The reader accepts, on reading of this disclaimer, that the Internet is a vast wasteland of crap that spews out of human minds. This blog is no different. Any assumptions or conclusions that the reader draws from this blog are not the responsibility of the author, along with any physical or psychological harm that might result from the reading of this blog.
Author
The author is a paranoid, deranged and cynical misanthrope who records snippets of her life so that she will remember them when she grows old
and withered. The identities of any names or initials on this blog are based on the assumptions of the reader unless otherwise specified, and the author claims no responsibility for them.
Reality
The author somehow got into medical school. Yes, you of the general public, shudder and fear the wrath of an inept doctor.
Anyway, -surprise, surprise!- my mom nearly broke her record of continually talking on the phone for 2 hours (the last time was 9pm-11pm). Sadly, she'd just talked for about an hour and a half...
My brother's going for his Year 11 dinner and dance (or social) later, thus, draw your own conclusions... I don't want anymore people after my blood.
And hey, here's something that would make tons of you out there reaffirm your comments on me, as well as puff your chests out proudly at your great judgements.
'You are too young to be so cynical, but I suppose that's needed in literary deconstruction.' -English teacher.
Alleuia. What's new anyway? She's not the first to say this... Substantiate's Peirong's sorting hat decision.
R.I.P, sad and disjointed post. Shall end with the long promised photos of Ng-like clothes.