tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59849275840540162072024-02-18T21:18:55.999-08:00NEFARIOUS CHRONICLESNefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.comBlogger111125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-38358979098552575412015-01-01T00:12:00.004-08:002015-01-01T00:12:25.170-08:00Blue<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like the color of his intense eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And every time I met him, his eyes <i>always
</i>froze me. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I watch him with the woman he loves
and yearn for humanity.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wanting to feel his skin , caress his
gold hair , and look into his blue eyes .<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I first met him , he was only
18. Stumbling on the wet rail tracks in
new town, England many years ago. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was his time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> He was far too intoxicated to realize the
train was coming. When I decended to take his soul , I met his eyes first . <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the first time in thousands of
years I froze. Suddenly I felt uncertain of my task. I questioned myself and my
duties. The duties I did every hour, everyday, for centuries. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Was it really his time?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Before the train hit his body I
pulled him to safety. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He did realize he was being saved .
But not by the very same who was assigned to take his soul. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He muttered strange words which I
understood as gratitude.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But, since that night I could not
forget about him. His beautiful eyes. His golden hair. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I followed him everywhere. I watched
over him. He was deeply troubled. He wanted more from his depressing mundane
life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then success came. So did his first
serious relationship with a woman. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She was beautiful. But she did not
understand he had a wounded soul. I watched him suffer in silence for years
before she left him for another man.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In return he focused on his career.
His career took him to many places all around the world. That's when death
called him for the second time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In Bangkok, a fire threatened to
takeover his life. When I took him away to safety I thought I saw a Flicker of
recognition in his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It cannot be. We do not have a face.
The angel of death has many forms, none of it permanent in the human world.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He caresses the ring he wears, as he
thinks of her. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He is finally happy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I cannot express human emotion but I
have watched him closely enough to feel it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyty1mitXEZc1MRvzuguwBGC1yzTj4Bf0AUbSOwqbDVfVrj6axTGxCM8qVUtvFP7zGMx2Zn_C0oBgqmOTfYOku2P2eRltNavwe6_eX_xvQcCbUM73A7xsNV-X053GouxndNp0x-tY7pt_Y/s1600/blue.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyty1mitXEZc1MRvzuguwBGC1yzTj4Bf0AUbSOwqbDVfVrj6axTGxCM8qVUtvFP7zGMx2Zn_C0oBgqmOTfYOku2P2eRltNavwe6_eX_xvQcCbUM73A7xsNV-X053GouxndNp0x-tY7pt_Y/s1600/blue.JPG" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I always wonder if he will ever know
me for who I really am in this world. For in the next, I will not see those
