I am SO FUCKING PISSED OFF RIGHT NOW.

My mom, sick of nagging us to do the housework, got a part time woman to come in and clean the house one afternoon. Because I had tuition in the afternoons, and then Jap after that, I couldn't stay to meet the lady, so I only saw my room late at night when I got home.

FUCKING KITANAI

Because the moment I walked into my room, I sensed that it was wrong. The furniture was in place, as per normal, and there was nothing obviously missing, but everything in my room screamed wrong! wrong! wrong! at me. Only when I closely observed the things on the furniture then I realised what was wrong.

THAT BLOODY BITCH MOVED AROUND ALL THE STUFF IN MY ROOM

Anyone who's seen my room knows how much stuff I have in it. AND EVERYTHING WAS IN THE WRONG POSITION. I started at my desk. My comics and books were in different positions from where I left them. My Neopets and Gundam figurines were in different spots. My CDs were stacked differently. And this really stung it for me: MY PHOTOS. My photo with my JC Lib Exco fell off its magnetic frame. My photo with Julian and Jordan in London, fallen on its face. My photo with my sec school gang at our old basketball court GONE later found behind the magnetic frame.

Now I was really in a panic. Then I noticed that the boxes of books and stuff I had beside my desk, plus the 2 new Ikea boxes of comics, GONE, shifted to either below my desk or near my cupboards. My bed, with my stuffed toys, [Dobby, Slipper, Chubby and Blake] my blanket, all shifted, and my blanket even insolently folded and tucked under my pillow. My little side shelf, where I kept my savings bank and the wooden bowl for my accessories, SHIFTED into different spots. [thank God the money still feels there] MY ENTIRE DALMATIAN COLLECTION, AND EVERYONE OF THEM WERE IN DIFFERENT POSITIONS. [And yes, I CAN tell.] The stuff on my black table, ALSO SHIFTED.

*Almost on the verge of screaming by now*

EVERY LITTLE MOMENTO OF MY LIFE SHIFTED FROM ITS ORIGINAL SPOT.

And in my state of panic, my mother came into my room, and remarked, "Wah, you know how long she took in your room? 2 hours leh!"

*hysterical and jumping up and down* I DIDN'T ASK FOR HER TO SPEND 2 HOURS OF HER FUCKING LIFE IN MY ROOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[and now, as pissed as I was, I wasn't pissed enough at that point of time to scream my head off at my mom at 1130 at night]

I WAS HAPPY WITH MY ROOM!!!!! I HAD THINGS THAT WAY BECAUSE THAT'S THE WAY I LIKED IT!!!!!!!!! I WAS FINE WITH THE DUST AND THE DIRT IN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I HATE PEOPLE TO MOVE AROUND MY STUFF LIKE THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU DON'T LIVE IN MY ROOM, YOU DON'T SLEEP IN MY ROOM, YOU DON'T EVEN WALK INTO MY ROOM, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU TELLING ME HOW MY ROOM SHOULD BE LIKE?????? IS IT NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU TO MESS AROUND WITH MY LIFE, MY CAREER, NOW YOU HAVE TO MESS AROUND WITH MY STUFF????????????????????????????????

In case you guys didn't realise by this point, YES I'M FUCKING MAD. My room is my sanctuary. I keep stuff because everyone of those pieces of junk in my room has memory, has sentiment attached to it. It's there because it's special to me. When I go to other people's houses, unless they're really close friends of mine for years, I don't touch their stuff, EVER without their permission. I respect property rights, and I respect others' property.

THIS WOMAN DIDN'T RESPECT MINE. AND MY MUM HAS THE CHEEK TO INSINUATE THAT I SHOULD BE GRATEFUL SHE'S SPENDING HER TIME DISRESPECTING MY THINGS.

My mom even told me that she had to pay the lady for it, and I didn't chip in. WELL IF I DIDN'T PAY FOR IT, THEN WHY ON GOD'S NAME SHOULD I ENJOY THE PLEASURE OF HER SERVICES? If that's the case, I'd rather NEVER chip in the cleaning fund and wallow in my own dirt AS LONG AS NO ONE EVER ENTERS MY ROOM AGAIN.

Oh God why did you have to let this saturday night end like this......................................................

Spent the afternoon at the library, and then came home to realise that family had no plans for dinner. Hence had to settle meal meself.

