A Potpourri of Posts.

Okay, so I know it's crazy but I can't seem to stop myself from obsessing over it. Man, I'm so hooked. I've been playing it for an hour now and I can't get past the second stage. What?! Yeah, you think you can do better? Go ahead, try it. I dare you. Pacman awaits. Tell me if inky, pinky and blinky didn't bite your ass by the end of stage 1. I swear, I used to be better at this. Demon Kid and I would game for hours as kids and yes, he would fuck my happiness in games like Contra and Street Fighter but I was always tons better at Mortal Combat, TMNT and all!

Oh, if I didn't tell you guys already, you should know that I have an addictive personality. Coupled with an OCD, if you want to get technical. Seriously, I do. I'm hooked on to so many things, its not funny. Thankfully, they dont include coffee, booze, dope, sex or cigarettes. Yet. Well, the cigarettes mainly coz I know I won't quit if I start. Still, I'm entitled to be extremely proud of myself, I think.

Now about the things that I am addicted to currently. Let's see. Travel & Living. Batman. Orbit. Ayn Rand. Pani Puri. Yahoo Pool. Moon Sparkle. Cell phone. Day Dreams. Money. Sarcasm. Lidor truffles. Slothiness. Floaters. Laptop. Dove. Happy endings. Dexter. Cold Stone. A/C. Undercolors. Crossword. French Open. Superlatives. Wet wipes. Memoirs of a Geisha. Fight Club. Volini. Trebuchet MS. Passion Berry. Lists. Pac-Man. Blog.

Phew!

And this is just the censored stuff. Excluding the OCDs. What the hell, I might as well admit it, this is pretty much it. Not too many additions to that list either. What can I say? I'm in this weird never-been-in-before phase of crushlessness. It's true. Not one single reel or real life interest. And that has never happened before. Then again, that was a time when Roddick hadn't married some bimbo named Brooklyn (C'mon! that isn't even a real name forgodsakes!!!) and I was stupid enough to get involved with Blue Shirt. Mercifully, those days have passed and I'm now free, free, free.

>>Aside: Note to interested parties, if any. If you strongly think that I might even think you remotely interesting, write to me with your particulars. (Height. Elder brother, dimples, surname. Almost forgot - Rich, yes? That sorta thing.) If not, please just disappear! Now, if on the other hand, you satisfy (all the stuff mentioned in the last parenthesis), please ignore this tiny little outburst. I'm usually the gentlest of creatures, really. I would never hurt anything except a cat. And, I never lie about anything. Except for trivial things like lying. But that's the only one, truly!

Aaaha! Something else I've been dying to write about but could never remember. So, here's what. Boxer sent me a link to a real story recently, in which this chic got hitched to one of the commentators on her blog! Admittedly, only a handful of people read the blog. Even fewer bother to ever comment. I don't even get a few anon comments. How rude! And how damn depressing! I think, I will stop writing altogether or start a new blog which I'll keep completely anonymous and maybe silently market until I'm getting at least 20 comments a post. At least that way, I'll know my readers are all not just sick voyeurs and care maybe just a teeny weeny meeny bit about what I write!!!

*Takes deep breath*. Mutters So-ham (meditation AOL style) repeatedly until she's can't make out if she's saying so-ham or ham-so or ho-sam .

*Shakes head in disgust.*

*Gives up*

*Goes to Bed*

*Is Still Fuming*

This and That

I promised myself that I won't broach the topic of relationships any time soon, what with so many bigger and more important things like the elections and all happening; the outcome of which by the way, I'm glad I didn't bet on at the dinner party last night. I'm mightily pissed off at all the people who didn't vote. And at those who didn't know who to vote for and so just voted for the prettiest symbol on the list anyway. Bloody Buffaloes. Thanks to them, I have to endure another term of that despicable man as Chief Minister. I'm quite kicked about the Gandhi scion and the latest Deora though. They look deliciously promising. What they'll do is quite another matter altogether.

Oh and yeah, Madcow threw us that random dinner party. It was quite nice. And, I should totally stop calling him that. Now that I know him a little bit, he seems kinda cool, fun almost. Even if he's responsible for our stationery room at work going barren. But then again, companies like ours would not be afloat without people like him. So, I guess, he's alright. As much as I'd like to, I can't say the same for Mr. Pumpkin. Every time I see him, I fantasize a large bulls eye sign painted right on the center of his super large ego-inflated head. Imagine. Considering the sheer size of it, I would never even miss. With that record, what do you know, they might send me to the 2010 Winter Olympics and award me a platinum medal too. Hey! Impossible is nothing. Aishwarya Rai became an actress, didn't she?

More seriously, while on the topic of sport, I just have to write about IPL and ergo, the brand new love of my life - Rohit Sharma. I was at Sports Bar watching our match today and I could have kissed him till the end of time for the way he played tonight. I'm a fan alright. And some more, if he wants to know. Also, since I can't seem to spend two hours without someone talking about them, here goes. Yes, I like Zoozoos. And yes, I know they use real people in those ads. No, its not FYI anymore. For godsakes, everyone knows. Yeah, everyone. Even the real Zoozoos existing on another planets.

Relationships!!! Right. I was coming to that. So, I spent most of the week watching Ha worry herself sick over Grapher. She loves him to pieces. Then, I saw Pink Panther cry over someone. And, there was Jughead who couldn't stop fretting over Ice cream boy. I don't get it. These are some of the nicest people I know and they care deeply for the people they love. When most people of the normal world, even blind bats such as me, see it, why can't them jerks?!

Dirty little secret.

When a realization dawns, it’s a funny feeling. Kinda like déjà vu. Suddenly, everything falls into place and begins to make sense. Self realizations are even more so. They just sort of hit you out of the blue and nothing’s ever the same again. I had something like that happen to me today.

So you know how All American Rejects' “Dirty Little Secret” uses the Post Secret projectg. It has me hooked. In a nut shell, it’s a forum where people from all walks of life send across self-made post cards with their inner most secrets etched on them. Most of these send anonymously while others don't. Either which way, a majority of them are honest-to- god confessions and there in lay the appeal of the whole thing.

The thing that particularly interested me about it all is that these cards don’t talk about actions. They are about thoughts. What it translates into is that most of us are not as afraid of the things we’ve done so much as we are of the thoughts that we have thought. A lot of the times we build walls in our heads to keep from having to acknowledge the vileness of our thoughts so that we can sleep soundly at night, pretending they didn’t exist. Few have the courage to face up to the truth of their thoughts.

So, for the past few days, I’ve been wondering about the effectiveness of the whole project. Today, it occurred to me out of nowhere that it doesn’t matter. I’m not one of these select few and that, I prefer the self- delusional version of everything that concerns me to the factual one. Also, I think that whether we face up to them or not, secrets and confessions are best left to brew in the confines of the mind. That way they’ll never need be judged by another.