Blank Doll talks.

You know, unemployed people should be cab-drivers. We never seem to have enough cabs on the road. This must either mean they're all over the place, annoying buggers who aren't ever there when you need them, or we need another cab firm since one cab firm obviously cannot supply the sufficient cabs to keep consumers (i.e. me) happy. I was late for my mock test today because I couldn't find any cabs within the vicinity of Bishan and so had to WALK to RJ. Do you have any idea how annoying it is? To have to work? If I wanted to exericse, I'd have gone jogging instead thank you very much.

Daddy took me to this place to get a suit made for 5 Dec so the guys in class had ALL better get suits too because I'm not going to be the only one while all you suckers come in some weird polo tee shit and jeans. Actually, that's not likely at all is it? I mean, Akesh isn't going to come in shit that's for sure. Neither will Steven or James, right? Ok, right. I still need to get cuff-links and SHOES. GARGH. I saw the perfect pair at Bally in Paris and returned home to find that our store doesn't stock it. I also see a darling pair at Tod's but I'm afraid to ask my dad. Maybe I could get it as a birthday gift? Yeah, I mean, if my current shoes costing as they do a hundred plus can last for like eight years, then a pair of Tod's must be able to last longer than that.

Oh, speaking of which. NOBODY stocks the tie I want. I can't find a black, satin silk skinny tie anywhere and it is disturbing.

I think I started this post wanting to mull about something deeper but as usual, ended up talking about the superficiality of my sartorial anxiety. I'm hopeless, I confess.

Ok ok, to make up for it, I shall now do show and tell. I'm reading a book called A Debt to Pleasure now by some Lancaster guy and it's pretty good. Then again, I'm the sort of person who thinks Umberto Eco is good so you know I get into this ecstatic fit when writers feed me words I've never heard of and write in such a demandingly sophisticated way that you just surrender to the prose. I mean, the hell with it, 'chthonic'? Whoever heard of that word? My Longman dictionary is woefully inadequate.

And now I've discovered that the Italians find a plain Windsor knot too boring and have invented a knot that makes you tie look crooked. Great fun, wot?

C'est tout.