Life's Looking Up

Yes, it's been almost 48 hours since I wrote anything.

It has become more of a habit to moan and groan about my life daily but lately, there's nothing to agonize about.

Simply put, my love-o-meter which was once frozen is starting to bubble and my work-bore-o-meter has started to looked from Al Gore to Give me More.

With two aspects of my life looking up, what's there more to ask?

I'm in nirvana, just seeking happiness from the uneasiness of the rest of the world.

Construction sites collapses, Wall street crashes and Leather whip lashes, I prefer to keep my head out from the shadows and be deluded.

Ignorance is bliss as one may say. It is true nirvana when you have nothing much to care about.

But I haven't reached true nirvana. Especially on the MRT.

One thing I hate about girls is their hair. Yes. Their freaking long hair.

There was this woman who was so vain. She kept touching her hair as though it was going to drop the next minute. Next 10 seconds may I correct because that is the average frequency she kept touching herself like a Dove commercial.

And the thing is, girls with long hair love to condition and shampoo and it permeates out a certain smell.

Well, that woman not only touch her hair but kept flicking her hair over her shadow and her hair kept lashing inches in front of my face.

Half my face was filled with her dandruff.

And the smell that came with the 1000 flicks was nauseating.

And then, there is the BHO gals.

BHO stands for Bad Hair Odour. Those that wash their hair to strange chemicals like petroleum or pond water.

During peak periods where I had to squeeze into the train carriage, this Indian gal manage to make it before the doors closed on her. What she did next was horrendous.

Like the Clairols commercial, she slowly spread her hair out to an extensive degree and those standing behind her had to do a Neo before their face or clothes smelled like coconute oil.

I wasn't able to do a back breaking stunt and her hair came close to my nose and brushed my lips.

Least to say, she created "space" for herself in the already crammed space by stuffing (spreading) her hair to her perimeter.

Digusting tricks to gain space on the MRT.

Glad to say, those were just rare incidents of BHO and Flicky gals. If you are one of those reading this article, do not be afraid if I go snip snip on you.

Trust me. Stay clear away from me and let me be in nirvana.

- Benjamin