The Reason Why I Lack a Love Life

Because I teach my sister to post links on her blog instead of seriously seeking a love life!

Earlier it used to be because I would be doing my sister and brother's biology practicals. Such is life!

Dance Dance Dance

I went dancing, I went dancing, I went dancing. I forgot everything, everyone for a while and danced, danced, danced. When I finally sat down, I suddenly realised my friends were smiling and I got conscious of my fat, my clumsiness and offered my defense as usual, "I know I look funny" and was told not sarcastically, "No, some of your moves are very neat." I wish I was not so conscious about my body. I wish I could do this every night. I wish I always had the time to go dancing. I wish the music would always rock this way. I wish, I wish, I wish I could shut the world out more often.

Bunkhouse Theme

Notes to smirky concierge of Indian descent:
1. If I could go and get tickets, why would I ask you? Isn't that what you are supposed to do, anyway?
2. Pray what is so funny that you have to smirk all the fucking time I was asking you to get tickets for "Confessions of 300 unmarried men"?
3. If I tell you tickets are available on sistic, isn't it obvious I have milked the fucking site for all it is worth already?
4. I KNOW an espresso with double shots might keep me awake at night.
5. If I asked you to arrange a taxi for an airport drop, I'm obviously not bothered that flagging a taxi is cheaper and do you think if I was bothered about saving 10 dollars, I would stay at your upscale establishment?

So, kindly do not offer unsolicited advice and try and listen to what your guests actually want, instead of offering your sorry-ass opinions. I'm the fucking guest and I'm mighty pissed off at your inefficiency and am never staying with you again.

Dead Flowers

I did not get any flowers as demanded, not even dead flowers. So, next year, however loser-like it seems, I am sending myself flowers for birthdays, VDays and whenever I feel like it. This sort of explains my sorry love life. I'm so bloody self-sufficient, I don't need anyone. Today, I went for a play, bought myself a swanky dinner at Sun and toasted myself with champagne (Moet & Chandon, you rock!), finally managed to configure wifi settings on my laptop (free wifi, you rock!) and managed to follow a map without getting lost. The evening was balmy but not unpleasant, my solitude remained unbroken and I was glad of it, I did not even wallow in self-pity at drinking champagne alone. Which is why, I should feel sad at being self-sufficient, except, I don't. Half-way through the M&C, I've decided on the nickname for my new car, "Champagne Suzy".

Do You Know Jesus?

Of all the crazies in this world, the craziest have to talk with me at airports, railway stations and the like. As I was cursing the airlines, the annoying ground staff, the crick in my neck and the dull ache in my back after the airlines announced that the plane was delayed for yet another hour and I prepared to trudge back to the lounge, I was accosted by this pimply korean kid with an english-korean book in his hand. He said, "What is your name prrease?", "Are you going for a visit?" So I asked him and his slightly more fluent friend where they were going, where they were from, if they were in school and college. Then, his friend asked me, "Do you know Jesus?" and handed me a tiny collection of psalms.

I Will Survive

I have just returned from the Advertising Club of Calcutta's annual award night at the RCTC. I have this theory that some songs can just never be sung badly, like "I Will Survive", like, "Alice", etc. etc. Whoever that vile singer at the RCTC was, she debunked my theory. For the first time in my life, I heard an absolutely horrendous version of I will survive. This version was like tyres screeching, frogs croaking, topped with a bengali accent and a faux american accent mishmashing into each other. My ears are still ringing and I have that vile sound playing in my head. Shudder!

In The Mind

Sometimes horrible news like murders, deaths and robberies scare me, especially if they happen to someone I know, however indirectly. My sleep gets affected and my childhood security blankets make a reappearance. The past month was rife with deaths, murders, unpleasantness, grief and tragedies. I suddenly find I can't sleep unless I drink a warm cup of milk before going to bed. I feel comforted, soothed and relaxed. The last time this had happened to me was when my grandmother passed away back in 1998. Milk seems to work for me better than melatonin these days and I know it's all in my mind!

Valentine's Day Crap

Is it just my gutter brain or does VD sound awfully dirty?

Whatever, I want a huge bunch of roses. Really, really huge. Will you? Won't you?

So Long!

Bootle Bumtrinket and I are soon to part. She is (was) my first car and we had loads of adventures together. The last one resulted in a somewhat injured back (mine) and a smashed bum and rearlights (BB's). BB has been sweet and forgiving and low maintenance. Now, that ze second one is one its way, I am looking for a name. I may get a Swift or one that is slightly bigger.

The names I have shortlisted for the Swift are:
1. Bootle Bumtrinket II (BB II)
2. Giselle Bumchen
3. Black Booty (It's probably going to be black)

The names shortlisted for the other bigger car (Honda City, Indigo, Swing?) are:
1. Priscilla Queen of the Dessert (PQD)
2. Super Bitchin' Motion Car (SBMC)
3. Carly pedalpusher

I need help in choosing the names, please!

Over-worked

The pressure of work has been immense as I'm sure anyone (? Ha!) could make out. I'm again stressed out. My back has jabs of pain, my neck hurts really bad and my head feels like it weighs a ton. So God, please, please spare me and make melatonin available in India. Don't forget tylenol either.

My Sad, Sad, Sad Aura

I met someone who said she was a reiki master and that she felt I was in great pain. How did she know my bladder was close to bursting????