18 til I Die

I hate DOTA. hatedotahatedotahatedotahatedotahatedota. i took so damn long to type that hatedota thing because I always typed it as ‘hatedoat’, and had to backspace so many times. DOTA has caused me hours of waiting on msn for a reply, lack of attention received, and a tired-ass boy who will not pick up my calls in the morning cos he slept at 5am from playing that stupid game. I thought I’d try to learn the game so, as I theorized, try to be better than him at playing, beat him at it, and bring about the situation where he loses interest in playing when he realizes he can’t win. But then I realized there was one flaw in my plan:- I don’t think I could ever beat him at it. His technique was perfected from millions of hours staring and clicking. So I did what every self-respecting female would do; I resorted to snorting and grumbling whenever he starts to play.

That day I went over to spend some time as we were busy the whole week. He had that stupid DOTA screen open again. So I hid myself behind a book and starting spying on him. I watched as he kept clicking back and forth between Internet Explorer and the DOTA screen, waiting for a game to start. He did that for quite awhile, and on what must have been the 50th time he opened the DOTA screen, there was STILL no game on the list. He let out a little moan. Like somebody had just denied him a lolly or something.

"Hahaha.. somebody has no game to play! Nyehehehe…" I guffawed.

Out of spite, the bugger played DOTA until 3am.

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Since we’re on the topic of him, I might as well let out this pent-up frustration. Remember how he has to hobble in crutches every now and then since he tore a ligament during futsal that never healed properly? Well, the damn-cari-pasal fella went and signed up for a paintball tournament with his friends. My screams only served to push him further in his determination to play. Sigh. I need as much beauty sleep as possible as I foresee many nights in the hospital to come. Remember, I predicted it here first. He’s gonna look so ‘jeng jeng jeng’ on Ball nite with crutches. Here’s proof that all guys, regardless of creed or colour, will sacrifice anything in their passion for futsal.

The Sri Lankan guy tore his ligament in the same spot, in the same leg, while doing the same thing.

J loves this picture. He seems to think it’s funny.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, September 6th, 2006 at 5:07 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.