The Flush

A lizard missed his bungee jump and landed on my head instead.

No, that did not piss me off.

He jumped onto the floor, crawled his ugly ass to my shoe collection and starred at me.

Now that, pissed me off.

The fucker was an arrogant piece of shit. Just continued to stare while I picked his ugly ass up with a tissue.

He squeaked. Guess that was him realising he fucking made a mistake. And probably saying his prayers.

I flushed him into the toilet. I hope he brought his scuba gear with him.

Let have a minute of silence in remembrance of the dumb ass who just reached his final destination. The septic tank.

The Talk

I despise people who run their mouth whenever they please without judging themselves first. I despise people who think that they're always right no matter what they do, and there's always wrong in others.

Hold on.

I'm not saying that I'm all righteous and I've never wronged anyone.

What I cannot stand is you running the blame on me when you're making the same mistakes I did minutes later. You think you can have a game only at your pace? And you control the intensity and its competitiveness whenever you like? You think you can play it casual just 'cos you feel like it? Fucking think again.

What I also cannot stand is you breathing down my neck, and only my neck, but not others when their man made an uncontested shot or an open lay. I don't hear you fucking them up. Why don't you go do that?

On top of that, I seriously cannot take it when you tell me what to do and add to that, that you'd be covering my defense line if he crosses over. And even if I did step up closer to my man, and if he crosses over and makes the lay, I'd still get the fucked up shit from you. Yes, you tell me you would. But I say thats fucking bullshit. How would I know, you asked? 'Cos it has fucking happened before to the extend of looking like re-runs of The Bold & The Beautiful. Not like I've watched even any of the episodes. But that's not the point.

I'm not trying to make a statement on how fucked up a person you are. Cos for some reason, you're not. Off the court, you make a great friend and nice to hang around with. It's just your attitude on the court.

I don't mind you trash-talking. I can stand you trying to make every single shot yourself and I respect the enthusiasm. What I cannot stand, has already been mentioned above.

And, this IS just a game. Very much a casual one. I make some shots in your face, you post on mine. We all have our game. There's no need to put hard fouls on your man. You don't achieve anything out of it. This ain't no playoff finals. Even teams in the League endure losing streaks, what makes this one so different? I totally respect your passion for a win, but sometimes, things don't run that way.

We win some. We lose some.

And, walk your bloody talk.

The Ride & The Ridden

The past 38 days have been a winded roller-coaster ride.

The rush during the festivities, the dreaded classes, the movies, the dinners, the suppers, the night-outs, the scratch, the goodbye, the result, and now the rush for deadlines.

Not forgetting a broken ankle.

I think I need a time-out.

... and the ride is barely half way through...