I wouldn't say you're nothing without me.

You would though.

sadistics

thats supposed to be a clever play on Statistics.
I've been told I don't leave anything for interpretation. That I like to remote control everyone's thoughts and actions.
I believe that is spot on correct.

Fab, just Fab.

It was, 'I love Fab India furniture'. 

Anyone who knows me would tell you (well, depends really, if you know them as well. If you’re a complete stranger they may not be so forthcoming with the me-facts and fun trivia) (just saying) that I love Fab India furniture. 

What furniture, forget that, I love Fab India. Simple.

Well, now that has become: 'I love most Fab India stuff, over-priced as they are and I love the furniture designs, but I hate Fab India furniture'.

Why.

I’m someone who needs my house, my living space, to look exactly as I choose. Which is why when my current flatmate and I went looking for houses when we got to this city, I was absolutely stubborn about not moving into houses which are already furnished.

Why­(1):

Well, a number of reasons really:

1. I don’t like feeling like I live in a cheapo medimix hotel (please refer earlier post here to see what I mean by that).
2. People only leave furniture they Hate. They detest. Or that which may be possessed.
3. What, its true, it could be possessed. Or worse. We saw a fridge (yes I know fridge is not ‘furniture’ but it is a part of a ‘furnished house’) in one of those houses which I refused to let my flatmate open and check because I had this not-so-fun-tingly-tingly feeling that something (like a dead body, of a rat or person) may fall out at us.
4. I imagine all the oily stinky heads that may have rested  against that sofa. Or the activities the previous tenants might have gotten up to on said sofa. Ahem. Need I say more.

If you live in a pre-furnished house, well. I’m not apologising. You should have thought things through.

Back to Why

So. I love having my house look like I’d like it to, and as mentioned earlier I used to love Fab India furniture. As soon as we moved in – I ran to the nearest Fab store and picked out my bed and book shelf.

Touchwood. Literally. Pun Intended. Whatever you call it. 

Those two have mostly behaved. Well, except that lying down on my bed breaks my back. Ok, there I’ve admitted it. Everyone I know warned me about that damned Futon. But no. I loved it. I bought it. I suffer.

The book shelf is alright.

So, egged on by the great victory of the good bookshelf, I ventured into Fab again. This time with my parents. They kept saying, buy a dining table and chairs. I said no, no need. I just need a small breakfast table thats all.

Why (2)

Well frankly, a dining set would’ve cost a lot. 

I loved the cool fold up breakfast table which I’d already seen at a friend’s house. And my tam brain was thinking – wah, not only could I use it to ‘Comfortably’ eat an entire meal, I could also use my laptop on it, and maybe it would serve well when someone decides to bring me a romantic breakfast in bed. Ooh, and with flowers. Maybe, there would also be some chocolate milk. 

Mmm.

Back to Why

So, I got carried away. Spent 3.5k on that breakfast table. Went home happy.

Needless to say, I used the breakfast table all of Thrice.

Why (3)

Because I got too lazy ok. 

It used to be folded up inside my room. 

And I'd already have gotten my breakfast and settled comfy on the diwan-bed outside in the hall, in front of the tv, just minutes to go before I absolutely have to get out of the house and get myself to work. The idea of moving myself, getting to my room, dusting off the table, bringing a cloth to put on the table so that my cold juice doesn’t leave a mark on the wood. Etc. Etc. (ok maybe not too many etcs more.) 

I just could not.

Back to Why

So the table was in my room all folded up. Against a wall. 

So one day I was sitting at the edge of my bed, blankly staring at the space occupied then by the folded table, thinking nothing about the table, when suddenly I notice  - A giant crack.

What.

Where did that come from. I haven’t even used this damn thing.

Ok, ok. I call my boyfriend. Whine. I calm down. I will speak to the sweet Fab people who sold me this. They will replace it.

REPLACEMENT 1.

Well, after some persuasion that the crack was always present – I got a new table within two weeks of having returned the older one.

Life went on. I decided to open it out and place a small coffee mug on it. For looks.

