23:50


1 day to go before hell finally freezes over. Still, I'm still kinda anxious awaiting my overall academic results for the year 2008, in 3e2.Although I know I'm gonna be promoted to sec 4, I fear what my parents will think when that little green book is firmly in their hold.To prepare for the inevitable, I've told them I don't give a hoot about my results this year, and that the main thing was in scraping through to move up to 4e2 next year.I know I've alot to do to catch up during this 2 month long holiday.Apart from movie marathoning, outings to the park with pals, hours on my new console, friends coming over for tea and such, I guess I'd be bucking up on my weaker subjects, notable BLOODY MATHS & pure chemistry.I'm definitely gonna drop a maths now, if not first thing next year; it's simply pointless now.All that will remain will be the detritus of my torn & tattered a maths textbook.In its place, Pure Literature shall rise :)

I Guess I'll Share With You Folks A Pitifully Ludicrous Poem I Wrote Just Before The EOY Exams, Which Is Quintessentially A Concoction Of Idiocy & Nonsense. Credits Go To Jonathan Chua (A.K.A Potato/Jpc) For The Inspiration For This Spontaneous Shit (The Full & Slightly Altered Version) & Here It is:

Jonathan Potato,
The Perfidious, Odd Potato,
Who Resembles A Tomato,
Everywhere & Anywhere He Has Been To.

Budding Thrice Daily,
Eating his Chocolate Dairy,
Thinking Of Vegetable Fairies,
While Incubating Wild Cherries.

Sitting On His Throne Of Radish,
He Will Simply Vanish,
When He Catches Sight Of A Tasty Danish,
Gobbling It Up In A Hasty Finish.

Farming Potatoes As He Pleases,
He Finds It Hard To Release,
His Tiny Potato Faeces,
Which He Excretes At The Expense Of Ease.

At The End Of The Day,
He Keeps Himself At Bay,
Preparing Himself For May,
During Which He Would Harvest Potatoes On A Tray.

Sick Of Prosaic Potatoes,
He Sits There Staring At His Toes,
As He Craves For American Burritos,
Unaware Of An Incoming Tornado.

The Tornado Arrives & Around His Farm It Gyrates,
Causing The Corpulent Farmer To Turn Irate,
Until Finally The Tornado Turns Back & Whirls Out His Garden Gate,
Producing Mashed Potatoes Of Top Grade.

Pleased With Himself,
He Stashes The Mashed Taters On His Shelf,
Assuring Himself He Is Not A Greedy Potato Elf,
He Manages Only A Meagre Share For Himself.

Jon Pot,
Our Dear Old Potato Teapot,
Always There To Be A Retard,
With His Silly Craving For Mustard.

But Alas Without The Lad,
Everything On His Potato Farm Turned Bad,
& Never Has There Been A Time So Sad,
When The Noble Potatohead Ceased Being Mad.
(Note: The Semi Completed & Original Version Can Be Found On Jpc's Blog.)

Goodnight Everyone! =D

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Driven by Hate, Consumed by Fear