No mood to go out, too troublesome to jio pple, and too lazy to go to nearby coffeeshop. What does one do then?

One heads down to the convenient provision shop at one's block and buys a tube of Pringles.

And then spends the rest of the time putting it down on Freehand:



A simple 600X800 wallpaper, with banner potential...

One Dumb Roach...

*Note: The post has been edited, becos I suddenly remembered another stupid thing that happened last night. Read it guys, you really have to, even if you have to scroll down the previous crap...*

Handbag for Sale

[new] My mom got this white handbag free by bargaining with the sales staff at Loreal.

"Aiyah I buy so many expensive things from you already, give me another one lah!"

It would sound funny, if not for the fact that I know my mother. And the force she can project behind her voice when she wants something done her way, like how the dishes should be stacked and how clean the table should be kept.

So anyway, she ended up with 2 white handbags and here's the auction site:

White Handbag For Sale

If anyone is interested, and especially if you have a yahoo account, put a bid on it. BUT [and this probably goes against all the rules of fair trade] if you really want it, and you're my friend, I'll sell it to you at $12. [min. price set by mum sorry guys] Ok, steps are as follows:

1. Click on the link, and log on with your Yahoo account to bid.
2. Closing price is $15, so bid for that price. The auction will automatically close itself to others.
3. IMPT: Send me an SMS telling me you closed the auction. This is to confirm that a friend of mine bought the bag.
4. Meet up with me one day and I'll pass the bag to u for $12.
5. Rate me on Yahoo, so that my rating increases by 1 point. :p Unless u think that I cheated u or something, then don't.

It's a nice, brandless bag, [no embarrassing huge Loreal name on the front] and the material is a faux leather kind, not too bad. It's about, er, the length of my arm from my elbow to my palm? So it can hold at least wallet, handphone, makeup and wateva u have. Good for office and casual use.

Interested already? Hehehe... Bid Here.

---

Ok here's the other stupid thing that happened last night:

I was innocently and happily strumming my guitar in my room last night, when I heard a buzz from behind me. [If you know what my room looks like, I was sitting on my bed with my back to the window] I thought, well, maybe a little bug flew in, so I ignored it and continued strumming.

Who knows, the buzz started again, and this time it was nearer to me. I turned around cautiously and GOOD BLOODY F**K IT'S A KITANAI COCKROACH!!!!!!!!!

I lunged backwards, and I think the roach was similarly startled, cos it scrambled on its dirty little legs till it reached my cupboard.

My cupboard is fixed into the wall, but there's a slight ledge where the door jutted out. So it rested itself on that ledge, and all I could see of it were its 2 little antenna poking the air in front of it. Like it was playing some dumb hide and seek with me. "You can't see me.............." I could almost hear its taunting roachy voice in my head.

Right, fly into my room will you? I grimly went downstairs to look for a broom.

Now I'm a nice, kind, peace-loving individual. [cue to vomit] Whenever bugs like this fly into my room, I don't harbour bloody murderous thoughts to kill it to bits and drink its blood. All I really want is to swat it with a soft broom till it flies out of the house and never haunts me again.

It's also because I'm too much of a pissless coward to touch the thing with my bare hands, and kill it and clean up roachkill on my bedroom floor. [Heh...roachkill. That's a good one]

But I couldn't find a dry broom in the house. All I found was a disattached broom head, and a wooden staff. So I tried joining the two together.

What do you know? My hands slipped and I jammed the wooden pole onto my fingernail.

ITAI!!!!! TOTEMO ITAI!!!!!! !@#$%^! BLARDY F**K!!! [Language in subdued tones because father was watching TV in living room]

NOW I'M PISSED. First a ROACH flies into my room, it stubbornly refuses to fly out again and leave me in peace with my guitar, and I BANG MY FINGER WITH A WOODEN POLE BECAUSE OF IT??? HE DIES I TELL YOU!!! NOW I HUNGER FOR HIS BLOOD!!!

My black face, sore finger and I go back up to my room together, where we find the dirty bugger still trying to hide at the top of my cupboard, still taunting me with those pesky feelers.

=@*BANG!!!!!*@=

The wooden broom flies towards his malicious little cockroachy head. I wasn't sure whether I even hit him, but he was still alive, cos he managed to scurry to the other side of the cupboard. I took aim again.