blue eyes again. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-77364307063017999432011-12-05T04:28:00.000-08:002011-12-06T04:12:21.552-08:00For the Lonely Queen<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">You wear a fake smile on your profile picture</div><div class="MsoNormal">Next to a man who you barely know</div><div class="MsoNormal">Being pretty is not always right</div><div class="MsoNormal">But being lonely is always wrong</div><div class="MsoNormal">The crown you have on ,while on that high horse</div><div class="MsoNormal">Means nothing to your friends</div><div class="MsoNormal">Take a look around now, my queen</div><div class="MsoNormal">And tell me what you see?</div><div class="MsoNormal">Only a mirror, with a blank frozen face</div></div>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-20850706371120790772011-10-01T19:54:00.000-07:002011-10-01T19:54:33.933-07:00Almost forgot about this!<iframe width="459" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/AJx7ZsTdVtU?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-811278202420992102010-07-12T00:02:00.001-07:002010-07-12T00:11:05.391-07:00Pauline<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Pauline the Octopus yesterday</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiITarMU9mOKQFohRd1gvpJ8avCRS6dMkjFtDml6uqdGyEGI0i-f_7RfhepFbEpkWQxYt-TM7YlcL5iejceRWKB9Iqo-W6HRP_ikGrt3Nk_l_hJmua9qCElxCLOYMVXJEZOOSHTdHqKDSk0/s1600/09-07-2010-13-07-03_792223b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 211px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiITarMU9mOKQFohRd1gvpJ8avCRS6dMkjFtDml6uqdGyEGI0i-f_7RfhepFbEpkWQxYt-TM7YlcL5iejceRWKB9Iqo-W6HRP_ikGrt3Nk_l_hJmua9qCElxCLOYMVXJEZOOSHTdHqKDSk0/s400/09-07-2010-13-07-03_792223b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492913449917210242" /></a>Pauline during happier times with the football.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Pauline the octopus today - following the Spain Vs Netherlands Football match</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKfppBi8AxAr1_PVZAsGIQmmXtn1zrywFZZfJjcwVld2fGcQEZWPFhCKMiiTGuCkDNtlNOPLadRQJTx1G3YkEwUaN0h3EHZtk-NqECQmOFJwHCTXtvmPRfTUeSd21e2i4yBJmepjmhn1P7/s400/dsc_0492.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 322px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492913032373005602" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-60159868748687603272010-07-01T03:03:00.000-07:002010-07-01T03:05:46.538-07:00ALDO bag for sale<div><br /></div><div>ALDO bag for sale!</div><div>pls ctc me on this blog space for details </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjp990t_14YDeWy_7D1WpmK4nElBhyTdNJ2_p5udNX6QoFfF8_VxBATzGSBi-RnU73yL1cwVNiNVoUmuTFon4neoV6PDxfdHKI3bReRY9vdrvZqy4ZtF7qk3ortrkOILl0gHAlGGq6XZ5w/s1600/28098_10150182249170462_616295461_12403287_6873152_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjp990t_14YDeWy_7D1WpmK4nElBhyTdNJ2_p5udNX6QoFfF8_VxBATzGSBi-RnU73yL1cwVNiNVoUmuTFon4neoV6PDxfdHKI3bReRY9vdrvZqy4ZtF7qk3ortrkOILl0gHAlGGq6XZ5w/s400/28098_10150182249170462_616295461_12403287_6873152_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488876653568169170" /></a>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-41973709262018960362010-03-03T16:37:00.000-08:002010-03-03T16:39:58.677-08:00Conversations with BOY<div>( phone buzzes with a new text message)</div><div><br /></div>Boy - What you watching? <div>Me - <a href="http://www.americanidol.com">American Idol!! </a></div><div>Boy - Oh. I'm Not not watching Idol today. boring. watching a documentary on rubber instead.</div><div>Me - ?</div>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-86364152731324471342010-02-04T20:43:00.000-08:002010-02-04T20:50:52.703-08:00The HeadacheBoy – I have a headache<br />Me – u poor thing. Where exactly does it hurt?<br />Boy - right bottom above the <a href="http://www.google.lk/search?hl=en&ei=W6NrS4e5Es-IkAXG5vj-Aw&sa=X&oi=spell&resnum=0&ct=result&cd=1&ved=0CAYQBSgA&q=medulla+oblongata&spell=1">medulla oblongata</a> <br />Me - er.. WTF?Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-21884851931840532512010-01-20T05:45:00.001-08:002010-01-20T05:47:16.470-08:00What the FRACK??<div><br /></div><div>On my way home from work this evening I managed to capture this in Town Hall.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfs0Do7knLlumL9Zf7qX0QHwPf3-l9RTg9s0F1GVGGQbAipBga515wQakLQomTWyMJSZq_MMkxpZx18tQewhC3veRTKMlwJuvnN5w5OI50HmEkYX7Qn2EsllWkFw3njHVKwjlS_1aEyhXu/s1600-h/Image0023.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfs0Do7knLlumL9Zf7qX0QHwPf3-l9RTg9s0F1GVGGQbAipBga515wQakLQomTWyMJSZq_MMkxpZx18tQewhC3veRTKMlwJuvnN5w5OI50HmEkYX7Qn2EsllWkFw3njHVKwjlS_1aEyhXu/s400/Image0023.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428817878517438466" /></a>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-48251057706921311562009-12-22T21:01:00.000-08:002009-12-22T21:17:22.874-08:00F21 dress for sale!