Drive back baby to me fast, in your car -----Original Message-----From: Hendrik, Le RaineSent: 16 July 2008 09:29To: Bridger, PaulSubject: RE: Check road code testMy test is on Friday, 6.45pm. I need to study study study tonight. Will you help me?-----Original Message-----From: Paul.BridgerSent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 9:44 AMTo: Hendrik, Le RaineSubject: RE: Check road code testI will be happy to. I'll need to spend a little time with the iMac, but otherwise I'm yours.The best approach will be to do a montage. Scenes should include:- Paul pacing around living room dramatically, asking questions while LR sits on the floor, Paul throws road code book in frustration- Paul and LR baking "road sign" cookies- Lying on couch, casually flipping through road code, Paul rocking back and forth in foetal position in the corner- Paul and LR getting frisky on the bonnet of someone's car in the carpark- Paul and LR standing in the middle of the road, Paul pointing at various road code offenses "THAT - WRONG! LOOK! WRONG WRONG!" Yup - still preferring awareness "I think we need to talk."It's never good when someone says that. It means, "I'm going to break up with you" or "Your dog gives a great titwank", or, you know, just painful news. It means "Brace yourself".So I did. "What about?" I asked."You. How you've changed, how I can't stand you sometimes.""Okay." I was immensely relieved. So much better to get the gist of things out in the open so I know at least what I'm in for; so I can think about what to say and not start blurting things later I'd really regret. And so, so much better to have the unpleasantness unmasked and shoved in your face with the demand for a solution, instead of leaving the resent to fester and burgeon into all-out hatred.So the confrontation lasted all of 2 minutes, because it turned out to be a misunderstanding - one that could have proved costly if it'd been allowed to be resentfully shoved under the carpet, because it's far too easy to do. It's far easier for relationships to be destroyed by nothing than something, and it's that outcome that I really dread; being left hanging forever after, slowly being engulfed in what-ifs and the excruciating answer of silence. Dead line So I'm talking to Adam, a friend of mine, and he asks if I would want to know the day I'd die.Yes, yes I would. The answer seems obvious to me, and I tell him so. Why? He asks.It's more like, why the fuck not. I'm a planner. I live by lists and checkboxes. Given a deadline - literally - I could plan the rest of my life with so much more ease. Should I get a pet now? Not if I'm gonna kick the bucket within the next month. Etc. I'd die happier knowing that I hadn't wasted my time on pointless bullshit, like watching TV for 5 hours."You're only the second person to say yes," he says. "Most people seem to think that it's wrong and immoral."It's the kind of irrational behaviour I expect from people but don't understand. (Neither does Adam, and our half-hearted speculation did not help.) I can only guess that they think they'd spend every waking second dreading that day, or worse still, that it's unnatural and wrong because it's only for God to know."Weaklings." He said. I didn't disagree."They just choose to be blissfully ignorant."Me, I'd take painfully aware any time. You might have guessed by now Working life is making me an absolute crashing bore. I need to be doing something new, I need to be learning. I want to read, and write - I want to devour books. Fucking piles of 'em, actually - I want to be doing something with my time, something worth my effort. But I'm not, and it's not a good feeling. So tired The reason I haven't been blogging - and you must forgive me - is because I've been so busy. So, so incredibly busy.I used to scoff when people told me they were too busy to do this or that - catch a movie, read a book, meet up with friends - because I always dismissed them as having really weak time managerial skills. But the past few weeks have been hellish.The boyfriend is moving into the same estate, and there has been plenty to do. Furniture shopping, house decorating. Picking out the exact shades and textures for the rug to match with the new sofa, musing over fabrics for curtains, daydreaming about voluptuously magnificent bedlinen... you get the idea. Fun, but exhausting - and that's not including my work life. "Exhausting" doesn't quite cut it. Work drains me. The hours I've been doing are just ridiculous. I shit you not.When I get off work nowadays I just want to go home, or have a quiet drink with B because I'm too tired and upset to socialize or be happy. On the weekends we shop for household stuff, and I spend time with my family. I haven't seen my friends in a while and I miss them sorely - it's a deep kind of longing to just.. chill. Do stuff together. B has been very sweet and tolerant of my work stress and moodiness, but man, fuck, I miss my life. Miss