Trying to read 50 Hercule Poirot short stories in one sitting is like trying to eat 50 Kueh Lapis-es (most definitely sic) in one sitting: The first, oh, 20 or so, they're great, delicious, I can't stop at one. Or two. Or five. But by the 25th, I start to get really, really sick of it. It's still delicious, I just can't stomach anymore or I'll puke. I'll just have to wait a few weeks to get the appetite to read the remaining short stories. It's always a pleasure reading about a fellow egg-shaped headed man (try seeing me with a bald head. Brrrr...)

Here's a series of conversations that happened the past few months:

(February)
MSF: Can I have a haircut?
Mom: Why? Nice what, your hair.

(March)
MSF: Can I have a haircut?
Mom: No money!

(April)
MSF: Can I pleeease have a haircut?
Mom: Berape kali nak cakap, takde duit!

(Last week)
MSF: (looking at the mirror) Say, my hair's looking good. Almost like David Beckham. I think I'll keep it!
Dad: (enters room) Son, go get a haircut tomorrow.
MSF: WHAT?! But...
Dad: Here's 20 bucks, 10 for the barber, 10 for pocket money.
(beat)
MSF: You want me to get a crew-cut, or fully bald?

Counting the 10 bucks I had stored and the 10 Mom gave me, that's 30 dollars I had. And true to form, I spent 2/3rds of it in 2 days flat.

I have got to control my spending urges.