I usually have a barrel of nonsense to pen down, but lately all of those trashy thoughts and moo points go on Twitter. Yes, I'm a Twitterholic or Twitter-junkie or Twitter-addict. Whichever rocks your boat, stranger.
My friends say I'm married to my iPhone. Indeed, I am. Oh, you missed the wedding ceremony, did you? Aqad nikah aje. Takde reception pon. Anyway, Mama always wondered if my handphone is actually sewn to my palm. Heck, even I wonder the same. It's really just a habit - being glued to the phone. A bad one, mind you. The first thing I do when I open my eyes in the morning is to reach for the phone, and check my messages. I know, it's not like I'm the President of Papua New Guinea or anything... It's just a bad habit that I can't get rid of. (Not bothered to get rid of, more like).
I go through Twitter, Facebook (not as often anymore) and my emails. And there's WhatsApp! WhatsApp is at par of a demon as Twitter. Especially when you have several active groups consisting of approximately 15 chatty people in it. Topics ranging from baby poo, diapers, breast pump to fishing, lucky ball, the human balls (read: testicles), and Olympics... and a ceaseless list of interesting subjects. Half of the time it's just pure utter nonsense.
I've forgotten the purpose of this entry. Oh wait, I don't actually have one. Oh yes! I do, updates! I blame it on old age, my airheaded-ness.
Raya's just around the corner and I can't wait to hop on that bus and head straight for Penang. I miss my cat. And Ma, and Pa, and Tasneem. And Tok. Yeah...
My baju raya is ready. Like previous years, Mama will always insist on making at least 2 pairs for me. Yes, I'm a spoiled brat. Rotten. There was this one year I told her I'd buy my own baju kurung raya. It burned a hole in my wallet. No, it actually burned the whole damn wallet. From then on, she said "No more KL-made baju raya for you!". Selamaaaaaaat.
It's only 12.45pm, and my tummy's throwing a fit already.
Gaaaaah! Later peeps.
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