I'm sorry M*, but our conversations always seem to lead up to my newest blog entry. An indiscretion on my side, but on the other hand it's a subtle compliment, it suggests that we are beings capable of intelligent exchanges rather than the fun but nonsensical babble I tend to engage in with many others. Not that I'm complaining, those clowning-around talkfests have the ability to cheer me up considerably. I'm simply trying to put a point across, that I do have the occasional ponder-worthy conversation.

"Now that I've seen through them, and realised their true colours, I don't feel sorry at all losing them as friends. They're not worth my time."

I can't remember her exact choice of phrasing, but yup, it's along the lines of the above.

I wish I can be as firm as M*. Though I do feel scorn and disgust towards that particular group of asswipes, I can't help but remember the good times we once had. Given a choice, I'd wish I never had the chance to see the butt ugly, not-worth-my-asshair (it's a form of speech I DON'T HAVE ASSHAIR LA!) side of them. I've always been this way. Welcome to my life. Rather than face up to hideous, hideous reality, I'd rather shy away and live a life under rose-tinted lenses.

Not for the first time, I realise I have alot of lessons to learn in life.

Y'know, Daddy refused to allow me to wash plates when I was younger. I thought it was highly entertaining and I yearned for the opportunity to splash the dishes around in soapy water. Unforgettable, that priceless look of utter horror on his face when I gathered up the nerve to ask, "What are two maids for? Your ONE AND ONLY responsibility is to study!"

And now Mom has the audacity to poke fun at my chronic inability to do housework of any sort. She's making me wash my own underwear. ):