stretching out by the pool and drowning in the sun, having rapidfire Singlish conversations about fuckall with friends, sitting in bed and reading during the witching hour. Now all I think about is work, furniture, gaining weight from sitting behind a desk all day, my suffering complexion, and how loathingly self-pitying I am.I'm tired. I just want to get out of the office, have tea and read a little. And there will be moaning and gnashing of teeth Three in one afternoon. I'm on a roll here.Anyway, not an actual post post. Was reading this by the good doctor and trying not to laugh too hard. You do realize, don't you, that Jesus doesn't love you anymore? (I fully agree with you, though)Crab people. Craaaaaaab people! Sniper Eng It says something, doesn't it, that I've been here 2 months now and the only time I've really laughed while in the office is when I read a close friend's blog:"My bulimic days are back, and I'll throw up on anyone who tries to stop me."Sweetheart. In case your willpower wavers and you start to seek justification to start living a bit healthier - I love you, remember, cuddly or not. The beatific banyan tree Metaphors are brilliant and wonderful and are a form of poetry all on their own. They put everything into perspective and make you appreciate situations and people in a way you would never have realised and when you do you want to fall on your knees, stricken and humbled by the beautiful, artful vastness of word-painting. I love Singapore Loyalty -- as much (if not more) a defense mechanism at work as a display of allegiance and/or love. Note to self When I am in some foreign country years from now, either hating or loving my new life, I must remember when I was walking in Singapore in the blazing heat, listening to Blondie and Roxette and Joan Jett.I must remember when I smiled secret smiles to myself whenever I thought of something funny. When I turned heads and silently flirted with good-looking strangers. When I read everywhere I went and danced nonstop for hours. And when I was in love for the first time in my life. I must remember when I was all of eighteen years old and really quite happy. 510 <3 The glass doors slid open quietly and I stepped through, relieved to be leaving the office building. It was almost 11pm, and I was bone-weary. My eyes hurt from staring at a computer screen for hours, my skin yearned for a good rub of moisturiser and my body demanded a shower just a few degrees short of scalding. I needed to go home.The cab was waiting. I got in next to the driver, buckled up and let out a sigh - the soul-deep appreciation kind. The driver chuckled."Work so late..." he smiled, and I detected compassion and amusement in his tone."Yah lor. 14 hours leh, Uncle.""Wah! And I thought I work long hours... ha! Ha!"I smiled a small, polite small. I wasn't interested in conversation. I wasn't interested in pretending to be interested in someone else."Nowadaaay..." He paused; a painful punctuation to his wretched grammar. "..Singaporean all workaholic. Ha! Ha! Haaaii...." He trailed off in an amused, eloquent sigh, fluently local in its resignation and faint sneer of self-mockery and pity. I knew it well, all Singaporeans know it well. "What to do. That's life." *That* sigh.I obliged the conversation on the same vein. "What to do. Client want is client want lor." I heaved a competitively gusty sigh of my own.He glanced over. "You must be very tired ah, Miss.""Of course.""No more life ah... ha! Ha!""Ha ha," I responded weakly. "Wake up, go to work, come home, go to bed, wake up, go to work...""Cannot like that lah... we need to get enough sleep you know. If not, very jia lat one. Need to recharge our body.""Weekend lor..""Ha! Ha! Weekend is very precious hor? But recharge halfway oso, suddenly our friend jio us out... Maybe go for a drink. Recharge halfway, oso must go.""Yah." I mumbled."But, must lah. If not, no so-sher life, oso cannot lah. Hor?""Ah. Yah.""But, a few friend can already lah. No need so many. Got no time to ennertain all oso. One or two good friend, can last you for life, good enough lah!" He smiled peaceably.I agreed wholeheartedly. Wise words, I thought in the brief silence. I must remember that.And so. Just in case I don't get to meet you this weekend - I love and miss you Bibi, intensely so. I am really happy that we're best friends, and I intend to keep you for life. Here's to you, us, and a fuckload of fun years ahead. Happy 19th :) With much ado The first time he'd invited me over to his apartment it was under the amusingly flimsy, universally clichéd pretext of watching a DVD.We both knew what it really meant and his lack of originality drew from me a sardonic smile, but acquiesence. (Much later when I brought up his modus operandi he defended himself: "At least that way we both really knew what was being suggested, which is infinitely better than a nasty surprise at the movies when you suddenly realize, "OMG! He's got