The Captain fell out of my shopping bag!

Oh yes. I am melodramatic. Super melodramatic at times. I could only stay out of here for -counts- precisely 12 days. And I made it seem like 'now I'll be back only when am 40 and have 10 kids all screaming over the place'...

Anyway,

You know, sometimes you wish for a lot of things? This that this that...and in the back of your mind who have this tiny voice chanting 'You'r never going to get it you'r never going to get it you'r never going to get it' ? Happens to me all the time. Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night and thought about your life? It is just so random, but I think the most when I am waiting at railway stations. I see those 'eeeewwww' type men and wonder what it would be like to be married to them? Repulsive. And then I look at the lives of these glitzy and glamoury people.

Anyway,

The mother is extremely worried for the daughter. The mother really thinks I have lost my mind. Like the mother randomly calls me and questions me about random things. And when I throw up a confused look on my face, the mother goes "See See (to anyone / everyone / no-one who is present in the room) I told you she has been acting odd...I don't know what to do!"

Anyway,

Now my neighbor's rectangle faced baby has gotten herself a walker. So, she's drunk and driving all over the place in her 'vehicle'. And she got herself a haircut and watches spongebob and has a hot red coloured swimsuit and is now on her first ever vacation to GOA! I mean which baby has her first ever outing in frigging GOA in summer. She is already a 'cool' baby!

Anyway,

We'r now called 'Such a Cow' ! yay! I woke up one fine day (oh and after this special appearance by the lovely ladiej K-ay in the why-dont-I-blog-anymore deep thinking session) and realized that my blog depressed me. I don't care anymore if / if not the boring captain of the famous Titanic cried or made love or watched a soap opera before he died. I want to be mean and I want to be mean and therefore to everyone who visits me and my hot blog, I'll say, "Such a cow!" Oh i have no idea what it means, but well, it sure does sound like something mean and bitchy teeeheee!

So, Such-a-cow is back with loads of colourful hearts that are meant to hurt your eyes and hypnotize you...falalalalalaaaa

*Plays some Arabian music*

*Everybody starts belly dancing*

*Punk Camels start break dancing*

*Starts throwing refrigerators at the crowd*

Don't you love Meeeeeeeee?

Camera's have little kids inside them. Who colour pictures for you.

I could hire a truck and drive away filmy style.

I could get bitten by a cow or a sparrow.

I could fall off a rickshaw.

I could get electrocuted while atop a train.

I could fall asleep in a roadside wastebin.

I could be at my wedding, smiling away to glory, and trip and fall into the pyre.

I could choke on a plastic bag.

Dude, I could want to freefall into the Ganges, scream of inner joy, attain peace, have my 'moment of truth', next, have some dead guy's hand in my mouth, and die of shock terror amusement whatnot.

So much could happen. But right now I don't really need a reason to shut ze hot blog for a while, i am just pulling the shutters down. I am just bored. But, my romance with this sexlikehot place isn't dead okay? Its just 'for a while'.

I know I'm awesome and wonderful and the best and you'll miss me and send me please come-back-emails and you'll come check this place everysingleminute for updates and all, but whattodo yaa, you have to move on mate! I can't be awesome all the time!

You know i meant to sound funny when i said THAT ^ :/

Hasta la vista, baby. Ekdum Arnold Schwarzenegger style.

I lost my way. I drew a map. I found another planet. I'm not coming back.

And when I place those fingers on the tabs, I want words to flow. Thoughts to speak themselves out. Moments to be captured and images to form. People to come alive, right there. Something tragic to happen. Not war, maybe a murder or something. damn, I have nothing to talk about otherwise.

I want to do something reeeeeeeeeally evil and bad and mean. And it doesn't stop at I 'want' to. I am going to. The only joke is, I do not know what to do. Dear happy sunshiny life, please let some evil happen.

I am such a cow. Or maybe a cat. I wish to be called a big fat Hippo.

No man, i ain't quitting blogging. You can't get that lucky. Else who will fling refrigerators at you?

Just GO, will you?

If the purple sky broke into tears, it'd rain blackcurrant berries.

I wish to become a globetrotter. Somebody pay for my travel expenses and get me a column I could write for a newspaper sharing my travel experiences and earn crisp green paisa. This sounds the best thing to do. Then why aren't all of us 'globetrotters' ?

He tweets like his tweets are going to be read out in the Parliament. Either you tell him or I will.

You could die the very next moment. Did you know that? It is so so so weird.

