Sweet Home Alabama, oops, Ahmedabad

So when this lady at the-counter-where-I-get-my boarding-pass asked me if I have any seat preferences, I wanted to say 'Next to Mr.Cute Guy pliss?', but ended up going 'window, if its possible', which it wasn't, for that matter. I am always very unlucky when it comes to my seating in journeys. There was this time I had actually managed a window one, but then Auntyji decided to encroach upon mine, and I was too sweet to say anything. I normally remain very psyched through air journeys and so it doesn't really matter. Plus I can just catch glimpses of the outside anyway, unless of course, Uncleji decides to hog it all to himself. The weird part is every time I have an aisle seat, Unclejies and Auntyjies next to me have to use the lavatory multiple times during those 85 minutes. And then the Hedonistaah has to wake up from her psyche-induced slumber, and shift and blah and bleh. You know about all those movies and novels where they have the female lead sit next to a cute guy, and then they get talking, and so on and so forth. Never happens to me. Only Us and As.

Mom was faint with super high BP yesterday. 100/150. And to think she normally has low BP. And do you know why? Because moi was to travel alone. Sheesh. We are a family of highly emotional fools.

My Math tutor at the JEE coaching place was all "OMG, you have become even thinner! On a diet or something?". And I weighed myself at the Doc's today. 52!! EEEEEEE. So I am back to 52. And so I binge. For a month. Yay.

Breaking News:

My. mom. is. teasing. me.

With. a. guy.

Never. before.

Help.

PS - I love waking up to texts. *hint hint nudge nudge*

To the end of the world and back

Sometimes more than anybody and anything else in the world, I hate myself. And its not about me obsessing over trivial things even when I am on my oh-God-am-stuck-with-trivial-mortals-who-obsess-about-broken-nails-and-broken-relationships trip. No, I am not talking about me the hypocrite. Or me, the biased bitch. *Yes, I am very very biased, and prejudiced, and judgemental. The very things that endear X to me are those I find repulsive in Y.*

So yesterday I was in a bad bad mood. And a 'how are you' sms from the DarkLord sent me to tears. Basically one of those phases when even a traffic jam can make you cry. And all I needed was a hug. And all I had in my room was my messy wali roomie. Only refuge, and I was very desperate. And as the roomie, who, by the way, I had called a bullshit-er 10 minutes ago, kindly wiped of the saline off my cheeks, all I could think of was if she had washed her hands after she'd used the loo the last time. And when I saw ink stains on her hands later, I really had bile up my throat.
I am such an ungrateful wretch. And mental filth is harder to get rid of than physical dirt.

***

Elaborating on why 'how are you'-ness psyches me a lot - sometimes when you've got nothing going right, and people ask how you are, and you mentally start framing an answer to that question, do you realise how sad and pathetic your existence is. Everything in a properly worded/sentence form always has a stronger impact. At least for 'words are all I have' people like me, who unconsciously compose a narrative of every moment they spend awake, to exhaust on somebody who's probably not even interested in listening. I sound like dripping depression all the time these days. I am not like that, really. When I am not on my self-hating guilt trips, I am normally euphoric, delirious and delusional. Ask people who talk to me at 2 in the night. People who have all the time in the world to change their gmail theme, but not a moment to send in a one statement reply. :|

***

Do you remember kids going "You're mental" when they meant "You're mad"? And even though the former isn't grammatically correct, don't you find it infinitely cuter?
Doesn't it feel like somebody stopped short of saying 'You're mentally retarded', which though, would be a medical condition, which shouldn't be joked around with, but then so is madness. Somehow mentally retarded sounds all technical and hence, much more serious. That's the advantage with big words. Or maybe disadvantage. You can call somebody mad, and there'll be no issues, but call someone a retard, and people could take offense. Plus it sounds nasty too. Its weird how the same meaning words have different connotations. 'Pagal' is something now used affectionately. And insane sounds so cool. Egad. Excuse, its just me, the random bullshit-er.