his hand up my skirt!")So I went. And we did watch a DVD - to his credit, one that was actually worth watching and not a B-grade horror film he could pretend to be so bored by that he'd fall asleep and "accidentally" have his head lolling over to rest on my tits - and had tea. It was fairly awkward. I remember sitting in his living room - sparsely upholstered with black leather and glass and white walls, all minimalist and masculine. And I, 5 feet nothing, a hundred pounds, felt terribly conspicuous.We discussed the movie, all polite inquisivity and chaste intellect, sitting side by side on his sofa (whose rips I noticed with another sardonic quirk of the lips), knees barely touching in the dark while I stole sidelong glances at his slim, denim-clad frame and wondered, what's going to happen, and how?The suspense was deliciously wracking. I wondered if he was going to make a move at all - certainly he hadn't displayed any sign of physical attraction - not even an intentionally casual arm around my shoulder - and in fact seemed much like a perfectly honorable gentleman who simply wasn't interested in how I looked. The movie stretched on and we watched in perfunctory, uncomfortable silence, keeping to our boundaries like the well-disciplined, socially-groomed creatures we strained to be -- while mentally (though I speak only for myself) we were engaged in delightful debauchery, shredding decency and the damned inhibitions and being finally able to just, you know, chill.It's so much easier to hang out with someone you're seeing after you've both seen each other naked - thoroughly liberating, really. When it finally happened - not that night, as it turned out - I murmured into his chest, "You know, it's the intimacy that I've missed most." Just being close to someone. It felt so right. And he knew what I meant, and agreed. Live and learn sany says:wears a ler wig and pretends to be ler with the blank expression '_'Le Raine says:my face doesnt look like '_'sany says:your blank expression does!!!sany says:ler with '_' : hmmm... (turns to look at you) what?sany says:then if you tell ler with '_' something, she will most probly do either asany says:' . 'sany says:orsany says:' 'v You mess with my food, you mess with me So I was at Starbucks with B this evening, and we had between us a coffee and a slice of cheesecake."I can't finish this," I said morosely. "I shouldn't have ordered it."He took a large bite. "Blah blah blah." he replied. His response was insignificant."Blah blah." So was mine at that point in time. "Do you need to go grocery shopping," I think I asked. I took another small bite and passed the fork."Yes." He said. "Pasta stuff.""Okay." I mumbled absently.He picked up the fork and - like watching a car crash before my eyes, with time slowing by infinite heartbeats and his motion as excruciating as the flow of thick syrup - mashed the rest of the cake. Thoroughly. All over the plate. Squish squish squishy. With nonchalance, or maybe relish. I only remember staring at it in undisguised shock and dawning horror.It seems exceedingly trivial and my reaction exaggerated, but not to anyone who's watched me eat. I have a slightly obsessive compulsion to have my food eaten neatly, and it drives me a bit insane to have it messed up. I seriously don't give a fuck if no one else shares that preference, but I like my plate to be.. organized. Neat. Pristine, if I could have it that way. I'm by no means a neat freak, it's just a quirk of mine.I started spluttering helplessly and giggling anxiously. It was stupid and bizarre, and I knew I was overreacting, but it was too late. He'd triggered something and it snapped and I was going a bit berserk. It took him about five minutes to calm me down considerably, and even then only after he'd covered the offensive sight with layers of napkins. "I d-d-don't l-l-l-like it!" I cried. "I-i-it u-up-s-s-sets meee!" Okay, he quickly said, his mouth twitching uncontrollably, trying to hide a smirk. Okay, I won't do it again.So yeah. Crazy episode. I usually don't get ruffled easily and I've never been like that, even during my period. Fucking weird. Really should not be blogging in the office, but ..am having a remarkably fine day, so far. In to the office early, sit through a staff meet, get all the morning's paperwork and the vital cup of tea done and down, and then I log on to MSN. An IM from Sarah almost immediately:"GOOD MORNING PRETTY PEA"A flurry of loving emoticons follow. Hearts, flowers, rainbows. We chat for a bit and then I leave for lunch with the bf (his office building is v. near mine. Yay for rich corporations).Ace start of the week. All is going well. Hell has a reception desk I have a strong suspicion I will not enjoy my internship. Thus far it has been - all three days of it - somewhat unsatisfactory. Stiflingly dull, actually; largely owing to the fact that I haven't been hurled into the insanity out of compassion for my fumbling