Friday, May 25, 2007

My Friends / Why I am Nucking Futs

Written in the hand of a four-year old. *For no better reason than that it makes poor grammar and shabby writing so much more excusable.*

Bob : Does illegal things to underwear. Takes off with mine. [Both statements are true, Bob, and you know it. Nyeh heh heh.]

Kaichu : Recites perverse limericks at 5 in the morning, in a careworn and spiritual manner, following an entirely sleepless 48 hours of examprep and post-exam debauchery respectively, much like you would do the surjo nomoshkar, or listen to Anuradha Paudwal as you sit for morning prayers. [I wouldn't either. But, you know, in a manner of speaking]. Also thinks masked men with mouthfuls of spiked and yellowing teeth are hot.

Panu : Undoubtedly evil. Knows things about me my closest friends have no clue about, just by taking one dismissive look at my palm. Predicts a shockingly sparse sex life but an incredibly fulfilling love life for me. Go figure. Or, To a nunnery, go?
Is under the mistaken notion that Kaichu belongs to her, when it is as it were, famously known across the land that Kaichu, as we know and love her, is entirely mine.

Dhruva : Has a shocking taste in house pets. Used to possess, nurture, and call his own the reptile-that-must-not-be-named. Not on this blog, no. Now every time I see him, I think he looks just that little bit more like the r-that-m-n-b-n'ed. But he doesn't know I think that. Ok, now he does. [Hi Dhruva! You're funny! *waves*] Tells ghost stories that cause light amusement, much to his chagrin.

Deep : Provides a soundtrack for and graphically describes the act of taking a crap in the buff while cussing cockroaches losing their way through the labyrinthine enclosures that are the individual curls of his leg hair.
Haha, I actually wrote that. Haha.

Prepostopoulos : Creates alternate sitcom universes. Has covered Seinfeld with me. Once thought he was escorting a girl to the dance floor, only to turn around and find her in a brawl and subsequently on the floor with an injured foot. Yes, he Did still dance with her. My friends have grit. They have determination. What? They do!

There are the others, of course. But they're seriously messed up. It wouldn't be funny talking about them. Really. That other lot is in Trouble.
*or I'm too tired to narrate those funny stories just yet. Wait for it. 'Twill come.*

So you see, dear reader, whom I love like a lost puppy - it really isn't my fault.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Stupid, Stupid Tag.

Tagged by Dhruva.

1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it:
Can't remember if it was 7+2=9 or 9+2=11 stitches, but, on the right knee - a deep one. I was jogging by the Lake, and there was this idiotic couple, and the man was yanking the girl's hair and pulling her toward himself, and she was trying to break free, and here I am, jogging, and I'm thinking OK, sexual harassment, I will go rescue, and in this cerebral tumult the next thing I know is I'm going down down down and then sliding on stone chips and my knee's split wide open and bleeding. I tripped on a piece of broken brick, or it could've been a pothole, of which there were several then. I fell on all fours and couldn't get up from the pain and the embarassmen. So, I'm on all fours and people are gaping and I look up, and I look right, and those fucking lovebirds are fucking kissing passionately. So it wasn't harassment at all, it was nyakami. Stop laughing. It was all very painful for me, and now I have no drive to do anything about my flabby ugly thighs, cuz I'll never be able to wear short things anyway.
Also, I hadn't gone back since. Well, since yesterday. Anyway, I lost interest in exercise from that day on. That's my alibi and I'm sticking to it.

2. What is on the walls in your room?
There's a copy of one of those Renaissance era milkmaid-in-torn-clothed-innocence-holding-goat type painting. A gift from a distant cousin. And a lizard with tummy upset. Runs in the family.

3. What does your phone look like?
Huh? It used to be white and khoo. Now it's scratched and old and comfortable-looking. Not snazzy like when I bought it. Also, the 'Panasonic' rubbed off slowly, leaving, first 'Panic' and now just 'ic'. Which is kewt. I like my phone. It's dying, though.

4. What music do you listen to?
Oh, not much. Anything. Nothing much. Ok, anything that doesn't screech incoherently. I
dislike those Black Eyed Peas.

5. What is your current desktop picture?
A lonely snow-capped mountain in bluetone.

6. What do you want more than anything right now?
My period. No no, to lose weight quickly without effort. It's too hot for exercise.

7. Do you believe in gay marriage?
Certainly not. Also, I don't 'believe' in condoms and vote Pope for President.
Uff. El stupido.