***

"Why don't you ever look at me when I am talking to you?"
"So you caught me."
"Yes, but why? I am not that ugly, you know, nobody's got their cardiac arrested by merely looking at me, yet."
"Geez. Its because I am afraid.."
"Now I'm scary as well? So is it like scarily ugly or uglily scary?"
"I am scared I won't be able to match up to the trust I see, or rather try to avoid, in your eyes."
"If only you would look into my eyes for long enough, you would realise.."
"Realise what?"
"That they are dark brown."

Comfortably Dumb

This blog was meant to be a medium of documenting my life around the JEE, its aftermath and its consequences. *Whoot, sounds like I was so mucho into JEE, which totally, and sadly, wasn't the case, but anyway*. A better option would have been writing a diary, you would say. But moi, the wannabe, born-into-the-limelight-and-can't-stay-away-from-it woman (Ha! 18 is so woman), would wilt away into upset-ness if she didn't have people knowing about it and commenting. So people here don't always give her the pleasure of the latter, but at least I know you guys read. Hopefully. And I obsessively compulsively confess everything anyway, so its not like I would have something on I could not put up here. Damn digression. The point was, me not treating the blog as a diary which me should have been doing. So, one tight keyboardslap to moi.
And, back to business.

The Get Thin Quick Scheme isn't working, and so I have given up sweets too. I had a Gulab Jamun today, which can be excused as I was really really depressed, with my room-mate leaving for her guardian's place, and so me=miss her so much. 3 days of missed breakfast, and 2 days of missed dinner, and no sweets on top of it, but no visible change yet.

Something very terrible happened this week, but I won't blog about it, I have already told everybody I could, and I don't want a written memory of it. Now that I wrote this, its completely defeating the cause, but then its my blog. I do what I want. I have all the permission in the world to behave like a random-verbal-shit-retching maniac having a neurosis, and I know thats what I am doing now.

The CHN class today was particularly entertaining with the guy demonstrating the Optical Microscope thingy going all: "Ang bang dang whooshtang foogang clearly, Dumastang wang wang goes in hair, clearly, Mang gang jang wang plang, hey you. is it clearly?"

This week has also seen me in pretty euphoric moods, which shouldn't have been the case, as a) terrible something aforementioned happened b)haven't got much work done c)got marks, which weren't much d)couldn't even qualify for the finals in the quiz yesterday. So yeah, despite all that its-just-not-my-day thing happening, I've been pretty okay, and not wallowing in self-pity like I normally do.

Now I don't normally blog about very close friends, but this needs a mention, if its to be a proper diary, so, here goes, I have come into contact with 'dodgy doggie' aka 'pure evil', who is also pure adorability, who showed me what drugs look like. Not the pharmaceutical drugs, my sweets, but the real thing. The ones they show in movies and write about in novels. And before momsy and daddy, and close concerned friends and seniors get all disturbed about the company I am keeping, let me clarify we just found it lying inside the IIT campus, and before I could touch it, responsible 'pure evil' threw it away. But anyway, that checks one of the many many things in my to-do list of very unnecessary things. Remember Twilight? Edward had to not-very-willfully bite Bella, and consequently turned her into a vampire, in order to save her life. Now, pure evil is equally hesitant about me crossing over to the Dark Side. But a part of me knows I was always meant to be there. I could never handle the sun when I was young, I would get headaches/faint/throw random tantrums. Now I understand why. I was always The Devil's Own. And it took me 18 years and a chance meeting with Satanic Shadows to realise. Sheesh. Who let this doggie out?

Cryptic much? And very un-me like. Whatever happened to the wannabe cheesy writer who wrote about happiness and sunshine and cottonwool and barbie dolls? It could be the still-awake-but-very-sleepy-at-2 am-ness catching up.

With the arbitical-nonsense off my head, and into your computer screens now, I guess I have done my Bad Deed for The Day and can now peacefully sleep. Like we would say in gujju, 'Good night, fox'.