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAviy4OpN4_-LbHyAm95dDfBhzus9pFC4LcXhwWUaLnxcgzYk6UkoZopeCLERwAFi00xHv-NvrA04dcHU0swCZOTjiAGyyO8lvUhoI72_MnEWOKa4MaelrDKBlwkdZujDe_ITi9ObCplm6/s1600-h/68085178-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418296314736084162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 328px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAviy4OpN4_-LbHyAm95dDfBhzus9pFC4LcXhwWUaLnxcgzYk6UkoZopeCLERwAFi00xHv-NvrA04dcHU0swCZOTjiAGyyO8lvUhoI72_MnEWOKa4MaelrDKBlwkdZujDe_ITi9ObCplm6/s400/68085178-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I am selling a forever21 dress for LKR 2000/= </div><br /><div>If anyone is interested pls email me on <a href="mailto:nim272@gmail.com">nim272@gmail.com</a></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-88041963752253584002009-12-01T19:14:00.000-08:002009-12-01T21:13:23.882-08:00A letter to my sixteen year old selfAs tagged by <a href="http://thepaparechronicles.blogspot.com/">papareboy</a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410474586051696354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 578px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 896px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQ6_uA0soJk2XHlRVteVIzodUZnnitVm9u63iIf2jc6np-ShMtkeGVEDLYA4sm-AAL0mnOze51iWsZ-CBzjPc1zKlLRheMkkLWYGqw12n1SB1lFd_knjB0YjDnbZGQD8y58n5J5Bkf1uj/s400/nim1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410474294736848738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 580px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 725px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdt_VRV0tph1B4gizQwMG9eDwk5tmQuFk37huQvYQfTuaWu1ErCLmwH3g9sKvt_2KlCrToep7YKGcG2WnQgpoUVSsI_sV4exqMgJABwKXUUGCOp5c1b1qoaxSEJvjgkBN2e1kk6BrHXbL/s400/NIM11.jpg" border="0" />Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-75011893413752454192009-11-12T22:12:00.000-08:002009-11-12T22:26:24.392-08:00I'm a Bitch!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_8Gtwo6JfxeDEOMaw84DnljPcYdSFty5NnexF0XkncAISz6e-R7C8fgNp3KR_PWP5KrYW8YQECZDROjx-QSH_fMcecXagVnNUxvznFV8daHK9tr9gMuMSdg2ESpQ6DrY963AYknqH8Ib/s1600-h/biaych.jpg"></a><br /><div>I m a bitch<br />Cos I don’t care how you feel<br />I m a bitch<br />When I make out with your friend<br />I m a bitch<br />And I like how I feel<br />I m a bitch<br />But at least I m no whore<br /><br />I m a bitch<br />When I ruin your game<br />I m a bitch<br />Cos I lied to your face<br />I m a bitch<br />cos I’ve forgotten your name<br /><br />I m a bitch<br />To your mother<br />I m a bitch<br />To your sister<br />I m a bitch<br />To your brother<br />But I aint a bitch<br />to your daddy<br /><br />So sing it to me<br />Like you used to<br />B-I-T-C-H !<br />Hey!</div>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-79421066470219926572009-10-23T22:58:00.000-07:002009-10-23T23:06:10.893-07:00What lies beneath a six star hangover..<b>Version Z</b><div><br />It’s like that black eyed pea’s song! “Tonight’s gonna be a good night”.<br />I kept singing that over and over in my head. Today was the day of our carefully planned ladies night. I can’t believe we finally made time for this.<br />It’s going to be awesome! I looked at myself in the mirror. The dress was just great! Thank sweet baby Jesus I wore a dress tonight because everyone else was in jeans.<br />Oh wait.. looks like<b> R</b> is also in a dress.<br />Oh cow dung!!<br />Hmm.. it doesn’t matter. As long as tonight’s gonna be a good night.<br /><br />We were staying over at <b>N</b>’s place. We always stay over at someone’s place after a night out. Makes it easy to transport the disabled drunkards. hahah!<br /><br />We cramped ourselves into a cab and headed off to Inn on the Green.<br />Had the usual fish and chips and then had a round of tequila. The clinking of shot glasses made my head buzz with excitement.<br />Then came the Bacardi.<br />Once that was done we whizzed off to the new club at Galadari.<br /><b>N</b> knew someone at the club so we got a table.<br />And then the drinks came.<br /><b>S</b> and <b>R</b> were dancing all night and I smiled to myself thinking “they all look so happy .. and drunk”<br />We took a couple of pictures. At least I remember posing for them.<br />Then they played our favorite song and we all danced , screaming. That’s when I noticed <b>R</b> flirting with some guy and<b> N</b> picking a fight with a stranger.<br /><b>S</b> was talking to her boyfriend<b> G</b> , who turned up at our ladies night.<br />Why do boys do that?<br />I speed dialed <b>biz</b>. He should be able to keep me company til-<br />I checked my watch.<br />- Oh well what do you know.. its 3.30 am <i>already.