I'm alive.

Just saying.

* * *

While I'm still here I just want to say something.

This is really personal but I'd like for you guys to hear about it too.

In any case, you can't keep such things a secret for too long, no?



True story.


* * *

You've gotta love the Internet.

* * *

I'll try and write something fun, soon, for 'tis the season to be jolly!

Note to self: SHIT. WRITE SOMETHING FUN, SOON, FOR 'TIS THE SEASON TO BE JOLLY!


Cheers
x

Summer Love

It had been a while since I'd gone to that part of town...
...since I'd seen the building where he and I spent that one summer together.



Somehow, it didn't feel the same. Nothing was magical about it anymore.

Walking down that road, I found it hard to believe that there was a time when I'd put everything on hold and dash halfway across town...
to this building...
to walk through that painted wooden door...
to see him...

He felt so cold against my body that would be sweaty from all the running, warm under all that make up and all those layers of black clothes.

We hardly ever talked.
I loved it.
What would I say to him anyway? Discuss school?
I only remember this...
Our lips.... the cold spreading through my body... and then goosebumps.
It became routine. Like a drill, almost.
I loved it.
I had had my first orgasm.
I kept going back there, everyday.

He still lives here, I've heard. I'm sure he's found so many giddy girls since me.
I will just be that delirious 17 year old to him who was obsessed with him once.Life goes on, no?
But it was not his fault anyway... None of it was. Looking back, I can only sigh.

At 17, I was sure I had found love and even more sure that he and I would last forever and for always (like in that Shania Twain song.)

Then one morning, I wasn't able to slip into my jeans quite as easily as I usually would.


The bump started showing.
My belly was getting bigger.
It didn't matter how much I cut back on Nutella.
I needed maternity pants. Soon.

I think she read the guilt in my eyes (or she figured there was something the size of a giant panda under my shirt) but at any rate, my mother was the first to talk to me about it.
I burst out. I confessed to her. My mum. I told her what I'd been doing all summer long.
She was calmer than I thought she would be when it all came out into the open.
She held my hand and walked me through the biggest screw up of my life...


My beer belly.

Courtesy: Beer @ Pecos.
Rs. 275 per pitcher.
Buy one, get one. FREE.

* * *

Now of course, I'm a lot wiser... older.
"That building" is just another building to me.
I'm blissfully married to Whiskey.
We've had a couple of babies ever since- Judgement Impaired and Puffy McCheeks.
They are my world.
We have a third one on the way... We want to name him Ugly Zit Jr.
Life is good.

* * *
Disclaimer:
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious.
Any resemblance to any biological process, natural or in-vitro is purely coincidental.

No fractures this year. Touchwood.

Stewie Griffin: The best thing to have happened to babies since diapers.

I've been gone long, huh? It's fucking year-end already!
This year's New Year Resolution of learning how to tie a tie (?) crashed and burned ages ago and I have no such ambitions as giving it a shot now.
However I did master another art, that is just as tricky and requires just as much concentrated power of will.
*drumroll*
I... have learnt... how to get... a screenshot!
Woot! I'm the King of the worrrrrrrld! Wooohooo! xD

Newsflash: So, my new poll is up.
Kindly vote. Thanks!

Erm. Apart from watching good sitcoms, bad movies and stuffing my face with meat, I'm not doing much these days. Guess a semester straight out of hell usually has such an impact. Whatevs.
Plans of giving my room a "total makeover" went kaput. As did my much-dreamt-about trip to Mumbai did. 36 hours in that city and I was down with a case of food poisoning. Uggh.
Guhhhreat place to shop though!
That reminds me. *tears rolling down my quivering lips*
I saw the coziest... snuggliest... and by every measure the hottest Arsenal FC pullover ever.
It would've cost me a bomb but...

but...

but...

IcouldntbuyitbecauseI'dshoppedforSOfuckingMUCHalready!
Waaaaaaaaaaahh! x'((

Shopping budget, die.

* * *

Three things no one has said to me in the longest time:

"Bon appetit!"

"You're beautiful..." (Hey it's absolutely OK to want to hear that sometimes, alright? Don't you judge me! Wait. What? Are you judging me? Are you really judging me on that?! Haha whoa, that's low. No, no that's really low like. No, really? Alright go ahead be a bitch. Yeah go for it. If it helps you sleep at night, go ahead alright? Judge. It's whatever. I don't care care anymore. Judge me. Yeah. Pooh! I don't give a rat's fucking ass. I don't. Go ahead. Whatever alright. WHAT. EV. ER.)