PS - I still look for you in the multitude of students who trot out of the HUL class in the Seminar Hall every Wednesday at 4. And sometimes, I think I see you.

[Don't go looking for meanings, this was written in a very very morbid context, which could be a part of a 'fiction' piece I may never have the courage to put up, or even save.]

Thousand Word Post

Bathroom Rules

By Moi and Abhilasha

*to impress the BHM inspection committee.*

***

And you don't get to see the tears I cry..

..Behind these Hazel Eyes

*My first charcoal painting. :D*

***

PS - Pictures say a thousand words, in case you feel I bluffed in the title. But nobody reads the title anyway, so bleh.

Once upon a time...

..I wrote weird emo poetry(if you can call it that by some stretch of imagination, that is).
Pretty old. 2006. So, pretty much, a slice of history.

Fragmentation

No need for epic ballads

of promises contrite,

when all you feel

is apathy at my plight.

I don't have to disintegrate

inch-by-inch at your sight,

when my own parchment skin

writes suicide notes every night.

***

Counting Days

till
your july eyes
will sail me ashore
& snow-flakes of doubt
will fall on me
no more...

***

alone, you remained-

your cloaked paradise.

but every time it rained

i knew,'twas you:

in disguise.

***

ink-stains have faded,
the soul still remains

smudged.

lying crumpled in waste-bins

these memories

untouched.

***

PS - Why do I label most of the stuff I write as 'random'?

EDIT: Second reading makes me realise how shitty it was. I mean, this is the stuff I normally laugh at, not just because its emo and wannabe dark, but also because, its just so shitty. Don't read, pretty please. And how 'intellectual' of me to put it right at the end of the post. But then if I have it as the title, it'll be reason more so for people to read, so um, just to let you know, I agree with your opinion on this post, and you can save the tomatoes for later. :)

From Bad to Worse

Self-Obsessing.

# The movie 'Koi Mil Gaya' and the whole alien thing scared the hell out of me.

# Virtually everything scares the hell out of me.

# I hate running, but not because of the fear of sweat, or physical exertion, but because am scared I would fall.

# The "smell" of deos make me pukey. I can't stand (or stand next to) people who use them. Smelling all soapy and fresh is nice, but deos are total bleh-ness.

# I hate it when people write "ya" when they mean "yeah".

# Bad english totally turns me off. I almost had a crush on this guy once, but just in time, he went all "It is written on the behind of the book.."

# Sometimes I listen to loud music just to shut the voices in my head.

# I want to run away all the time, wherever I may be.

# I like, okay, not like maybe, but I prefer being alone and quiet in the dark. It both fascinates and scares the hell out of me, but i still do it, its therapy when i am in of those 'intermediate' phases, when there is something stuck between normalcy and full-on depression, like a knot in the chest, with me having no idea why. It pushes me to hardcore upset-ness, and then I can cry it out.

# I often wonder if 'cutting' is a form of penitence or is it a sin in itself?

# Why do we try to gain acceptance from the people who snub us most?

# I have, lately, failed to live up to my expectations of myself. And its not just academics am talking about. Its about me, the person, the good girl, or is she anymore? I hate the grown up me. I have turned so evil. :(

Sheesh. I wonder if I should publish it or just let it be.

For The Sake of It

Around 4 in the morning, and I don't intend to sleep, no, not yet. My first night-out, wheeeeeeeeee.

Double wheeeeeeeeeeee.

Wheeeeeeeeeee squared.

And and, she needs advice. Or maybe she should just learn to take her decisions herself.

And she needs to stop being such a 'compulsive confessor'. Or not. Whatchathink?

This and That

Overheard:

"These experiments were carried away by..." - in a CHN lecture, spoken by, ahem, our lecturer.

