Squawk

Parrots are generally monogamous forming strong pair bonds which in some cases last for life.

That’s too cute, ya.

Oh and apparently the factoid of trivia I’ve been spouting for years is incorrect. There ARE parrot species that are native to India.

Seven-Eleven

Sorry about that, I say. Blogger’s block, a first for me.

So, seven random things about myself. Unbridled discretion to me; in administrative law this might be struck down as an example of excessive delegation. (Of legislative power, by parliament, to the government; never mind.)

1. I cannot understand why people get so emotional when a pet dies. See below:

rvarun47:

beatles raaaaa!

cha cha chaaaa!

amri’s n anusha’s dog passed away :(

Aditya:

oho

I’ve never been able to feel even the slightest amount of sorrow when someone’s pet dies

rvarun47:

like po!

he just didnt get it!

i was relly upset!

Aditya:

it’s a DOG, dude

and it’s not even yours!

rvarun47:

yeah… but i spend soooo much time there!

Aditya:

I wouldn’t give a fuck even if MY dog died!

rvarun47:

ur a stone!

Aditya:

hahaha

rvarun47:

whore!

2. My parents think I waste too much soap, and we once almost had a serious fight because I couldn’t believe my parents were actually attempting to ration the number of soaps I used a month. (Four, okay? They’re not large ones.) I hate bathing with soaps that are nearing the end of their life. It takes forever to cover your body with lather, because there’s less soap being transferred per rub. When my soaps reach a certain size, I crack open a new one and gradually meld the old one onto the new one’s back. Ride em, cowboy! 

 3. I hate watching Youtube videos. They take too long to load, and just strike me as a particularly useless way to spend time on the net.

4. I sometimes cry during a movie. This usually happens when I’m watching it alone, on my laptop. I don’t bawl or anything, but I well up and I purse my lips, and look down and feel bad, and let the tear reach the bottom of my cheek before wiping it away.

5. More often, I feel like crying when I hear a song I really like, and there’s a lot going on in my life just then.

6. While we’re on the subject, the only other times I’ve cried in the last few years were due to girls (duh). And this one time when I was being ragged and feeling very homesick. The bugger shoved off, but another senior was nice enough to come back, ask whether I was feeling homesick, and to tell me that my behaviour was perfectly normal for someone feeling homesick.

7. I always feel the need to please everyone. Doormat-type. I sometimes think this is just a result of being a reasonably nice person who wants to do unto others as he wants them to do unto him (there’s a double entendre there if you look for it), but society evidently feels otherwise. So I make an effort to act counter-instinctively, to say no for the sake of saying no. So that I’m respected for having and sticking to my own opinions, rather than liked for being a ‘nice guy’. Sheesh.

8. I’m generally described as “chilled out”, “easy-going”, “calm”, and the like. This is linked to 7 above. But like everyone else, I actually have quite a temper; it’s just mostly held in check. I’ve been known to hit my friends when angry… by friends I mean close guy friends, and by hit I mean: (a) slapping face, knocking off glasses, (b) punching neck, arm, or stomach, (c) any other. All with intent to hurt, which means a close-fisted wallop, not a friendly little punch or slap.

9. I don’t have OCD, but I am slightly obsessive-compulsive. Can’t remember all the instances over the years, but for example, at one point I had a problem with the classic washing of hands. After washing my hands I (always) pour water on the tap to wash off the soap from when its opened the second time. During the problem period, this pouring water on the tap would go on for a whole minute or two. Right hand pour, left hand pour, right hand pour, left hand pour. I found it difficult to accept that the tap was clean. My mother and brother call me neurotic to my face. But it’s cool, I can usually recognise a slight problem like this and fight it.

What’s my current fixation? Deodorant-spraying. I spray my left underarm first, then the right one. Then the left one again. Right. Left, a bit more (that bit wasn’t really covered). Now I have to do the right, because otherwise the spraying will be unequal. Shake can, repeat, gag slightly from inhaling the clouds of deo spray.

I’m not exaggerating, although I’ve managed to bring the deo thing to manageable levels now. This too shall pass, I know.