8. What time were you born?
Either 12:56, or 1:46. Can't remember exactly right now. Both AM.

9.Are your parents still together?

10. What are you listening to?
My mum screaming at some stock market broker or other.

12. The last person to make you cry?
It's a secret.

13. What is your favourite perfume/cologne?
I don't know of too many. I'd treasure a bottle of Chanel No 5, and I like my Davidoff Cool Water, but I'm sure there are other nice perfumes. There's one by Givenchy, one by Jean-Paul Gaultier and one by Elizabeth Arden that my mum wears/used to wear - all were/are lovely, but perfume is not important enough for me to remember names of. I mean, it's always more fun to go and try on new smells and choose each time, rather than stick to the same bottle always.

14. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like on the opposite sex?
Uuuufff. Cherry pink and apple blossom white.

15. Do you like pain killers?
Do I wha? Do I like ...?
statutory warning: Pain killers can screw you up for life.

16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
Yes. Always.

17. Fave pizza topping?
Uhm. Pepperoni, anchovies, gorgonzola. Smoked chicken is good too.

18. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
Pizza, goddammit. Also, chocolate mud cake. Cherry tart. Dark chocolate.
Wait, there's frooti and chhana pora in the fridge. Yay!

19. Who was the last person you made mad?
I dunno man, I'm doing it all the time. Was it you? Or You? Or You or You or You?
Like a musical.

20. Is anyone in love with you?
What's the deal with this tag? Are you done embarassing me already?!

I tag fancy schmancy, DD, b'bot [which, you must admit, is a welcome change from the usual atrocities done to her name] and panu.

Monday, May 14, 2007

Being Unemployed

is good stuff, as it turns out. I've eaten all meals outside the house since the exams got over on Thursday, had a rather enjoyable sleep-in with beeyootiful company that made me go all sappy-canape [or sappy ka nappy] and write long mails that would do Adrienne Rich and her lesbian continuum proud. I have also been caught prancing around with lit cigarette by friends of parents whom I meet regularly in an atmosphere where they think I am a role model for youth with my *dumdedumdedah* [read: prudishness]. I have also boozed moderately and been told that I say the most preposterous things when I'm drunk. Which means absolutely nothing because I say the most preposterous things when I'm not drunk. And I forget each and every preposterous thing I've ever said, honest. In my head, I'm a picture of sobriety and propah. Meh.
I am also intensely disliking writing this post because I'd much rather lie down and hold my aching tummy and will my head to keep off exploding and my nose to keep off dripping for ONCE. I grow old, I grow old.
Ok, so anyway, we're at Princeton, and I'm on all fours trying to reach for my drink - because it's precariously positioned, and not because I generally like embarassing myself, as you'd imagine- and we're on that familiar and much-loved topic of the greenhorn - My School Kicks Your School's Ass. [Mine does, honest]. This time we're debating the superiority of my tNyash "convent school background" over .. uhm ... this other school that could just have been a city by itself. A mini-Gotham City brimming over with hooligans and mad monkeys. [hyuk hyuk. i think i will disable comments for this one]*. So.

Me (unfairly outnumbered, with a feeble attempt at tossing of hair and sneer of condescension) :We have class!
Dhruva (taking a relaxed sip of beer and oozing nonchalant coolth) : We have classes.

Seriously, you can't top that! I been snubbed, Pointedly. *snicker* [note to self: stop snickering. you're no good with subtlety]. Always good to know people who can swipe the carpet from under you. And if you're here to point out to me that that last line is awl wrong, then you may quickly proceed to drown yourself in mucous. My mucous.

I have billions of good books to read. Yay!
I have a tag to do. Yay.

* So ok, fine. They've produced a handful of brains in a couple of lightyears and they do alright by way of HS results, and some important people in my life studied there. Pah.

Friday, May 11, 2007

It's All Over Now, Baby Blue

You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last.
But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast.
Yonder stands your orphan with his gun,
Crying like a fire in the sun.
Look out the saints are comin' through
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.

The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense.
Take what you have gathered from coincidence.
The empty-handed painter from your streets
Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets.
This sky, too, is folding under you
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.

All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home.
Your empty-handed army is all going home.
The lover who just walked out the door
Has taken all his blankets from the floor.
The carpet too, is moving under you
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.

Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you.
Forget the dead you've left, they will not follow you.
The vagabond who's rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore.
Strike another match, go start anew
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
- Bob Dylan