mugging at the airport

yes, this is very surreal, im mugging at the airport and there's a computer with internet access at pacific coffee company (advertising advertising) so i am blogging. ugh, for some strange reason, integration and differentiation are driving me insane, but trigo isn't. trigo, have you repented? good, but inte and diffy, dun go down that path okay. wrong path! this is really bad, so obsessed with mugging that mug-speak has pervaded my speech, i.e. personifying math and addressing the subject affectionately on a first name basis, as well as saying 'i want to go to a large extent' when my sister asked if i wanted to go out for dinner with mama seet and sista seet. speaking of which, we went to cafe cartel (!)(dyou know i expected to see an emoticon pop out when i typed (!), but then i realised it read 'factorial') which was delicious, and they had some student special thing which popped out of nowhere that gives student a 10% discount even if you aren't a member (more advertising advertising, damn i should get commission for this and become another celebrity blogger). there is a very very irritating person chewing beside me, but i won't say who. yes. the peach and cream thing at PCC is incredibly sweet, i think i am going to get high-blood sugar, sans-sugar rush. sigh. for some strange reason i have also bought a bananana, which is green and yellow, so i think i wont eat it till i get home later.

oh gossip gossip. i was at the canteen on friday when eric asked me is *** with *** ***. and i never even noticed anything. you know the thing about gossip is that it makes you think more about the thing that happened and you pick out all the stuff that you've heard seen saw and substantiate the rumour for yourself. well i checked with aysuria our resident gossip guru, and she said dunno, but positive. hmmm, very very strange sinister and disturbing but fun nonetheless.

hazmi and i have no conscience or sympathy. during history on friday, hazmi asked who i thought was the fugliest person in c***s, and damn i knew who he was thinking about and i think he knew that i knew that he knew who i thought it was, so we wrote the name on a piece of paper and exchanged, voila it was the one and same person. sorry same person, but at least you're nice. most of the time. sometimes. speaking of history we made mr kwok cry during history s cos we tore up all the 100++++ pages of notes on the international economy which he painstakingly typed word for word, page by page. i lie, actually gavin displayed a certain book of kwotes (a little bird tells me that the idea was purloined from our class, but no matter) which made mr kwok cry in emotion-filled joy. dear old kwok.

okay, let us fall back into the sweet embrace of trigo baby.
hmm, that sounded incredibly poncey and like one of those msn nicks that go 'the moon is not for us to exonerate', or something like that. you know what i mean. i think. maybe not. OH WELL.

reeeeeeeech