manic epiphanic

i change my mind.

will reinstate what was once deemed trash to the level of cult-like adoration. brainless, giggly adoration. although currently unwilling to elevate aforementioned subject to Literature, will at least acknowledge its newfound place in my heart. awwwh snuggly.

bridget jones is now my heroine. (used to hold jane eyre as the epitome of modern women. but have since realized that the word 'modern' is now contextually irrelevant) so the crux: got self the first book of the shopaholic series. and have dreadful feeling in pit of stomach that it won't be the last.

and so have officially hopped on the chicklit bandwagon. and may have become dumber.

on top of which owing to the duties of an outdoor camp facilitator, have downloaded mainstream club beats in hope of something choreographable for generic campfire performances. so far to no avail, will probably suckthumb and play the para para sakura video obsessively so that will not look like complete arse (again) in front of kids during instructors' dance item.

life has been fantastic in manner of getting fat and lazy afternoons. the boyfriend seems unhappy of late to be serving the nation especially with brats who cannot fold their stuff properly(?) am unsurprised that the country has failed in the grooming of an efficient force for folding bedsheets, assuming that they are actually groomed. sorry, cannot help but imagine picture of smelly ns men on metal tables of pet salons. oh joy.

joy.

joy.

insurmountable joy!