Because He taught me how to Think.
So I'm back from Kon's farewell at some ulu chalet off some road at Changi I can't pronounce.
To make things short: Kon, Mr Robin Yee (right?), mass commers 1997 till 2004, fuckloads of cigarettes and tons and tons of booze.

My goondu queen and me, Whom I had to wait AGES for. I'll burn Chynahouse office down.

Eunice & me. Fresh grad. I think she's rad. =)

Germaine (last from left) is the cutest thing in the world. I can just listen to her go on and on and on and on. And she's so funny!
I haven't finished the drawing I made for Kon, so I'll have to pass it to him somehow or rather. Otherwise, I'll just mail it to him after he goes off. I love snailmail anyway.
I have deduced that (egocentric as it may sound) my blog is popular. It has had 138
hits since I posted the counter last night, with 23 returning hits, and with my IP blocked. To my loyal readers, thank you. Yours truly will start a tabloid newspaper one day and we will kick Newpaper's ass. Fuck them. They're NOTHING near tabloidish. Wait till they read my shit, yo.
My posts for HR Executive, PR Executive, Food Critic, Movie Critic & Techie Critic posts have been taken up. I need more critics, photographers and writers. Of course, your writing has to be bitchy, sarcastic and down right painful. All this with ultimate subtlety.
In other words, you have to be my I-Search paper style of writing personified.
I'm going to be a fucken millionaire one day. And when that day comes, I'll look back and laugh at all you little bastardized whores and assholes who tried bringing down.
Roar.