chaka chaka

So last night I hit the sack early around 1 in the morning and was already nodding off when the fucking landline started ringing. And ringing. And ringing. I got up surprisingly early the next day (for me) and the phone was just making a ruckus.

Seems that it’s been happening a while now. Whoever’d pick up would hear foreign babbling + lovely motorbike ambience. After going for Toyota’s City Survival and learning about enough killings and rapes and mutilations to last me three lifetimes, this royally freaked me out. Sure it could just be pranking; it could also be some syndicate staking out (what ma pitifully dubbed) the poorest house in the neighbourhood.

I was freaked enough to get in touch with someone I know at the MVFRA (justfuckinggoogleit.com) and we’ve talked to our community watch (aka protection agency) and my whole family, we’re all barricaded in our rooms as of this very minute.

Thanks, you scary fucks. *Leslie Cheung airchop*