inexperience. Yet. The cheer and smirks with which my colleagues assure me that will not be the case for long though, definitely does not bode well. I am expecting many late nights spent huddling over my nondescript desk, feverishly attempting to sort out mountains of paperwork and snorting freshly-ground coffee beans to stave off panic attacks."Why did you choose PR?" is a question I get from my colleagues rather often, and the curiosity lies in their curiosity, like they are genuinely baffled. Save yourself while you can, child, their tired looks seem to say. This is no place for an innocent. Erase and rewind "I haven't replied him." I remember telling Daniel listlessly."Don't. He doesn't deserve the closure." He'd replied, rolling his eyes."You're right." I'd agreed softly. "You're right."But I'd forgotten that I, too, needed my closure, and I'd underestimated my need. Being left hanging in emotional limbo was downright depressing, to say the least - vacillating violently between self-flagellation and self-righteous rage, smiling with the spurious mirth of someone who's struggling not to cry. That sort of thing. I was very unhappy and I desperately wanted it to end.Ten minutes ago, I got the closure I needed - and when I did, I realized I didn't really need it so much anymore. There was no huge sense of relief, or any moral triumph to claim. That's it, that's all there is to it. And it's not made a difference. Because without me really noticing, I've actually became a happier girl. I love my friends, I've got a totally cool family, I'm keeping in decent shape, I'm excited about my upcoming internship, and most of all, I'm starting to fall in love - with someone who's got insecurities and imperfections of his own, but who is brilliant, sweet, funny, and patient with me, which I appreciate a lot more than I let on. Everything is falling into place, and it is this realization that provides more closure than anything else ever could. Mysteries unraveled Discoveries made today:Sakae, as in Sakae Sushi, is pronounced Sa-kah-yee, or Sa-kah-yay.Fung, as in Din Tai Fung, is pronounced Foe-ng.Yet to decipher:inuoviKaneboL'OccitaneIkeaMarcianoEtc.The list would be a lot longer but I'm too sleepy to compile a proper one right now. Now spring is turning For the longest time I have felt sorry for people who aren't romantics - in much the same way religious folks must feel pity for atheists - because they will never appreciate beauty the way romantics - myself included - do. Does that seem appallingly arrogant? It must, and it probably is too, but I cannot think of any way to be all PC about it. Forgive me, and my gracefully sidestepping the almost necessary delving into philosophical bullshit about the (flogged-to-death debate on the) definition of beauty and how to appreciate it, etc.By 'romantic' I don't mean starry-eyed fucker agonizing over how best to demonstrate his love with sweet little gestures. It's a state of mind, not a motive. Romantics romanticize the most trivial and ordinary of details, and beauty (as a result of their romanticism) is more likely to evoke a strong emotional reaction in them as compared to a stoic non-romantic, which is when I suppose we agree that they have a "better" or "deeper" appreciation of beauty.Yet a recent remark from B struck (as well as amused) me. "Mathematical proofs," he declared, "are beautiful." And it makes sense, because it is definitely possible to appreciate beauty - albeit in a vastly different way. E.g. a romantic and a non-romantic could look at a tree in winter, and the former would appreciate the way its branches swayed in the breeze, gently shaking off little piles of snow, while the latter would appreciate the evolution of the tree to survive on its own in the given conditions. Similarly for, say, symmetry - aesthetic appeal and admiration of geometrical precision could both be beautiful.So then we come back, full-circle, to the definition of beauty - but that's better left to the philosophers. I'm just good for meandering blog entries. Sexy talk "Do you have any secret endearments for B that you're willing to reveal?""No, it's all very common. "Baby", "Honey", etc. There's really not much a girl can use, it all sounds so girly and it'd emasculate him, like "Sugar", "Sweetie pie"... he can get all inventive though." And I secretly wish he would, just because his accent guarantees he won't sound like a complete twat. Singaporean guys, for example, cannot make "darling" sound remotely loving. It's all wrong. It just does not roll off the tongue nicely when spoken in a Singaporean accent. When B whispers it in his refined British accent, I experience a delicious little shiver of pleasure. Oh my god aural stimulation is so vital."Lies! There are MANY! Like-""They all sound so girly!""