I just watched Eric Forrester make out with a woman, who I concurred to be his step-daughter, who also happens to be thirty years his junior. He then proceeded to have a heart attack after a romp in the sack and now he is in a coma.
Is it just me, or should they rename the show—‘The Bold and the Perverted’?
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The worst week of my life
I woke up at six in the morning today. I left my house at 7:45 to arrive at a meeting at 9:45am. I had to travel from New Bombay to Goregaon, across the city twice over and change three trains to get there. When I finally reached close to the place, I got lost and couldn’t find the office. I was on time, but lost.
Instead of helping me, picking up my calls or something, the servicing people in this ‘team’ ignored my calls and started the meeting without me. My so-called creative peer reached the meeting, switched of her cell phone and didn’t bother knowing where I was, or if I was lost. Two hours of travel to be treated like I don’t really matter at all. Is it wrong for me to be extremely pissed at this?
I left my favourite grey jacket in the office on Friday. I come in to work on Monday and realize it has been stolen. I sent a mail out to everyone in the office saying please, please give me my jacket back. But it hasn’t come back. I have lost it forever. And it’s depressing me.
I have potentially ruined an amazing friendship by telling the person how much I like them… no, not in a friendly slap-on-the-shoulder kinda like, but the hardcore kinda like. The like that is bordering on a serious crush. He, of course, said, in these exact words—“dude, no…I don’t think I will ever see you like that… ever, never”
Now, I don’t blame him at all. He has seen me snot up because of my ex boyfriend, and seen me hysterically jealous over some silly women on the internet. I mean, I wouldn’t date me either! And now, because of my own idiotic behavior, I can’t seem to talk to him right now. I am avoiding him like the plague. Which I honestly don’t want to, but whenever I see him, I hear a giant ‘No, no way, no, never’…and it hurts all over again.
And today I had a shit day. And I would have normally grumbled to him about it. But I can’t because I had to go and stuff my stupid foot into my stupid mouth.
I’m having the worst week of my life. And it’s Tuesday.
Instead of helping me, picking up my calls or something, the servicing people in this ‘team’ ignored my calls and started the meeting without me. My so-called creative peer reached the meeting, switched of her cell phone and didn’t bother knowing where I was, or if I was lost. Two hours of travel to be treated like I don’t really matter at all. Is it wrong for me to be extremely pissed at this?
I left my favourite grey jacket in the office on Friday. I come in to work on Monday and realize it has been stolen. I sent a mail out to everyone in the office saying please, please give me my jacket back. But it hasn’t come back. I have lost it forever. And it’s depressing me.
I have potentially ruined an amazing friendship by telling the person how much I like them… no, not in a friendly slap-on-the-shoulder kinda like, but the hardcore kinda like. The like that is bordering on a serious crush. He, of course, said, in these exact words—“dude, no…I don’t think I will ever see you like that… ever, never”
Now, I don’t blame him at all. He has seen me snot up because of my ex boyfriend, and seen me hysterically jealous over some silly women on the internet. I mean, I wouldn’t date me either! And now, because of my own idiotic behavior, I can’t seem to talk to him right now. I am avoiding him like the plague. Which I honestly don’t want to, but whenever I see him, I hear a giant ‘No, no way, no, never’…and it hurts all over again.
And today I had a shit day. And I would have normally grumbled to him about it. But I can’t because I had to go and stuff my stupid foot into my stupid mouth.
I’m having the worst week of my life. And it’s Tuesday.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
infatuation
"When you develop an infatuation for someone you always find a reason to believe that this is exactly the person for you. It doesn't need to be a good reason. Taking photographs of the night sky, for example. Now, in the long run, that's just the kind of dumb, irritating habit that would cause you to split up. But in the haze of infatuation, it's just what you've been searching for all these years."
The Beach (movie)
The Beach (movie)
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
train travails
If you travel by a local train at peak hours, you should definitely have something like Green Day or Prodigy playing on your i-pod. It makes you feel like you’re in the middle of a concert mosh-pit and therefore makes it a lot less annoying to deal with.
In these paranoid swine-flu times, a subtle cough will be enough to make the annoying sweaty woman in the dentist mask leap away from you, giving you space to move and breath. Warning: Do not use this maneuver too freely; it may cause you to be thrown out if the train.
After getting into a train, some women make an exhaling sound that resembles a deflating tyre. *fussssssss*. Don’t be alarmed, you don’t need to look for their ‘stephenie’ or anything (they don’t have one, although their trunk could pack it in easily). They are actually exhaling with satisfaction at getting into a train, although it may also be because they are exhausted after climbing into the train.
When two women are fighting in a language you don’t understand, do not to imitate them by yelling gibberish, trying to mimic their high-pitched tone—they do not find this amusing in the least.
When in a local train, size is relative: A woman with an ass the size of China will manage to squeeze into a 1.5 inch space if given the freedom to do so. Don’t challenge her, she loves a challenge.
Do not look a woman carrying a baby in the eye. Do not make happy faces at the baby. If you do, the seat you have taken 15 minutes to get will be emotionally blackmailed from you.
Do not offer pregnant women seats in the train. They may not be pregnant after all— it’s called the protruding abdomen syndrome. What’s worse, they will take your seat anyway.
