A Dialogue With K

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Originally uploaded by: Mr. Flibble

I was walking on the street from work the other day enjoying the McDonald’s twist cone ice cream on my way home, I feel like there was this sudden thought of something. What if there’s a bus suddenly hit me while crossing the zebra line because I was enjoying much of the licking? Maybe the last thing before I think, I’m already sitting in an ambulance. Scary thought, huh? Knock on the wood.

I do have one of those feelings. And not because the cheap ice cream from McDonald was lickably good but because I am simply a worrier.

I worry about being asked by some strangers looking for a bus station where I can’t even give myself the right directions as to whether I would be heading straight to my flat or kill my time at some shopping mall. There’s always these feeling that I’m being watched by somebody who thinks I got an ick on my face. I worry that I probably look so dumbed singing in sync with my iPod.

I’m a little worried about Up Dharma Down if one day I will be bored listening to them as much as I liked it at the moment. I worry about the heavy glass doors at the mall while other people couldn’t even care less opening it before some grannies helplessly grabbing it by themselves. Where’s all the kindness in this world? Anyone? Fook these kind of people!

Do you think it’s rude when you actually visit a branded shop like Gucci and be totally disappointed seeing a whining sales girl like as if you can’t afford to buy some piece of their gu-shits? Ok, I’m not buying anything but where’s the fooking service? Bitch!

I worry about those person at Mcdonald counters when they can’t even understand what a tissuepaper in english is about? Ahhh, I forgot, I’ve been here for many years, I should know that.

I worry about having too much coffee in the evening when I have to stay late to blog and only have three hours left to sleep when I can already hear the noise of the Tramcars at five in the morning? I worry of how I am gonna get up and look sluggish in front of my desk, worrying if I’d brush my teeth or not. Can I keep my mouthwash?

I worry that maybe the Watson’s dispensary shop will eventually stop selling hair coloring so I don’t need to worry about the grey hairs spoiling my looks even if it means I’m getting old. I worry that the tender can recognize me whenever I buy that mint candy and will keep asking me to get that freaking toblerone everytime I swipe my ATM card. Excuse me, do you know that I am diabetic? Granted, I would love to have a box of those sweeteners anytime soon, I mean, really no kidding it will kill me in nano seconds.

I worry about this whole blogging because I am only connected with my friendly wireless connection buddy. Thank you Nancy, you’re such a dear life saver. I worry that I can’t stop but keep thinking of anything unplanned for the next thirty precious minutes. I am not telling but I’m sure I will be pretty much spending my time in the toilet to check if my prune-looking balls are still on its place. Haller.

I worry about seeing the calendar because in just a blink of an eye, Christmas is going to curse me once again. That is, worrying about gift-giving to an extended few people who only cares to remember me when the season comes. I worry about too much coldpicks in my fridge that has been stored past its expiry dates.

But end of the day I’d thought - life is huge, because it’s filled with infinite variety of things and life experiences.

Don’t You Worry ‘Bout A Thing
by: Incognito