-you mini Rambo wannabe with overflowing mojo jojo.""That's more amusing than loving! And I can't call him that in bed, like "Oh God yeah mmm... you mini Rambo etc!"""Hahaha. Who says you can't? You haven't tried!""I think he'd just stop and stare, aghast. "Wot??"""Then you will smirk at him, with supreme confidence and smartassness, and push his head towards your THINGY-" At this point I break out into uncontrollable sniggering. "-and say, "Shut up and continue. You mini Rambo with overflowing mojo jojo."" Hendrik sisters 1, cockroach 0 3 a.m. and there's a cockroach in my bedroom. I happen to be chatting with Sany when I discover it. A lot of excitement ensue:me: AHAILHEFIHAwflheawrITS UNDER MY CHAIR HE;PEWSANYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYUSany: OMGGGHHUGSSSSSSSCARRIES YOU AWAYJUMP ON YOUR BEDme: HELP OMG OMGO MGO OGGMGMG!!!!!!@*Sany: JUMPPPPTHROW STUFFS AT ITme: IM PETRIFIEDIM HYPERVENTILATING3:04 AM Sany: IF YOU HAVE A CUP OF DRINK, SPILL IT UNDER YOUR CHAIRMAKE SURE YOU SPLASH AT ITAND AWAYYY FROM YOUR CHAIR LEGSSO IT WONT CRAWL UP!!!-I was so freaked out it wasn't even funny. Okay maybe it is to all of you. But I did not have fun being reduced into a quivering mess. My sister came home exactly then and I ran out of my room with my face all D: !!! and half-yelling, where's the Baygon, there's a cockroach in my bedroom! And with utmost sisterly affection, she goes, for fuck's sakes. How should I know.But then divine intervention happened, or more likely, a jarring jolt of her conscience. And so my brave, wonderful sister came to my rescue and marched in with a roll of newspaper and a bottle of Baygon. And by our powers combined and with much swearing, we massacred the fucker. Ubi concordia, ibi victoria! Etc. Etc. Pillowman If you appreciate a good story, go get tickets for The Pillowman at the SRT. I watched it last night and it was just brilliant - enthrallingly twisted and darkly funny. Intrigued, amused and kept me on the edge of my seat all night. Ace.What is not so ace is lolcats. I don't get the appeal. I think they've got some of the most adorable animal pictures I've ever seen in my life, and it makes me want to go "awww..." but.. that's about it. They aren't hilarious. I mean, cute pictures yeah, but the idea of a human sitting behind a screen and typing out some gramatically fucked up caption just thoroughly drenches anything humorous about it. Greener grass "I told Matthew, I said, "I feel very dumb next to Le Raine loh.""And I looked at her, and realized that although I wouldn't want to trade places with her, I actually envied her. A lot. Gripe whine yada yada Don't know if it's just me, but all the cab drivers I've encountered lately have been fucking just taking their own damn time to get me to Point B. Is this some new conspiracy? Let's not hide somewhere and watch the customers desperately, vainly flail their arms; let's just go slooow? And by slow I mean 60 km/h on a straight road with no traffic. And when we turn corners or go over humps, it's like they're trying to see how far a car can move using more willpower than gas. Fuck - I wonder if crazy Bangkok driving has spoiled me. Speaking of BKK. It was a wonderful experience. Was great experiencing the culture and lifestyle over there and everything. Highlights included the great food (and no diarrhea despite eating at roadside stalls all the time), fabulous bargains, and getting picked up by two bisexual girls in a club, which was flattering and rather interesting, but I won't elaborate here. Anyway, some pictures. A cute village kidRach is a very lovely girl (not taken in BKK) Stanley (who is v. eligible, take my word for it, girls. Am openly planning to get him a girlfriend) Our flight home was delayed. Pratunam Fried critter, apparently considered a delicacy of sorts, and which the guys decided to chomp down on in a display of gung-ho machismo. I wisely declined. -Man I am tired. Goodnight folks. EDIT: I just remembered. I fed an elephant while in Bangkok. It was just walking on the streets, late at night, led by a man who was selling... bamboo shoots? Sugar cane? Whatever, he was selling elephant food. It was amazing, first seeing an elephant just happily walk the streets, and then feeding it. So cool. So adorable. Bang cock Off to BKK. Am looking forward to 5 days of wild shopping, partying and getting roaring drunk while ladyboys try to stuff their tits into Stanley's mouth. Hehe.The flight is at 3pm so it's not too late to overwhelm me with teary farewells :) Starcrossed It takes me by surprise sometimes, how mentally claustrophobic this blog makes me feel. I hate how I have so much to say I feel like I'm almost bursting at the seams but am unable to write with much enthusiasm anymore. It feels like this is an alter-ego. Le Raine, your friendly neighbourhood blogger, with her carefully expressed, bland opinions and semi-amusing anecdotal romantic history.I badly need a change.For those of you whom this blog serves as some kind of newsletter on my life (yes you Charles): nothing much has changed, except that I'm