Do not be fooled into thinking that you will escape all of this, because women stop traveling after 10:00pm. This is an gross untruth.
In these paranoid swine-flu times, a subtle cough will be enough to make the annoying sweaty woman in the dentist mask leap away from you, giving you space to move and breath. Warning: Do not use this maneuver too freely; it may cause you to be thrown out if the train.
After getting into a train, some women make an exhaling sound that resembles a deflating tyre. *fussssssss*. Don’t be alarmed, you don’t need to look for their ‘stephenie’ or anything (they don’t have one, although their trunk could pack it in easily). They are actually exhaling with satisfaction at getting into a train, although it may also be because they are exhausted after climbing into the train.
When two women are fighting in a language you don’t understand, do not to imitate them by yelling gibberish, trying to mimic their high-pitched tone—they do not find this amusing in the least.
When in a local train, size is relative: A woman with an ass the size of China will manage to squeeze into a 1.5 inch space if given the freedom to do so. Don’t challenge her, she loves a challenge.
Do not look a woman carrying a baby in the eye. Do not make happy faces at the baby. If you do, the seat you have taken 15 minutes to get will be emotionally blackmailed from you.
Do not offer pregnant women seats in the train. They may not be pregnant after all— it’s called the protruding abdomen syndrome. What’s worse, they will take your seat anyway.
Do not be fooled into thinking that you will escape all of this, because women stop traveling after 10:00pm. This is an gross untruth.
Sunday, August 09, 2009
the five stages of grief
For the last two weeks, I have been reduced to acting like ditzy sixteen-year old girl with a giant crush—giggles included. The object of all this affection is a delicious young trainee who has a body to die for. For the week that I spoke to him, I was convinced that he had a thing for me too, which made me pay more attention to my clothes, my hair and my general demeanour. He was my reason to go to work (besides work of course).
Sadly for me, I have only just found out that he has a giant crush on this really tall Amazon girl who has the personality of a gnat’s arse and the fashion sense of a 60-year old woman. She also walks like she has an invisible pair of wobbly stilettos on. When I heard, my first reaction was—No, this cannot be true. This is Denial.
Now, mind you, I’m not that upset that he didn’t pick me. Ok, I’ll admit I am a tad upset, but I am more perturbed by the lady-giraffe he chose over me. Not often does a gorgeous man walk into my office, and honestly, he would have at least 3-4 fairly hot ladies to pick from, and she would never qualify, not in the top 10 even. This is called Anger.
But he picked her.
He’s gone out with her, they talk on the phone they chat on Facebook and heaven only knows what else they’ve done outside of the office. I know all these tit-bits because of the multiple spies I have planted in every corner of the office—mostly because initially I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Bargaining?
I know all this is none of my business, but it physically hurts me to know that I have been outwitted by a dim-wit, that I have been sidelined by a floozy, that I have been disregarded for an Amazonian with zero charm. What’s worse is they are just such an odd looking couple to look at—He is 5ft nothing, it’s like a chiwawa dating a lion. The stage is called Depression
After being suitably outraged and comforted by my close friends who called her nasty names to appease me I have decided that he’s no catch either. He’s short, he’s not very smart (when I made a joke, he didn’t get it and I had to explain it slowly to him until he finally got it and gave me a half chuckle. Oh, and he called me a ‘mannequin’ because I am so ‘animated’. Duh!)
And at last comes the Acceptance.
I have accepted the fact that they are meant for each other. Why? Because basically, when they come together they have one brain between them. That’s a plus right?
Sadly for me, I have only just found out that he has a giant crush on this really tall Amazon girl who has the personality of a gnat’s arse and the fashion sense of a 60-year old woman. She also walks like she has an invisible pair of wobbly stilettos on. When I heard, my first reaction was—No, this cannot be true. This is Denial.
Now, mind you, I’m not that upset that he didn’t pick me. Ok, I’ll admit I am a tad upset, but I am more perturbed by the lady-giraffe he chose over me. Not often does a gorgeous man walk into my office, and honestly, he would have at least 3-4 fairly hot ladies to pick from, and she would never qualify, not in the top 10 even. This is called Anger.
But he picked her.
He’s gone out with her, they talk on the phone they chat on Facebook and heaven only knows what else they’ve done outside of the office. I know all these tit-bits because of the multiple spies I have planted in every corner of the office—mostly because initially I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Bargaining?
I know all this is none of my business, but it physically hurts me to know that I have been outwitted by a dim-wit, that I have been sidelined by a floozy, that I have been disregarded for an Amazonian with zero charm. What’s worse is they are just such an odd looking couple to look at—He is 5ft nothing, it’s like a chiwawa dating a lion. The stage is called Depression
After being suitably outraged and comforted by my close friends who called her nasty names to appease me I have decided that he’s no catch either. He’s short, he’s not very smart (when I made a joke, he didn’t get it and I had to explain it slowly to him until he finally got it and gave me a half chuckle. Oh, and he called me a ‘mannequin’ because I am so ‘animated’. Duh!)
And at last comes the Acceptance.
I have accepted the fact that they are meant for each other. Why? Because basically, when they come together they have one brain between them. That’s a plus right?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)