My new name is Jelly.

I've been slogging hard, facing my fuck cheebye supervisor who uses the most ridiculous excuses just to escape from the piles of dishes to be washed or to save the floor from being flooded with too many potatoes. I've been rolling my beautiful eyes at 2 colleagues who couldn't differentiate sentences when customers asked "What is the fish cooked with", they answered "Yes Mam, the fish is good". Nabeh?

But I'm not complaining, because I'm still enjoying the overusage of my sickening voice of caucasians that are mainly made up of guys. Because I still love digging ice creams. Because each second that ticks away, more moolah is going to have a new home in my bank account. I'm just fuck tired the magician hiding with my behind the counters is letting peppermint ice cream fall from the fan, that he mixes orders up and complains I'm too short to reach the topmost bar of coke. But eh, ah cock, I think you only 160 only hor?

Enough shit talk. I'm going off to genting to try to sneak into casinoes and win money so I won't have to work or find a sugar daddy. So the next time you see me try to lick my boots squeaky clean and if you're lucky I might include you in my inheritance list. Intellectual words saved for the next time iloveyoumuchokaybyebye.