The Single's Day Special

Happy single’s day. Wait. What? You forgot? 

No shit. 

Now I wouldn’t take stuff like that to heart and soul but had it been the ever famous Valentine’s, you could not have dared to miss it. And how could you. With the confetti flowing not only in the air but also in your coffee, the heart shaped balloons towering over you in the most grotesque fashion, your girlfriend batting her eyelids at the very sight and sound of anything that defines the day of “ louuuuveeee”, I assume even the poor Valentine bloke must be grossly surprised. Yes, missing it would be not only tragic, but rather painful.

Which brings us to the lesser known rival of the Valentine’s day, passing into oblivion without the pomp and show. I stumbled upon it on the internet & bestowing to the tradition of “discussions at the dinner table”, I happened to mention it. At the dinner table. To my not so single friends. Bad move.

“What?” 

“There’s a single’s day? Jeez, really, the kind of stuff they make up.”

“Is that , like, another one of your fantasies?!”

Wow. That kind of disbelief was enough to deter even the most optimistic bloke on the planet; I could almost hear St. Valentine sniggering as I downed another beer.

The unwanted anxiety, however, was only the beginning.

“You need to start dating.”

“You need someone to take care of you”

“ARE YOU GETTING LAID?”

“Are you kidding me, what makes you think he’s getting laid?”

“No that’s not the point, I am just asking!”

“Well, in my opinion, you cannot possibly use pointless banging to replace louuuuuvee.”

“This thing you are doing, is like, sooo unhealthy, which reminds me, hey did you see that new…………”

OK. Wow. As of now, my life is screwed, thank you very much.

Their endless banter continued while I stared into space, saint-like.

We have evolved, yes, but our basic psychology remains unchanged. Translation: You need someone’s lopsided shoulder to keep your fat head on as you successfully watch all the B-grade Bollywood movies in the world. Sad, but true.

The need to evolve and make something better of ourselves has diminished.

“Change? But for whom? I have the looouuuve of my life handing me tissues as I weep.”

“Fat? He says I am fitter than ever.” *blush*

“I would rather hang out with him all day long, even if its on the phone.” *blush* *blush* **I am in louvvvveee**

Yeah. Do that.

Sit there while your arse weeps.

And start shopping for Valentine’s Day; its only 3 months away!

Btw, happy single’s day. 

St. Valentine is smirking on his way off into February.

I WANT TO BE FAT. REALLLLY????

I want to be fat!” proclaimed the girl with the enviable figure. It took me all my willpower to not roll my eyes at the sheer shitheaded-ness of the sentence. Fat? Really? Why on earth would somebody with a sound mind want that? I opted to give a well acquired spaced out look as she continued to mumble about her misery , apparently caused by her thin frame.

The “I want to be thin” syndrome is quite popular, thanks to the late 90's, where the common belief, it seemed, was that if you have a midriff, FLAUNT IT. Its sister syndrome however, or the “I want to be fat” thingy is quite new. Diabetes and multiple heart attacks? Sure! Bring ‘em on!

 The thing with both of them is dissatisfaction. They wish and they wish some more. Then again, ‘If wishes were horses, beggars would ride’. It seems that no amount of thinning or curves satisfies the masses. From what I see, everyone lean wants to be “fat”, and of course, vice-versa. And it is not just the figure that gives the ladies nightmares. Acne, blackheads, pimples, freckles, blotches, scars, marks, sun burns, sun tans, other types of “sun fury”, and also what I was surprised to learn recently, whiteheads. Really? What’s next? 50 shades of grey on your skin? Just when you think you are well versed in the academics of this “stuff”, bam comes a new one. Between you and me- there’s no end to it, so grab your blanket and go to bed.

However the whole hypothesis points to a singularly grave question; why would you want to change into a walking advertisement for a cosmetic line??  Looking good is vital and important, sure. But is it worth questioning your appearance every time you look in the mirror? Yes, you aren’t Angelina Jolie, and that’s because you aren’t meant to be. You are you. Stay that way. Enjoy and appreciate what you have. And once in a while, be thankful.

As for those of you who want to be “fat”, just eat a damn burger already.

the ramblings of a misfit

                             “INSPIRATION STRIKES IN THE MOST CURIOUS WAYS.”

                 For sonu yadav, who claims i am the Shakespeare of fucked up people.