"Aniline kiska test de raha hai? Amine ka?" - in CYP100

"Mera cyclohexane to koi functional group ka test nahi de raha, ma'm!!" - in CYP100

"Is Benzamide testing positive for amide?"
"Amide? Wo kaha check karna hai? Am testing it for urea" - Yeah. Again. CYP100. Do all those chemicals do something to our brain?

"Tum bhi Kanpur se ho na, sahi hote hain Kanpur ke log tumhari TA bhi Kanpur se hai, usne N2O6 isolate kiya hai, aur tumse aniline ka test nahi ho raha" - The prof, to me. (CYP100)

"Ye ladki hote huye bhi tumse kitna achha kaam karti hai" - MEL110, the ladki in question being me. My respect for the prof went down a couple of notches. "Ladki hote hue bhi" means what...?

"Yaar, Informals mein please Nitin Jain ko bula le, please please please, main kuch bhi karungi, puri zindagi tere slave banke rahungi"
"Itna kya obsessed ho? JEE AIR 1 hi to hai!"
Wahi to. Sirf AIR 1. Bas. Tuchha.

***

You forgot her birthday. She isn't in crush anymore. Period.

***

And two people she thought would, did not call her at 12, she was very very disappointed. :( wala.

***

PS - Change of plan. No restricted access, yet.

***

Blah, blah and more blahs.

>>>

I've had this conversation a lot of times this past fortnight:

Random Person In Hostel: Are you an only child?
Me: Yeah. Howdyuknow?
Random Person In Hostel: You look all cute, and you know, pampered.
Me: Uh, um, is that a good thing? Looking pampered?
Random Person In Hostel: Haha.

Hear one, hear all. When I ask you a question, I want an answer. Do NOT Laugh, and if am talking to you online, do not LOL or :) or :D or anyfunnystuff like that. Because maybe I look like a kid(Yes, I have been told that by 3126 people in the insti. And its been just 4 weeks. Imagine!) and thus you might be compelled to take all my questions in jest, but I actually, totally, am serious all the time(mostly), and I HAAAAATE being called a kid, I've had enough, please. I mean it. I am turning 18 in 11 days. Please? PLEASE?

>>>

Ever since I've come home, Mum-Dad are like, 'Kitni patli ho gayi!!'. Which makes me thing exactly how fat I was earlier. Geez.

>>>

Why do you need to tell somebody you love them? Why can't they just...understand?

>>>

I get terribly awkward and embarrassed at times, and I've been asked, by my *having-our-best-interests-at-heart* seniors, to not look at seniors so much while walking around the insti, and guess who do I turn to in times of such solid distress. My Cell phone! So the next time you see me busy typing furiously on my cell, don't think am messaging, am just locking and unlocking the keypad.

>>>

Something I've been noticing over the past few months(years?) is that people don't usually reply when you say Sorry. Another funny thing is that they say 'Its okay' when you say Thank You. Not that its wrong, but really, its been like one hundred fifty seven days since anybody said 'Welcome' or 'My pleasure' to me. And there was this guy in my chem lab class who went all 'Its alright. Don't mind. My pleasure. No problem' when I said Thank You for having borrowed his pen. Gives an entirely new definition to etiquette. Or maybe its just over-enthu? He must have been from the Aravali hostel, their chant goes 'Ara ka enthu high hai'. *Starts fiddling with her cell*. Ok, I understand its not funny. This point was totally random, but its 1 am at night, what else do you expect?

>>>

I realised when I'm really really happy, I sing. And sing really well, or so I would like to believe. And your opinion on this issue is so not solicited. :P

>>>

I am neck-deep in shit. Work, I mean. Work = Shit, pretty much. And the weekend is going to be over soon. Monday ko professors ko kya muh dikhaungi? :(

>>>

Ra, sweetheart, am sorry, okay? I'll make it up to you. Which reminds me, I have a lot of making up to do, to lots of people. Sigh.

...where the skies are not cloudy all day...

Okay, let me gloat today. IIT-Delhi. Wow. Thank you so much God.

