I was popping pimples a little while ago. Yes, they're MY pimples.
Another reason to celebrate.
Yesssss!!! Even Rachel, known for her flawless complexion has PIMPLES!!! She's human! just like us!!
And so, I was popping my pimples.
I wish they'd just go away. I so freaking hate them. (I meant my pimples, not the people being joyous for them.)
As I was saying, I was popping my pimples.
Popping pimples. Popping pimples. Popping pimples.
The more I say it, the more the phrase seems like it isn't made up of understandable words, but gibberish blabble. Like pippopopipa. Or pipipapopape. Or pimple paranoia (I know that's not really gibberish. I just thought of typing it there because that's how I'm feeling right now).
AS I WAS SAYING, I was popping my pimples.
I never get to my point, do I? Sigh... Why is it that my brain keeps diverting from what I want to say? But that's pretty much the art of blogging, isn't it (correct me if I'm wrong)? Having ideas flowing in all the time, and before you know it, your blog entry has become an entire novel...
Oops. I paused for a moment, and all my ideas are gone.
Good, now I can get to my point.
I. Was. Popping. My. Pimples.
As I was just doing that, I noticed an ant. It seemed pretty lost in a jungle of hair. My hair. Or, more precisely, my eyebrow hair.
That's right. An ant (don't ask me how it got there) lost it's way out in my jungle of eyebrow hair.
I watched it scrambling about for a little while (I've already gotten over my seemingly absurd fear of small bugs a long time ago; bigger bugs still freak me out a little) before picking it out with my pimple-popping tool. And I accidentally squished it to death.
A bug just died in close proximity to me.
Which is coincidentally the most disgusting thing that I could ever imagine happening to me. A bug just died, with it's body still in contact with my skin and my pimple-popper tool (I don't know what to call it so I call it pimple-popper lor). Not only has my eyebrow gotten eww-ingly contaminated, but my pimple-popper isn't hygienic enough for my use anymore.
And then, I noticed my hamsters' tank was full of ants as well. I guess it's due to the unfinished piece of carrot I fed them three days ago. I know. Yuck. Don't rub it in. I've learned my lesson.
Lesson learnt: I will never feed my hamsters carrots ever again.
Moral of the story: Ask the maid to do it.
Eh, cannot say one, what. Maybe the carrots that my maid feeds won't be sweet leh? There is a possibility, right? Right???
I'm just too lazy to upload the photos of my hamsters. You'll just have to imagine their cuteness. Or be patient and wait for the day when I might suddenly get inspired to upload them. Which, of course, will be assumably most unlikely.
A thousand apologies.
P.S.: I know I'm being a drama queen about the ant contaminating me and my stuff part; I understand that bacterias can do more damage than one tiny ant. Nonetheless. I still think it's... Eww.