</i><br />I cut off the line. He couldn’t hear me anyway. It was way too noisy in here.<br /><br />I watched <b>R</b> and <b>N</b> wobble their way out of the club. I think they mentioned something about the ladies room.<br />“oh.. ok” I mouthed.<br />After a few minutes ( I swear to god it only seemed like 10 minutes ) the guy R was flirting with came back and was trying to say something.<br />Apparently the girls were in the ladies room for way too long.<br />I went to the ladies room and noticed that one cubicle was occupied.<br /><b>R</b> was out grooming herself, so obviously N was inside.<br />“she’s in right?” I asked finger combing my hair looking at R’s reflection in the wide glass mirror.<br />“Yeah” she drawled.<br />“It’s been a while hasn’t it?”<br /><b>R</b> turned to look at me.<br />“<b>N</b>!” we both cried in unison.<br />“you ok?”<br />We heard a gurgle and some blabs.<br />“is.. she puking?” <b>R</b> asked.<br />“<b>N</b>.. are you ok?” I asked again.<br />“I just puked.. all over my new jeans. its ruined.. I can’t go home like this.”<br /><b>R</b> and I exchanged looks.<br />“It’s ok “ I sighed . “We’ll wash your jeans ok.. just come out”<br /><i>What a drama queen</i> I thought wearily.<br />Then there was an awkward silence.<br />“do you wanna take a bathroom pic?” R asked smiling.<br />The next thing I knew I was posing for pics with R , giggling.<br />Then two girls walked in.<br />And that’s when we heard a “thud”<br />“<b>N</b> “we both screamed again as the two girls stared at us in surprise.<br />We kept pounding on the door, but no response.<br />“my friend.. she’s inside the loo and she won’t open the door” I panicked.<br />One girl was bold enough to climb through the cubicle to <b>N</b>’s cubicle and unlock the door.<br />And then what I saw will scar me for the rest of my life.<br /><b>N</b> with her pants down on the floor.. next to a pool of vomit.<br />There were stains all over her. She was damn right about her jeans.<br />It was disgusting.<br /><b>R</b> was too shocked to say anything, she was wobbling around.<br /><br />“Too many tequilas?” one girl questioned.<br />I nodded.<br /><br />“That explains it”</div><div><br />We pulled up her jeans and carried her out , to the hotel lobby.<br />Damn this girl was heavy.<br />Then she puked all over the couch.. and on the floor. S walked right in to the scene and started throwing up.<br /><i>What is with all the puking?</i><br /><br />“Let’s just go home” <b>R</b> wailed. None of us could carry <b>N</b> ,so <b>S</b>’s boyfriend lifted her up.<br />And her jeans slithered down causing a stir at the hotel lobby.<br />Right at that moment I just wanted to die.<br />I quickly pulled them up and covered her exposed buttocks.<br />“Let’s move!” I was practically screaming.<br />Once we got into the cab I was so relived and thankful that we were on our way home.<br />But the night wasn’t over yet. even though the day had just begun.. or whatever.<br />That was just the drunk in me talking.<br /><b>N</b> starts to choke.. (on her own puke) and turns over to me and throws up on my arm.<br />I screamed so loud I swear the whole world stopped spinning for a second.<br />My designer dress.<br /><i>Ruined.</i><br />We opened the car door and let her throw up, but she passed out again.<br />As we were about to leave, <b>R </b>begins to puke. And we took a whole ten years to get over it.</div><div><br />I was so tired of cleaning up the puke off me, and just as we thought we are home sweet home we get pulled over by cops.<br />We took out our ID’s to pass out to the cops and guess who pukes all over the cop stand?<br /><b>S.</b><br />The cops are so grossed out , they ask us to leave.<br />So we hopped back in and drove away.. in fear.<br />What are we gonna tell<b> N</b>’s parents?!<br />As the final destination approached we conjured up a whacky story that <b>N</b> had one glass of Vodka for the first time and passed out.<br />Right.<br />Oh and her parents knew we were shitting.<br />With her dad shouting at us being drunk at 5am, recognizing the signs I assumed.<br />“ are you sure , she’s not dead?” grandma panicked.<br />“y-yes” I managed to stammer.<br />N’s mum tried the whole lime thing , but that only made her puke some more.<br />Once she passed out again, we all had a nice wash and hit the bed.<br />.. and that’s when I knocked out.<br /></div>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-13259514601874771692009-10-08T20:41:00.000-07:002009-10-08T20:45:47.732-07:00The Power CutI woke up to a bunch of awful <em>snores</em> last night also to discover that my body was dripping with sweat.