How-mucho-ever happy the occasion might be, there are always people out to spoil your party, so :D turned to :) and later :( , but now I have decided to be plain :| to them.

Q of the day: Username ka matlab Full Name hota hai?
No points for guessing the ask-er.

R.I.P. - Dreams of getting into IIT-Bombay.

Note to self: Don't be a poophead, IITD rocks!

Fantastic 5

#1 Its funny how these tabloid articles with those put-india-tv-to-shame headlines carry stories which end with one same line: When asked to comment on it, *Insert name of person* said, "Its not true!".
Anyway, that doesn't stop me from reading them, I need my daily dose of drama, no?

#2 I got a message from an old friend from an ex-school, which said: "it ws so nice 2 c ur name in toppers list...U R D BEST FRND"

#3 Status message of a facebook 'friend': hey frends who took IIT...plz tell ur results......

#4 "Saand" *the bovine*
- Uz, on being asked what she is reminded of, by the colour red.

#5 Reporter: 'What do you think of Priyanka as a youth icon?'
JEE AIR *** : 'Oh, she's hot'
Reporter: 'Er, I meant Priyanka Gandhi'

"You be the prince and I ll be the princess, Its a love story, baby just say yes..."

“I look the same in all my pictures!”, whined Leia. Whining, with her, was not a matter of worry, it was a habit, a way of life. “Maybe its because you’re the same person, baby..” cajoled Nikhil, with ways of life like hers, a life-support was essential. She yelled, and shrieked, and clawed, and purred. He endured with a smile, and an occasional outburst. She was messed up in her own fears and insecurities. He was involved with hers. She threw herself to danger. He protected her like a child. She thought she walked on roses. He made sure it stayed that way. She took him for granted. He took her to the rides.

She was honest, in the sense she paid all her bills, never jumped the red light, never even parked in a bloody no-parking zone. But with her words, one could never say. It was difficult to predict, in any given circumstances, whether she meant what she said, or whether she was showing off her queen-of-sarcasm skills. He thought her eyes would never lie. But she was a quick learner. And had mastered the art of manipulating her still naïve eyes. Maneuvering them around to corroborate her little lies. Arguments. She loved them so. And took care never to lose. Her words were precious to her, she kept them close, never conceding even if she knew she was in the wrong, she had to have the last word. One could not counter her by pointing she had said something contrary a while ago. Her views, as she so often put it, were subject to change. She was whimsical, flimsy, and frivolous, and he loved every part of it. Of her. She was his prized possession.

Living with her was a challenge, for every day he survived, he thought he deserved a job-well-done pat. And he got it. Sharing her life was every bit a reward as it was a task. For him, at least. She wasn’t a difficult person. But when she loved with all her heart, she thought she reserved the right to hate with all of it too. And she had expectations. She was from babble-dom, while he, was a man of few, rather no, words. She would make the droopy face, and move on to her next object of attention, the shinier the better. But it struck him to the core. She never understood why, though she thought she tried. Much. He could predict her next sentence, knew her inside out. She, at times, had no idea who he was. He knew all about her, maybe because she always said so much, describing every minute detail, inventing some, excruciatingly pulled out from her very blonde pensieve. He spoke less, and she wasn’t too good at mind reading. She didn’t know his demons. And she was too absorbed to care. She ranted, he listened. They were happy in their little blind-to-the-world cocoon. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t perfect. She knew she would have to let go. She knew she could still manage. And she knew he couldn’t, and wouldn’t. Let go.

*Random write. Even if you hate it, please don't say it to my face. ;) *

KKR will never make it to the semis *sigh* ...

The cousin baby sister's out... *...of the womb, i mean*. EEE. EEE.

I have been forbidden from posting pics, so won't. But its just your loss, 'cause she's the prettiest thing since.. um, me? Sacrilege, no no. Prettiest woman on earth, ok?

