that's life ain't it! What's afleet, in Roman numerics (aw, miss this!): (i) inevitable, hm? Chelsea 1 - 0 Man United. Put 'em suckas 5pts below. Controversial? Blah, blah, blah.; (ii) refrained self from excursions-- refrainment failed. Tagged home a monochrome dress from Miss Selfridge, with faux Givenchy wedges en route and newcomers in the accoutrement dept. It's love, I swear.; (iii) losing hours to thick educational bibles, miniscule eat-outs with comrades, rambling words that matters to none-- these little things help me survive. Love 'em homegirls to bits.; (iv) Chelsea's transfer ban status? Suspended. Aguero, put a ring on it, dammit. Other targets I hear: strikers from La Liga, and full-backs. I ain't got time to scour, apologies, the Ultra-Major Exam is en route hence.. Y'know. Uh, that's about it. Please wish that I kick-arse (cross fingers!) and conquer the battle of numerics! Goodnight, good luck.
[MUSIC] Plastiscines - Pas Avec Toi
Sssup! The big day is approx. 11 days away, and I'm here.. on Tweetdeck toying with @8ball_ for life's puzzling things (me, Bojan Krkic, marriage) and blaming a headache for halting the alleged "break out the History books!" plan. Things have been rather dandy lately, albeit rather faggish of how my happiness rate is at right now, I am.. that. I ain't batshit panicking over the exams because I just can't. It's my inner Ghandi. My inner Ghandi also expires every weekend/mid-week when there is football.. the outward screaming and haphazard body movements (in reflex to anger/euphoria) gives me away. Chelsea take on the Mancs (in red, not pastel blue) on the 8th-- no commentaries/pre-match write-up, but I leave you with this. Chelsea, 2-1. Keep the blue flag flying high, my Blue-clad lads!
13 goals, 9 assists in the Premier League. Single-handledly won us vs. Atletico.
Fuck all else-- thank God, YOU stayed.
"..The worst crime is faking it."
Win some, lose some.
You know what's dope? This Kid Cudi dude. I laff him. Don't tell nobody.