<br />It was the beginning of a long night.<br />I really don’t know how some people could sleep through it because the whole house was vibrating with all kinds of noisy snoring.<br />I fanned myself with some wafer thin paper I found on the bed and logged on to Face book to find out if anyone else was sharing my misery.<br /><br />Of course a few <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bloggers</span> had complained of their sleepless nights and updated their statuses making it easier to keep myself entertained through the night,<br /><a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.rosetintedview.wordpress.com"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ahamed</span> </a>had a problem with eating a <em>chocolate choc chip, chocolate ripple and chocolate biscuit pudding </em>in a mug. <strong>In the dark.</strong><br />I feel for you <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Ahamed</span>. Such a delicious treat should be eaten while you can also enjoy looking at it. Eating the damned thing ,blindly is a curse.<br /><br />My cousin complained of putting make up on, in the dark while getting ready for a flight. I cannot imagine the frustration she would have been going through.<br />And then after taking ages to perfect the make up, the flight gets cancelled. The life of a stewardess is just awful with no electricity on.<br /><br />What is this world coming to? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Tsk</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">tsk</span><br /><br />ANYWAYS.. I hope the power is back on in most areas. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">didn</span>’t even iron my office uniform and came to work looking like I’d slept in last night’s clothes.<br />Who gives a shit anyway. If my boss wants to complain.. let her! She sure loves to bitch about things that don’t make much sense anyway!<br /><br />Did I tell you about the time she got all peeved about a man who groped her while talking to her? Well, she groped the exact same man when he came to see her yesterday.<br />Haven’t you heard that Frustration in your late forty’s is a common thing that occurs in women who are single?<br /><br />Denial <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">isn</span>’t <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">going</span> to get you anywhere , you old hag.<br /><br />Oh well, I just wanted to bitch a bit about that as well.<br />Have a nice day you’ll!<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">xoxo</span>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-43003234838669779522009-10-05T23:35:00.000-07:002009-10-06T00:50:10.553-07:00Bloggers I have met !I was tagged by<em><a href="http://saintfallen.wordpress.com/"> st.fallen</a></em> to mention the bloggers I have met ! This may surprise you guys.. but <em><a href="http://thejester100.wordpress.com/">Jerry</a></em> was the first blogger I met.<br />I think this was about two years ago at some awkward forum meet up . He was very quiet and didn’t say much.. but then again so was I. Its hard to evaluate people with all the silence. ...<br /><br />And he was a bit skinny back then as well. Now he is just a balloon waiting to pop. Just kidding.<br />Jerry is a complete stud.<br /><br />The second blogger I met was <em>st.fallen</em>. we started communicating to each other through our respective blogs, constantly commenting on each other’s posts, chatting on msn, etc.<br />Then when I finally met him, he was just a little boy full of energy ... and creative ideas waiting to pop out. He is like the brother I never had and always wanted. Talented , straightforward and very intelligent.<br />There were times he sang to me, read me scripts off the holy Quran , just to help me to deal with the dark times. I love you kiddo. You helped me get through some pretty dark times by being there for me when I had no one.<br /><br />The next blogger I met was <a href="http://thepaparechronicles.blogspot.com/"><em>papare boy</em>!</a> He was a sweet thing who helped me get some DVDs I 've been wanting to purchase for a while. I was pretty nervous about meeting papare boy and I had been putting off the meeting for weeks, but then when we finally did meet ( at some bookfair) and it wasn’t so awkward as I had expected it to be. Except for the time we said our goodbyes and I messed up the whole hand gesture thing.