The Wizard of Uz has beaten all doubt that she's a girl, she has finally gone ahead and done what she had been threatening to, all these years. She has got a boy-cut! Are you even allowed to do that?! She is seventeen, for God's sake, and born a girl(Don't ask me how, but I do know, for sure). Yet she continues to defy all laws of the sisterhood of um, women. Mental note: Give crash course on feminity before she leaves for college. Now I know why I hear girls in IITs aren't all that eye candy. Its the serious wala I-deny-all-allegiance-with-humankind attitude. Why, oh why. I think I know why. IIT types are supposed to be all sincere and hardworking, and the thing with girls is that, they are victims of certain neurotic social mores which state:
Universal-Nonsensical Laws of Girl Stereotypes -

1.'If you're pretty, you've got to be dumb'.

2.'Either you are dumb, or you're ugly'.

So, we can choose to doll up, or look sincere and hardworking. I am sure its those retarded guys who make up all these stoopid notions. Hell, girls are supposed to be multi-tasking since eternity. Just because them guys cant, doesn't say for the fairer species as well. Its so unfair I never got a wax done, just because I didn't want people to think I was 'waisi'. Yeah, one should not pay heed to what others say, but um, I do. I do care what people think about me. Maybe everyone does, secretly or otherwise. Whatever.

***

Oh, and something I saw on a coffee mug in an Archies outlet - 'If you're beautiful on the outside, nobody will care if you're ugly on the inside'. Heh.

And something I found on the net -


And a few else, I found on www.despair.com

~It's lonely at the top, but it's comforting to look down upon everyone at the bottom.

~It takes 43 muscles to frown and 17 to smile, but it doesn't take any to just sit there with a dumb look on your face.

~Genius is 1 percent inspiration and 99% perspiration, which is why engineers sometimes smell really bad.

~If at first you don't succeed, failure may be your style.

~If you never try anything new, you'll miss out on many of life's great disappointments.

~When you wish upon a falling star, your dreams can come true. Unless it's really a meteorite hurtling to the Earth which will destroy all life. Then you're pretty much hosed no matter what you wish for. Unless it's death by meteor.

~If you want to get to the top, prepare to kiss a lot of the bottom.

***

I had a strange dream last night involving me and Shahid Kapur, and Priyanka Chopra, which started with me pleading Priyanka to be boyfriend-girlfriend with Sha, 'cause I was SO unhappy he had been SO unceremoniously dumped by *India's-answer-to-dumbness-personified-Paris-Hilton* Kareena. A lot of chaos later, it ended with Sha professing his love for ME(!!!), and me crying. Weird much. No, I don't crush Sha too. So I fail to find ANY connection with the life-and-times-of-me right now. Anyway, weird, but cute.

***

PS : To both of you, you know who you are, I waited all day just to see if you would call. Thanks for disappointing.

Before I begin, I HOPE you people have caught on to http://www.fakeiplplayer.blogspot.com/, if not, shoo. scat. now.


Which brings me to last night's match between Kolkata Knight Riders and Rajasthan Royals. Lalit Modi, the guy who practically is the Father of The IPL, was seen shouting in the last over "Hope for a bowl-out, guys!". Now, if some random guy-on-the-street said it, it could still make sense, but hasn't it been light years since the bowl-out was replaced with the Super Over, to decide in case of a tie! And This Guy, of all the people, SHOULD know.


Anyway, the drama continued..

Over 19.5 - Ganguly gets out, obviously disappointed
Ganguly: fug, oh fug, fug fug
Camera pans to Shilpa Shetty who obviously has no idea what's going on
Shilpa: Yay. So I can see our players rejoicing. We won kya?
Last Ball. Ishant Sharma grabs a run.
Shane Warne: Get it done with quick, I gotta go home to the chikas.
Ganguly: fug fug
Shilpa Shetty: Somebody tell me what's going on! 20 overs done, why is nobody moving?
KKR manage a measly 15, with RR in, Yusuf hits a couple of sixes
Ganguly: fug fug
Shilpa Shetty: Ah, finally something I understand. A six is good, hai na, Raj?
Match over. RR win.

