Formula what, now?

I leave in less than 11 hours, and I still haven’t packed.

The visa-on-arrival facility at Thailand requires you to display reserves of 10,000 baht, which is around 13,000 rupees, which I may or may not have, depending on how much I spend in Singapore. Which again depends on the price of alcohol there and the rate of entry into nightclub(s). But it’ll be okay– I regularly go to Delhi bars with hardly any money in my wallet (a low of 10 rupees, once), and it always works out somehow.

My to-do list is almost empty now. Some Placement Cell rubbish to finish off, then I go park the bike and pick up my washed clothes. Large gym session, come back and pack. The taxi is booked for 4:15 a.m…. I wish IGI had long-term parking facilities.

The last time I flew after drinking, I really suffered during turbulence. Ergo I’ve restricted myself to only a quarter-bottle of Aristocrat P tonight. It’s half over already.

 

If you follow the sport, look for a ‘Saale BHEHNchod’ sign in the crowds. Not in the grandstands, because we don’t have access to them, being cheap-ticket holders, but we’ll be on the grass along the roads for sure.

Bye, all! I’ll put up public links to Facebook albums when I can.

WOO fucking HOO, na? :D

(You can look up the pit babes yourselves!)

Lather, Rinse, Repeat… As Needed

He could’ve asked for anything from our great Bharat makaan desh, but all my old man wants from here is a 3-pack of Park Avenue hankies and two ‘old’ Cinthol soaps.

When puberty struck and armpit hair grew from being a matter of pride (we used to peer down each other’s shirt sleeves on the bus rides home after school!) to a source of odour (“You smell of popcorn!”), Pappy started me on Lifebuoy Plus.

These days I buy 4-packs of ‘new’ Cinthol or Godrej No. 1, because the fourth soap comes free.

What do you use? Peeeaaarss?

(That’s pronounced peee-ye-ars, btw, with as much of a Malayali accent as you can muster.)

Anything Goes

As one of the editors of La Fakelty’s recruitment handbook 2008-09, I’ve been having many small fights with the other editors about the forms of abbreviations (periods or no periods?), the correct uses of commas, semicolons, and colons, and British/American/Indian English spellings (zee versus zed versus ess).

‘Calender’, used the handbook designer.

Is it Calend-er or Calend-ar?

The Nokia dictionary accepts both.

A cursory internet search for the etymology isn’t of much help.

http://www.teachervision.fen.com/new-years/activity/8451.html

http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/calendar

What I gather is that the classical Latin root used ‘-ar’, but the Middle English version used ‘-er’.

Grey/Gray, tut tut, who cares, does it matter?

Does anyone know which spelling is ‘more “correct”’?

Quick Grossie

Ever soaped up your bum in the shower, and then farted before you washed it off?

Is It Wednesday Already??

I spend half my fucking life making to-do lists. And never executing them.

- wash plate in room

- put away emergency light

- Gwyer Hall

- haircut

- call Coke guy

- charge camera battery

- read up on F1!

- msg bye Dhruva, Ranjit, Aneesh, Kalyani

- mail bye Varun, Ash, Vix, Pai

- call bye Arvinth

- buy adapter; metacin for Appa

- update Travel Plan and mail it in

- mail address, numbers to the guys. Tell them to all buy duty-free booze (no fags)

- make file with N’s instructions, Thai visa regulations, mail that too perhaps

- copy some movies onto lappy/external

- write important phone numbers, October bdays on paper

- confirm Pattaya booking

- organise mp3 player music

 

Printouts:

- ETR/Itinerary (7 copies)

- Thai visa-on-arrival form (4 copies)

- Passport photocopies (2 copies)

 

Duty-free:

1. Changi first arrival: Bottle for Pai and friends

2. Changi leaving for Aus: Bottle for Appa: ? brand

3. Changi en route Delhi return: Stavka vodka for Chandni, ? else

 

On Thursday evening:

- Gwyer hall!

- park bike in Stephen’s

- park car, disconnect battery, cover, tell chowkis

- book taxi for 04:15 am (5 am check-in, 8 am flight)

- stop newspaper, tiffin

- wish MM bday

- PACK!!!

In June…

… I went swimming with two hotties.

This is my new FB profile pic. I think it’s frickin’ hilarious! It came out just as I hoped.

I would make a good woman. Bitchy and slutty, but still.

This ‘ere is a more conventional pic…

As We All Knew I Would

I smoked one. It. The last one in my room. I didn’t even buy a Coke to go with it.

Unbidden, I didn’t sit in my chair or my beanbag like I normally do, but stood at the balcony door like an outcast, flipping the ash into the rain. Skulking around in my own room. Listening to the Van Halen cd in the background. I need to play some comfort music. Dream Theater it is.

I’m feeling great about myself.

