Ya know, I must've written about this 5 billion times already, but by reading someone's blog, you don't KNOW them. All you know is the parts of them that they might blog about, or let you know. So just because sometimes I write about my family, you don't know my family. Don't pretend you do. I might write about my surrogate family in Brisbane but there's so much more you don't know. I can tell you that yes, I've done a bit of drinking, but that doesn't mean I'm an alcoholic.

See, the thing with this blog is it started as a bit of a joke, really. Back then, it wasn't even THE in thing. Right now, everyone and their babies and their babies' babies have blogs, especially with Friendster and MSN Spaces, so it's not as if blogs are French. I digress. :P Anyway, my friends urged me to start one because they had one, and we could write whatever we want. Liss was the funny one, always making me crack up in tears. Pris was the all-around nice person, inviting everyone to say something in her blog. Thanks for getting me started. :)

Then when I came to Brisbane, it became my way of letting the guys back in Malaysia know I was still alive. Never would I expect that one day, I'd be linked to any other blog that didn't belong to people I know or see in everyday life. I'm still honoured, guys! I didn't know I was link-worthy. :) And so maybe I've cut down on my 'I had pasta for dinner' or 'Pris, you should've seen the amount of Japanese hotties' posts and written about PPS noobs or Blogs Malaysia members plugging their own posts (Yes, I've said this 29 billion times already).

But I know that my friends know me best. They know that if there was anything that I needed to tell them, I'd let them know. MSN, blog, phone, whatever. I might talk a bit about stuff like that fainting episode in university (I still don't reckon it's a big deal, guys. Really. :P), or my encounters with strange people (the barista is one), but all I write about is what I don't mind a perfect stranger knowing. I don't care if he knows that I think Steven Gerrard is a right hottie. Or that the doctor at the hospital was a cutie. I don't care if he knows that I watched a football match in the city with my friends and their random Russian friends bought me one of the best beers ever.

Oh, but you can bet I'd be pissed if he thinks I'd drop my undies principles and just walk into Steven Gerrard's/that doctor's bedroom blindfolded. Or that I would just drink anything and everything this world has to offer if it was free. You don't know me. All you know is what I say and what you think it means. You may be right, but maybe it's nice that you ask instead of just shooting your mouth off, feeling damn proud of yourself. A blog's a blog. It's not my autobiography. I don't record every moment in my life that I consider a milestone, or highlight my every footstep.

All I'm saying is people who haven't known me in real life long enough, or funnily enough, haven't even spoken to me, don't know me. Nope. Not at all. I don't see why you think yourself qualified to speak about my life. Just because I think that Stella Artois is one of the best beers you can have here (I consider it on par with Hoegaarden, actually) doesn't make me an expert. Or an alcoholic. So yes, those of you who dislike the way I am because of what I say, maybe you just don't know me. But I'm not gonna bother myself finding out and whining about why the hell you don't like me. I've been told life's too fucking short for that. You can tell me if you're so inclined to do so.

But don't assume you know me, hide behind nicknames. Anyone older than 8 knows that nicknames are reserved for playgrounds. By being derogatory or insulting me, you're only telling others that you sink that low because you can't find any substance for what you have to say. I'm only telling you this because I feel sorry for people who cannot for the life of them hide their level of intellect.

Blogs are not meant to tread on people's toes, but whoever said you can tread on mine?