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Early 2000, I’m addicted by chicklit.
One that I can recall at this moment is Undomestic Goddess by Sophie Kinsella. You may know the fab writer with her Shopaholic series.

So why did I write this post?
While actually I’m watching An Education with my boyfriend who apparently busy clicking his Pearl.

Because..
Not long ago, I waited for him to come home.
Before that, I’m busy cleaning the room.
One thing that I missed is cooking him dinner, because it’s past midnight, unless you’d like to have a bumpy road on stomach and petrified your intestine, I prefer not to cook or order food.

Oh okay..
I can’t cook.

So he came home, after a meeting in Melawai, he said the clientele loves his sketch. Afterwards, mi cherie went to a radio station in Kemang, he’s now working permanently for a year as an announcer.

We kissed.
Chocolips rum butter vanilla kissus flavored with Baileys.
I’m high. I’m fly.
Mon amour soit à la maison après le travail.
Then I heard imaginary grassy jazz voice humming.

You got me wrapped around your little finger
If this is Love, it’s everything i hoped it would be
You got me wrapped around your little finger
You will see, By my words just how much you mean to me

When we kiss, It’s as if our lips agree
that we were meant to be
When we touch, It’s too much
Oh the sparks that fly, Are lighting up the sky

You got me wrapped around your little finger
If this is Love, it’s everything i hoped it would be
You got me wrapped around your little finger
If this is Love, It’s everything that i’ve been dreaming of

Lalalalala.
Lalalalala.

I feel domestic on weekend.
Undoubted delightful seeing him opening the door.
Watching him from his back with tattoo that I despise.
But yet, I’m addictive to his odor.
So ‘ewww’ of me.

Nite universe..

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