Great = fat and ugly. And I feel like a girl for having such thoughts. But it’s true– I’ve been stuffing myself with dry Chocos all day, as a nicotine substitute. I slept 3 hours last night, because I began watching Trainspotting again at 1:30 in the morning, and I had class at 8:30 today. Darker circles than usual, therefore. I’m pissed off with the hair on my head and on my chin. Tut tut. What to do about it all.

Alcohol is the solution, I think. Not alone tonight though.

But first, true professional that I am, I’ll finish the editing work I was supposed to have done yesterday.

You know, I answered a couple of Craigslist personals last week. Thinking I’d be supercool and have random (unpaid) sex in Thailand. As if it’s a country of people just waiting for the latest Indian cock.

I was all honest, I was. Told them about my love for basketball and drumming, but how I don’t do much of either anymore. Told them descriptions of me by prior involvees have ranged from ‘hot’ to ‘not unattractive’. Told them I live in North India but am ethnic South, so my tan is likely darker than theirs. (Both of them had mentioned they were tanned!) Told them I’m pretty cosmopolitan and speak near-perfect English. Told them I’m ‘a little wary of Craigslist and its possibilities for abuse’, so I’d send pictures (only) if they showed interest. (Both of them had said ‘your pic gets mine’!)

Can’t blame them for not being interested, I suppose. ‘Indian’ doesn’t really conjure up images of hotness, does it now? Unless we’re talking about Indian women. They’re smoking hot, of course.

New Mechanism For Facebook Birthday Reminders

I’m on four hundred and forty-four friends today.

My high on Orkut was 446.

I got my first junk wall post on FB today. My Orkut scrapbook was terminally infected with junk scraps months ago.

Four of my FB friends had birthdays yesterday. Five are today. Five tomorrow. One on Saturday.

I’ve decided I’m only going to wish those whom I’d wish by email in real life, were FB not in existence. People who I’d sms or call to wish, I do anyway.

 

God, the crap I’ll write to keep my mind off those fucking cigarettes.

Even Porn Isn’t Helping

It’s ALL I can think of. ALL I want to do is (drink a Pepsi) and smoke a cigarette.

AAAAAAARRRRGH.

What the fuck must heroin deaddiction be like?

 

Edit: This isn’t the way to quit, you/I know. To stay off cigarettes (I once managed 3 months!) you have to not want to smoke. If you look at it as a sacrifice {I want a cigarette but I’m not going to have one}, you’re doomed to failure, be it in 3 months or 10 years.

Where Has You Been, Pop?

I’m sorry, my kittehs. Papa has been busy with placement cell work which he now feels he should be converted into a full-time, paid position, and not given to student volunteers. Even if they do get to put it on their CVs.

He drank and smoked too much last Saturday, and woke up on Sunday with the beginnings of a chest infection. He’s had them enough times before to recognise them early. He started antibiotics and stopped smoking. He wishes he could tell you he hasn’t smoked since Sunday, but last night he agreed to a late dinner-and-drinks plan for spontaneity’s sake, and he ended up smoking 4 cigarettes with his Bacardi-Pepsis. (Which are terrible, by the way, Coke goes much better.) But in general, when the urge gets strong he pops a Polo, swigs some cola, or– this is most common– he eats. Snacks, rather.

He met five people he knew (other than his dinner companions) at 4S last night, and was mighty pleased to see them all. Hurrah for 4S and happy hours till 10 pm!

He had a brilliant gym session this evening, working his chest muscles (you know them as his boobies, kittehs!) for an hour and a half, almost. He would’ve liked to run on the treadmill too, as he was feeling very fit, but he’d come with his room neighbour and needed the lift back instead of having to walk home in the drizzle. He bought a packet of Chocos for breakfasts this week, since your favourite muesli is over, and one of his eggs broke in the packet on the short walk home from Gupta Stores.

(He just had to mention Gupta Stores– it’s a staple of Papa’s life!)

Now, with his work for the evening done, and a new type of doughnut, a soliloquy on soft metal, submitted to Zorro, he’s still in a good mood. Even though the ice-cream carts had all left by the time he went down to buy one. Working out does that to him. It makes him feel strong, powerful, and lithe, even though in reality he may be of moderate strength for his size/weight and stocky rather than athletic.

It’s a long day for Paps tomorrow. Friday is gym day again. By next Monday the placement cell work will have eased off, but then the Friday after that Papa’s leaving for his Grand World Tour, and since he’s your grandmother’s son, he’ll be in quite a tizzy by then. He’s already started a Notepad file with things to be done before he leaves. He’ll move it to the Desktop tomorrow, to give it high priority.

Goodnight now, kitteh-darlings. Give us a hug.

———

Oh man, I have two Marlboros lying on my other desk, just a metre away from me. I really hope I don’t smoke one tonight. Should I run them under the tap right now?