seeing someone exclusively and seriously. He's smart, a total geek really, and funny, both ha-ha and weird. It's been a whirlwind affair thus far, and it's titillating and a bit scary. Mostly because I like knowing that when I take the next step, my foot will find ground. I'm a total pussy that way. I like being in control, planning and making sure everything falls into place.I've been doing a lot of thinking though, and I realize my past shitty experiences with guys are making me worry too much, so I'm just going to breathe a little easier. It's funny in hindsight, because that's what I've been doing all along with other (less serious) relationships, so I don't expect it will be too difficult now.Anyway, this guy - let's call him B because I'm too lazy to be creative with pseudonyms at the moment (but not lazy enough, apparently, to type out a justification. Whatever) - he intrigues, challenges and pleases me. We can't keep our hands off each other. He's also really into me, which is important. I could go on and on, but I know how annoying that can be, so I'll just stop. Blar blar blar Cynicism became the new anal sex long ago.You know what I mean. All the rage, everyone's loving or hating it but doing it anyway whether proudly or not, discussing it in scandalized whispers, writing poetry about it etc. In a more literal sense, it involves a lot of pain. And shit.*sighs* I don't like it, but I fear the alternative more. Trusting too easily, that is. And - excuse the cheesiness - subsequently having my heart ripped into shreds and left to wither in a trail of dust. I hate owning up to it, but this.. self-preservation? Pragmatism? This cowardice makes me terribly unhappy at times. Usually when I realize with some amount of panic that some sneaky bastard has managed to get through all the invisible walls and barbed wire and gun-toting pegasi etc I have around me as defense mechanisms.I'm usually pretty confident. But when it comes to romantic relationships a whole fuckload of insecurities and self-esteem issues begin to surface, which really annoys me because I hate feeling unsure and vulnerable. Most of all, when I feel vulnerable I know I am. It means I already care enough to get hurt. And it doesn't help at all that I've sustained considerable damage in past relationships. I'm still recovering from some wounds, and I'm terrified they'll be reopened, hence the guardedness.It all boils down to quite a dilemma. Take a leap of faith or approach cautiously? Is it worse to regret what's been done, or what could have been?Men are nasty creatures, especially the smart ones. Naive, earnest boys are so much easier to predict and handle. Celebration We fell into step, and I broke into song."In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps toniiiiight..."He laughed. We attracted a few stares."In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight," I wailed."Eh, let's go to Liang Court for ice cream. I blanja." He announced."Do'wan bodoh, I full. Let's eat at the coffeeshop later." I took a deep breath."I thought you're full?""Ahhhhh.. wiiiiii-yi-yim... Oh-iiiim-bub-yeeeeeh!"We reached the underpass. I shut up. Attracting stares is one thing - having your (bad) singing reverberate all around you while the resident topless beggar glares at you is another."Full of chocolate. I was packing lah. And I was hungry." We emerged. I cheerfully continued belting out the chorus."Ah. Sing louder ah." He mocked."We should do this in a group. Get someone to do the background, someone else snapping his fingers for rhythm...""Eh ya! You can sing, you're the only one who knows the lyrics. I'll do the background.."We walked down Clarke Quay; past the river, past the clubs, having the kind of conversation that I rarely have with anyone else - utterly banal, completely light-hearted and mindless, extraordinarily comfortable.Stanley, Stanley. What would I do without you. Pokemon - the reject With thanks especially to Sany, who put in an incredible amount of effort and dispensed lots of love when everyone was tired and miserable. This is your baby, you deserve most of the credit. Also, annoying Pikachu voice by sexy Rachel. You girls are fucking awesome. Eng Wee Peng Give me reason, but don't give me choice. says:YOU DONT THINK HE'S FUGLY?Le Raine procrastinates guiltily says:he's not fugly, just average lookingLe Raine procrastinates guiltily says:i mean, i wouldnt shag himLe Raine procrastinates guiltily says:but i wouldnt feed him to the dogsGive me reason, but don't give me choice. says:But + no character can join the ranks of fugly already.-Give me reason, but don't give me choice. says:Oh Leraine.Give me reason, but don't give me choice. says:Omg let's go lesbian night during the holidaysGive me reason, but don't give me choice. says:MUST GO.Give me reason, but don't give me choice. says:I d0nch care.-Daniel, Daniel - you're the best sister with a penis, evar. I want to meet your new boyfren.