Friday. Bliss.

I have Monday off too- even better. Of course, I'm spending the weekend with my great uncle and aunt so it's not like I'm going to be having a wild time. But I'll be having a good time. Boring yes, but boring and good sometimes go together. Lots of on-lining and sleeping and I've decided to learn how to cook. My great aunt's going to teach me how to produce a kick ass Punjabi meal. She is unaware that I set her bathroom waste paper basket on fire two weeks ago- I don't think she'd be as willing to let me step into the kitchen if she knew. Never mind. You're never too old to learn.

Speaking of food, when I arrived in the evening, I made the mistake of telling her I hadn't eaten lunch. I would've been happy to eat a banana and wait till dinner but she force fed me three lunches instead. I've gone to the bathroom thrice already and the pain in my stomach still hasn't gone.

The Metro was crowded as usual and I was forced to spend half an hour standing next to a woman who had all the symptoms of swine flu. Watery nose, hacking cough, feverish eyes. So if you never hear from me again, you'll know what happened.

College has been good. Delhi isn't as soulless as I thought it was. And day by day, I realise the benefits of living in a city that is not the one my mother lives in. Of course my life isn't all that wonderful- I get less hugs than I did back home, and I walk into more cows on the road. Okay- that happened once, just once, but it never happened in Calcutta. There, most of the cows I encountered were dead ones- cooked to perfection and lying on the plate in front of me. Anyway.

I have a good week ahead. I have two dinners, a concert, a potential party and...yeah, okay. That's about it. But still. Compared to last month, it's a lot.

Soni, the maid/cook, just came in with a mug of coffee. I love her coffee. It's the best coffee in the world. I wish I could describe its divine taste in detail but words can't do justice do it. How do you go about describing coffee anyway? Brown, bitter, not too bitter because of the right amount of sugar....see what I mean? Hopeless case. Anyway, I'd rather drink it (which I'm doing right now) than describe it.

I'm chatting to one of my Man Whore friends (Type 3 for those who are interested) and he's telling me about the four girls he's got running after him. Man, girls are stupid. Actually I shouldn't talk. I'm also stupid when it comes to boys. This is where my brother could come in handy- whenever I need boys to be interpreted, I call him up and ask him to interpret them for me- but he's normally as clueless as I am and turns to his female friends for advice which is then passed on to me.

I was bored the other day and decided to try my hand at writing a story which I hoped, would soon escalate into a novel and then maybe a best-seller. I'd written 600 words when I realised it was basically my life story and therefore, it would never go anywhere.

Mawii is right. I am self obsessed.



Zaev Dutt said...

Hey... I give great advice all of it better than what my female friends come up with.

I am not clueless.

I'm just clueless about women.

trish said...

And men.

Anonymous said...

Once met a manwhore from chennai. His trump card I'm lonely, I had a bad relationship. Just a lost diseased soul.