You know, just, make my room look like its from a sexy Homes R Us kinda magazine (I KNOW there is no such magazine).

After that I went to Chennai for a week. Came back

Well, how better to put it than – It was Broken. Splintered. Like my mug had magically called all its mug friends and had a jumping party On the table. (ok that does not make sense)

The damn table had collapsed. From the weight of my mug. Well, there was no better explanation. So I immediately sprung into action. Called my boyfriend and whined.

Whined some more.

He told me he’d come with me. Speak to those people. They’d somehow replace it.

REPLACEMENT 2.

This one wasn’t as smooth. Given that one side of the table was pretty much splintered wood. The shop fellow sweetly asked me if I had sat on it.

I didn’t reply.

But somehow, I have a feeling the look on my face gave me away.

He took the table back.

Long story short – well, shortening a long story and fast forward –ing three months from then. I take a colleague of mine and go to Fab. This is my tenth visit since the fateful day when the table was returned.

They see the black cloud hanging over my head and miraculously present a table just like mine from somewhere.

This time I had the good sense to examined the damn thing from all angles before taking it home. As suspected, there is a crack under one of the legs.

So i politely point out the crack which has so evidently been glued together.

Shop guy: What crack, I don’t see any crack.

Me: Um, there it is.

Shop guy: No.

Me: What do you mean! Its a large crack. Its the size of my thumb (I don’t have tiny thumbs).

Shop guy: No no, thats just the wood.

Me: I can see glue. Look, feel this man.

Shop guy: *feels the wood*. Feels fine.

Colleague: *breaks off the leg*. See. It broke.

Me: Give me my money back.

Shop guy: Stammer. What. You broke it.

Colleague: It was broken. Just give her her money back.

Manager: Ok, here you go.

The end.

Many months later .

I venture into the same Fab India. Everyone eyeing me warily (yes they remembered me). I spot an awesome dining table. I buy it.

Why (4)

....

Back to Why

I was so bloody excited about my dining table and two chairs. Cost me a bomb. But I felt it was worth it. That it was time to give Fab another chance. Anyway, who else would I turn to in my time of (furniture) need?

I even bought a giant lamp that goes with the table.

.

The chair broke. The leg broke. Followed by the seat.

(Alright, I'll admit. A few tears were shed along with the Whining this time.)

RETURN

I call them up. Tell them I’ll pay them to take the whole thing back.

Told them, Yes. Someone Did sit on it this time. But it was a Chair. It was to be expected. Don’t Push me. I’m a lawyer (Though I’m never sure why thats a valid threat given that I’m too f.ing lazy to file a case against them or take any such action anyway. And one look at me would tell them that I’m no Palkiwala yet).

They agreed.

Well.

Thats why. 

And I have learnt my lesson. From now, I shall visit Fab, note the designs and get a friendly furniturewala to make uncannily similar stuff for me.

I tried Fab.

I really tried to be fair.

To do right.

But.

Bleddy.

Despicable Me

As much as I don't like myself sometimes, I think there are so many people who don't like me more.
Maybe I'm a villain in the plot. You know, the 'life' plot. In the Truman Show version of your life, I would be a villain. Put in for some masala masti by the director (here God). Not an inherently evil villain, your life plot is not a superhero one. No, your life plot is at maximum either a comedy, or a romantic comedy, or a short sweet story on 'that's just how it is' or worst case, a drama. The villains in such plots are usually not inherently evil.

For instance:

Superhero movie - Villain - has powers to turn everyone to ash etc. Not me.
Drama, romantic / otherwise comedy, short sweet story - the angry boss, the nosy neighbour, the backstabber friend, the crazy aunt. Me

And no, I'm not the villain who turns from 'i want her dead' to 'aw, ok she's learnt her lesson'. No. I might even be the 'aw ok she's learnt her lesson. No wait, was that a crafty-i'm-up-to-no-good-suckers smile at the end?'.

