31 December 2008

Love, actually.

You know that moment. When you look at her, suddenly, out of the blue. It could be any other look, but it isn't. Suddenly your eyes are filled with beauty. She looks like the most beautiful thing you've laid eyes on ... that's the moment you realise you love her. It happened to me today. There I was... just standing... and I turned around, and she was there. She was so beautiful. 

I knew, at that moment, that I love her. 

I love her for all she is and all she isn't. She isn't perfect, but I loved her. She looked like the image of  beauty... I almost felt like she glowed a little... like the star from Gaiman's 'Stardust'. 

Was it too late, I wondered. Here I was, thinking of going our seperate ways... and this is the time that bastard cupid decides to strike. At least I know i love her. Tis better to have loved and lost... 

If I have to sell her, I'll miss her a lot, that's for sure. 

Her hood... just looked so perfect today. The slight bump on the hood, made to accomodate the bigger engine... the high clearence... the eagle painted on her bonnet. Even the slightly worn out tires ... the dent on the side (ah i remember that drunken evening... we've spent lots of beautiful times together, you and I). I love it all... i love all 1.3 litres of her. 

26 December 2008


There are different kinds of lovers. It's a little chocolate, there are also different kinds of chocolate. Incidentally, my father, who brings home a lot of chocolate, brought home 3 big bars of dark chocolate with fig. You might not believe this, but it was brilliant. The chocolate was dark and soft and gooey, with a mushy, dark pink fig paste. I loved it. When it got over, I turned to real figs, which I've never really enjoyed before, and I loved them too. 

Chocolate does that to you. As does love. 

But my sister, you see, hated it. "Ugh, who eats fig chocolate." So did my sort-of-girlfriend. "I hate figs. I hate the little seeds, and I hate mushy-ness. Don't give me any," she said. 

Different people like different chocolate, and different people love differently. Different people have different understandings of love, that much is true. 

Thats the problem, see. The problem isn't that people can't find a way to define or describe Love. Its just that they can't find a way to agree on the definition of love. 

Here, according to my very limited experience with love, that bitch, are the different kinds of lovers.

1) The romantic lovers. Many, at some point in our romantic lives, have been this kind of lover. I don't think I ever have, actually. As a young man (yea, I used to be one), I remember friends looking at a girl from far and saying, "I love her man... I really do." This love has nothing to do with real, deep emotion. Its just, you know, Romantic. The kind you see in Hindi movies. Many of my friends never even worked up the courage to talk to these girls. I clearly remember one saying, "I'm going to marry her, I dont know how, but I am." It didn't matter that he never had a chance in hell. 

Or like my friend Nina, who was in college with me. One days she came to me and said, "This boy came and gave me a note, but its french, and I don't know french, what does it say? It said, "Je t'aime beaucoup." I had to laugh at the guy. Not only was she way out of his league (yes, the fact that he wore only tee-shirts with a Sports Authority of India Logo on then{he said his father was an official there} may have had something to do with it), but they had also never spoken! Ah, the romantics. Yea, they never went anywhere. But i've heard stories did go somewhere you know. This girl, Mansi, was in my college, much older than me of course, and there was supposedly this boy who was totally in love with her. He only managed to say it to her, I hear, years later, and they eventually got married. She's on tv now, Mansi Scott.

2) The reason-to-love lovers. "I love you because you're so zen,"  she said  to me. Easily the nicest, most perfect girl I ever dated, I have no idea why I kept breaking up with her. It may be because I'm not essentially a reason-to-love lover, but that's besides the point. She wanted to love me more, so she brought home a dvd of a korean movie (about a girl who loses her virginity to an arrow) and some chinese movie called "Raise the red lantern". I only watched the second one because I thought it would have some kung fu in it. It didn't. 

I, on the other hand, didn't love her because I thought she wasn't bright enough. Its besides the point that I was proved wrong the moment she got accepted into Columbia's journalism program. 

The thing is : we needed reasons to love each other. We needed to say, "I like you because..." I guess its a good way to love, if you're thinking of a long term relationship. Its good to know why you like someone, so you can keep reminding yourself about it. But then again, you know if you have a reason to love somebody, then someday, when you change, that reason may cease to exist. 

3) The spiritual lovers. There was this girl once. I don't know where I fell in love with her, but I realised it on a deserted beach, in the middle of the night, when she said, "Let me show you how to really hug somebody." You know, words are always a barrier to emotion. There are never enough words for feelings. The english language is the worst. There's just one word for love. You kn ow that story about the inuits having some 30 odd words for snow. Well, Indian languages have many more words for love than English. There's a word for every different love that goes with every different relationship. But there still isn't enough to describe it all. That is why I can't describe what I felt with her, but we were bonded on a different level. The kind that you can never explain, you know, where souls meet and all bull. 

It doesn;t matter  now, of course, cos two weeks after that day on the beach, she went and got married. 

I think i'm essentially a spiritual lover, though, who will love without knowing why. Who want's to be understood without ever saying anything, who can never lie to his lover, because words don't count for much. Thats my problem, see, that kind of love, I don't know if it comes by very often. 

