The World's On Fire.

Women smoking hatred - at their sexiest.

Ironic aphorism.

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There isn't a word to better express my hate, loathe, despise towards this shit/hell-hole Jurong. Having being stayed here for more than two freaking years, I am proud to say still, I am unfamiliar with this precinct - that if you were to drop me 10 blocks away, I wouldn't be able to make my own way home without hailing a taxi. This isn't really my fault. I was not born to grow up in a can of tuna. And I wonder how deprived of parents-taught social etiquette, privacy and solitude, these residents who have stayed here all their lives.

Anyway, the issue being the people here. As "Noose" on Channel 5 had previously suggested to build the dormitory for those blacks here instead of Serangoon Gardens, I can't help it but to raise my toes in agreement. To speak justifiably, the residents at Serangoon Gardens paid more for their abodes, their own pieces of heaven. Imagine a school full of those people standing out of nowhere amongst the beautiful semi Ds and terraces? Don't mean racism, don't get me wrong. I do appreciate the things they do for us which of course, includes the cleaning up of my house for CNY'09.

The second kind of people. 

Darn, we are all trying to pretend that the MIC club is seriously just an stagnant iota of poisonous gases beyond the ozone layer above and that they will never be walking beside you, taking the train with you, or be in the cubicle next to you at Ngee Ann City's toilet. That pretence could be made valid, but not when you reside in Jurong. I assure you that they are so widely dispersed that the explosive seed dispersal method used by some plants is considered minor.

There are two species of mankind in which I would never be able to read, nor do I wish to comprehend.

Having slept most nights away here in Jurong for the last 2 years, I haven't had a night which I fantasized a neighbour nor haven't I met one who looks tasty enough to awaken the temptress in me. The only one who apparently stood out from the rest, was this Butch staying just a few blocks away or something with her own way of style and dress sense. 

The girls/boys here look like they need to subscribe to Vogue all their lives. What's so difficult with watching a few runways and sourcing for looks through Google? Perhaps staying put in a rural area has somewhat managed to alter these chamber of neurons, and convinced the Mind that the Body is indeed somewhere far away from civilisation. It's horrifying when I try to take the train/bus because it feels as if I am watching Dawn of the Dead all the time. And why Dawn of the Dead? Because the first category never fails to carry this fetid smelling rot with them wherever they venture.