Then, I was being yelled at, to shut down the TV and let everybody sleep, so I have no idea what happened next. I am sure of one thing though, for the next few days-
Ganguly: fug fug

***

There was a time, when I was around 7, I aspired to be the 'coach of the Indian National Cricket Team'. Me. The epitome of laziness. And yes, am talkin about the men's cricket team. No, not because I had the hots for anybody there, I am not too fond of sports people, they sweat a lot, and smell a lot. Plus, the bunch of guys in the Indian Cricket Team can't frame one proper sentence in English, and THAT is a super turn off. I just thought that the coach's job was to give pep talk, and I believed I was good at that. Anyway I was eight. At eight, I was planning to marry a south Indian ladka so he could cook dosas for me, which evidently, at that point of time, I loved. Also, my other career prospects at various points in time, have widely ranged from a maidservant('cause she was allowed to "play" with water and I wasn't) to um, a Miss India. Now the latter is not a career, but hello, I was 4, and I guess you are allowed to be dumb then. Anyway, what was I saying? Uh, forget it.

***

Oh, and I took this quiz at Facebook which said:
wattt is the best part in your face???! quiz and the result is lips
ha a born good kisser,,obvious..okay yur jus very good at partyin n adjustable,, hav dumb attitude buttt ppl can handle it nott many,,.. anywayyy yur style is simple n yur a born singer,,.. yur lucky colours are,,..peach n pink

Why, oh why do people write like that, I can still tolerate the 'yur's but whattttt innn thee naammme offf thee devilll isss thissss styleee of writingg. Reminded me of those random creeps on orkut, who would go, hiiiii....girlllll...wannnnaaaa fryy withhh meee??...lettt me knowwww...dying for replyyyy.... And I am not joking.

***

PS: Baichung Bhutia reminds me of a crush who's already taken. And so I can't bear to watch Jhalak anymore. Actually, the crush. The one, and the only one. Who seems to have found his One too, but it isn't me. And all my life, I have to live knowing the fact that somebody else is married to my husband. :(

*Last line taken from When Harry Met Sally*

Cheers.

Random-astic

My CompaqKeyboard has the following golden words written on it:

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WARNING

To reduce risk of serious injury, read Safety & Comfort
Guide provided with productand at www.compaq.com/ergo

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just how can a keyboard be a source of injury, though, is beyond me. Unless of course, somebody intends on falling asleep in front of the PC, and accidentally smacking his face onto this apparent WMD, or then of course, good ol' disconnecting it, and you know, kisi ke sar pe fekna.

*stares at her feet in the awkward silence*

Ok. I thought it was funny.

My two precious followers *beams*(yes I have a new one, apart from the pakka loyalist cuppycake choo-yash!), please don't disown me. Yet.

Tangential Note: The wizard of Uz, my Second Best Friend(this first second third best friend shit makes me feel like a baby, but I have a compulsive need of listing everything), "by mistake" *rolls eyes* deleted the first post of this blog, which somehow feels quite absurd, like wearing a dress without the undies on(!), but I can't do anything about it now, or can I??

-->Does ANYBODY know? Can we get back an old -deleted- post???<-- Passing thought: If while walking with my parents, I were to slip and fall, and yelled fug instead of shit, would they scold me? Being the quintessential good girl has its own demerits, Uz and I get our highs by saying fug in hushed whispers. In private. When nobody's listening. Maybe its the see-I-can-be-a-bad-girl-too thing. Do I talk like some pseudo-angelic-puppy-eyed chika? Its not pseudo darlings, look closely, and you can just catch the halo. Just went through what I had written. Ooh. Meet me at 1 am in the night, and your goldfish will seem to make more sense than I do. But then, my friends say they feel so even during the day...! PS: Yay Vasudha. Everybody hail, the tattletale! I heart your blog, and am excited crazy to have a follower who is not linked to me by blood, bench or bribe. :) Do update, its been eons.