=@*BANG!!!!*@=

It almost becomes a game. He'd scurry to one end of the cupboard, where I'd whack him, then he'd scurry to the other side again, and I'll whack him again. This went on till my father screamed.

=@*BANG!!!!*@=

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING UPSTAIRS???" My dad finally got alarmed at the repeated sounds of violence in my room.

"THERE'S A BLOODY COCKROACH IN MY ROOM!!!" I screamed, as I aimed another whack at it.

=@*BANG!!!!*@=

"SO KILL IT LAH!!!"

"THAT'S WHAT I'M TRYING TO DO!" I screamed as I aimed another shot at it.

=@*BANG!!!!*@=

"Kill it for her lah!" My brother said to my dad downstairs, as I whacked the cupboard again.
"Before she destroys half the house!"

My dad was now torn. Should he quietly lie downstairs, enjoy his beer and his documentaries, or wrench himself from his comfort zone and make the trudging journey upstairs before I broke all the furniture upstairs for one dumb roach?

=@*BANG!!!!*@=

The next bang apparently convinced him that I would potentially wreck my entire bedroom suite [and his] to kill that miserable insect. He goes upstairs to my room, where I'm holding the broomstick a la Kill Bill waiting for the roach to make a move.

"WHAT'S ALL THE FUSS HERE???" Moody as a grizzly awakened in the middle of hibernation.

"HE WON'T COME OUT FROM THE CUPBOARD!!!"

"AAAARRRGGGHHHH!!!!" Probably by now regretting that the expensive education he got for his daughter didn't include a module on Confrontation and Elimination of Cockroaches 1001, he grabbed the broom from my hands, swept the cockroach onto its bristles, and then in a very manly and barbaric way, grabbed the thing WITH HIS BARE HANDS. EEEEEWWWWWWWWW.

With a very moody look on his face [hoping to get back to his beer] he walks downstairs with the roach still trapped in his hands. AND THEN LETS IT GO IN THE FRONT BALCONY.

"AAARGGHH!!! WHY DID U LET IT GO THERE???" I scream.

"Why?? What's wrong?? He's out of the house what!"

My brother said it for me. "But from the front balcony...... It could fly back into her room, right?"

I slept that night with the windows closed and the broom by my bedside.

---

*The old post, originally posted on Wed, 3rd march...

*wryly* my little tagboard has apparently been hacked. Nur Farlyana, Sha, Yana whoever you are, that is not an IRC channel, doomo arigatou, it's a tag board for people to leave comments. This is not IRC.com, this is a blog. And btw, do I know you at all?

My blog must been getting a little bit of notoriety to attract people out of nowhere. Hehehe... The next Xiaxue in the making?? [yea right.. no way I'm turning my blog pink... ]

So continues the week of non-paid leave... From Mon to Sat, I would only have worked 2 days in the week, and spent the rest of the time blogging, surfing, and playing around with Freehand. Pray hope my dad never sees this blog and reinforce his idea that I am The Ultimate Bum.

Thus let me entertain you with funny episodes this week:

- Dad went to Johor and came back with Kill Bill 1 and 2. [pirated DVDs of course] And then spent the entire Wed night whistling some song from Vol 1 over and over again, leading me to entertain notions of hacking him up with a Hattori Hanzo while dressed in a yellow track suit.

- My mother is rather predictable in her ways. On Wed night when my tuition had been cancelled, Dad and I met her at J8 for dinner. Since there was a sale at J8, she went shopping. Since Dad is a man, and shopping is the exclusive arena of women, Dad happily left me and mom together shopping while he went home to watch Kill Bill 2.

Mom, in typical female fashion, agonized over whether to buy something at the sale, then followed me to a neighbourhood store to buy some shirts for herself, checked out prices at a shop next to it, went back to the sale, agonized further, tried it on in the dressing room [insisting I stood guard because it was one of those temporary cubicles with the drawcurtains and she was afraid somebody would suddenly draw the curtain open] came out, still deciding whether to buy, walked one round around the sale area, and finally decided to buy it.

Now I know where i inherited my shopping genes from.

