11th July 2009

I figured it’s about damn time I updated something on this almost-defunct blog.

Well, at least that’s what it is to me, compared to how often I used to spend maintaining my blogs, looking for stuff to upload and share and all that.

But that was before I completed my studies (spending too much time on the laptop with no deadlines is NEVER good) and before the Mr came along, obviously.

And now I reckon I’m much more active on FaceBook than on any other site. I love the real-time updates, thereby allowing myself to turn into a real-time busybody, getting information on stuff bought by friends, and their current likes.

Not that I intend to buy anything for them. More than ever, I intend to buy stuff for myself when I know it has been tried and tested by others whom I should be able to trust at least when it comes to trivial stuff like getting false eyelashes.

Although,
I have to admit..

I got extremely annoyed with the COUNTLESS shoutouts that were dedicated to Michael Jackson (MJ) for that one week between his sudden death up to his memorial, from contacts on my friend list, who felt that they were fans HUGE enough to stand up for MJ in even the most trivial of jokes.

For fuck’s sake, no one cared or even remembered him when he was alive,

and now everyone’s shedding tears and lamenting about the loss of the biggest star of our era?

Everyone has to die someday. So there.

Yes, we grew up with his songs.
And yes, we can all hum a tune or in fact, many of his tunes, without breaking into a sweat, because he was that prominent in the music scene.

But the constant outpouring of grief?
Enough to spark a war of words among fellow friends who decided to comment on the topic and somehow or rather, treaded on the wrong toes?

MJ does not even know who you are, so shut up and stop being a fucking hypocrite already.

There, I got it off my chest.

And now for the critics on the news.

The guy couldn’t even get a break even when he decided to go out with a bang.

When he died,
reporters had a field day covering on how his father, the infamous Joe Jackson, reacted,
on how the kid involved in the ‘93 molest case against MJ finally admitted that he lied (conveniently after MJ died),
on how his daughter should not have given that emotional goodbye speech,
and the start of the messy custody battle between gold-digger Debbie Rowe and the Jacksons.

His daughter gave a goodbye speech and psychiatrists around the world went on to give their unwanted two cents worth on how it would affect her mental and emotional state.

For crying out loud,
1) it’s already been done
2) the kid has just lost her father, she’s entitled to do anything she wants when it comes to saying goodbye.

I wonder, do these psychiatrists have a foolproof plan to raise a child? Do THEY have perfect families?
Might as well wrap babies in freaking bubble wrap from Day One, yeah?

Sheesh.

Now that it’s all been dusted off my mind,

let’s focus on ME.

My wedding.

THREE months exactly from this very date.

Wedding invitations have been printed.
Wedding gowns have been picked.
Gifts are still being bought.

Which is pure hell for me.
Having to get stuff and putting them aside, only to be opened in October, is equivalent to being crucified in front of the masses to me.

Excruciating.

My weight has been fluctuating madly.
My love-hate relationship with pasta still exists and I have somehow given up the hope of looking as slim as any Hollywood star.

I’m not referring to Kirstie Alley though.

I doubt she still qualifies as a star, but still.

Hence, I am pinning all hopes on the last resort.

The almighty Corset.

*cue heavenly glow*

One can always dream..