Clean









Nothing makes me happier
than striking a good bargain.










______________________________________

God. In a few day's time, I'm no more sixteen going on seventeen! Bah, no more Sound Of Music allusion- makes me feel ebulliently old and the caculating age inexorably brings me nearer to the elusive eighteen and of course, National Slavery, or as the government puts it euphemistically, "National Serivce"; I'm leaning towards blind panic myself.

Pardon my proclivities to kvetch, but I find no basis to be enthusiastic about. I view the people who look at mandatory millitary service all gaga, gay and gung-ho with nothing short of contempt. Imagine, a haphazard-looking Jeremy with glabrous scalp (ah fuck, having no hair or projections) meeting another earnest boy gesticulating wildlly to his very-recently-clean-shaven head with bimbotic madness,

"oh look, I have been waiting for this sort of hairstyle..."
("or the lack thereof," Jeremy would ostensibly mutter under his breath)
"...for a long time already! Omg, and I love green! Look, the outfit's so green and gay and nice! Oh wow, beds are squishy and comfy too. Have you tasted the food yet?"

______________________________________
*edit*

TyWu says:
I'll be waiting for your shaven head to plant a kiss on. Haha.


Chicken Soup For The Ego says:
That is if I survive anyhow to crawl myself away from tekong.

________________________________________


Nothing more scares me shitless.


cuRRent...jer  ¶ 8:52 pm