They'r kids. They talk like adults. I'm an adult. I don't even have to say the next thing.

One thing I detest the most. When kids (technically anyone younger to you) do/talk/live a life that is way more 'cooler' than yours. Gadgets / language / Boyfriends / girlfriends / everything included.

You know what sums it up the best? FML.

Oh it rained in Bangalore. I miss that place. My hometown it bees. Louly place it bees. Helps me put on weight. Pwetty place. May it become the capital of the world.

I jumped on a couch and cracked its skull.

What category do I fall under? Zero category. That is what first came to my mind when I gave this thing a thought. Like, you know, there are categories of people? Intelligent, funny, hopeless, smart, talented, weird. I see everyone falling under some or the other category. I can't see myself under any. How? Maybe I fall under this huge umbrella called 'simplyhuman'.

I often wish to be more intelligent. I cannot handle the efforts this wishfulthinking will require though.

Oh, confession time : I have this couch in our hallroom. 7 years back I was hoping around the whole place cause I was super excited for this trip to someplace stupid, and I happened to jump on the couch as well and I have no idea how cause I am only skin and bones to be brutally honest to myself, but, the base of the couch broke. I was so petrified I blamed it on my neighbor. My loving mother believed me. She can act a bit stupid at times. She believed me. So, now, I feel all bad and guilty. It just popped outta nowhere into my mind, this episode. My mother will throw the couch at me if I confess to her, so, Dear diary, I confess to thee.

These days, I simply write. Nothing matters, no-one matters. The romance is only between me and this place.

I stare at blackboards. Neat and black.

Cake on a plate, hair on the head, fruits in the courtyard, best apparel in the closet, a man by your side, a woman to welcome you home. You can never have it all. But whos goes what in dreaming? Dreams can capture. And they are free of cost. And they are between you and you alone. Anyone who wants to live an ordinary life specifically? I do. And I am working towards it already. At the risk of being hated, I believe people fall hopelessly in love only when they have failed at everything else in life. Do you realize that we'r surrounded by emotions, not people? Pride, envy, lust, ignorance, deceit. Thoughts compile the mind. Slowly. Bit by bit.

Please patiently note : My tendency these days to bounce from one topic to another scares me, this child here needs a bit of patience from you.

It's in tiny text cause I whispered it to you...

Boogie man blew magic sand and we all started dancing. Cookies arrived on unicorns and dolls and candies rained from up above the blood red sky. Trees swam and water cried big purple tears. Birds painted my walls and my walls walked away next morning. I married a planet and worms played at the orchestra. This is it. So, are you still listening to me?

I threw an umbrella in the air and it landed on my head.

I'm at a 99 and I must admit I love each of these 99 sexxxy people. So, who is going to be 'the' 100th one? Justathought. Ummm, I must go study Sociology now.

PS: I realized how a lot of people land up on my blog. They actually wanted to know if 'the captain of Titanic cried' and Google, the sweetheart that it always is, directed them to ze blog. Thinking I'm some genius who is doing a research paper on the captain of the Titanic?...such inquisitive people we have on planet Earth.

PPS: I'v been talking a lot about my neighbor's kitten and another neighbor's rectangular-oval-faced baby, so another update. Please? The baby screams every time she sees the kitten. Screams with much much delight. So, the other day, we were all discussing rocket science on the floor. The baby was screaming with delight and the kitten was wondering whats wrong. And boom! The strange woman goes like : "Hey! I think the baby was a cat in her past life...hahahahahaha." I stare at 'the strange woman' who happens to be the only one laughing at her joke. The baby's mother did not find it funny, none of us did actually. Oh and I looked over at my mother, she was visibly proud cause I had not passed that comment. Gleee? Anyway, now I know exactly why I refer to 'her' as:

'the strange woman'.

I talk to the wind about my lost pencil. He says he'll find it.

I want to watch all the tacky movies in the whole wide world. I want to laugh. And then have some lame person tell me, "If you laugh so much, you will cry at night...mummy always says so." And then laugh again. Cause I want to know what it feels like to cry at night. I want to be the melodramatic girl next door.

I want to watch tacky movies. I want to watch all of them.

I think each of us must watch tacky movies. You know not what fun they are until you watch one.

Oh, I was watching CID the other day, actually, I watch it often, its like the local cheap drug available at all odd times.

And, they'r now going places. They'r outside their sexxxy workplace. Its so sex like, I can hear the walls sizzle, from behind the television screen.

