you had me at yellow

dear _____, except your life, is everything okay with you? i think the next time you ask me for dinner suggestions, i'm going to say 'a life'. not that it matters.

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Aravind Adiga's Between the Assassinations is very depressing. it gives a macabre picture of Kittur, India and i believe Adiga is merely painting an impression of what truly goes. if it is that horribly ghastly, then, good. because it has been written for all the world to read and discover with an acutely disturbing feeling.

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a case of looks-can-be-deceiving-hah-serves-you-right:
that girl you're dating (whoever you are), the one who dresses up fancy to see you, the one who fries chicken nuggets for you and coyly eats with small bites is, at home, a successful slob with clothes getting from a molehill to a mountain in her room, a high-achieving glutton, and because she is lazy, leaves leftovers on the dining table for spores to fester (charitable, eh?) . yep, that very same person who affectionately feeds you food when you go out.

no wonder men are sooo... few. they had contaminated-contaminating-hypocrite girlfriends.

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perhaps once, the race of man used to have wings. everytime i see someone flexes his or her shoulder blades (scapulae) on tv, it always looks like wings are going to pop out. i always hope wings would pop out. nuh uh, with no inspiration from James Patterson's cocky Maximum Ride.

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who has transferable files of Warrior Baek Dong Soo? i'll treat you dinner if you let me have it. i promise.