Sunday Jazz

it's sunday and i'm home, bored as hell. where goes my regular sources of entertainment? hm. i've got none. it figures, since besties are all abroad. one's in london shopping and shopping, one's in czech dissecting bodies and spending taxpayers money (more of it, apparently they got a pay rise), my favourite cousin's battling A-Levels in Cheltenham... *sigh. sundays just shouldn't be spent at home, waking up late and pigging out in front of the tv with a huge bottle of Frost root beer and mom's kuih gunting. parent's are out, i was supposed to follow them to a wedding or something. but i really can't be bothered enough to go to a stranger's wedding. should i even care who's getting married with whom when where and what food they're serving?? (shakes head) exactly. besides, the invitation was for my father. so let him go with his wife, why drag me along. but yeah, i'm not at the wedding so there's really no need for me to keep whining. except, this is for the other innumerable times i have been dragged to unknown people's weddings and find myself wondering why i'm at this table eating this plate of nasi minyak and if my being here made the wedding any more memorable.

my insides are screaming because i'm suppressing my want to throw a tantrum. just because i feel like it. plus the fact that no one listens to me, or even if they do, they don't understand me, so makes the conflicting inner parts of me rage with even more gusto. actually, it's probably because i don't talk to anyone about anything and so causes myself to be sick and tired of listening to myself. there. that makes more sense now doesn't it.

what i'd rather be doing on a sunday is going for a movie, caramel frappucino at starbucks afterwards, a walk around the mall (window) shopping, digging into a 5-scoop Baskin Robbins sundae, talk about philosophical things like why people think i'm a snob (lol), browse the shelves of MPH flipping through cookbooks and heiress autobiographies, pizza for dinner at Italiannies, and curl up with a book and mug of hot chocolate. and i'd love to do this with...someone. =)

oh, here comes the parents. they're home and brought lunch for me (i hope). turra!