eff this, eff that

I was reading the Straits Times the other day when I saw this in the Sports section:

On Rafael Nadal and his rivals:

Maybe [the madness] starts leaking before the match itself, with the inhumane reading of his clay resume: "In 2005, he wins Monte Carlo, Barcelona, Rome, Roland Garros. In 2006, he wins Monte Carlo, Barcelona, Rome, Roland Garros. In 2007, he wins Monte Carlo, Barcelona, Rome, Roland Garros. In 2008..." till a rival might understandingly plead "Stop, stop".

How effing amazing is that? Well, it is, to someone who barely knew the thunderous-that's the only word that can describe it-achievements of Rafael Nadal before reading this article.

I knew he was good, but DUDE, that is effing (I utter the eff word a lot these days) insane.

Today I looked out of my bedroom window and saw the sweetest rims on a Chevrolet parked in the carpark. And the spoiler was pretty cool as well. A hell of a pimped up car, that was.

Another thing, I guess this is kinda late to talk about it, but the choir got Silver for SYF. Which, of course, in many ways, was disappointing. However, I believe we should not blame this on anyone else except ourselves for not achieving our goal. You need to be pitch-perfect and expressive to get a Gold. And we just weren't. But I really do think we did our best under the circumstances. Mith was telling me about how the ones who put in the most for the choir are the ones who beat themselves up the most for not achieving our goal. That is screwed up. In short, it should not happen.

I think the person who directly pushed us the most was Juniper. She is great.

Scarily so.

I HATE MY PRINTER. AND MY DESKTOP. EFFING PIECES OF TECHNOLOGICAL GARBAGE!