(Sunday, September 11, 2005) importantnecessity equipment
1. kelvar 2. gas mask 3. rubber canvas gloves 4. crash test dummy. 5. non-stop 2pac tracks 6. fire extinguisher 7. cell phone with an emergency number speed dial. 8. special ops units and firemen to standby.
those are my pre-kitchen inventory
in a silly quest to break the symmetrical routine of the long relaxing uneventful weekend, i finally brave myself into the kithen today. simply because i think mom's birthday is around the corner but i can't really fucking remember the date and yes, every bit of me deserved to be crucified over and over again. or roasted like a hot dog. (don't fucking ask me why, roasted like a hot dog seems to fit description properly anyway, at that moment)
feeling guilty as hell is one thing, but survival is another. so at this crucial moment, avoiding any form of disconcerting homocidal attempt from the women who brought me into the world is fucking important. actually, the homocidal part and all that crying and yelling is best kept intact. actually again, mom wouldn't mind, cause i never had remember her birthday but i think i should at least do something to royally indicate that i might remember.
anyway, the whole thing about cooking is cooking and the washing up. basically, i have absolutely no problem with pulling a harry houdini with the food. a normal person would spend about 45 minutes cooking a decent meal (instact noddle is not a decent meal, mind you.) and another 30 minutes cleaning up and all it takes is 10 minutes to gulp everything down the throat. i clearly don't see the need of preparing your own meal when you can drive out for food where food is pre-fabricated. fuck all, cooking is a burden that people love.
1:47 PM
that fucking traitor
liEw, 18 and since 2002, 270lbs, 5ft, brazilian chinese russian icelander hybrid, black eyes, short black hair, racist, antisocial, semi-alcoholic, ignorant, exhales profanity, black-poetry fanatic