My neighbor's cat, it (????) is blind. Keeps bumping into walls, doors and me. Reminds me of pervy uncles on the road. Maybe one of these days I'll tell Tikko to stop acting like pervy uncles.

I want to be a roadside romeo. There I said it. I want to be shameless and I want to be cheap. I want to be a trainside romeo by morning and a roadside one by night. This summer.

Its too bright. The happiness everybody is swimming in is too bright. I coil up in bed, draw the curtains and paint my own thoughts bright, connect stars and spell names I'd want to name my kids and pets after.

If we could trade places for a day and it'd last forever.

You know, sometimes, you know you are better, or may be even the best. You know you are better than a certain xyz, but then, that feeling of 'why can't I be xyz' still slowly crawls into your head? Does it happen to you too? Like, I know I may sound anything but modest right now, but well I don't really have a reason to be envious of some random sweet chick , but, well I am. Today, this -blah- morning, I am. Am I the only one who acts all melodramatic like it's some earth shattering thing to not be her/somebody else? I have my own reasons. Reasons which are silly from the word go. But, let's say it again, I know I am better. I am funnier. I have odd friends. I have a blog. I have followers who will lie to make me feel i'm-not-the-only-dull-crayon-in-the-box, that sweet. I can be down-right lame or I can be stone cold, I am that versatile. I smile at random kids, i am that 'cool'. Oh, and I, not her, am a Bombay-iet from heart which makes me a hundred times 'cooler' already! Doesn't help. She is genuinely the sweet thing. Like the kinds who make you look down at your feet and murmur a silent prayer to God for having been so mean? That thought is still ticking inside the brain. Maybe one of these days I'll go tell her this. Compliments can brighten days. I love being nice.

Amen.

Do you realize how much you scare me? Do you realize your loyalty comes across as insanity? Do you realize I could give you up to make this end? Do you realize I'm numb from within everytime your name pops up? What you do not realize is that this is not the way I wanted it to be. You might have come out of a movie or your world is simply unrealistic, but, too bad I don't have a glass slipper I could leave behind.

Chronicles of the missing dustbin cover.

Saturday morning. My morning. Lazy morning. Yawn-y morning. the morning when the cover of my dustbin went missing.

Okay I love dustbins. I think they have maximum utility and they look cute. Like tiny and cute and compact. Mine is grey in colour. It has always been grey in colour. It is our family dustbin, like been there since God alone knows how many decades now. I like to dump things in it. Makes me feel content and makes the room feel clean.

Okay so like in every normal apartment block in Bbay, we place our beloved dustbin outside our apt for the sweeper to collect the trash every morning. I don't like the other dustbins on our floor though. I woke up this morning and did what my brain is processed to do, place the dustbin outside. And then...then tragedy struck my beloved dustbin.

In the noon when my maid came in, like always, she sauntered in with the dustbin, oh my beloved dustbin, but, the dustbin MINUS the cover. The dustbin minus its lid. Its head. A vital part of it. Imagine you walk into your house without your head one day? I screamed. I wanted to cry. But, maid's here. Had to keep emotions under check. So no crying. Maid is one woman who doesn't think unless she's requested to. So, she din't notice genocide in broad daylight. Who dare steal my dustbin cover, I got thinking. Someone buzzed me on my cell-phone. Okay dustbin issue can wait, I said.

Maid does all her work and walks out. 3 hours later, I am glued to the television set, watching NewSouthWales bash the shit out of Victoria, drooling at those 11+2 cuuuuuute men on field, maid knocks the door. I frown, I go open the door. OMG. She's got the head of the dustbin in her hand. All in one piece.

Maid: It was there, lying on the last floor.

Me: Oh? Ya ya!! The dustbin had lost its lid...I remember.... =/

Maid: People are a bit cracked, in your apartment.

Me: Yes? I live here too, bytheway.

Maid: Be careful. they flung one of my chappals away last time.

Me: Really? Sad. Okay. Bye? Yes bye.

I got back at those cuties on television.

Now, since my blogger window is open and I got nothing to write and yet want to write, I decide to pen down the chronicle of the missing dustbin cover. Who must have thrown it away? you think. I don't know half those people in my apartment. Strange, they know me not either. And i'v stayed here for 18 years, apparently. Kids I tell you, they hate me. Cause I keep screaming at them. To shut up. I don't want to know about their plans of playing CID CID. But, hiding my dustbin cover to get back at me? really? What makes them think I'll be bothered? Kids I tell you...