After all that, naturally we're tired, so we head to Mac's to get ice-cream [and she stops at Bits N' Pieces to think about whether to buy a pair of earrings]. After getting my Coke Float, all I wanted to do was to walk home happily sipping the stuff, but she announces she's tired and wants to sit down. The last thing I wanted to do now was to sit down with my mum for one hour while she asked me inane questions about my life, like when I was going to mop the house again, so I pulled my trump card:

"American Idol's starting now."

"What??? Why didn't you tell me??" Energy from her ice cream cone suddenly surges into her legs and she hurriedly trots off in front of me, while I trail behind her with her shopping bags and her working bag.

Oh yea. I know me mum all right.

---

A letter to Someone...

I'm writing this to you, but I don't know if you'll ever read it.

Do you remember the first time we met? We were so shy around each other, and didn't know how to react to the other party. We hemmed and hawed around until we reached a level of familiarity that allowed us to be comfortable with each other.

Those early days were carefree and easygoing. We didn't have to worry about friends, parents or society, we just did our own thing together, hoping that somehow things would come out right. Those early days in school when we knew each other, we went through all the tests, exams and other problems of adolescence, and we overcome them all. Although we didn't know each other very well then, I thought, maybe this would be a longlasting relationship.

How wrong I was.

Slowly, but surely, we went further apart. You had your own thing, and you were too busy to hang out with me anymore. You hardly called, or SMS-ed, except to tell me that you were busy, and that you couldn't meet up. Even when I called you, you pushed me aside, saying you were busy. You said you'd call, but you didn't. We met less and less often, until almost none at all, and you only called when you were in dire need of my help, otherwise you wouldn't call me at all.

Well, I say enough already. I don't see why we should continue the relationship in this way. Obviously I'm not important enough for you to make time in your busy schedule for me. So why should I wait around for you to make a move? I'd rather be with someone that needs me, rather than be on call for someone who will only call me when necessary.

I think it's best that we just stop this charade now. This is obviously going nowhere, and I think it's best we both found other people in our lives.

Tell your mother I quit, and I hope you find another tuition teacher.

---

Ok now just how many of you out there thought I was writing that to someone???? Hahahahahahahaha....... The idea came to me, because this week, a lot of my students suddenly had to cancel or postpone tuition. Which means that I was on 'enforced leave' for the past 3 days. *sigh* The bad thing was that one of them was supposed to pay me this week........ *sob* no money till next week... And because of make up lessons i'll be missing the open house at LaSalle this weekend.....argh....

Well, the good thing is that it allowed me more time to draw, and surf net, and be a total slacker, as usual. Here's a new one:


[btw with flickr, you can also post comments on the picture, by clicking on it. So you can comment on whether you like, don't like, or blardy hate the picture.]

It's meant to be wallpaper, and I tried it on my PC, but the bad thing is that most of my icons are on the left side, so it totally blocked out the picture... *tiao* what a waste...

And yea, I do want one, even though I'll have to buy Mac software to put on my PC. Haiz..... and even though Creative Zen's is more functional, what with the PC compatibility and the FM radio...

Hmmm, if I do get into NIE, maybe I shld blow my first paycheck [or two] on an ibook? Hahaha... tempting even though my old IBM still works fine... I think...

And speaking of NIE, another has joined the teaching course. Welcome, Turtle, who will sign his contract on Sat. So [hopefully, cross your fingers] i now have 2 friends going into NIE in the same year, and hopefully we can all get hostel together.

But then, I haven't even received the letter for an interview. *haiz*

Cross your fingers and see how lah. N hope my luck with schools in the past extends to my luck with NIE.

Cramps and Frogs

Times are, I hate being a woman. That wracking, menstrual cramp at the onset of the wrong time of the month makes me hate being a woman every time. Fortunately for me, I don't get it badly every month, like I did in secondary school, but every time I do, I seriously consider either 1) tying my tubes or 2) getting a sex change and 3) murdering every male in sight.

Fortunately for me and half of Singapore's male population ( and some of the Parisien one last year ) none of these suggestions were ever seriously implemented.

*Groans and whines of self pity* Why in hell wasn't I born a male....... I could probably live with societal expectations of masculinity, ( seeing as how some of my male friends think I currently live up to it pretty well in my present state ) deal with NS and having a hard-on every morning, ANYTHING better than this.............

