Wednesday, February 26

Summer is Coming

Its not like I have anything to say. I'm only writing here because I have this thing I'm supposed to be doing right now but as you can guess, I'd rather do anything but that.  So here I am, wasting your time and mine but really, I can't think of one other thing to do at the moment. Apparently, neither can you.

Now that we are here,  let me tell you about my week.  To say that it was heartbreaking would be an understatement. My advice? Don't wait and hope for nothing. Oh, I know, they'll all say, the magic of thinking big and the secret to the universe or some such shit.  They're lying. There's nothing worse than feeling like a failure.

Actually, the one thing that is worse than failure is remembering all the other things you've failed at. Like math. (Running out of fingers since '95). Like boys (Why would I lie to the one boy who likes me that I'm seeing this other boy who I've not really seen in two years but now ever since I've lied, I really want to see).  Like jobs (All I want is a job that lets me travel and write and meet people and bake and help little children and has weekends and pays. The way people are acting, you'd thing that's too much to ask or something). Like rein in my weight. ("No, not a suicide vest, still my hips," I had to tell the lady at the airport).

And speaking of suicides, you know what else is happening? Weddings. So, so many of them that I feel like sleeping at the venue so I can just wake up and go to the next. If you are planning to invite me to yours, don't. It's a kindness, really. But if you really insist on me being a part of it,  can you just please live-stream it and then home-deliver the food? I'll even send your dabba back and a gift with the same courier fellow, promise. Just don't make me dress up and wear shoes and match things, I beg you.

Wow, I sound like such a jerk, don't I?  But if you really want to call me names, do you think you can call me a makeup slathered horsebeast or a stilletos and perfume lying horsebeast slagbucket . I've been meaning to call someone that ever since I read it but the only one I know really who has a horse-face is well, me. Since, we are in the mood for public humiliation, I might as well tell you about the boy from college who thought he was paying me a compliment when he said,  "you have a face only your mother will like." He was trying to say his mother, apparently.  Like that makes it better. Which reminds me, of course, of my favourite boy of all time whose favourite cuisine, he told me with great pride, was "fruit juice." And they ask me why I'm single.

For a person who started this with nothing to say, I'm sure am like an Energiser bunny today.  I would have loved to go on, and I don't even mean that snarkily, I have missed talking to you, it seems but I have to go do that other thing. By which I mean, that I'm going to go bed, try to slip into a sleep-induced coma and hope to never wake up.

On that cheerful note, I bid you farewell.