Under Pressure

Sana

What do you do when you are about 2000 miles away from Jun?

Get pressured into writing 300 words of mediocrity. Since we were never that good anyway, this doesn’t matter! (stop smiling you jackass, that joke wasn’t for you, you are the one who keeps returning to read more, so for you WE ARE GOOD OKAY!)

Ever since we came up with this super cool template, we actually have started to get visitors (stop being in denial, you didn’t just find your way here, you CAME here!)

Hmm.

So the train of thought gets derailed from here on…

The world needs more creative ways to deal with anger. One way could just be to make the only 3 people who read your blog feel miserable and never return to read stuff history is made of (loooooooosers!). That could be one.

*Sniff ‘please be back’ Sniff*.

The other way could be to lick the jam off your gangrened toenail and poison yourself but before that write a suicide note to your dog who is dying of cancer due to excessive smoking maybe. You are the ones on drugs, you imagine while I continue not writing what I am writing.

Have you ever wondered how the hair in your nose grows 8 inches outside the frikkin nose just before an interview for an HLL job? We haven’t either. This is due to the following three reasons:

1. We are clean people.

2. We used to carry photos of ourselves for inspiration in our kitbags before we were thrown out from our jobs on grounds of being ‘ungroomed’. (I still believe they were plain jealous of us)

3. They lacked sense of humour

4. We didn’t know how to count. (Like that is a bad thing?!)

So then one more thought so my 300 words are up and I make up for lost time.

Since my able compatriot and fellow nose hair person(that’ll be Jun, slow joe!) is obsessed with writing to distract him from mosquitoes which bite him on the neck areas, I shall give him company for another 36.5 words. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…29.5.

We love you India, We love you.

PS: We still love you India and that is way more than 300. Thank you Jun. I miss you!

Jun

What happens when a swarm of bees decide to attack an unsuspecting crowd of happy family members waiting to see their precious 21+ year old 'children' receive their Post Graduate Diploma degree? Here's picture by picture highlights:

1. A lone bee is heard buzzing near someone's chair. It is assumed to be a stray incident. All is calm. A long, droning, and perhaps wholly unappreciated Chief Guest continues his long, droning and so highly academic speech, one could possibly get a Ph.D. just listening to that crap.

2. The lone bee is suddenly a scout formation of five divers. Ears have perked up, though unfortunately there is absolutely no buzz in the Chief Guest's speech. One wonders if even eight shots of tequila and a beer IV could help. The bees however, need no such encouragement. The affected individuals pretend not to care. The fake look of indifference that they show towards the flying buzztards reminds one of the frightened rat brandishing its claws to the big fat house cat as feline canine prepares to make an interesting meal of the ridiculous rodent. Yeah, they're just waiting to be stung.

3. "Scout commander to Squadron leader. The humans are juicy, unaware, pretentious and just waiting for chaos to happen. I recommend an all out swoop kamikaze attack."

4. And on come the bees. Frantic flapping of the convocation invitation is followed by muted shrieks of surprise, and possibly pain; from both the Chief Guests seemingly never-ending discourse on everything boring on Earth, and B-squadron attacks.

5. The speech continues. As hordes of people and bees leave the main lawns.

6. Somewhere in Delhi University, someone's orgasmed because the Sensex crossed 11,000. That's whats called a business peak. Ah, the pleasure of unprotected Sensex.

While the daughter causes havoc in the nation's capital my mother has taken it upon herself to fatten me up. Its an interesting exercise involving a constant shovelling of food of all kinds into my mouth. This is the life.

Sana dear, methinks the world needs more chocolate, more perky cheerleaders, less Ph.Ds and more crazy, crazy love!

*missing the daughter*