What an end to my sudden day off. Having 2 students cancelled for the day, I made my way to the AMK library to indulge in comic book readings, one of my favourite holiday activities which I hardly indulge in. ( Incidentally, For Better or For Worse is a great strip chronicling the adventures of the Patterson family living in Canada as they deal with kids, work, menopause, university and death. In other words, all of the things that make life. )

The afternoon was thus peacefully spent in the slightly-too-cold-for-comfort library reading For Better or Worse, and Cathy comics. ( All those working now, I sense an aura of animosity... )

The bad part came later. I had found out in the library that my least favourite house guest had paid me a visit again, and thus the usual chaos was to be expected. I thought, however, that since the last few visits weren't so bad, I should be able to make it through this one.

Oh flippin' god, how wrong I was. This was one of the BAD ones.

Pain, wrackin' pain, slight nausea at the sight and thought of food, ( and to make matters worse, the fragrant scent of Rotiboy was just a few metres away from us. Oh, cruel, cruel world... ) giddiness when I tried to stand, and more pain, and a persistent cold sweat, even when I was finally in the cab, and the aircon was blowing at me.

ITAI! ONAGA GA TOTEMO ITAI DESU!!! SEKAI NI ZENBU OTOKO SHINE KUDASAI!!!!! KIRAI! KIRAI! TOTEMO KIRAI DESU!!!

So anyway, I managed to grab a cab, stagger upstairs, n when I finally entered my living room, collapsed onto the floor, jeans and all, hugged my backpack for comfort, and went comatose there.

My family being what they are, they enquired once to make sure that I was alive and breathing, and pretty much left me alone for the rest of the night. ( My cramps are known to the world )

Anyway, when I finally regained consciousness, my bro bid me a belated birthday, and handed me a frog.

Yes, a frog.



Er, my apologies. Well, it seems a friend of his had got it from overseas, probably Thailand or Indonesia by the looks of it. What you're supposed to do is to take the stick from its mouth, rub it along the grooves of its back, and it makes a croaking sound, like a frog. A mating call, for all I know.



Yea, something like that.

Cool little fellow, ain't he?

And a new illustration again: [I don't know what's up with me... I keep getting tons of inspiration these days... better take advantage of whatever I can... :p ]



There's something about frustration and anxiety that's just very... artistically inspiring. No wonder all truly great artists were stone broke one way or another... All that anxiety and frustration over their finances made them paint and paint and paint...

The One Moment...

Another of my Write Wateva Crap things....

Some years ago, I watched a Japanese movie on TV which had an interesting concept about life after death.

In the movie, people who died ( or rather, Japanese people who died ) would enter an interview room right after death. Here, they would be able to choose ONE moment in their lives which they would want to remember forever. The crew would then assemble a sort of movie set to recreate the moment, and then the deceased would be able to live in that moment forever, all other memories having been erased. If you couldn't remember any moments, you had one week in which to view a video tape library of your life, to help you remember.

People varied in their choices of the ONE moment in their lives. One girl at first thought of the first time she had sat a rollercoaster at Disneyland, then decided on a time she was lying in her mother's embrace. Another man chose the first time he was on an aeroplane. ( This was those old warplanes where your head was exposed to the wind ) Another old woman chose the time she pirouetted for her brother, dressed in her favourite red shoes.

The hard part for many was choosing the ONE moment, but one man was rather poignant. Upon viewing the tapes, he realised that there had never been that ONE moment in his life. A typical Japanese bureaucrat, he watched tape after tape in his life, only to realise there was nothing in it for him to remember. Not his graduation, not his job, not even his marriage, which presumably was arranged.

How sad can that be? You live to a ripe old age, only to realise there was nothing in it for you?

But then again, how many people have that ONE moment in their lives? The ONE where suddenly, the world opens up before you, and you taste life in all its entirety. And you LOVE it.

The one high point in your otherwise humdrum existence. The one moment that you truly feel alive. The one moment that you'd want to relive over and over again for eternity.

The poor man couldn't find any. And then that's when he found out that those who could not choose were instead designated to work as crew in that halfway building between life and death, that state of purgatory, helping people choose the ONE before you could move on yourself.

I suppose if I couldn't decide on a ONE moment and I wanted to keep all my memories, that wouldn't be such a bad thing. But to remember for the rest of eternity what a boring loser you were?

Sigh.

