Thursday, July 2, 2009
No, the kid is not that Alaska Milk kid in the carton. I'm just confused. I don't know what to write about.
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Blame my tuning in to a lot of Wimbledon matches the past ten days. Cheering to the likes of Roger Federer, Lleyton Hewitt, Stan Wawrinka, Elena Dementieva, and Tommy Haas must be sucking some life out of me, I am not having the luxury of time to blog and blog hop and blog and blog hop some more.* * * * * * * *
I feel quite bad for Farrah Fawcett. Her death has been pretty much unpublicized since a far bigger star has fled mortality as well moments after hers. Of course it was not anybody's fault. Though her would-have-been marriage will never transpire.* * * * * * * *
I'm still very much in the lookout for ways to create some more dough. If you got suggestions or help of any kind, it will be very much welcome. I've applied as a blogger for an international television station, as a writer for a local men's magazine, an english language trainer for a local call center academy and to other local companies who's willing to hire writers for a non-full time employment basis. I love my current job, right? I just needed to find ways to make extra moolah.* * * * * * * *
I guess I'm done now. I'm turning my pop culture blogazine into a personal blog, sans the hearts and rainbows and pink backgrounds and hifaluting words and freaky girly slideshows. Thanks for reading my smorgasbord.
Thursday, July 2, 2009 4
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