The more I watch One Tree Hill, the more I can't stand Chad Michael Murray. When he was on Gilmore Girls as Tristan he was actually quite charming (or maybe it was just the character) and he wasn't on screen long enough for me to notice that fugly bump he has on his nose. Now that I've sat through three seasons of OTH, he's officially on my shit list. I don't know if it's him and his crappy acting "skills" or his stupid boring-as-hell character who pretty much died in Season 2 for me when he bloody went after Brooke out of totally NOWHERE, or maybe it's both, but the best Season 3 episode of OTH was the one in which Lucas (his character) went off on some trip with his mom. I went to check out pictures from the CW's upfront because I wanted to see pictures of Kristen Bell (who is PRETTY) and guess what I saw? Pictures of CMM with a fucked up and FUGLY goatee, looking like someone I don't particularly care for in law school. He's fucking repulsive. It's clear as daylight to anyone with brains that Lucas and Brooke only happened because CMM and Sophia Bush married in real life. And because CMM sucks ass, that marriage ended five months later, which then led to many, MANY awkward Lucas/Brooke scenes. How painful they were. The only reason I watched Season 3 was pretty much because I had nothing better to do. It boggles the mind that this crappy show is renewed.
Also, another thing I want to bitch about is the school shooting episode. That was probably the worst episode EVER, and not just because of the "twist" at the end (which sucked). Everything from the get-go was contrived. Veronica Mars had some random psycho waving a gun around in the school cafeteria for three minutes in an episode and that was a lot, A LOT more intense and nerve-wrecking than the entire OTH school shooting episode. All the "speeches" about how kids shouldn't shoot each other, how high school is just high school, yadayadayada, were just bloody contrived and badly-written. And whoever played Jimmy Edwards seriously overacted when he ran out to the hallways and started sprouting stupid lines which only made me laugh.
Lastly, if Nathan really died, there's no way I'm watching the next season. James L isn't the best actor around and I still think he's wooden but at least he's smokin' hot, which CMM bloody isn't. I think Jake is the hottest guy to ever appear on the show though but for some reason they decided to stick him in Savannah for good.
I am also totally over that bloody triangle. Just stop it already. It's tiresome and boring and so Season 1. God.
I miss Veronica already. For that reason alone I'm looking forward to September...though not so much the downloading. I hate downloading. It takes for-freaking-ever and it's a bloody waste of electricity. Why can't Channel 5 show something good for once?
It's 12.54 a.m. and I haven't showered. I'm too lazy to move from my chair. I'm wearing Jurong P.E. garb because I couldn't find my usual SN P.E. shorts. I hate Jurong's P.E. shorts because they are too damn tight and uncomfortable. I don't wear Jurong's P.E. shirts too because they are too damn hot and uncomfortable. No wonder I hated P.E. way back then.
Saturday. Met Simon at Jurong Point where we ate at Mos, bitched about politics, talked about other stuff, bitched about law school and National
Slavery Service, watched Over the Hedge (which, in retrospect, I wouldn't pay 10 bucks for), walked around the Jurong West library and looked at travel books (there was this super cool one on places in England, Ireland and Scotland where famous writers lived), and it was all good.
I was walking towards the MRT station on my way home when someone tapped me on the arm. I looked up and I saw Weili.
So the last time I saw him was during College Day 2004. Oh my god. How times flies without you having a clue. I ended up sitting down with him at Coffee Bean and we caught up on stuff. There was some bitching about law school, too. I'm beginning to discern a pattern of sorts.
At Jurong East station. I boarded the train and coincidence would have it that I ran into yet another person - someone I kind of blew off. Trust me, it was freaking awkward. He was all, I lost your number, and I was thinking, Um, maybe I should kind of make up some lame excuse for never messaging him like I said I would after he lost his phone (and hence my number), but I didn't and thankfully it was just one stop to Bukit Batok. He asked for my number again and I had to give it. Not that it matters anyway; I'm sure my 'signals' are clear now.
I try to be a better person but somehow it tricks guys into believing that I'm reciprocating when all I'm doing is trying to be nice. It doesn't mean that I like you because I don't, and never will, and so I'm following my mother's advice and I'm ignoring SMSes and whatever else. Just stop, okay? After Flattery and the Ego Boost have had their fun, all I'm left with is Irritation. In the first place I do not like text messages because they take up and deplete time which, the last I checked, was still mine, and I cannot stand texting back and forth for the whole fucking day and beyond, because it's annoying beyond belief.
Like. Hell. I know Karma is a bitch but...well, so am I.
I am this close to hating guys. I don't even know why, except that the guys who like me are seriously deluded, and the guys I like don't exactly exist because I don't like anyone, and random perverted men in random places have this fucking irritating habit of staring when I walk past or sit down within, like, a 100-metre radius from them. Apart from short skirts (which aren't that short, believe me), I don't even dress provocatively, and even if I do it's not a fucking free ticket for you to stare. If you want to get laid, go to Geylang and get yourself a whore and stop jacking off to fantasies of random girls you see on the streets. I still remember this one time when some dude (old dude) sat down next to me, pressed his stupid leg against mine and then went on to have a bloody erection, which he tried in vain to hide with his stupid plastic bag.
Why else am I turned off to sex, you ask? I truly wonder. And hello, I'm like fat and disgusting and I have fat thighs so tell me, Old Dude at Marine Parade Food Centre, why were you trying to look up my skirt? I don't even know if it's a good thing that I wouldn't have known if my mom hadn't told me. (She, of course, blamed it on the length of my skirt. I was wearing that embellished A-line denim skirt from Esprit with loose threads dangling at the bottom - which isn't bloody short at all.) Sure I check out hot guys, but I don't exactly make a habit of staring at their crotch, now do I? In fact, the mere thought? Enough to make me sick.
So yeah, my rant for the night which pretty much sums up my love life, though the more apt operative phrase would be 'non-existent'. Add 'indifference' to the mix and you have the most succinct concoction of words ever came up with to describe that love life thing, ever.
Lastly, words of wisdom: Chlamydia is not a flower.