<br /><br />The last blogger I met was , someone whom I have gotten to know so much by just reading her beautiful blog. And the meeting was spontaneous and unplanned! My cousin asked me if I wanted to go on a trip with her friends and I had agreed. And guess who turned up ? <a href="http://www.divine3.blogspot.com/">Lady D!</a><em><br /></em><br />I couldn’t help looking at her and thinking.. <em>hmm.. I know her!!</em> But then lady D bonked me over my confused head and said “ yo? Its me home girl! Your lady D”<br />AND then we hit it off from there even though the food really really.. really sucked at the hotel we stayed at.<br /><br />But I did get to share a drink with her and it was good. We should chill more often lady D!<br /><br /><br />I gotta say all you bloggers are just awesome. And I enjoy reading your blogs very much. I have to really thank ST.FALLEN for tagging me and helping me to re kindle the memories .<br /><br />Love you guys<br />xoxoNefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-35471684415826908682009-10-04T06:55:00.001-07:002009-10-04T07:05:08.747-07:00Heroes season 5<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQSPIXcLzAFTS8mlqF8k6w8A-FP9BFc4pn2pXBGY945eQ22pqhH5JtF_xF46p1U9kyZgQ4pzDPrajzdMRzRiRq-lb6dyJt63GjciWFZkAX5cLQF8wEzeXzYRBW76POnHoWo803e99jumd/s1600-h/heroes.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQSPIXcLzAFTS8mlqF8k6w8A-FP9BFc4pn2pXBGY945eQ22pqhH5JtF_xF46p1U9kyZgQ4pzDPrajzdMRzRiRq-lb6dyJt63GjciWFZkAX5cLQF8wEzeXzYRBW76POnHoWo803e99jumd/s400/heroes.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388745562241749522" /></a><br />.. I really don't know why I watch heroes anymore. I mean why does every single person have a "special ability"? .. <div><br /></div><div>and yes I had nothing to write about .. so I came up with this one liner.</div><div><br /></div><div>LAME!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>I know!! now shoot me.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-30209766783273718522009-08-21T04:12:00.000-07:002009-08-21T04:15:26.507-07:00My Spine....... hurtsNefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-19306977270828953492009-07-04T07:08:00.001-07:002009-07-04T07:13:40.705-07:00Guess who..<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwo0tKEe_Z7JnF5OcoFgyukEApeQeRW4YqsFQjC32utkrqihlL47dGv89SM_PG-YIR1YVzyJdxiHXLvAJ8xaOJfQLLjtuFht_dWU5vj9qJ16Pd2gjX-YCJRQ517FwytTrm5gCqYrf_RWmH/s1600-h/AA.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 346px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwo0tKEe_Z7JnF5OcoFgyukEApeQeRW4YqsFQjC32utkrqihlL47dGv89SM_PG-YIR1YVzyJdxiHXLvAJ8xaOJfQLLjtuFht_dWU5vj9qJ16Pd2gjX-YCJRQ517FwytTrm5gCqYrf_RWmH/s400/AA.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354606820357183458" /></a><br />...I am?<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I am a natural brunette but I <i>prefer</i> to be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">blond</span>.</div><div>I wear drag <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">queenish</span> make up.</div><div>I am also <i>rumoured </i>to be a whore because I like fucking older men.</div><div>I have an ( really X 25 ) annoying accent when I speak in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Sinhalese</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So who am I?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-41990626895905839052009-06-15T21:58:00.000-07:002009-06-15T22:02:18.899-07:00a short story about a confused wiggly wooI was about 15 when they asked me what I wanted to do with my future.<br />I thought for a little while and replied ‘ I want to be a director’<br /><br />My uncle was astounded, ( he being a bank manager and all) patted my back and said ‘ very good answer child. Very ambitious, I see. A company director is a very big goal you need to achieve’<br /><br />I could see my mother’s face from the corner of my eye. Boy did she look confused.<br /><br /><em>"No.."</em> I said suddenly. "<em>I want to be a movie director."<br /></em><br />There was an awkward silence.<br /><br />And then the chaos started.<br /><br />THE ENDNefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-45452737200294709572009-05-13T20:31:00.000-07:002009-05-13T20:46:47.564-07:00Munchies in my drawer!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Nf_r4nqWWt-ybfy0HQyaeuQ2abU6k7hMHatGp2hEj5g5tVg-CaRjeQKd8ZIxE7iACRBSXXS9qWaj3cpWbh78RE6NoRTUQl9qAqqIqB7bx9i1Bn1PhZdySOfuDczqJwjoWRsWqdIwuw5a/s1600-h/10-9-08-drawer-organizerwafer.