This will be a considerably longer post than the previous one (:

Firstly, to elaborate on my announcement.

Upon on embarking on the creation of the storyline, I've realised that I may and may not be able to create something that will spark the same interest as the first installment. This is due to the fact that (I've pointed this out time and again) my style of writing has evolved and matured in some aspects, over the years. Comparing the way I wrote and the direction and genre that my essays and stories used to flow in back in my lower secondary years, my later, more recent works in upper secondary have taken on a darker, more melancholic flavour. ABAL (II) might be much darker, less lamer, and probably more sarcastic.

But I'll do my best to keep it light, keep it funny with slap-stick lameness, and keep the mynah alive (:

However, advance apologies if ABAL (II) does not touch your funny bones like ABAL (I) did.
Next, went out shopping with mum and sis today around Orchard. Cam-whored a bit on the train, though sis was a little relectant (and the flash made my pimples stand out even more ><). Went to The Vila'Ge for a hearty lunch of rosti with a cheese sausage and a sinnnnnnnnnnful dessert of crepe, chocolate ice cream, chocolate sauce and a generous dash of chocolate sprinkles! SUGAR RUSH CAN?!

Sadly, the Esprit carbonated water we always drink when we dine there wasn't in stock anymore ): And the guy (bartender?) who was in-charge of the drinks section was.. I dunno. Being.. weird. Being incessantly nice to a coupla' teenage (and obviously underaged) girls. We stood there deciding what to get since the Esprit was out. So he was like, "Can't decide what to get, ladies?" And we were like, "Yeah, you guys don't have the Esprit carbonated water anymore?" And he said, "You can get the carbonated alochol. The green apple vodka's not bad." And then I said, "Ah, sorry, we're underaged."

And he said, "Nevermind, it's okay, I can sell it to you if you want -winkwink-"

Like, hello? If the alcohol percentage was minimal, I might've considered. But for goodness' sake, it's VODKA and that alcohol's content like, what? EIGHT PERCENT?!

Eh, I have no mind to get drunk in the middle of the day IN FRONT OF MY MOTHER. If I were with my friends, I would have definitely gotten it la. But sadly, nuuuu. Couldn't. -sigh- Maybe next time. (shhh xP)

Then we went to John Little and I bought a cute pair of shoes (: So satisfied. Next time I buy shoes, it'd be sneakers ^^ More shoes for poly! So happy! (Bleh, maybe my vain side is coming out: I want smexay black eyeliner too xP)

After that, we went met Dad at Pasir Ris (outside White Sands) and he chauffered us to Ikea at Tampines Ave 10. Ordered meatballs, a side dish of broccoli (how'd they get them so sweet?). Dad got an assortment of other foods. Just as I was reaching for a piece of herring, I felt something squirt on my back. I froze. And turned around to see chilli sauce on my shoulder blade. I turned back slowly, put my cutlery on my plate as softly and as calmly as I could, while muttering what the fuck? under my breath (well, my sis could hear it - meant for her ears anyay =/)

I whirled around again, and a lady (at least I'm civil enough to call her that) tearing into a chilli-smothered chicken wing greeted me. Mum was like, 'Omg, what happened?' So I tore into an account of what happened, and the lady and her friend was like, 'No, not us? How could it have spurted so far? Must've been some kid la!'

While not a single soul, young or old, had passed by us at that time.

And looking at the chilli stains on the floor and the chair, it's like sooooo BLATANTLY OBVIOUS that it came from their direction. And they kept denying denying denying.

Okay, so maybe it was an accident, like they didn't open the chilli packet properly or something, surely they would have seen red, sticky missiles flying through the air. Unless you were seriously blind. Or you'd have to be eating like a pig, an uncivillised barbarian, to tear into a chicken wing, so much so that the chilli sauce can fly everywhere. Like, hello, if that's the case, you have no table manners, no clue as to how to eat properly AT ALL.

I was pissed, yes, I wouldn't deny that. But not pissed because I got attacked by high-flying chilli sauce, but more of their denial. They know it's them, yet they wouldn't apologise. There was so much chilli sauce everywhere, it'd've easily amounted to half, even an entire packet's worth of chilli sauce.

Stupid people.

Can't you be more considerate, and not spray people with chilli sauce, albeit intentional or not? Were you trying to show off your new dentures which are supposedly able to open chilli packets better than your fingers or natural teeth can?

HORRIGIBLE.
(typo is intentional.. ^^)