watched the village for the second time. only because i promised a friend that i'd do it.
its one of those its a long story thing, i'll only type it down when i'm in one of my masochistic moods.
came home to a really rowdy house for some reason. had no idea what the hell was happening, but what the hell.
bathed, studied, then got ready to have dinner.
i prepared everything all nicely in a big blue bowl, had a drink all set and ready, went to the hall to munch away.
the moment i switched on the telly, i lost my appitite.
there was a show about rats and how they infested a farm in aussie.
it was absolutely revolting.
everytime i bit into the prawn i felt like i was biting into the rat's head.
why must these types of stupid silly stuff always happen to little old harmless undeserving me?
and on a day when my mum actually cooked something that is in no way indian aka edible.

this whole experience can be summed up into a nice little phrase.

fucked up.