It's Raining Man

i am in love with my screen. i am ogling at my computer wallpaper every single lovey infested day.

it is sporting a new orlando bloom wallpaper, with his scaringly good looks and mouth watering elvish tights from that muscular deformation and bladder tormenting movie. i have faithfully downloaded every single of his wallpapers since. peter jackson has another flair besides directing. he should seriously consider a career in carpentry or constructions. the houses in nz will be in the shape of dome.

why do i have to be subjected to such oestrogen distress?

put it in simple words. i am officially suffering from the outrageous-good-male-genes-privation syndrome in the office and every other where. what can be more catastrophic than that?

talk about jude law look alike in the next proximity of one kilometer? only in my wildest dreams. i am glad if the men in my life ever remembered that i have once existed in the tiniest fragment in their lives should i die of a cardio arrest from the news of yet another reorg of my company.

just last morning, i was sauntering to the pantry with more things i could carry in my two hands. this young man behind me saw but grinned on obtusely for me to open that damn door. using every acrobatic stunts i was taught from my physical ed classes in school, i finally pushed open that glassdoor using my hips, with a strenght that every single mother-in-law will have no doubts of my womanly ability to pass on the family line. moving on to the second barrier, he again grinned on brightly for me to repeat my stunt.

if i have a third hand, i will shove that spoon up his ass.

desperate for a male dominant in my life? no thanks. isn't it also a woman's primitive instinct to seek out its prey too?

a guy friend told me that day.

if today is the end of the world, i will be the woman he wants to sleep with.

i am a woman with great charisma and attractiveness. well, he has no idea.