After months of planning and extensive work, this is the result. Not much to look at or even a very good skin.
But you gotta admit. Its pretty awesome.
________________________________
"Magico, call me El Presidente." - Kiver
________________________________
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Alright, where to begin? Sorry didn't post any blog entries for awhile, pray you're still reading. First up, worked at the National Library for a week. Along with Alston, Andrew, Devesh and Nicholas. Now, librarians are nice people. The "brain" behind its operation consists of Serene, Joyce, Sundari and Rozana. They didn't seem that nice at first but later on they were very friendly. NOW HOLD IT! I know you don't wanna read the whole crap on how moving boxes and hurting my back, so I shall skip to more interesting parts. Wanna know what happened? Keep reading. Its the most amount of fun you can have without taking your clothes off.
First up, this "fine" book I found, titled, "Goodbye Mousie". Now, what does it sound like? a) A magical mouse on a journey of self discovery? b) A mouse who travels the world to find his meaning? c) A dead rat.
And Ta-da its not a OR b! It's c! Honestly! Have a look.
This is the actual "summary" on the back of the book: "When I woke up this morning, I tickled Mousie's tummy. But Mousie didn't wake up"
I read those words and was thinking to myself. In a silent, calm yet in a more morbid way. I don't know. It's really more a "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THE WRITER THINKING?!" manner.
Next, this is an actual quote from my friend. Do this in a indian accent to find it funny. "I swear, you're the kind of guy who will grow up to be a drunk, smoker and probably, a wife beater. Then, one day, when you come home drunk, you yell, where the fuck's my TV? Where the fuck's my beer? Why the fuck's my couch a different color?! Then when you see people in the back you run in and beat the shit out of them, and suddenly you say, oops! Many apologies, I live next door, wrong house, sorry! Then when you stumble to your house you check in, Dar-Ling?! Where is my coffee? And why don't you wear something else? And after she gives you the coffee you sip and spit it out. Dar-Ling... You call this coffee? Taste like horse piss. Now, Dar-Ling. We must talk. You know what happens when my coffee sucks. Its that time. Fetch the baseball bat, Dar-Ling. We must make sure this doesn't happen again."