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335520931415895746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 333px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Nf_r4nqWWt-ybfy0HQyaeuQ2abU6k7hMHatGp2hEj5g5tVg-CaRjeQKd8ZIxE7iACRBSXXS9qWaj3cpWbh78RE6NoRTUQl9qAqqIqB7bx9i1Bn1PhZdySOfuDczqJwjoWRsWqdIwuw5a/s400/10-9-08-drawer-organizerwafer.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I have some stale munchies in my drawer<br />It’s been in there for quite a while<br />Its smells funny when Its open<br />And there’s crumbs around the floor too<br /><br />Its wrapped in a bag to keep away creepy crawlies<br />And I m not talking about my friendly colleagues<br />I’ve seen them take a peek at my white bag<br />My white bag full of stale munchies !<br /><br />After lunch I shall take this out<br />And offer a snack with no doubt<br />Yummy stale munchies ..<br />Oh ! come on. .they don’t know that! ;)</div>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-55636700451430672022009-05-12T20:09:00.000-07:002009-05-12T23:51:28.426-07:00The padashow – where is that unbearable stench coming from? Oh wait it’s that troll who farts a lot. He is stalking you again.<a href="http://padashow.wordpress.com/2009/05/12/attention-whores-and-dead-bores/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Podipada</span></a> is an attention seeking psychopath who wants almost every blogger to kill themselves to deprive the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">blogosphere</span> from lame self absorbent posts.<br />Well here is some advice for you.<br />Why don’t<em> you</em> <strong>slit</strong> <em>your</em> pretty wrists and do us a favor? because we are sick of your whining too! you sound like a middle aged whore on menopause.<br /><em>Or</em> if your too busy jerking yourself maybe we could slit your wrists for you?<br /><br />You could bleed to death while satisfying yourself.<br /><br />What say you? =)Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-59740591172498141202009-05-08T20:57:00.000-07:002009-05-08T21:01:52.731-07:00Hobbit remains found in Indonesia<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxbp50w1Wk3kL2UbO9xfYnNx3Lr_J3UObFh9EtMMOTp-h4mBGjo4UKJby0eXtgXmCdHDxVxn4mPiOQ3Hw1FQQOdnSDv7Y4q-MQVdswAnz-mTY56W7-1bFdOJeLWSJlfj9WKG_t77GmjvJz/s1600-h/SHIRE-INDO.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxbp50w1Wk3kL2UbO9xfYnNx3Lr_J3UObFh9EtMMOTp-h4mBGjo4UKJby0eXtgXmCdHDxVxn4mPiOQ3Hw1FQQOdnSDv7Y4q-MQVdswAnz-mTY56W7-1bFdOJeLWSJlfj9WKG_t77GmjvJz/s400/SHIRE-INDO.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333668711072223874" border="0" /></a>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-51256829412824036662009-04-30T03:34:00.000-07:002009-04-30T03:44:16.083-07:00About this sexy tag cloud ..<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ok</span> ..I have to admit that I’m not <strong><em>tech savvy.<br /></em></strong>I need help with this sexy tag cloud thingy.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Please</span> forward your comments on how to fix this thing.<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Please</span>!Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-8824556843911014992009-03-23T20:52:00.000-07:002009-03-24T00:35:26.672-07:00Not your cup of tea? Too fucking bad!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixgCAdn1zqlYQjUamUeFI3b79KwUcLPHBEB_4zaG_1xZDJfCUtrMhWw7ZuUZhPBB-Dqad208mPlzqvdjMIc83ssr_e1CIdfUplm_zYJDaDnTuNWiUK1k8lKRh54NJ2K4N8hTXLQC7dIhL_/s1600-h/Don’t+be+an+ignorant+bastard.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316600493589855346" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixgCAdn1zqlYQjUamUeFI3b79KwUcLPHBEB_4zaG_1xZDJfCUtrMhWw7ZuUZhPBB-Dqad208mPlzqvdjMIc83ssr_e1CIdfUplm_zYJDaDnTuNWiUK1k8lKRh54NJ2K4N8hTXLQC7dIhL_/s400/Don%E2%80%99t+be+an+ignorant+bastard.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Sometimes when the older generation advices the young, it makes me wonder why the fuck values were created in a way that it always benefits the male generation in the end.<br /><br />My aunt was over at my place recently ranting about how imbecile, women are when they can’t treat their husband’s right and how unethical it is for a woman to ignore her duties as a wife even though she may be a working woman with a demanding job.<br />She kept blaming a woman’s failure as a wife for so many failed marriages.<br /><br /><br /><strong>What The Fuck??