Friday, July 22, 2005

Of Horses and Divine Intervention

I'd like to think that I'm not a shallow fucktwat, and that how a person looks like on his/her blog is hardly a representation of that blogger's character. Seriously, who the fuck am I kidding, really? Let me ask you this then, if you were to be in the midst of plowing through this rather good read, and you eventually scroll down to a picture of a face which can only be described as an act of God on a cosmically bad day, you'd still think this person is anywhere as interesting as you first imagined him/her to be? I wouldn't. Okay, fine, that's not entirely true, but to those of you who's crying foul right now and sticking your middle finger up to your monitor this very moment, I apologize, for you are just another horseface. If you have the face of a horse, you have to realize that it's pre-destined, and you just have to deal with it. It's like a story, really. One day, God/Shiva/Buddha/whichever omnipotent being you subscribe to, whilst sitting on His magestic throne, was overseeing the production of all of His kind. "Ah, this child shall bear the gift of art" "Ah, this one shall be gifted with athletism" And then He reaches you. "Wah lao, this one ar? Skip you la, I'll just make the next one a genius or something" So you see, you don't fuck around with divine intervention. If you're a horse face, suck it up. I know the feeling, because I have the face of a horse too, which would explain the pathetic hit counts I'm getting on my blog. Thankfully, I have friends who are not horsefaces (or horsefeces, if you'd like), foremost of all, Joyce. Coincidentally, my friend also reads Joyce's blog, and now firmly believes that all Joyces are drunkard hippies who have a questionable fetish for small plastic ponies. So you see, even though you may not have the face of a horse, there's really no getting away from horses in the first place. Or in this case, ponies. Neeeeiiiigh.


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