I am procrastinating being well. After a decently long time of sleeping too freaking late (say, like 12 in the afternoon after a long night of poker), not eating well, my body is finally showing signs of giving way. Signs like an incurable ulcer, infected eyes, and it feels as though H1N1 hit me too. Or would feel better than this.
Which is why I cannot wait! To move into the new place. Hopefully I'd be inspired to work out more, because if I go swimming right now (it is 12.32 am) or jogging, my mother would freak out. Even she gets more exercise than me by picking durians.
Lance sleeping on my bed, collapsing after two days of non-stop online poker. I wish he'd stop stressing himself out like that, even forgoing meeting his friends today. Although I can't say I'm not happy about that, I'm always worrying about his 'fan girls' or whatever they're called. So old and still so immature, the kind that would pop out of a bush at any moment.
Another poker session tonight, which I'm still in knots of whether to go.
Too much gambling is too..
15/10/1989, into fast cars, black/silver/grey, good foie gras, poker, a degenerate gambler. Hooked on appealing visuals and in love with the world's most retarded poker player, Lance.