Husbands for Sale!

I was going to write about The Phantom of The Opera and David Tennant but I happened to read this from online journal:


A store that sells husbands has just opened in New York City.
Rules at the store:
You may visit the store ONLY ONCE!

There are six floors and the attributes of the men increase as the shopper ascends the flights. There is, however, a catch…
You may choose any man from a particular floor, or you may choose to go up a floor, but you cannot go back down except to exit the building!

So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband.
On the first floor, the sign on the door reads:
Floor 1 - These men have jobs and love the Lord.

The second floor sign reads:
Floor 2 - These men have jobs, love the Lord, and love kids.

The third floor sign reads:
Floor 3 - These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, and are extremely good looking.

'Wow!' she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going. She goes to the fourth floor and the sign reads:

Floor 4 - These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, are drop- dead good looking and help with the housework.

'Oh, mercy me!' she exclaims, 'I can hardly stand it!' She proceeds to the fifth floor and reads the sign:

Floor 5 - These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, are drop- deadgorgeous, help with the housework, and have a strong romantic streak.

She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the sixth floor and the sign reads:
Floor 6 - You are visitor 4,363,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please.

Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store.
Watch your step as you exit the building, and have a nice day!

So, what do women want? Too fussy or just discerning?

Just an unsignificant contemplation of mine:
We always think that we deserve something better, and not this suck shit ass.
Yes everyone wants a good life.

But we don't get to gauge people just because of the LITTLE PRIDE that we have.
This little pride triggers a lot of catastrophes in our life.
It makes us criticize on classmates' micobiology workbook answers.
It causes us make fun of classmates' outfits.
And of course it make us weep.

Humility. This is what we need.

What if dreams come true.

I woke up on Monday morning. 3 am.
I had threesome and oral sex with 2 classmates.
The third person must be a stranger. It's the rule.
It was a dream. I checked my pants.
It didn't get stained.

I woke up on Tuesday morning. 5 am.
My classmate lifted me up.
By holding my fully erected penis.
It was a dream. I smirked.
That particular classmate fully gained my attention the whole day in class.

I woke up on Wednesday evening. 6 pm.
Thinking. I am Joe's shivering testicle.
It was Fight Club. I touched my crotch.
I know because Tyler knows.

I woke up on Thursday afternoon. 3 pm.
Used to love the name Poison Ivy in Batman.
I have Poison Tears. Eye infection.
So don't fuck with me.
But the world seems more fantasy.
Nasty human looks a little bit cute in my eyeball, right side.
I still can see the menacing civilization at my left side.
How?

I woke up on Thursday again. It's still young night.
I can barely see the luminous moon.
Singing Don't Stop Believing so loud.
It was a dream.
I know because I only sing to my nostrils.
Never to my ears.

I woke up on Friday morning. 7 am.
Melvin said he was 15 years old.
Hilary Duff said she was 29 years old.
We were casting in a movie.
It was my dream again.I said.
Dear Friday. Dear Ferguson.

Dear Diary.

Life is not going so gleeful recently.

Because I couldn't get my cavity filling done. I am the only failure in class who still haven't fill the cavity with ZOE yet. Sim Lab owns the dark magic to make me so hagridden. Help me Prof Lupin!!!


This is the song playing in my extracellular matrix whenever I step into Sim Lab.

I couldn't answer Prof Ferguson's question although I already prepared the chapter for 1 whole night.

Dr.Robinson is waiting. PBL is on next week. ARGH he is really freaking me out. He'll eat me, I think...

My teeth casting is so awful. You don't want a patient with that kind of alignment of teeth forever in your life I swear, not even once.

I still don't understand whatever Dr Fauzana teaches in class.

This is my only not-so-rachel-berry-emo-smile in this week. I imitated Aimee.

My hair is so messy recently. It looks like Harry Potter's hair now. But not as famous as his.

And I am doubting whether I can be a good dentist eventhough I am not afraid of needle. But I completely forgot those conservative dentistry or dental materials in module 1.

Sometimes I really feel like I am the-first-one-to-die-when-they-stop-producing-peanut-butter human. I have nothing to make myself proud of. Do I?

I still keeping my diary well. I bersembang with him before I sleep. Dear Diary, your best man is mentioning your name here.