"Just stop talking for fuck's sake!" (This, I never get. I mean NEVER. Honest.)

* * *

Mirror mirror on the wall... What the *%^&@!# happened?
Note to self: You're becoming fat, bitch. Get out and run or you will die alone and friendless.
Yeah so I've been doing a lot of research on french fries. Yeah, bollocks.

* * *

This post is second in the series of clues being thrown at you to remind you that I'm yet alive.
I'll be back soon, lovelies, have a great thanksgiving!
And cheers to whatever is left of November- my second most favourite month on the calendar! :D

xo


PS: Check this. FTW.

Writer's block.

It's a lie.
There's no such thing.

I think I just fell in love with Marlon Brando

Yes, it's true. I'm not saying anything more. I may just wet myself.

* * *

It has come to my attention (and stayed there long enough so writing this post was possible) that:
Almost everyone on facebook has an album called "random". Even boys.
So bleeding gay. That's not even it. There are gay-er variants:
randoms, random clix and randomzzzz: Uggh! Get a thesaurus fuckers.
And this is the worst:
"R@|\||)OM!!!"
Thhu!
Similarly, almost every girl on blogspot has written a post about a boy who's left her heart broken and scarred for life and how as a result of that she is drowned in sorrow and cannot eat/sleep/fart like before and how she wishes she'd never ever met him in the first place.
Guilty as charged.
I think it's a phase thing. Ah well.
Talking about phases, remember "the phase" when you wanted to cut your hair short and wear black eye make up and get tattoos and body piercings everywhere to rebel against society's ridiculous norms? Wait, that's not a phase- that's just gay. Mpfft hahahaha! I should totally be a stand up comedian. I'll just kill people with my jokes... Wow!
Eeeks. Nothing. Ignore me. I'm a retard.


Me: More facebook bashing, who's game?
From inside my monitor: *roars, thunderous clapping and wolf-whistles*
Me: Ok let's go!

#1 So this bitch of an application tags me in random photos.
"Who's been viewing your profile the most this week?"
Wtf?! I haven't once visited this person's sorry excuse of a profile full of Farmville news.
So shove it. I'm untagging.
But, well, that's not to be:
I hit remove tag and instead of removing the picture right away,
"A validation error occurred" apparently.
Er? I don't think you heard me. REMOVE TAG.
"A validation error occurred".
REMOVE TAG, bitch!
"A validation error occurred".
Aaaaaaaagh! Irritating. I have NOT "visited XYZ's profile 66 times this week". What the fuck.
20 minutes of brainstorming and I decided to report abuse.
Problem solved. Case closed. The photo doesnt show on my profile anymore.
Master stroke eh?
Well :D

#2 IPL-related status messages :|
Yeah. Ok. We all watch the matches and we all read the papers. Stop flooding my homepage with updates of who won and how "superbly" they won. Stop telling me how you almost "died of tension" and how unbelievable that 108 m sixer was. AND STOP DOING IT EVERYDAY.
*nauseous*

#3 The chat widget: Do we even need to discuss this? :|


* * *

Dear God,

My heart is broken and I'm scarred for life and as a result of that I'm drowned in sorrow and cannot eat/sleep/fart like before and I wish...
Wait. Shit! Didn't I already use that for the heartbroken blogger chicks' bit?
Hmm. Lets start over.

Dear God,

There was a time when I was not gay. I used to drink like a fish and remain perfectly stable all night. I used to chug down white rum- neat. I used to drink three Long Island Iced Teas and ride back home safely. I used to smoke weed and have a good trip. I used to laugh like a mad girl and slowly calm down.
But these days- one, ONE, joint and I hit rock bottom. I fall quiet and all I see are alphabets and symbols. My mouth stops working. I cannot move and stay rooted to the spot. I feel like I'll die if I don't sleep that minute. I fucking pass out before 2 am.
By the time I wake up, the party is over, the sun is shining and all my friends are leaving.
It's happened twice already.
No more! No more!
Is this how men with serious ED feel?
I completely sympathise with them.
:'(
I want my capacity back.
Please. Help me. :'(


* * *

LAMB OF GOD will be in town in less than a month.
W00t!
I. Cannot. Wait.



*bows down low*

* * *

Come back next time to read about "a date gone horribly" wrong and other stories.
Be good, leave comments.
Bye! :)