Warning: Teenage ranting.

Yeah, well, I’m disappointed that I didn’t get any comments for the story I posted previously (though I did get myself 3 reviews at the Great writing site). This comes to show that either no one reads this (even she who said that I should regulate on blogging). Or maybe my story suck so much it’s sympathy that I didn’t get comments. But what am I pouting and complaining here for? I know very well the reasons for my lackluster blogspot, so what I can do now is make it a better place. But every writer wants a little feedback anyhow, so yeah; I’m lamenting my arse off like a pussy boy who lost in
Boggle.

Sorry for being irritating. Blame it on short fuse, or pent up frustration, whatever. It’s been a while since I angst myself up in this darned thing, so I’m going rodeo with guns
a-blazing.

Let’s see, who do I verbally abuse first? Ah, yes, that Dog-garn stupid lecturer of mine, TMJ. Yes, I still don’t know her/his/it’s gender, and despite somehow accepting that she’s female I’m still having my doubts. Wait, it’s not fair, is it? I’m raging over her confusing gender, which is not her fault I daresay (not unless she wants to pull a Mulan to preserve her family honor). Yes, what I ought to be flaming about is the fact that she sucks in teaching. To all you possible fans of TMJ out there, go suck lollipop. She’s not that good. No proper notes, no course lay-out, freaking annoying attitude and LAME, I repeat to Houston, LAME jokes! Close to par with the lamest joker I know, ever, in my sorry life, and God help that I don’t get exasperated enough already having to hear nonsensical and FREEZING jokes EVERY CLASS SINCE COLLEGE STARTED. Ah, right, I remembered a certain lecture this year when TMJ mentioned that ranting in a blog or journal is –what was it?- oh right, MENTAL. Yeah well, maybe it’s psychologically unnerving to the simple minded such as yours, but excuse me you gender-confusing tart-turd of a stinking lecturer if I may have your obviously shallow attention, if I don’t fucking do this I’ll fucking EXPLODE in your face. Yes, call 99999999 people around the world who write to release their tension mental and mock the very basic of the course I’m setting down; JOURNALISM. Fuck you. Keep your impertinent and shallow remarks to yourself. If you can’t say anything NICE, don’t say anything at all. Even a thumping cartoon rabbit from Bambi knows that. Stop making me hate your already abhorring classes.

And to the lamest joker I know, shut up. You’re lame, face it and keep your hypothermia-inducing jokes to yourself. And yeah, for a little extra information, take notice if people laugh with you or not, because it never was. That’s perceiving things, and if you can’t do that I seriously doubt your future career. And don’t confuse between people who laugh at you. AT YOU.

To the friend most people call Soft Drink, I know you won’t be freaking reading this shit, but seriously for goodness sake THINK of your fucking future. You’re 20 years old and you can’t even attend classes for your own sake, not to mention that you’re facing multiple examination failures and a horrible attendance record. Think, dude. You’re here for education. You’re here, on your own will, to learn about the things you intend to be your future. So fucking attend class and study. Skipping classes with pathetic excuses such as having lack of sleep or lethargy is dung-pot. Stop whatever crap you do up all night; playing mahjong or toxicating yourself with cheap beer or whatever, and study for a change. And you have a girlfriend in the same course you attend, and if you have any pride in yourself COME for her sake, not humiliate her by being the most pathetic student of the class. Yes, I know I’m not in position to talk all this shit to you; I’m a lazy-ass moron and hardcore gamer idiot, but if I can finally see doing something to yourself and your loved one’s worth and changing for the better, it doesn’t mean you can’t. Wake up and smell reality. You’re 20. Act like one.

To Teh Derwoei my good friend and course mate, I have nothing to say to you except to ask if you’ll be kind enough to stop your excessive gaming at night and study seriously for a change. I wonder how you could face another Re-sit, because I seriously can’t.

Diane, call your friend. Just do it.

Ju Ee, UPDATE BLOG!!!

Isaac, a computer CAN’T DIE. Not unless you affectionately want it so.

Oh, and Isaac, sorry for saying this, but you basically gave me 57% for my translation exam. Confetti!!! Champagne and sushi on ice!!! Where are my bloody fireworks?

My brother! YOU’RE TOO HEALTHY! You’re scaring the crap out of everybody. But good for you. At least you’re happy.

Dad! Please be more considerate.

Mom, stop digging my dandruff.

Max my lovable pet dog, for the sake of your male-hood over your need to chew on the football, STOP BUSTING YOUR TESTICLES. I have had enough of spraying your balls with red medicine.

Amanda, I’d appreciate it if you could, you know, tell me when you’re upset and stuff. I get worried...

Michelle, we need to watch V for Vendetta, pronto.

And finally to myself, Tan J-E, FUCK YOU.

You’re a sorry loser. You’re an idiot. You’re slow and not sharp. You’re lazy and fucking playful. You’re packful of Sins. You need to CHILL. You need to learn to talk, to socialize, to crack open the shell and be outgoing. You need to be brave and shit and stuff. You need to know how to fucking express your fucking thoughts properly and just fucking say I LOVE YOU and have fucking confidence!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGGGHHHH!

FUCK.

Huh.

At last. All my rage expressed and released. Up yours, TMJ.

My deepest apologies to anyone unfortunate enough to read this mindless and resentful ranting of a 19 year old, and sorry to everyone I managed to tick off. You can flame me or beat me up at college or whatever. Just let me return the favour. It helps with my anger management.

Goodnight, people.