Archive for November, 2009

HAI 16 YR OLD LUZR

Posted: November 27, 2009 in Uncategorized
Dude.
Mrs C from math class is going to confiscate your skipping rope.
I knoowww, who KNEW right? That skipping rope stealing FIEND.
Just put a smelly sock in her drawer. You will discover such an item the next year whilst rummaging through old clothes and finding your sibling’s toxic sock materials.
Wear gloves while rummaging through old clothes, people get diseases you know. Yes, sock related diseases.
In fact, in 3 years, when you’re me, the world will be overrun by the greatest sock related disease known to man. They will claim it to be the product of swines, but oh, if only they knew how it all began. With one sock and a small japanese boy who did not take a bath.
You will get waaaay less sleep in 3 years time. This will make you ramble nonsensically.
Potatoes.
With time however, 16 year old self, your sanity will decay.
Soon you will turn into this crazy scientist who takes over the world with her pet squirrel, banishing to the dungeons those who dare wear matching socks.
Ok, maybe not. But you will clearly turn into what some will only refer to as, a creative eccentric. Nice ring to it no? Kind of crazy-old-cat-lady-ish but not quite there.
Oh yeah and the world will find out that the cause of the great 2004 tsunami was Papareboy’s mum having bodyslammed into the beaches while on holiday in Indonesia.
Damn that woman.
So yeah. That pretty much covers it. How gay is everyone else for writing long meaningful posts of substantial advice to their 16 year old selfs right? Yeah. Like you’re going to listen even if I tried.
Growing up is a total assface so you’re never going to do it, btw.
k bye ily.

also, this kitten will change the world as we know eet.

I TAG CHIKIN AND POOPAY. GOGOGO.
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sleeping child

Posted: November 23, 2009 in Uncategorized

The sun rose from the belly of the sea, only to kiss the bud, only to wake its slumbering lids.

For then climbed out, as the sun knew too well, the sleeping child.
The yellow petaled sleeping child.

She yawned and stretched her arms outward and up, like wings just before the bird leaps to flight; and then to the sky, she lifted her hands and prayed.
As the flower made her silent prayers, to watching skies, and bees and leaves and garden things, a little boy cocked his head and took her arm.
And ‘loves me’ he whispered, the first dainty petal held between his fingers.

Now on the grass she lay, the sleeping child.
Or what remains; the petals broken, the stem alone; an ode to when the last petal fell, to when the words were uttered from the boy’s lips, ‘loves me not.’
A spell was cast.
And forever more, the sun, it shone and shone, but try as it may
Its kisses would not wake her up.

Pettah!

Posted: November 16, 2009 in Uncategorized

It was dirty, loud and smelly.
And the people were candid with their curious stares, cheeky winks and frank nonchalance, as a coupla Colombo noobs trudged into their neighborhood.

‘Kilo ekak panseeyai! Panseeyai!’ (one kilo of this shizz is 500! 500, baybee!)
‘Aaah nangi, lassana sapathui ah!’ (aah byootipul shoes you are wearing! @ my converse. I sensed sarcasm though, damn him.)
‘Ado pissa meh three wheeler eka ayinkaranna yako! ‘ (kind sir remove your three-wheeler from my path of way, kthx!)

Pettah is like that scruffy kid with the combat boots and unwashed hair who doesn’t give a shit about the status quo and isn’t afraid to say so. You know, the non conformist outcast that everyone secretly envies.
It’s gonna do what it’s gonna do, and you’re just going to have to take it.
I always did love that kid.

College Corridor Conversation

Posted: November 13, 2009 in Uncategorized

Dude did you draw Wasantha’s balls?

EW NO what the fuck?

I’m talking about his assignment last week to sketch spheres, idiot.

Oh.. I knew that..

Yeaah.. and we’re supposed to review this cathedral designed by Michelangelo-

One of the Ninja Turtles did that?! LIKE, WUT.


Pull your pants up, luzr.

Posted: November 4, 2009 in Uncategorized

There I was, minding my own business in class, drumming my fingers on my chin and contemplating the possible consequent human decapitations from an event in which the ceiling fan should come loose (you know, the usual)- when SUDDENLY, a flash of bright pink.. uh flashes before my eyes.

Asspantsboy in front leans over to pick something up and due to the proportional position of the waist of his pants, the class gets an eyeful of his bright pink patterned boxer shorts.

I mean, I have nothing against people’s individual rights to display their funny looking underpants, but then, do not expect me not to point and laugh at the ridiculousness of it KAY.


Asspantsyness in Colombo has become a trend, an epidemic if you will. Probably stemming from the oh so cool ‘hey look at us, we’re too cool for elastic bands’ hip hop gangsta culture.
TuPac could pull it off, but not you, good sir with the pink undies.

Somewhere between an inch of 50cent’s undies peeking out atop baggy pants, and the outbreak of low rise jeans for women, the men of Colombo got confused.
And strange and bewildering culture was born in which at least four appalling inches of – often hilariously printed – boxers rear their ugly heads from the waists of young men, whilst ze pants sit awkwardly and precariously on the ass area.
Thus creating an overall aura that seems more ridiculous and wtf-ey than that time when Papareboy’s mum eclipsed the sun while sky gliding.

Say it with me… LOLWUT.