twenty seven

Turning twenty seven in an hour's time fifty-two minutes (because I am anal like that)!

Aaaaand... yeap. That's it. It feels the same turning 26. And 25. And 24. Maybe a slight difference - NO MORE PEAK! Woots! Apart from that, life goes on. I am such a wet blanket on my own birthday.

The initial plan of just rotting my life away chilling at home, watch a lot of some TV (omg Scandal is SO SO SO GOOD. I don't particularly like anyone in the show but the plot is full of twists and damn exciting! I am rather undecided on Huck and Quinn. I kind of like Huck because he is just plain psycho in some scenes but sometimes he is kind of whiny which irritates me. The same goes for Quinn. Oooh and Jake is hot.), go for my run had to be ditched because of last minute plans.  Actually, by normal standards, it is not really last minute since it was planned the day before. Bu by my super anal standards, anything not planned at least 3 days in advance = last minute. I am the place where all spontaneity comes to die. But this time i shall let this particular spark of spontaneity live because I am feelin' magnanimous. And also I get to torture play with my gf's hair and face! 

An extension of exciting stuff (by exciting means having some kind of social life and not having my butt firmly attached to my chair, wearing my PJs and watching TV) would be moving to a new floor for my work! My new seat is awesome shizz because to my back are windows. Which means, NO ONE CAN SEE WHAT I AM DOING ON MY COMPUTER -rub hands with glee- Then again, the company blocks almost every damn thing you can think of which leaves me with ... IRAS website, MAS website and investopedia. 

On the plus side, it is on the 8th floor (we used to be seated at 13th. And no the plus side is not because it is on an auspicious floor) and that means no more going into lift rage when every other bloody person in the damn lift presses a lower floor number which translates to taking 10 bajillion years to get to my floor. Especially so when you are going to be late and the lift STOPS AT EVERY DAMN FLOOR FROM THE 4th TO THE 12th. I admit that I sometimes do the douchey thing which is to furiously jab at the close button the moment I step into the lift because statistics have shown that 99% of the people who enter the same lift with me alights at a lower floor. Dont give me judgy eyes because I am sure everyone has done that at one point or another. Right??!? Right.

And what is all this positivity without some not-so-good stuff to balance it out. Still kind of fuming over some personal stuff. It didn't happen to me so all i am sayin' is YOU DONT JUST COME AND MESS WITH MAH GIRL AND EXPECT TO WALK AWAY UNSCATH. Not that I am going to do anything (unless you count wishing upon that person constipation and pimple explosion) because there really isn't much I can do.  I hate feeling helpless and I wish I had the super power to just take it all away. Or strike the 10 million lottery and just whizz my girl away on an awesome trip. And buy a couple of Chanels. And Ferragamos. And that super cute dress I saw which cost an obscene amount of money. 


Ending in the most abrupt and awkward manner (just like I am in real life. Ball of awkward. And occasional grumpy), a picture of my pretty gf (doubling up as proof that there is at least one person out there who loves me and all my awkwardness and grumpiness).