Steaming

Damn Blogspot. This is pissing me off. Let me recall what my original post failed to come across in bits (and pieces) literally:

As I was eating strawberries (by now finished, grr), I was thinking about what my friend had told me some time back. Why did I always countdown? Countdown to what? Was it the end or the process that mattered? Some people said it was the end that mattered, while others value the process. It always looks good on retrospection. Maybe.

Let me wreck my memory for some of the words that I have typed earlier and now ended up lost in the black hole of information highway. Hmm. Currently, I am still perplexed on the problem that my father's laptop is experiencing. Mbds_daemon. Whatever bug or demon it is, the fingers of the Swordfish have failed to exorcise.

I hate officewear. What's compounding the problem that the only decent looking pieces (my friends will attest to that) are the long-sleeved ones. Short sleeves are simply out of the question. They make me look like I just came back from Hawaii. And I hate ties too. Especially on a long (!!) dreary Monday. As you tie the damn snake around your neck, you can feel your veins slightly bulge, your face turning red (slightly)and a slight shortage of air.

The best clothes to be comfortable in will be a pair of shorts, Ah Pek sah (literally=coffeeshop uncle shirt) or pyjamas pants and a singlet. Of course, I wear it brazenly..only at home. And NO FBT shorts pls, at least not on male legs. It is totally what the *(@#%*^ gross. I still shudder at the image of my trackker friend doing the darn groin (?!) stretch, displaying his assets or the shadow of it in the full glory of everyone seated in the circle. Some things are just not meant for a man , or a woman, to see.

And I have been steaming (to use the popular lingo) for the whole day already. Coming home at 6 (working hours doubled), have not taken a nap, and work brought to home. Damn.