To hold eternity in a moment.... Is it truly possible? Does the ONE moment really exists in everyone's lives? A ONE moment to be remembered and cherished forever, and which could never be surpassed by any other memory?

Maybe at our ages, we're still relatively young. ( Yes, in terms of an expected human lifespan of 80-90 years, we are young. ) We are still at the appetiser section, making way for the main courses. We haven't really tasted true pain, true love, ( Maybe some of you will disagree with me on this. :p ) true hardship, true luxury.

True life, in other words. And of course, at the end, true death.

So if you feel that you've experienced that ONE moment already, good for you. Remember that forever, for it will make the rest of your life pale in comparison.

---

Anyway there seems to be a conspiracy going on between my two kids. Yesterday one kid postponed on account of a CA on the same day, n another kid just fell ill today, and cancelled as well. So I suddenly have a day off, and I'm not quite sure what to do with it. :p

The laundry's waiting in the machine, though that will only take me a few minutes to hang up. I've checked all me mail, uploaded a few images, [more Freehand practices!] and read all my blogs and online comics.

Man. I truly have too much time on my hands today, and I don't know what to do with it all.

Nah, I do know. i'll go to the library, return and exchange some books, maybe do some sketching there, if I actually find space, get some food to eat, take a stroll through AMK imagining I'm 11 again, and remembering the thrill of being allowed outside by myself for the first time. *chortle* how young I was then... Nowadays I go so many places by myself it's ceased to be a thrill and become something of a bore. Though I have to admit it's more convenient sometimes... ( How many of you want to follow me to Kino and watch me browse books and comics and Copic markers for hours? )

Anyway, here's a sample of my latest practice on Freehand:



I'm getting slightly better on it, but still the thought of drawing the human face ( albeit a manga-ized version ) still makes me wanna scream. Can you imagine the no of strokes needed, not to mention the preciseness needed to perfectly express emotion? *stoned*

Anyway, laundry calls....

Blogging Earns Money

Holy fish. The first local celebrity blogger. Xiaxue is now endorsing a brand of t-shirts called LocalBrand. I truly wonder if she's getting paid for it, because if she is, she'll be the first celebrity blogger endorser.

Famous through a blog. WTF?? I better go incorporate my blog nick right now, before someone steals it from under me!

Anyway, she's not the first blogger making money from her blog. [although hers is a more indirect way of doing so, and it's not disclosed whether she is making money from the endorsement or not] The infamous London callgirl Belle Du Jour compiled the contents of her blog into a book, which is now selling at Kino. For those who don't read her blog, the book is about her experiences as a London callgirl, the strange clients she gets, and the conflicts with her RL relationships. What makes it entertaining is her highly witty way of writing, so for a sneak peek, read her blog already.

So now, blogging is apparently the new way to make money through the Internet. Write a controversial blog, get famous, and wait for all the book deals and the clothing deals to come in. Imagine what some of Singapore's famous bloggers can do:

Xiaxue : T-shirts, [done] kinky, naughty stuff.
Mister Miyagi : Action figures. The Wise Venerable Sensei, complete with white outfit and beard.
Mr Brown : Coffee Mugs, local news magazines
Popaghandi : Anything Mac-affiliated [sadly, her account has been suspended, so there goes her very excellent blog. Anyway, she's a Mac afficionado]

[Note: for some of these, you'd really have to read their blogs to get the joke]
[Note note: I know there are other good Singaporean blogs out there, but these are just the ones I know of]

Here's a good money-making opportunity none of us ever thought about! What could some of the bloggers on my friends list endorse??

From the order in my favourites folder:

Quetzal : scuba and diving equipment. Also underwater camera and photographic equipment, maybe from Sony, so that she can take pictures underwater, and then send them to her email, from which she will display the pictures on her blog.

Goldfish : jazz CDs and jazz clubs around Singapore. Especially swing music and clubs with enough space for her to swing around.

Yennhellbound : unofficial spokesperson for whichever school she is teaching in. If she gets famous enough, in the future, schools will beg her to teach there, so that she will publicise them in her blog.

Slayer : again, unofficial spokesperson for Murdoch and vegan food providers. And for the book, He Just Isn't Into You.

And of course,

Boredslacker : links to tuition centres, tuition agencies, and all kinds of online comic resources. hehehe.... plus of course, my own range of boredslackerTM tshirts.....

That'll be good, won't it? ;)