Anyway, I saw despicable me recently. The villain was cute. he had cute minions. and cuter little girls. who had cute unicorns. what not. found love in life and turned good. Its a lovely movie, watch it.

it really is that simple

since someone asked, this was drawn on yellow tissue paper.

I have a cold.

This was a clean tissue paper. 

do not read this

too much disobedience you are.

hello, long time no p.

p = post. not pee. long time no pee would be a real problem.

hello.

Do I have anything to say? That is the question.

I am off home this weekend on a very-much impromptu trip.
I am broke.
I am loaded with work.
I am feeling sick from the Chinese food I just had for dinner (again) (again for both the feeling sick part and the Chinese food for dinner part)
I am doing quite yay generally.

I went grocery shopping last night and bought an awesome load of stuff. Including a packet of black eyed beans. How cute are they ha.

hello little beans. 

Anyway. 

I also bought some other chickpea what not stuff. I bought RIN SUPREME BAR WITH EXTRA 50 GMS. Tide. I bought three cartons of juice. Two Nestle Milk cartons. Family pack of ice cream. Some tooth brushes. Paste. Not an exhaustive list. Then the shopkeeper man told me there's a number I could call on for HOME DELIVERY (ta da). That was my reward for the good-girl shopping I did. 

Then I watched "He's Just Not That Into You" on HBO. I like the movie. Made sense to me. I could identify with every kook character in there. 

The girl who thrives on drama

The girl who gets a little nutty about being lied to

The girl who checks her hundred inboxes, phone, chat, mail, fb what not in anxiety. 

The girl who.. ok, I identified with all the women in the movie. 

and some men. 

Let me not give too much away here.

Then I fell asleep while watching "Sleuth" which actually seemed like a really fun movie. 

I miss some of my friends. Some of my non-friends. Makes me feel a bit quiet at times. But, you know what they say..ok not They.. I say.  

Life is a road roller. 

deep.

help you once

Where do you place your precious life, love

How do you see it breathe and grow

Do you

Plan to leave it lying there, baby                                              

At her feet, though she has no soul

Why did you let love in your life, love

Why didn’t you heed those warning signs

Curiosity

Got the better of your mind, baby

Now watch your world explode in front of your eyes

And when

your mind goes into multicolour lines

And when

your heart draws a blank

Let me

Come to you , come beat you up save you darling

Make you believe that you did fine

You didn’t

I’ll still, make you believe, that you did fine

Promise me though

Promise me that

You will

Learn to, just let love be, love.

Learn to let it go, when its time.  

street garden

When it rains,
it pours,

makes my taxi ride a poem,
how the windows sparkle

and the street lights become dandelions

for good reason, it cannot be captured right in a phone camera. or any camera.
this way I can feel all special in my head.

still, I'm sure you understand
it was all very beautiful

doodle - decorations (part of the 'jobless at work' series)

yummy

i love drawing messybighairwomenfaces.











ok so this isnt a doodle, but the fate of my paratha wrap.

I feel sick and want to go home. and sleep. blergh.
i hate hangovers

There is the door

When life gets good, its good

When it gets too good to be true, its super

But there is always that nagging feeling

This can’t be right (therefore the too good to be ‘true’ bit hitting its mark).

and

If I’m this happy, I’m about to get that sad.

It is not a joke. It is not a myth. It is true.

Life gets good, then it gets too good to be true, then it all comes crashing down.

This is only to let you have a good grip in reality.

Its an external survival support mechanism.

Nice cold splash.

One tight slap.

A kick – If you’ve watched Inception you would know what this means.

That nice feeling of falling.

You need that, to bring you back to your accepted reality.

Your life is not comfy and perfect.

This is good

This way you know you’re alive and not dreaming.

Thank you for always being that kick, that tight slap, that cold splash. Does not make me love you, but I understand, you are only doing this to keep me alive. Sad, but very alive.

Now, let me show you out

                                                                                     

Photo(s) of the (Wednes)day

how pretty is my silk sari. I don't have any new photos, because I'm useless.

What is With Everyone?