</strong><br /><br />Why should it always be the poor wife? I mean what more do you want? Women practically worship their man by taking over his mother’s job anyway.<br /><br />There was one stupid incident she mentioned about some doctor who couldn’t maker her husband a cup of tea and then he divorced her.<br /><br />Doesn’t it make you vomit last night’s dinner when you think about coming home tired from work to finish off household chores?<br />And then your husband expects a hot cup of god damned tea on the top of that?<br />Well you know what? <strong>Make your own god damned tea. </strong><br /><strong><br /></strong>If you expect women to come home and make you tea just because you’re some mama’s boy.. You’ve got it all wrong!<br />Haven’t we all been raised as mama’s princess/daddy's girl all our lives too? Didn’t our mothers make us tea and food and what not till we got married? So why should we be treated any less? I mean we want someone to look after us too right? So in the end we end up looking after the one, who is <em>supposed</em> to look after us.<br /><br />If at all I think <em>they</em> should be the ones making us tea when we get home.<br />That is if they complain. Some men don’t really complain. They make their own tea.<br />That doesn’t mean their gay you stupid bastards!<br />Hey at least the gays are capable of doing their own shit. Instead of waiting til some woman picks up after him.<br /><br /><br /><div align="justify"><br />So now you stupid fuck ups know what to do right? Treat your woman right. She aint gonna make you tea sweetheart. Make your own god damn it!</div><p></p><p></p>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-58944413980849910692009-03-18T06:44:00.000-07:002009-03-24T00:41:19.806-07:00Assholes and other things.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoFcIOOv-Y5ZbJsWWOPkSvng1sBR-GBwNKvScKoiBNb77mGKB0c0CbnGMRF4TWmJeuF_59oHdW1r-apaMXyPL4fltEfRtjdeqVOwSRiusY5XymP2nSlKIvuQYP6MPSZMXM89FRtiunA0nc/s1600-h/prick.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316655679621301778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoFcIOOv-Y5ZbJsWWOPkSvng1sBR-GBwNKvScKoiBNb77mGKB0c0CbnGMRF4TWmJeuF_59oHdW1r-apaMXyPL4fltEfRtjdeqVOwSRiusY5XymP2nSlKIvuQYP6MPSZMXM89FRtiunA0nc/s400/prick.png" border="0" /></a><br /><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Life is so mundane. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br />I walk from my office to my transport wishing that i don't have to come back to work again.<br /><br />I walk slowly usually ignoring everyone around me. I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">don't</span> want to meet anyone I know. Maybe cos i <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">don't</span> give a flying shit or want to make any small talk. </div><div><br />I stopped at the yellow crossing and heard some comments about my second hand bag. comments made by some boy.<br />I walked ahead of him.<br />Then he got run over by a van and his body was broken is three places.<br /><br /><em>do you like my bag now asshole?</em><br /><br />but of course.. that happened only in my head.<br />I'm not sadistic. I'm not.</div>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5984927584054016207.post-19964694682666708112009-02-20T22:04:00.000-08:002009-03-23T22:12:52.848-07:00Politics and Photoshop<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305131995185682834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy56l8V5wBcjh64K6ZxrOkL1sxT5T8nlUJVLAbLN8QzC4EmFdquNh5J0zYWToaaJijCXXmUqA4tsc3PN2l8ZothjVd5yuiucjGA3Sbyv0FuvXUbBhX01clfhDLdR9pKxEeKYHTLQsO-Xhyphenhyphen/s400/blog12.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305131996599657858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 317px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipb2YRN-NfPPGmX2k3erMbtdN-uvcf1aXSRxyBVUVofqB1ClThvml_Q9CIIzmBGuRMURz8qm_d2QePOfjTDshkkXOiG8dJ7P-WW6VYGr27qkqsh-wjLHd5L64O4DOyZq7yZoszNq_QHySQ/s400/blog3.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF41U8KP5GXgg8qbOzVNS2wa64qjY0e34LFoBOBNA60Cbhiz2-HynPUdcY2OJCbhq5yrk3QO4nk32zJG9ShYmwYRenjAJbQWcYzX1CqGMLGRR6tZrCq6yMI8z42rJvNEzP9eMx10FA9wDy/s1600-h/blog12.JPG"></a><br /><div><div>Makes you wonder if R.Duminda's posters are real. </div><br /><div>not the ones with Mr. President. the ones with the old lady and that tiny baby.<br /><div></div><div></div><div> </div></div></div></div></div>Nefarioushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701745204792012587noreply@blogger.com5