miss grouchy poo

i dragged my feet (literally) home and the first thing i did was to collapse into a coma on my sofa.

i rhyme.

shing jobi & i were walking so slowly [on the overhead bridge] i could practically hear the impatient 'zzzzt!'s buzzing around us. today might've been one of the longest days of my life- it wasn't so much the time spent but the way it never seemed to end. respect goes out to the lecturers man, i looked around my class (feeling similarly drugged) and caught a few sleeping-on-the-mrt heads bopping around and heads on (other people's) shoulders.

it's surprising to find out just how connected my weariness is to my irritation, anything could set it off.

firstly, my face was already in mode: black. tired. go away- it says [yes my face can speak volumes] secondly, now i get what shing means by boneless spineless chickens on the bus/mrt who lean against the pole, leaving you to hold onto thin air. so i'm swaying around dangerously [carrying 3 bags nonetheless] as the bus driver throws his bus around the curves of seletar airbase as if he were racing in the grand prix. fine. i get off the bus. straight into the leering faces of those damn deprived NS men. so you've been repressed and stuffed in camp- digging holes to bury yourselves in, hiding in bushes aiming at imaginary enemies & whatnot.

i don't give a damn. stop leering!
i would've gone over and dug out your eyeballs if i wasn't so tired.

then, this guy with the UGLIEST dye job i've ever seen on an NS men with hair turns to me on the bench, notices my black face, lights up, then proceeds to puff his polluted air in my face.

did i LOOK like i wanted to coat my face with a special layer of tar?

i must be sending out the wrong signals then. i didn't waste a second of my time with niceties, i flat out shot him my GND face. the silly fella lit up a mere 0.247985 seconds before 86 came round, wasting what? 80 cents?

i get on the bus, and the lady in front of me [god knows what she's doing], she's vibrating the entire 2-seater! this, i don't wanna know.

i get off that bus, waiting patiently for mum to pick me up. as i wait, i see all the usual lorries and trucks passing me by. and i'm ALONE at the bus stop. i don't get it! does wolf-whistling, crude gestures and wheee-ooh-wheee's at poor defenseless girls at bus stops make them feel any less pathetic? cause if it helps to temporarily distract them from their sad existence, then i don't mind being the target of their leering, jeering, waving, whistling and singing.

[yes, did you know that they SING? AT YOU!]

i mean, i know that back in their homeland [close to my ancestors'], singing and dancing in the padi fields gets you the girl, but nuh uh fellas- in singapore, things work differently.

for starters, you gotta be wearing more than fluorescent yellow/orange vests to impress. then please ah, if singing is your method of seduction, SING IN TUNE.

i just wish that they would let me pass out on the sofa properly. they can tell i'm exhausted, why can't they just let me sleep? does screaming at me help? NO. i bet you 10 cents that tonight i will tell them i want to sleep in and wake up only in time to get ready to go out, and tomorrow this is what will happen: they will turn off the aircon at 6am, leaving me to suffocate in my comforter and sweat until i'm dehydrated then scream at me at 12 to eat lunch. whoohoo *dryly*