So, now, my blog name. I wanted something easy to remember. The song Buubuu.... chah-chah! Chah-chah! Stuck in my head so I decided to use it. It's from a cartoon. I hadn’t watch it for a long time. It used to be on TV. The good old days when watching your favourite cartoon means happiness. It’s about a dog called Cha cha who died and morphed into a car. A talking one.
Oh yeah, dogs. I have two. One is Chuckie. Another is Lucian. Lucian is my bro’s. But bro’s always busy with something. I love Chuckie. I love and hate Lucian. You know, they say having a pet makes you live longer by decreasing blood pressure and all, but since having Lucian, the benefit is very much reversed. He increase my blood pressure. His darn teeth. From biting the only shoes I feel comfortable in, the book I borrowed from my friend, my handphone case until it came off(THE OWNER HAS YET TO OFFER ANY RIGHTFUL COMPENSATION.) and right down to MY DOG. He bites my dog. I whack him. Violence breed violence. The cycle goes on. I think he secretly likes getting whacked.
But sometimes you look at his riveting eyes and you feel he is innocent. Yet he is not. But it is not his fault. He’s got too much energy. Sometimes I think he’d be happier running down slopes of a snow mountain. Siberian Husky. His fur fascinates me. Where it is black, run over the opposite side and it turns white. It’s like double-sided fur.
Chuckie is my good ol’ companion. I like the way he fluffs when I take him for walks. When he does something wrong I try to whack his head, but before I manage to, he lands a high-five on my palm. He’s already 5 years old. One dog year is about equal to 7 human years. 35 years old. He’d be lucky if he lived through double digits. I’d be devastated if he was gone. But that is inevitable. Humans too. We’re all mortals. I'd be grateful that I had Chuckie in the first place.
I hope dogs do have a place in heaven. Hope. Along with my dead bunnies. Those poor short-lived things. They were so fragile. At first when I got Chuckie I wondered if he’d be like that too. I got a lop-ear and an angora. Loopy is the grey lop-ear bunny while Snowball is the white angora. They were cute.Timid. Loopy died of diarrhea. It basically pooped itself to death. Died after two days of having it. And then exactly a month after that, Snowball died. On my frickin birthday. They got disposed on a trashbag. Which, now that I think of it, is very disrespectful. I was 11 at that time, and I cried for two hours(the longest) when Loopy died.
During holidays I make this particular sandwich. I eat it on most days during holidays because it is the one thing I know how to make that keeps me full and is healthy. I present you the Penguin Sandwich. No, it does not have penguin meat. It is called that because the pic of the sandwich is accompanied by a penguin cup (from Genting.) Basically, bread and coral greens and tomatos and fish fillet. I like tomatos. They’re juicy. But they’re pretty weird if you eat them on their own. I only use whole-meal bread, because I don’t know ever since when, I get the idea that white bread is bleached bread. Since bread aren’t original that colour.
It reminds me of dyed hair. I tried dying my hair. From those at home ones. It didn’t work. My friend and I were trying to experiment. The colour didn’t show. But it probably would have some result if you get it done professionally. I have white hair. It drives me crazy. Not the white hair, but the people who tell me I have it. I KNOW I HAVE WHITE HAIR, alright. You don’t have to remind me. If is hurts for you to see if, remove your eyes from my silver hair. It’s in my genes, and no it’s not because I’m stressed or whatever. It just comes out of my head. It annoys me when I’m talking to someone and then they get distracted by something on my head. And then they tell, and try to pluck my white hair. One girl told me the line “You have white hair.” I wanted to tell her she had hair on her upper lip. But of course, being polite, I grin and bear it. I tried plucking it but gave up when my neck hurts. And when I pluck it, it grows back sticking up proudly. I don’t want to dye the same colour of my natural hair either. That wouldn’t make sense. But then, hair is actually a dead cell, anyway. I keep mine short, because it is convenient. I don’t wake up early, I don’t want to waste time on tying my hair to get ready for school. So I’d probably keep it short until I feel like I’ve got enough time to get ready for school.
Also, Lucian had caused big hassle by destroying the only viable shoes I have. I have others, but they suck. I can’t seem to find shoes that fit me comfortably. In the shops, I walk, oh it feels fine, and then I walk it for more than an hour and it start to hurt more with every step that I take. So it ended up a few times of me going to the store to get a new shoe, hurting my feet with the new shoe, getting a new shoe. But alas, I found a great bargain. I went to Fourskin, and the price was so damn ridiculous. It was a lousy beach-style rubber flip-flops. Priced at RM99.90. When the cost of making it is somewhere around RM9.90. Hunted for shoes for a while, found this slipper at RM12. So cheap. And I actually like that slipper.
Also watched Up. It didn’t dissapoint. I like the part of Cane and Ellie. The old guy and his wife.
Also watched Gossip Girl and Janice Dickinson Modelling Agency, late night last night.
I drew some stuff. Nothing big. Doodles. Sometimes I get a lot of inspiration while other times it’s not there. I think Art is a form of self-expression. I like that it doesn’t need logic, it doesn’t have to make sense. I usually sketch on Monologues. I always smudge the drawings. Other than that, I use Artlines, which doesn’t require sketching paper. I don’t like people watching me draw. It’s like their expecting something exciting to happen. I don’t mind letting people see finished drawings, though. I’ve been drawing frequently since I was 7. Drawn up clothes and their price. But it took me 5 years for my drawing to be worth of something. I looked over my old drawings, and it looked so disfigured. Drawings:
No comments:
Post a Comment