DEDICATED TO:  all the poor creatures who go through what is described below, for the better part of their life.

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Dear single jersey,

I know its only too unfair to call you “dear”, since my affection towards you has been very lean these days.

You have been, it seems, heavily prejudiced towards me in matters of the mind. Do I not give you the tender cutting you require? Or do I not fold thee accordingly?

You are the most crumpled thing I have seen after my aunt’s heavily botox-ed face and I must admit, I do not quite like it.

You fill me with ardent and inappropriate rage, so much so that I feel the need to tear out my hair sometimes, or throttle the guy working next to me.  However I have been dismissing both of the aforesaid, for I have no intention of either going bald or to the jail.

Your elasticity though, is still the stuff of my horrid nightmares. I suppose you have been lectured about the benefits of being flexible, like all of us tormented souls. But so much of it , single, is going to poison people, trust me. You will argue that spandex-ed asses and the tightly stretched dresses that showed more than what was desired were hot stuff in the 90’s and that it was you, who brought it in vogue. But the 90’s have forgone ages ago and it is my vapid desire that you do so too. Believe me, a lot of young and restless souls will be at peace.

Now it is only logical that you will defend yourself with the utmost furore and in need of dire revenge stretch even more gloriously( if it is possible).

To that I say, stretch away Single! Stretch all you want to, for I have fallen out of love with you, and shall henceforth avoid all forms of communication. May we meet never again!

Farewell Single.

A bereft and miserable soul.

WHO? ME?? LATER

Procrastination is an art. Not everyone knows how it works(words of a pro) ,but it gives me immense pleasure to see that people are catching up. 

Speaking of procrastination, and looking at my heap of laundry-to-be done, i just observed how my love life outruns my blog posts. Which is saying something, since 10 times zero is still a big fat zero( in case you didn't get that, i suggest you start reading more. It will be a breath of fresh air, believe me.)

Its a little too late for resolutions now, considering that the New Year has been "in" for about 3 weeks. But now that people have stopped hurling themselves out of their closets to wish me a " happy" new year, i will go ahead & resolve anyway.

So here it is.

WRITE MORE OFTEN I SHALL. It might spare me of working in that Mcdonald's joint. 

I should send them a CV someday.

Some day.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.

LATER.

The one with the long hair

“You should dress up like a girl”, she said for the nth time as I stood in my shorts and Tee, trying very hard not to roll my eyes.

“I AM a girl; I have long hair”, I concluded. Well that part was true,I did have long hair!

“Try looking like one sometimes”,she mocked,brandishing the eye-liner in her hand like a weapon of mass destruction.

“Come, lets try it on you”.

Uh-oh. Now this couldn’t be good.Let me be clear.I have nothing against eye-liners or nail paints(including the fact that several times I can’t tell them apart and consequences follow.) like this one time when I very confidently put a “different black lipstick”, only to find out that it was a kohl stick! Needless to say, I had to roam around with a slightly “different “ lip color for the next two days. Hence my experiences(I have had several) put me in a phobia of cosmetics. So “ lets try it on you” kind of kills. However unable to find a feasible way to run or the voice to protest, I sat down. After about  an eternity of “don't shake”s and “stay still”s, I was left sitting there, waiting for the crap to dry. Now the thing with patience is that it lives a short life, especially in this story,and so when I opened my eyes, I looked straight out of a Ramsay horror film. No amount of rubbing takes that off your face, let me tell you. Only after I turned my face into the likes of a “dhobi ghaat" did I manage to look a little normal. And hence a resolution was derived: STAY AWAY FROM THE MUCK.

Having  had that experience, anyone would have killed the make up artist or tossed. But I thought “what the hell”, n hence the next part. Now let me enlighten the less informed  of you about short dresses:

1)      1)They make you look good(depending  still)

2)      2) If you stand under a fan, you become a living replica of Marlyn Monroe(not the good parts)

3)      3) Don’t even think about jumping

4)      4) You have no option but to be at your “lady-like” best!

So when on a very unfortunate day I wore something of the kind, 2),3) & 4) happened. About 1), I cant say nothing. Well I tried, but its difficult to be ladylike, and hence  very conveniently and less than 8 hours later, I was back to my shorts clad jumping stairs self. As far as “looking like a girl” is concerned, well, I DO have long hair!!