Michael Phelps still rocks. I don't care if he's caught for drunk driving although if he hurts someone, and if my hand's long enough I can get a go at delivering him a slug.

However. I have a new motto. It goes like this:

BAN ALL BOYS.

Except for Michael Phelps and...well, and.

Can't you feel it? The difference I feel for my angelic little blog? I don't know what to say anymore.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
I want my Esprit skirt and my furry jacket and the pink one and all the tops!!! And I'm going to get it. That Mango scarf with all the iridescent beads and sequins. Simply gorgeous. With patent leather boots that are purple in color.
Okay, maybe the last item ain't that sensible.
But!
I'll get it, just as well.

And I hate silverfish and dust balls. Was just packing my desk and throwing away all the super old and stupid looking little momentos that I had since I was like, Primary 1. And out comes the stinkily disgusting little silverfish. Cripe. I feel like annihilating all the silverfish in the world and ridding the population because it's a pest anyway. And even if somehow or other does some good to mankind (which is totally impossible), I'll still kill it. I'm a silverfish killer on a mission.
I sound like a silverfish-kiling Hitler.

And I love the oldies man. Don't ask me to listen to Linkin Park. Ohhoho. NO. Okay, I'm still kinda mad over the silverfish.

Arghh. Okkkaaaay. Because I don't have the internet, did I ever tell you that I simply love adore adoraaaa and agapayyyy the telly? Cooking shows, especially. I mean, lookie Jamie Oliver (who's oh-so-obviously growing fatter and fatter). Oh yeah, I saw his latest cooking book the other day and was comparing it with the first, and you can see the difference in the amount of fats residing on his whole body. It's so apparent that having a chef's career ain't doing much good for your figure. Oh, and look at Fresh and Wild too. That Danny-Boy is having a belly man. Okay, it's logical that you'll have a belly if you devour blue cheese and mutton so much and it's your job to do that.

No, I think I'll be a house-hold diva when I grow up and teach everyone how to kill all silverfish.
I'll be more popular than Martha Steward, without the scandal.
HA-HA
Watch me, stinky silverfish.