Maybe I would'v been bothered if I had something for one of these guys who stays in my apt block...I would have gone searching for my dustbin cover then, you know, like...err, YOU KNOW =D

Whatever, that lid is back and here we have a Happy Ending =)

AND, my blogpost for today.

Much love for reading it!!

A letter to....Cody??

Dear Cody,

I'v been meaning to write you a letter, a letter to someone I do not know. Know not I you. Does it matter? Not matter it does.

I'v been waiting all day long for you. Not that it takes much of an effort to wait, but I have been waiting. I see you everyday. I see you look at me in the eye. And then I see you look away. But wait, if I see myself looking away, how do I know that you look away too? What matters is that we both look at each other. You at me, I at you. I never smile when you are around. I just talk. Cause there are so many things I want you to know. And I believe you do the same. Makes it easier for me to put myself to sleep at night, after battling all those thoughts about you.

I dream. I see us walking. On a street. Past midnight. Into the dawn maybe. Not holding hands, certainly not. We dare not be like every other fairy tale couple. Not. I see us clutching at our coats to evade the bitting cold. Remember we hate the winter? Sometimes I wish we'd be mute. Wouldn't really matter. Maybe you wouldn't be able to sing me a song then, but, I anyway wouldn't understand these songs you'd want to sing. No, let us be mute. That way you wouldn't ever know that all I read is chick lit. That way you wouldn't shatter my heart by talking about her, your 'good friend'...

Maybe we could smile once in a while...your smile dazzling the shit out of me. I wonder if the cold would let me smile? Exactly why I hate the cold. You'd love the cold. You'v been in it all your life. I hope you love walking on the outer side of the pavement. I fear that side. I fear being hit by a car. I fear no-one being around to shield me. Now that you are here, you might as well serve the purpose.

Maybe if I have nothing else to speak of, we'd wait by the side of the road and clear the patch filled with dry leaves, with our feet, crushing them, just like you crushed my heart one day...and I was too full of nothing to revert back. What was I to do if they said you had your heart pinned to some other specimen from Venus?

We could walk a lil more...uphill. In silence. Cause I always wanted you to speak to the real me, to the me that lies deep beneath me...

Maybe you could break the silence to ask me if I was doing well...what with the thick air and the anxiety...uphill we'd walk.

When we reach the end of the road and there is nowhere to go, we'd simply turn and walk back to where we started from. I dont need no climax. No pushing off cliffs or flying high with happiness...All I need is for it to be real.

I won't go home without you...

Even if I have to sell my pricey diamonds for you...

Those looks you steal are a question to me. Still. Always.

I got no name, I got no address, I got no money for stamps.

Its a letter to Cody, a name so fictitious they already think I am deranged.

I like the sound of your name. I hope even as you read this you like the name I just named you after...Cody, the kid from Scary Movie 4.

Ring-a-ring-a-rose.

Things playing ring-a-ring-a-roses in my head right now.

i went SHOPPING. Dont like A tee I picked up. Spent a LOT. LOVE my Gmom. have nothing TRADitional to wear. Sick of EGGS. Tap doesnt have water. Room is MESSED up. CUTE BOY is cuter/sweeter than i thought. HE is everything I am NOT. INTELLIGENT.I want him. I want CLARKE. I want a vacation. I want to PASS my french EXAM. I want a COOLSEXXXYAWESOME bag. I have to CLICK photographs. COMPLETE projects. LIFE est la chienne. CHIENNE means BITCH. I am HUNGRY. clothes have to be SORTED. LOVE my life, however, whatever it IS.

And...

THIS BEE'S MERA 100th POST!!!! *Claps*

My Hair.

I have hair on my head. I am very grateful.

I call my hair "MY HAIR". They loved being called MY HAIR.

They are black. They are curly. They are short. They are messed up at all times.

I like my hair, mostly. When I don't like my hair, I cut them.

I cut my own hair. With scissors. I like cutting my own hair.

I tie my hair up. I dont leave them. I dont like them falling. I dont like them getting lost.

But, my hair, they don't like me. They mostly are grumpy and sad.

They mostly celebrate bad hair days. I don't like them celebrating these bad hair days.

When I get angry at them, I don't comb them. I never comb my hair. Never.

They like oil, shampoo, conditioner, mousse very much. I like them but. Its a love triangle.

I try very hard to win their love. I blog about them. I blog about them. And I blog about them.

But they don't know nothing about blogger.

Sometimes they make me look pretty. V Pretty. I love my hair. V much.

Do you love yours?