Space...

Welcome back to this part of the century, when space is truly an issue and claustrophobia has become Asia's new epidemic. And for all you workaholics out there, you know what I am yapping about if you are stuck in your three-by-three cubicle reading this (concentrate at work, you bastard!). And of course, that piece of thing that you are sitting on rite now, ... swivels ... , because your boss prefers if you were to stay within your workspace. By that he means that he wants the damn report done yesterday.

The new profound insanity of humans over-copulating, just because buying condoms over the counter can be most embarassing when the lady cashier snickers as she beeps your box-of-twelves pass the red beam, mountained by a few cartons of toothpaste and hairgel used as decoy. And just because the existence of male-sluts suddenly became overwhelming. Just because...

A massive problem? Ahh.. DUH! Because when you think you have escaped from the bumper-2-bumper fiasco along Jalan Sultan Ismail, the MRT made packed sardines count their blessings. It's just a matter of time before I get bitchslapped by women on the MRT. Yes, it is crowded. Yes, you are invading my personal space (and you might think otherwise as well, because you look bitchy, hence you are a bitch). No, I dun believe that contact is very inappropriate with strangers (especially with bitches, but sometimes I really dun mind it as well ...). But I can't help it if you resemble a freaking letter "b" sideways and those things of yours are pressing against my letter " l ".

Nevertheless, there is hope people *spin the Pearly Gates soundtrack y'all!* .Yes there is. We still have toilets, cubicles where we can calmly sit there and think. We know we think best in there ... like they say, what goes out, must come in. Yes, the one place that brings back the sanity to all working professionals. Ahhh...bliss.... until some farktard decided to dislocate the toilet bowl, and now my sanctuary is slanted towards the left side (he must be right handed ass wiper, ohhh aren't we all?), and now sewage is constantly leaking (tsunami, till we meet later), and now it smells like concentrated methane in there!

NO ONE FARKIN' LIGHTS A MATCH or we will all go down together!


Space...