10. I’ve never in my life been able to… edit: on second thought, censored.

I’m going to be lazy and say the slimy “I tag whoever reads this.” If I change my mind tomorrow (I won’t), I may have an opinion and pick some bloggers. Maybe the goodfellas at The Rant Reader, second time you’re being tagged, sil vous plait.

In other news, I need to revamp my blogroll. And change this stupid “Depressing Musings On Life These Days” shit.

In still more news, I have blurted on Zonuts once more.

I’m Not Being Pricey, Just Busy

http://drumtheater.wordpress.com/2007/03/05/saale-bhehnchod/

I Considered Applying There For Law School

But I didn’t, so they can’t blame it on me!

Image from http://seriously–my-vay-jay-jay–seriously.blogspot.com/

I Dreamt I Ran A Full Marathon

… and nearly won!

Ironic.

I was with a pack of 3-4 other runners, up at the front of the race, throughout. At the beginning of the final stage, in front of the city crowds, when said pack had stopped for a water break, I suddenly took off. The others let me go, they were happy for me, it seems. So I ran up the stairs (PerakathLand marathon, this) and sat on the sofa. Took off my shoes. Then realised the others would be catching up, so I took the lift down to the ground floor. Only once I’d begun running again did I realise how hard it is to run in bathroom chappals. Ai hai. Tough question– to go back up, put on my shoes, and risk being caught up by the rest of the front pack, or to try and finish the last couple of kilometres flap-flapping like a scuba diver on land?

As luck would have it, the lift took forever to come down to the ground floor. By the time I was back on the sofa trying to put on my soiled Nikes, I knew it was hopeless, I should’ve just run the last mile barefoot. But I’m too much of a wuss to ever do that.

The sense of hopelessness was so great, I woke up. My back is killing me– I slept around the large pile of clothes on my bed, instead of shoving them onto the chair like I always do. I’ve been passing out for hours at a time the last couple of days, like in Fight Club. Only I’m not schizophrenic, I don’t have MPD, ADD, or any such disorder. (I take some pretty insane decisions, though.) On Thursday I took a 5-hour afternoon nap. Last night I slept from 6 pm to 5 am, only waking up to let my dinner in around 9 30. The delivery boy tried to convince me to buy my drinking water from him instead of Gupta Stores. Poor chap; I appreciate the entrepreneurship, but it’s not gonna happen.

So, from 5 this morning until 7:15 (now), I haven’t done anything constructive. I slept in my favourite maroon sweatshirt, luckily avoided getting a drool stain on it. I only drool on my good sweatshirts, for some reason. Never in summer. I ate last night’s dinner for breakfast at 5:30. I watched a proper porn DVD that I brought back from Bombay, that had been brought there by a friend who thought it a worthy souvenir from Amsterdam. It has Dutch subtitles. Porn DVDs have subtitles and scene selection options, did you know that? Instead of a “making of” feature, they have a “cumshots” menu. What fun. It was, like all professional porn, utterly boring. Who can identify with a dick that big? Blowjob, cuntjob, woman on top, doggy, come on her face. Booo-fucking-ring.

I have a big decision to make. Telling the truth will lead to heartache, anguish, and a renewed loss of confidence in me. Living the lie– I’m confident I can pull it off. I strung them along for two years before it all came crashing down. Spineless critter, that’s me. But sound advice has been received, from a gorgeous source, no less.

It’s the consequences of truth-telling that are driving me crazy. Life will get a whole lot harder. A couple of rather nice goodies may be taken away from me.

As I told myself yesterday, I’ll think about it today. Will decide by this evening exactly what degree of the truth I’m going to let out. Right now, though, it looks like I’m going to be late for my 8:30 despite having been up since 5 a.m. Lovely-poo.

Isn’t this xkcd comic just the cutest? :D

Oh, and Iron Maiden was so “whatever, been there, seen it better” that I didn’t even feel like posting about the show. I spent a TON of money in Bombay, though. The Hard Rock Cafe is fucking expensive.