i should be studying but my head is elsewhere. not good, but what the hell. i'm literally sitting at the dining table listening to the kids gossiping about celebrities as if they're their friends. really. they're discussing about who should date who. i should record them. oh well, publishing their dirty little secret is obnoxious enough. forgive me kids. hee hee.
no, this isn't the sequel to the letter-project. just plain rambling -- let's call it the bimbo-babble. kind of have a ring to it, no? anyhow, i'm farcically irritated with my hair. when was the last time i had it trimmed? hello. welcome to america. where designer labels are cheap and expertise is just bloody expensive. so how the fck do i cope with the regime visit i had back home? i just don't. humph. well there's one solution, buy salon product at the nearest drugstore. which is not that cheap.
my hair is enjoying its freedom of growing in any which way it pleases. because of that too it's not helping me achieve the length i plan to have. yes, picture me ranting with my hand gestures and whatnot. this totally is a bimbo-babble. i've been all over the place; the bushy hair, the oven-burnt scar. well, the kids have stopped gossiping - a sign for me to get on with my revision. boo.
