The last time I slept: 2 nights ago
The last time I used my laptop (current session excluded): 2, maybe 3 days ago
The last time I blogged (again, current session excluded): 5 days ago
The last time my camera went out of town: last week
The last time I went out of town: a month ago
The last time I really felt good: eons ago

I need to get out of this rut I’m in. I’m exhausted, stressed, broke, miserable, bored, bitter… I think the idea is clear. I need to do something with my life.

I am overworked and underpaid. I am stressed out. I am (strangely enough) bored. I need to do something else. I’m not learning anything new… not growing. I am stagnant.

I have used the word “I” to start every sentence in the last 2 paragraphs, plus this sentence. Obviously, I’m in a self-indulgent mood right now. It might not be such a good idea to post this… but fuck it. I will write something more… umm…

I’ll get out of this funk. I have to.

I noticed recently that I have a number of friends who are part-models. Note, not part-time models, part-models.

You may be thinking, what the bloody hell is a part-model?!?

Let me explain. I have a friend who is an eye model. I will post pictures as soon as I get them, but if any of you have seen a poster or teaser for the movie Crying Ladies with just a blue tinted picture of an eye, then you’ve seen her… or at least her eye. Another friend has been in two ads for Citibank. Of course, being merely a part-model, only her hands were featured in the ads. Yet another friend has had her hands featured, not only in a print ad, but a TVC. If I’m not mistaken, the ads were for a brand of lotion or moisturizer.

I’m wondering who I’ll see next…

It’s funny… I remember that one of my friends wrote about forgetting her blog because of friendster. Well, in my case, I’ve forgotten friendster because of this blog. Like my demented friend, however, I can’t wait for enemyster to finally be up and running. It really seems like a lot of fun.

Oh, on a topic another friend wrote about, my vanity shows its (very well cared for) face again. As a late birthday gift (a day short of 2 months), an eye model treated me to a haircut. According to her, I needed to cut my hair, and needed at least a trim. So, off we went to Bench Fix, and I got a trim. I’m happy, but my (now poor) benefactor is not. My hair still looks pretty much the same… not what she had envisioned. Oh well… she should have been the one to talk with the stylist, then.

On yet another topic (that this time I can’t link directly to), I miss buying shoes. My shoe count has now held steady for just about a year. I have 4 pairs of leathers, all black. Of these, 2 pairs are formal, or at least dressy - not shoes I’d wear with jeans. The other 2 pairs are boots, but I can use a pair of these with a suits. I also have 6 pairs of sneakers, 3 of which are used regularly. My SuperStar’s and my AfterParty’s (yes, I know their models or styles) are my everyday sneaks. I use my Glove’s for playing ball. On a side note, I actually have a pair of blue suede (actually, nubuck) shoes. They’re actually blue sneakers fro K-Swiss, so I don’t think these blue suede shoes would ever pass as formal wear. I think they’re ready for retirement, though. The other 2 pairs are pretty funky, not to mention chunky. Both Acupuncture’s, they are a bit flashier than the shoes I normally wear now.

My writing is so obviously inspired… serendipity, however, has nothing to do with it. I guess it’s obvious I have nothing to write about. I’m amazed, though, and I hope you are too, at how many words it takes to write about nothing. Well, before I find something to write about, I think I’d better end this, lest I run out of words.

Kylie Minogue’s derriere scientifically proven to be perfect
Don’t these researchers have anything better to do? I think they should spend their time doing other stuff… so I can go and do their jobs… hehehehe

McJob now word in dictionary. McDonald’s not happy.
’nuff said.

Hong Kong police allowed to receive services before arresting prostitutes
Chief claims “It is not enjoyable” for police… sure…

Cop faces 2 year sentence
In Singapore, prostitution is legal, but oral sex is not. Go figure.

For more articles like these, check out Object 404.

I am home.

Some time last night, I was having a conversation (sort of) with a friend about sleeping after sunrise. Now, almost 10 hours later, I am literally living out that thought. I got home around 10 minutes ago, at exactly 6:37 if I’m not mistaken. The sun, obviously, is up already. I have not slept… I don’t know if I want to.

Let me recap the previous night’s events. At roughly half past seven last night, I left the house. At roughly half past six this morning, I got home. In between… well… I drove to a friend’s house; drove to the Podium; ate at Burgoo; bummed in Starbucks; drove to another friend’s place; watched Jean-Luc Godard’s Contempt, wondered what the point of it was; watched Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining, drove my friend back home; drove home.

Okay, I admit that I am not very articulate at the moment. I have, in my defense, however, the fact that I did not get any sleep last night. It is too early on a Sunday morning to be up now, let alone attempt to write well. I think now I do know what I want to do… EAT!

If anybody sees me making a call on my cell, please take away my phone, smack me silly, and prevent me from racking up more minutes than I can afford on my phone bill. I’ve already had two calls that lasted more than half an hour each, and I still have to stretch my plan to the 10th of December. I think I should sell my almost-brand-new-but-definitely-overused headset. Heck, I’m sure I can sell it for more than enough to cover my phone bill.

I can’t help it, though. I just love talking on the phone. I just love talking - period. I just love being so wrapped up in conversation, over the phone, over beer, or over seven hours long. There is something so… just something that feels so good about having somebody else’s (almost) undivided attention - something about focusing entirely on another person. I don’t know… I just love it.

This now leads me to text. I get complaints from people about my not replying to texts. I guess I’m really just not fond of it. It is useful, I’ll admit to that, but I still don’t like it. First of all, it’s a whole lot easier to call than to text, albeit more expensive. Secondly (pet peeve: people who say “Second of all”), it’s impersonal. It really is there more for convenience. A telegram forced people to be as witty as they could be in as few words as possible. A handwritten note, at least, is something tangible. A phone call lets you hear the other person’s voice. I have to admit that I do keep some messages that I’ve found touching, but for the most part, SMS is really just a fairly cheap form of communication. Now, I don’t know if most of this paragraph made sense, but the point is, I don’t like SMS. I could do without it.

Check this out. To quote, “In a turn of events the 30-year-old characterized as ‘horrifying,’ Kevin Widmar announced Tuesday that his mother Lillian has discovered his weblog.” Makes you think twice about writing stuff online now, doesn’t it? I’m wondering now who’s actually going to read this. Who knows about my blog? Who checks it regularly? Do I want them reading what I post here?

I haven’t really posted anything incriminating, at least I don’t think so. I haven’t mentioned any names here, save the ones whose blogs I’ve linked to. I’m still ok… I think. Anyway, on to other stuff…