To Do:

(In random order)

1. Laundry
2. Print speech and MT's letter of consent
3. Perform speech-saying ritual
3. Apply for leave for Friday
4. Discuss product categories being passed on to Prisc for July data QC
5. Decide what to wear on Saturday
6. Practice in new heels
7. Save money
8. Call Mr. William Chin of Mitsubishi Motors and Mr. Chew Leng Huat of Fiamma
9. Reply emails to Mr. Colgate, Sanjay the Possum and the Happy-Three-Girlfriends
10. Watch I love you man
11. Call Liss again
12. Collect laundry (Friday)
13. Try to design Mr. Emmmett Lim's name cards
14. Obsess over the climax of Mae - Release Me
15. Sleep

Food for thought:

Reality came around

I'm starting to believe that bumping into the number 44 represents something; like its trying to say something.

Just read someone's blog like 30 seconds ago. It was so sad and depressing that I almsot hurled. Cannot take this anymore. I shouldn't anyway.

Things aren't going very well )=

"Sun rays come down as seen when they hit the ground, Children spinning around till they fall down down down. I wait for you: it's been two hours now. You're still somewhere in town. Your dinners getting cold. I rest my case you are always this late. And you know how much I hate waiting around 'round 'round. Bitter heart, bitter heart tries to keep it all inside. Bitter heart, bitter heart. Shadows will help you try to hide. Bitter heart, my bitter heart is gettin' just a little fragile. Bitter heart, bitter heart of mine. And then you come and tell me the same reason as you did yesterday. So tell me whats her name. Bitter heart, bitter heart tries to keep it all inside. Bitter heart, bitter heart shadows will help you try to hide. Bitter heart, my bitter heart is just getting a little fragile. Bitter heart, bitter heart of mine, of mine, of mine, of mine, of mine, of mine."

That does not represent how I feel. This probably does:

"Sirens ring, the shots ring out. A stranger cries, screams out loud. I had my world strapped against my back. I held my hands, never knew how to act. And the same black line that was drawn on you. Was drawn on me. And now it's drawn me in. 6th Avenue heartache. Below me was a homeless man. I'm singin' songs I knew complete. On the steps alone, his guitar in hand. It's fifty years, stood where he stands. Now walkin' home on those streets. The river winds move my feet. Subway steam, like silhouettes in dreams. They stood by me, just like moonbeams. Look out the window, down upon that street. And gone like a midnight was that man. But I see his six strings laid against that wall. And all his things, they all look so small. I got my fingers crossed on a shooting star. Just like me-just moved on"

And this: Zee Avi's Is This The End.

I know, so cliched. (=





OH well.

Must remember to call Emmmeettt Lim tomorrow. I hope you're doing okay.

Serious case of bad photoshopping. But I hate you too much to care.

Lori Mckenna - Beautiful Man

I am doing the best that I can

I have a feeling.

"To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to leave the world a better place... To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived - This is to have succeeded." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Keep your eyes on the prize

"You can't make people love you, but you can make people fear you."


















tIMEBOMB tICKING, tIMEBOMB tICKING, it's a tIMEBOMB tICKING
Going tick, tiCK, TICK, TICK

Miss Pomme de Terre & GfK ImageWorld!

I'm having such a blast with the resources that I have access to at this company!

I have more than a gazillion pictures to choose from! And they're FREE!!

All I need to do is just drag and drop them into my 'basket' (as shown in picture above), click 'download' and voila!

The best part is that they're all very high-res, professional quality pictures! Just like the ones you'd have to buy from Clipart.com!


Oh, be jealous already!!

Mashed potatoes

There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon

Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her

Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days

Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made

And she's chosen to believe in the hymns her mother sings

Sunday pulls its children from their piles of fallen leaves

There are sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass

Springtime calls her children 'till she let's them go at last

And she's chosen where to be, though she's lost her wedding ring

Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds

There are things we can't recall, blind as night that finds us all

Winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls

But my hands remember hers, rolling 'round the shaded ferns

Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned

There are names across the sea, only now I do believe

Sometimes, with the windows closed, she'll sit and think of me

But she'll mend his tattered clothes and they'll kiss as if they know

A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone

Picture credits to GfK Group (hehe)