  Dire Straits The donut in front of me is salty, because I am weeping on it. I tried to eat the bastard because I was hungry, but it was yesterdays pastry I had left in my drawer.I cant afford the usual char kuey teow downstairs anymore and my stomach is rumbling from missing it.
Money can make you smile, and money can make you shit in your pants too. The last time I peered into my Ferrakamu purse I had only RM 6 to last to the 25th of this month, though I might have fared better then Awonn, who up to yesterday is surviving on 60 sen and Ping Pong biscuits. (Panic).That's it,Ive made my mind up; I am selling my `Fit and Fold Strider Treadmill to the evil CashConverting fashion victims of Tmn Mayong.Desperate times call for desperate measures.
After all the useless health equipment had served no purpose other than an extended clothes hanger for Johnny Brapian the Yob (sorry twins, I have disappointed you both).I can't believe I am actually going through this like ye olde broke uni bum days again. Ive just checked out my petty cash status online, my other hopeful salvation. Out of the ridiculously large amount of RM 817.30 I have claimed for the outstationing to JB,my GM had major concerns about the RM 5.80 toll receipts from my journey to a Shah Alam seminar two days prior to that.Because you could have taken the RM 1 Federal like everybody else,he says.Until he changes his bloody fickle mind about my `extravagant Sprint Highway spendings;the remaining RM 811.50 will have to wait.
(Seethe). 
