Tuesday, 29 December 2009

To be or not to be :|

Alright, I am a girl. (And no. this isn’t where I am attempting to prove it). But I don’t really get many things, what girls do. I empathise wholeheartedly when the male species of the earth look absolutely confused because they can’t make the head or tale out of their chic’s behaviour (though I strongly suspect at times they just pretend.) what is with babies and girls? The moment a baby is targeted, some of the girls’ lips will automatically make the I-am-kissable pout. And lo-behold they shall speedily run towards the hapless target. The target shall be captured, brought into arms and showered with weird noisy hugs and the likes, and all the bacteria that entails. I can understand if the nappied chick is one’s relative and all that, but molesting random babies on the road is something that should be blasphemous where human code of conduct is concerned. What if the baby gives you swine flu?

Then there is the Big Soft Toy dilemma. And I just mean the pink teddy bears and the likes. Again these things make people emit weird sounds in the form of gibberish like baby talks, followed by tall claims in public of sleeping with the thing that is blighted because of excessive human pressure. Of all the XY holding people I know most have gifted or has contemplated gifting teddy bears to their louly lasses, obviously with an ulterior make-me-your-bear motive. And even after the cognizance of the fact that it’s very very difficult to keep them clean, they still survive in the hearts of many ladies. And the larger teddies, the better.

That reminds me of the cleanliness fetish. One spec of dust spotted, and most of my kind are at it. To me everything shall ultimately be dust, so let them be. Let us survive in peace amidst what the earth has created instead of trying to clean up the mess. But I tell you, no one shall ever listen to the great philosopher inherent in me till it’s too late. Anyway, this particular cleanliness fetish takes the form of a mania by the time a person has crossed 30 or has become a mother. I wonder, when I shall be 40, staying alone with a cat in a big mansion after robbing off a millionaire, whether I shall be as disorganised as I am now, or not. I do hope so. Lack of accumulated dust makes me feel somewhat lonely. :|

And the final thing. Clothes. We girls are keen on looking pretty. We take at least some effort for that. The smarter lot does not talk about it 24*7, but some of us unfortunately do. Unless we are busy bugging or suspecting the loves of our lives. It usually starts with complimenting the other person on how pretty she looks, even if she does not. Then it’s sheer business. You negotiate on the shops and whereabouts, know every detail you need and if you have the moolah, you buy a better, trendier version of that ASAP. And that’s how females have highly expandable wardrobes. And that’s how life goes.

I can’t claim that I am absolutely baffled by everything that I have written here, barring the first two points which absolutely baffles me to the highest degree.

P.S: For the people who are showing me the flaming red eye, I say that this is mere generalisation. I did not mean to be offensive. I think. :p

Friday, 25 December 2009

Calculate your loser quotient: Christmas Special. (Offer valid if you are bored)

We human beings are always out there to find out who’s the greater loser than self. Alright I have been generalising here but the fact remains that at least I do it. the basic five types that I know from personal experience are mentioned below. Go ahead, find your quotient if you fall into these groups, and most importantly, if you are bored :D

1. Go to the nearest pretty church, pray for the pretty girl in the corner whom you’ve been eyeing since morning, attempt to talk through an undecipherable mumbo-jumbo language that culminates into disgust of the girl: this is the loser type which has got the potential to become a non-loser. The princess diary makeover type, if you know what I mean.

2. Sleep late into the afternoon, evening comprises of a booze party. Desire to get sloshed gets so high that you can almost plunge into a booze pool if there was one, to end up being deliriously happy or whatever: absolutely lacks any iota of loser quotient.

3. Hanging around with pretty pretty lasses: same as above. I mean, life is all set. You don’t even need tequila shots here to be high, with PYTs around.

4. Hanging around with pals: same as above. At least even if you are fat or anorexic, they are not going to bother much. you can gorge on any amount of plum cakes you want to. This is sheer bliss.

5. Being online, attempting to blog unsuccessfully: you’ve reached the zenith of loser quotient. End of the story. :D

That’s all folks.
Merry Christmas to you all! And have a euphoric New Year :)