I'm not sure why Cloverfield had such terrible reviews (at least in Singapore. at least in 8 Days. because even if I don't read 8 Days anymore I trust their movie reviews forever) because I thought it was pretty damn awesome. Also pretty fucking depressing. And as somebody who loves alien invasion movies to bits and feel nothing but a morbid glee when I see giant monsters/aliens come blasting through the atmosphere and crushing highways and buildings, that's saying a lot. It was claustrophobic, freaky and got under my skin in a way no alien invasion movie ever had. I'm still mildly traumatised by it.

If there's one thing more depressing than having a bad tasting, it's having it twice. And if there's anything more depressing than that, it's having to write about it because.. well hey you can't exactly go for a tasting twice (after the PR person inviting you very nicely despite you telling her in a nice way that "no I can't write because the food is shite and I do have a certain level of journalistic integrity (lolol)") and still not write about it can you?

It took so long just to feel alright remember how to put back the light in my eyes
I wish I had missed the first time that we kissed
Cause you broke all your promises and now you're back you don't get to get me back

I don't think it's actually possible for my mood to be even worse than it already is now. And I don't know whether I want to destroy things or just cry.

This is a post not about work or pretty boys. Fortunately. Or unfortunately.

This is however a post about my crazy neighbour and it's pretty fucking hilarious.

Okay so you see, I have this crazy neighbour who lives in the apartment right next to mine. From first appearances, you wouldn't think she's crazy - she has a family, with two kids who seem pretty normal, and a nice house. But what people don't know is that, she's abso-fucking-lutely insane. She slams the door whenever someone from my house leaves, she slams the door every morning at ass 'o clock (I have in fact gotten so conditioned to it that I no longer hear it), and she slams the door whenever somebody in my house makes a noise that's beyond her level of acceptance (ie. anything that's louder than a pin drop). In short, she's your typical crazy old lady.

To be fair, I don't think she was born this way (lolol). But what I do know is that now she's not beyond taking our postage slips and stuffing stray pieces of flyers into our door rail - it's evident that she's not actually crazy enough to not be vicious, which means at some level she's pretty clear about what she's doing (that vicious bitch).

Anyway, the past couple of days, strange puddles of strange-looking liquid have been appearing right at our door step, and not fucking drying up (ie oil based). I was pretty sure it was her doing, and thank fuck for all of us, my dad had a CCTV thing installed (long story, don't ask) awhile back so it was as easy as rewinding the footage to check. (lol I'm not going to lie I didn't want to look at the footage because I was afraid it'd turn out to be some Paranormal-Activity-esque thing going on) GUESS WHAT. no prizes.

i CANNOT TELL YOU HOW FUCKING HILARIOUS IT IS TO SEE HER WALKING PAST OUR DOORSTEP NONCHALANTLY WITH A BUCKET OF WHATEVERTHEFUCK IT WAS AND SPILLING IT. HOW DUMB ARE YOU OMG.

Long story short my mom's going to the police with the footage. Damn bitch needs to have a restraining order put on her.