Listen, I'll tell you something. You know what's wrong with women's emancipation today? And reading goddamn blogs? Hah.
So I once read something a blogger called Vulturo [I think] had written - it's the only post I've ever read of his. He talked about how he'd got on a bus and sat himself down next to a lady, and she squirmed and edged towards the window. That's the basic gist - he felt violated. Insulted, even. Because apparently the woman had assumed he'd try to harass her - something of the sort. Now, that's his idea, of course. I'll tell you what, the woman wasn't doing nothing of the damn sort. But that goddamned post ruined my life, didn't it? Ever since then, when a man sits next to me on the bus, and mind, no slim man has ever sat next to me, it's always the big hulking ones. And a big, hulking man + a big, hulking Peep on 1 minibus seat = hell, someone's falling off. Which could have been avoided if, on finding that I could no longer be queen of my domain, I'd have shifted towards the window and made some space, for the goodly co-passenger. But I can't, can I? Because now, suddenly, I'm considering his feelings. I'm wondering if he'll think I see him as a potential groper if I move away to make space for him! So I spend the rest of the journey clenching my bottom and trying to shift millimetre by millimetre, so as not to offend anybody, instead of just simply sliding to the side. Bloody hell, I tell you.
Oh, and by the way, Sagnik, women love shoe-shopping more than men, presumably, because we've got variety, we've got colours and cuts and beautiful beautiful desgins to choose from. Unlike men's shoes, which can only come in 13 kinds anywhere in the world. In any case, I have male friends who allot a certain amount of money every month for clothes-shopping. Which makes me snigger, seeing as how I only shop before Pujo and my birthday [and no, I don't buy 20 tops and 17 skirts and other things in heaps], and I haven't bought a pair of jeans in 5 years, even though mine are battered in inappropriate places [uff, i'm not making any bleeding fashion statement - it comes with being fat - uh, friction, and ... oh never mind. now i'm embarassed]. And anyway, even if someone's a compulsive shopper - why do you even have to try and understand women's fascination for nice clothes and accessories? Do we ever question your obsession with watching ugly men in skimpy clothes wrestle each other? And don't even get me started on obsessive-compulsive gelling of hair.
Ok, I can't think of anything else to snap about. I need to write a gazillion assignments, and I've caught the 7th bout of cold in the last 2 weeks. Things are *not* [I'm sick of italics] good, and it's pissing me off.
Dear good stuffs, I'm awfully sorry I didn't reply to the comments on the last post. I just don't wanna. I mean .. uh. :-[ No offence, though.