imported toilet paper is back in the office loo! I realise the happiness I am getting out of this is disproportional to the actual event, but other people are not as anal as I am. I like the fact that imported toilet paper tears beautifully on its perforated divisions. I like the fact that it is pristinely white and most of all I love its feel, oh the feel. Cleopatra would have them put in her bath just to feel them snaking around.
Image that refuses to get out of head: Mila Jovovich in her French toilet-paper couture in Fifth Element.

Shobita, who was unperturbed by news of a stalker, was also suitably scared after meeting the brat. She was caressing a lau with three spoons stuck savagely into it.
Yes, I do lock my door every night and hang garlic around my bed.

St. Ubro has his moments, molested as he is. Alas you had to be there to see him enact "mera pau bhari ho gaya" from a past dumb charade session and swaer like a Punjabi, which involved a lot of "bh"s and spitting...and o the pelvic thrusting, despite the painful absence of the main ingredient.

When the left part of your butt wiggles independently.
When you are agravatingly aware of your breasts and want to fling them out of the way, like untidy ends of a muffler.
When objects in your sprawl-area are nuked.
When you are caught in compromising positions with the bed, the fridge, the floor.
When a successfully lit fag induces misty eyes.
When you instinctively twist yourself pretzel-like when Hypnos comes calling,
Sleep sweet child and know that Bacchus Da loves you.

They want me to do another cover *blanks out in blind panic*

"It could happen to you, like it happened to me,
There is no immunity, no gurantee"

No I am not talking about laab, or laau or love. This is about the complete and total identification with the characters in the book you read, the film you see. A few weeks ago I was a gay, confused charming fella in Britain, today I'm Fanny Price - dirty, starving and charmless in Paris hanging dead from a string of rope.
It's not a good feeling being depressed by an external stimuli and I have done it to myself countless times.
I remember walking out of 'The Thomas Crown Affair' screening, feeling every bit as sexy, smart and fruity (in a lush sort of way) as Rene Russo. Then my heel broke and I hobbled to the nearest mochi but that's besides the point. My point is, am I essentially without a personality then, since I take on alter egos so quickly.
I get children flinging themselves off furniture because they KNOW they'll fly, just like superwoman, but this? At the age of 23?
Very pissing off.

Things people have said last week:
* Beat chillo
* Gand e angul dukhie boshe thake
* Coca Cola is so chunt no?
* I am on a sticky wicket
* Boisterous is not sexy, is it?
* So ganga is always this virginal, fair aishwarya, while yamuna stands on the side, a little neglected, like a dusky Sushmita Sen
And the prize goes to this exchange:
A: Why didn't your parents call me too?
Me: You WANTED to be called at 2 am?
A: Yes and have fluttery feelings of concern
Me: Feeling left out?
A: Yup.
(Hysterical giggling on both sides of the phone)

Alanis Morissette is unfortunately my back up.
When the low point hits the solar plex
All I can do is hear her half-raving voice, full volume.
The absolute rage in her voice is pure balm.

That is me, Monday morning when they realise I still haven't proceeded beyond the first 1000 blasted words of the cover story. Procastinator thy name is smita. What have I been doing since 3 in the afternoon then you say? Lets see blogged, read blogs, mailed my sister, cropped pictures to put up as my desktop wallpaper, reactivated my Yahoo geocities site, visted every online community I have ever joined, trawled through both my yahoo mail accounts to see what people have written to me since 2002, googled my editor's name and friends who write and generally ran around the office floor saying lalalalala.
Make me write. Make me write for the dear lord in heaven's sake. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
ok. all done. You can look now.