I know that the next year is still a few months away, but I think it is officially time for me to make a resolution. One which I have made and failed to keep up for a number of years now. Enough, though. It is time. There is a lot of change going on in my life right now, and all for the best. Never a better shot at attempting

"Try and stop being a big bitch to everyone you remotely care about." Because it really takes a lot for them to continue liking you for whoever you are. And you're getting worse by the year, making it harder by the year for them.

and also

"Try and stop getting so affected by the people around you and the stupid (in your opinion) things they do." Because they do not give a shit. You are the only one affected by it. For the worse. It does not help your blood pressure, your temper or your image.

Alright then, today shall be Day 1 of me with my new resolve. Let me see how this goes.

Super. Duper.

My new word "Pfeh" and where to use it.

Hey man Johnny, why like a fool you say "Yes Papa, Yes Papa" to everything man?
Why don't you stop being a Papa's boy ha Johnny?
Live it up man.
Live it up and fight for your rights man.
You ate sugar, so what man, I ask you so what.
You ate sugar and you lied. SO WHAT man.
What is your dad's deal man.
Fuck, Johnny. I'm telling you man.
You are a fool. All that sugar, what can I say man.
You are a damned fool.

Pfeh.

downhill

I had created a bunch of 'somewhat smiley' faces to use as my profile pic on gtalk. What started off as just making one happy looking face, went on to me making a proper series as the need arose. Then I started noticing the trend (not particularly a 'discovery' and you may say, so what? still, since I'm not posting about about anything else anyway). As the day wears on, the smileys always changed and almost always in the same order as below:

Morning.

Middle of the night.

I also made a pirate smiley for a friend. Here. 

lyrics right from the heart

Was listening to the radio this morning and I heard what is soon to be on repeat in my playlist (if only I could find the damned song online). Here are a few lines I remember.

Munni badnaam hui darling tere liye
Zandu balm hui darling tere liye

and it goes on, till the guy joins in to go

tum atom bomb hui darling mere liye.

I cannot wait. Of course I dutifully informed the one friend who loves these songs as much as I do.

sigh.

If I had a brand - Here's a possible tag

how I love picasa 3 by google and good old paintbrush of course.

Sing it like you mean it

Songs repeat often enough in my head, they become completely different.

For instance, once - the entire taxi ride from Nariman Point to Dadar I sang “Ain’t no mountain high enough” to myself.

[Well, when I say ‘myself’ I mean ‘myself and the taxi driver uncle’. I sometimes get into a sing-y mood and then I seldom realise when it’s stopped being humming-in-my-head to singing-so-everyone-can-hear. My singing is nothing to be proud of either. I should actually be referring to it as ‘singing’ within quotes, but well now that I have informed you, there is no real need for that.]

So I was singing ‘Ain’t no mountain’. The first five times it was sung pretty much -what sounded to me like- the right way. Nice and cheery. Love song. However, by the time I reached Dadar it was sung to the tune of a stalker wanting someone dead.

Remember the day

They set me free

I told you, you could count on seeing me

Darling

And from that day on, I made a vow

I’d make sure I got you

Someway. Somehow.

Heh.

Don't run.

Don't scream.

Oh baby cos,

There ain't no mountain high enough

Ain't no valley low enough

There ain't no river wide enough

To keep me from getting to you

Babe.

You know it.

Of course, I had by this time also modified my voice to what I felt was more suitable for a killer on the loose. I was so into it that I missed my turning. The taxi guy muttered something about ‘gaane’ as I asked him to turn back. What a ride. That was also the day I got my pink elephant wallet and a red mat. Good day.

Every day I want to fly, stay by my tie.

Every day I go to fly, just guard my tie.

Every morning, I wake up and need to pee

Every morning,

Need to pee.

Can’t get this out of my head.

I'd hold you closer tiny dancer,

But

I may just squish you with my hand.

Don't come closer tiny dancer

Hey, where did you go

Squish*.

doodle - be mine (part of the 'jobless at work' series)

you might want to click on it and make it bigger.

Absolutely none?

There is a handle
There is a door

However, there is