Buddhists Do Scratch Their Heads Too

When I heard that HE and SHE are already an item, I was heartbroken.

It breaks my heart not because I still like HIM but because the idea that SHE got HIM makes me feel like the biggest loser on earth. Like somebody fatter than me just bought that remaining piece of chocolate cake on starbucks.

I do not understand why HE likes HER? (Alright, she's nice and charming and not-so-bad objectively speaking. But I am not in the objective mode right now. So...)

One, She has bigger hips than me.
Two, She cooks bad bad spaghetti.
Three, She gossips all the time.
Four, She gloats at people going through breakups.
Five, She watches chick flicks a lot.
Six, She does not read books. The only book she read was a book entitled "Men are like Fish"

Please do not tell me I am bitter. I know I am.

Please do not leave any nice and comforting words like "oh milktea, you'll find a better guy." I don't need that.

But please DO leave violent and uplifting words like...
"oh milktea, I believe she has bigger hips than you. In fact, I think you have bigger boobs than her.";
"oh milktea, I think you have smoother hair than that bitch who cooks bad spaghetti.";
"oh milktea, I will help you kick her ass. Except that you said she has big hips? Instead, I'll just pluck her eyeballs."
"oh milktea, I will teach her where to buy good books."

There. That's what I need. I want uplifting bitter words. Let's make this Make-Milktea-Happy Project Part II.

Be creative. Be original. Make me happy. Lie if you need to it doesn't matter.

Lately, I have been pondering a lot... trying to tie up some loose ends, trying to connect the dots, trying to make sense of things, trying to find the light, trying to find the answer as to why I can't blog properly...

I have been trying hard. Harder even than I could summon while in constipation.

Still, I am failing.

I'm proud to reveal that at least I found out the two bad things causing my failure....

1. I eat too much desserts.
2. I cheat a lot at the gym.

Until I resolve this issue, I don't think I'll be able to go back to being a diligent blogger.

I. Am. Doomed. I know.

My first day on a night-shift schedule work was rather uneventful. The following is a detailed account of what happened:

1.) I reported to work with a big fake smile on my face at 11:00pm.
2.) I met my teammates.
3.) I was given a brief orientation of my job.
4.) I had lunch at 2:30am in the morning.
4.) By the end of the working day, which was around 8:00am, I was so sleepy I can misidentify a post for a cute guy.

That's how I'll probably spend my time for the next couple of weeks...

Dear Blog,

I am sad. Somebody stole my endorphins away from me. I am not sure if it's God or if it's just a cat. Whoever that insensitive thief is, I pray that he gets bitten by a dozen of ants.

I don't understand. Why the thief didn't just choose to take away any other thing like my flabs in the arms or perhaps my frizzy hair or how about that box of donuts I bought the other day? Why, of all things, he has to steal my precious endorphins as if he's going to get rich?

My heart is heavy. I need a dose of happy hormones. Where can I buy them?

Sad and Depressed,
Milktea

Caffeine withdrawal is hurting my head badly. Some demon must have been drumming the inner walls of my head and screaming "I want green tea!!!!" inside and the goddamn demon is probably using a baseball bat.

I want to put a tire wrench on my temples and squeeze it till my head burst like a bubble but I figured that might hurt more and I really don't want to be reporting my first day at work with a bandage on my head or without a head, even and how do I tell them it's all because of green tea?

I probably need a rehab. Or a cup of green tea.

After 2 years of not visiting, I finally managed to squeeze in some time to visit my childhood dentist and when I say childhood dentist, I just mean my dentist since I was 8 years old.

She welcomed me with a warm greeting and instructed me to lie down as soon as I stepped in. The procedure has just started when she asked me if I'm getting married. With my mouth wide open, I managed to utter "uh-oh".

She then added, "I have a lot of patients who only remember to come back when they're getting married. I thought you're one of them." With my mouth wide open, I tried to flash a smile.

She then commented how tall I have become and that when I was just 8 years old I was certainly tinier than her and see how time flies so fast.  "So you're not getting married yet?" she asked once again. With my mouth wide open, I said "Nah!"

I wanted to tell her, "No I'm not the same as your other patients and that I still remember to drop by your clinic every once in a while and I am not getting married yet. But I sure do hope that someday I will but not now. As of the moment, I'm just busy doing nothing. I'm about to start a new job next week but really, I'm not yet getting married."  But there was a sucking machine stuck on my mouth and so I can only swallow what I longed to say...