Chubby and getting chubbier!!!

happy b-day on Sat, Nesha! i'm *SO* bummed dat i got called 2 work when i woke up on Sat coz i was actually HOME, baking CAKES n cookies! n i was gonna go 2 ur house n do my old leave a note n drop sumthing pathetic (in dis case it was a pathetic mess of a cake, but at least it was EDIBLE!!!), but no, i jst had 2 work. hmph. so neway, happy b-day, n now dat i've jst read ur blog, i KNOW u had an awesome day =) .
so neway, all dat baked 'goodies'...well, since i couldn't give it 2 amnesia, everything is now sitting in 4 seperate icecream containers waiting 2 b devoured by my family, except since i'm practically da only one dat eats, i'm eating almost all of it, hence da title!!!
oh, n work... i'm getting obsessed wif work. i worked tue, wed, thurs, sat, sun last wk. dat's 5 out of 7 days. n i loved every bit of it (except i wasn't all dat happy on saturday...but nvm...). n leon taught me how 2 make coffee. i'm so itching 2 get my hands on da coffee machine so i can try. i'm feeling so ambiguous about being taught how 2 make coffee now coz i'm glad dat i learnt, but i know i won't get a chance near da coffee machine so... damn leon. mayb kirsten can watch me n let me try...
emma lost her wallet yesterday. she had 2 cancel ALL her cards n everything... so she had a cup of coffee beside me while i was trying 2 do medsci studying (had a test 2day). n then i started hearing wat she was talking 2 leon about, n i felt so personally jealous coz they were talking about places they've been 2... leon seen da grand canyon n quite a few other places in da states, egypt, lived in germany 4 a while, n emma's been 2 bankok n paris... i've been 2 hollywood n tho i was in da states 4 a while, i was stuck wif my parents wif no-where 2 go... n i spent my wk in spain living at my uncle's. now i was very happy 2 c my uncle, n i loved meeting da ppl dat i met n i wouldn't trade it 4 THE WORLD, but a tiny childish part of me was jst feeling so pissed off dat i went 2 all these places n neva got 2 c things like da grand canyon. okay, so da welcome 2 texas sign was totally hilarious 2 me (it sed sumthing along da lines of 'Home of the President'), but still...
oh, n thanks 4 da comment on da last post amnesia =) . 4got about dat :P .
wat's up wif me n friends wif boyfriends or crushes who speaks spanish???? rite now at da top of my head i know 3 guys who speak spanish fluently, but i know i used 2 know more. yet i, personally, hv neva met ne1 who knows spanish (oh i know one, but i practically neva c him so...).
i've stopped smiling. oh, i'm not depressed, but i've jst stopped smiling. i stopped 2day neway. mayb it'll b on my face again 2morrow. tho we all know no matter whether it's on my face or not it's still da same...i hv nothing in particular 2 b happy about. not sad, but not really happy. i mean, come on, gone r da days when i got lost in a museum n stuck in an elavator wif a friend...trying 2 say shoes n sed 'shroos' n 'chairs' instead...jst randomly laughing watching my friend drink juice...saying words like 'theepist' n 'psy-cat-trist'...going hyper on chocolate n jst danced (well, technically it wasn't dancing. it was more like bobbing my head up n down n looking like a total handy) wif another 2 friends...admiring gorgeous cars while sitting in a friend's one chatting...happy memories, good memories...the past...*sigh*

well, n on dat note, since it's nite time n i've always loved da stars n nite n so moon jst kinda get linked in2 da bunch, here's one of my fav poems...

The Highwayman
By Alfred Noyes
Part One
I
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-
Riding-riding-
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
II
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
IV
And dark in the old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say-
V
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
VI
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.
Part Two
I
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gipsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching-
Marching-marching-
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.
III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say-
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
IV
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till here fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like
years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
V
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain.
VI
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs
ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did
not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up strait and still!
VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night
!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him-with her death.
VIII
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.
* * * * * *
X
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding-
Riding-riding-
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
XI
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.