revamps self

hello. apologies to those who saw my new skin but with no post to explain. it appears that straight after loading it, my computer decided to get whakced my malicious spyware and i spent the last two hours heroically battling this evil doer from cyberspace. fortunately, my gallant geekiness overcame this vile villain, with much support through my samsung transmitter from my girlfriend. so the day is saved by Superhero Power System Restore!

anyway, it's a nifty little skin. it's got purple and pink, emanates "feminine" and doesn't have any titles for my posts. i haven't decided if i should change the HTML since most of my titles are blase. oh yah. i need to add a title for my blog too. the annoyingness of changing blogskins. golly, i'm starting to sound like best friend vernie now, ignoramus of all things techy.

i figured that i might as well get a blogskin change since everything else is changing. like my conversion to samsung [thank goodness they're not sponsoring chelsea next season]. and *gasp* DENIM! amazingly enough, i'm very proud of my first pair of jeans!!! :) i consider it an accomplishment to have spent almost 18 years denim-less. but no thanks to vernie, who keeps complaining abt my wardrobe, and kai, who keeps trying to spend money on me, the sooner i get something with my own money for myself to change things around a bit, the better things will be.

ok. digression aside. i like my new blogskin.

as for the rest of my life: journal journal journal. a word synonymous with 'imagination', 'conjuration' and 'fabrication'. Mr Pym is either very gullible or very merciful, sifting through our meaningless pages of hogwash under the bright british sun. not that i've been there by the way, merely extending my well-exercised powers of imagination. my piece borders on the thin line between vacuum and faint existence, so i suppose i'm pretty screwed, but i suppose some the 'magic of theatre' will cause a lovely little piece to apparate into the blackbox which i can then call my own. golly. i have such a love-hate r'ship with TSD.

yay, i shall be 18 soon, then i can feel all adultish, buy alcohol, bump my head into a lamp-post and realise that i've hardly grown up one bit.