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You can call me Leslie.

I'm a Cancerian, '90

I dream and fantasize a lot.

I love photography.

I might just be a celebrity chef one day.

I am an animal lover.

I am health conscious sometimes.

I am not interested in people with no dining etiquette.






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    • Life's a highway, so take the wheel.

    Monday, January 12, 2009
    Wet armpit.

    Train tragedy. Really.

    As usual, I will be cool with my mp3 and hold on to the pole with one hand in a pocket when I'm in the train.

    So there was this indian man with his shirt tucked in nicely and looking very neat and tidy except for that moustache came in, he stood at the glass panel there with his arm raised up high like doing some Victoria's Secrets sexy pose.

    OMFG!

    That smell was TERRIBLE. My face squinted immediately. So from Paya Lebar, I had to endure his nonsensically smelly and wet armpit all the way to Bugis. You know, I have this hate for people with really really bad odour, that I really wish I could pour the whole bottle of deodorant over the pits. Note the pour.

    And there was this guy who boarded at Aljunied. He leaned against the pole that I was holding on. WTF you silly old uncle?! No basic courteousy at all? NbCb freak.

    I was still cool then. HAHAHAHAHA!