For just this once, out of the comedy of errors that is my life, I have no trick up my sleeve, no quotable quote, nothing to offer to stop this rampaging cancer of boredom that has infiltrated my life for the last two weeks, bar warbling out songs such as Bohemian Rhapsody, Phantom of the Opera, and everybody's favourite "Boom, boom, boom, boom" by the Venga Boys at random intervals, ultimately culminating in the summoning of the Singapore CID/CIA/SWAT (I think I got it right the first time) to 119/121 Dover Road to put me down at any means necessary.

To tell the soul-baringly truth here, I wasn't exactly planning to blog again for the next... week (month? year? the amount of time it'll take me to finish off my excess work - about half a million chinese compositions)... But after waking up at 1 in the afternoon and decidedly looking like a crossbreed of Medusa and... Prince (it surpasses the "Bad Hair Day" standards - don't you hate it when that happens? Unless it only happens to me), all previous plans of heading out into the vast vast world of tiny tiny Siglap were shattered. Not to say theres any one virtually worthy of myself (even I blushed as I wrote that. Don't take it too seriously) but it is more likely that the security guards at my condominium won't let me back in; or they'll just laugh at me.

With my neck feeling as if it is broken from a day's training worth of tackling an Express Bullet Train also known as my captain, it wouldn't be such a bad idea to stay in the house, possibly go to sleep and forget I ever looked like what I do now.

TO THE BATMOBILE