4) The reverse-love lover. "I don't want a soul-mate. I want someone who loves me inconveniently." This is the perfect way to define the girl i'm tangled up with right now. See, this person makes their decisions for love based on how much the other person loves them. They're the complete opposite of the Romantic Lover. More than wanting to love, they want to be loved. They want people so say odd things like, "I love you more than life itself," "I cry myself to sleep thinking about you," and "I can't live without you."

Ideally, Romantic Lover should meet Reverse-Love Lover, and it should work well. Until of course, More-Romantic Lover shows up and Reverse-love Lover feels more loved.

So i've left all the minor lovers out of this list. You know, like, says-i-love-you-during-sex-only lover, liar lover, arranged marriage lover... that kind. Those don't matter. 

And oh, happy new year to you, whatever kind of lover you are. May you find true love this year. 


29 April 2008

She moves in mysterious ways (It's alright!)

"I don't trust you,'' I said, teasingly.
"I don't trust myself,'' she said, also teasingly.
"Well, don't worry, I'm not going to kiss you tonight,'' I said, reassuringly.
"What? Bull shit. Do you expect me to believe that if I leaned in now, you wouldn't kiss me?" she said, challengingly.
"Yes,'' I said, confidently.
And so, she leaned in. I could see her face in the neon light that shone in from her window, and the soft whirr of the air-conditioner broke the silence of her small room.
Did i want to kiss her? Yes. Because she was tall, pretty, had a very hot body, was actually intelligent, and I had just had over four hours of great conversation with her, over cheap drinks at Janata Bar, and then a chain of cigarettes on the steps outside her house.
Did I kiss her? I won't say. Not because I don't kiss and tell, but because i don't not-kiss and tell.
So, what, then, was the problem? The problem was, that she had a boyfriend. Has a boyfriend. And he is actually a very nice boy. Decent, soft spoken, hard working, acts in plays, catholic even.
So why, then, was she sitting on her bed, which was really just a single mattress, with a boy who had broken the heart of one of her closest friends, less than two months ago? Obviously, because I'm the bad boy that her boyfriend isn't. Ok, ok, let me say it. I'm not a bad boy. I'm actually fairly good. But bad boy to her.

"You're such a player,'' she said. "Don't you just love that?" i said.

So. Since this post is tagged 'Lessons for Dudes', what's the lesson for you dudes here. The lesson, my friends, is this. Women, even devoted ones, will, if presented with the right opportunity, cheat on their boyfriends. Its true. I actually believe that its easier to seduce (i hate that word, but i don't have a better one) a girl with a boyfriend, or one who is soon to be wed, than a single girl. And this i speak from experience, plenty of mine own and those of plenty of my good friends'. Who are soon to be wed are very easy. Maybe they just want to get it done one last time? My experience with married women is extremely limited, so i won't comment.

Take a look at this. Its a piece by The Sun, brilliantly called `affairer sex'. Granted, it is the sun. But even so. Billy Crystal agrees. But this? I don't actually ever read it, but The Independent does sound like it has a lot more credibility. Do a little Blackle (that's an eco friendly google) search. You'll find that, indeed, more women are cheaters than men.

Before i get to why women cheat more, let me get to why men cheat less. Firstly, most men do have commitment phobia. Women love commitment. The only thing the love more than commitment is a is a man who doesn't. Men are naturally wired to be opportunistic. But for a man to commit to a woman, means that he's put some thought into it, and decided that he wants to be with this woman. He is with her because he wants to. (now I'm not talk about horny 15 year old boys that will go steady with a girl because its cool, I'm talking about horny 26 year old that will go steady with a girl cos its cool.) So for him to cheat, it means that he has to, in his head, overthrow all that he has thought and considered, and contradict his own emotion and hard work. Or, it could just be that he's extremely drunk and/or, she's incredibly hot. Unlikely, because women don't really love men who are incredibly drunk, unless they are too/

Second, i don't think men get enough opportunity as women. I do believe that the majority of women are naturally more attractive than men, especially since we start approaching thirty. Of course, some women do get fat (and I'm not apologising for using that word, use the bloody gym), but that doesn't matter, because there will always be a man to hit on a woman. All women, fat or not, get hit on. The same does not apply to men.

Now women, as I have always believed, are attracted to two kinds of men. One is the nice, sweet, gentle provider. The good looker, the stage-actor, the investment banker, the computer engineer. Which is who they marry and go to picnics with and cook with their moms and have kids with and go to the theater with. Then, they're attracted to the assholes. Which, is me, sometimes. The assholes don't even have to look extremely good or have great jobs or anything. Which, is also me, sometimes. We just have to talk smart.

So, as I was saying, they will marry the good boy, but want to fuck the bad boys. Its true. I'm telling you.

So, why wouldn't I kiss her? Because that is all they will ever want to do with the bad boys. Unless they're single. Well, then too, if they're smart, they'll get tired of the bad boy. If they're not, why the fuck would you want to be with them? They will never want to love you. They will never want to tell you about why they don't get along with their parents, and they won't care when you cry. You think you're using them, but no, really, they're using you.

And that sucks. So no more non-single women for me.

22 April 2008

Lessons For [chick] Human Beings.

So, this post is part of my series of lessons for human beings. This one is for the Women. So there isnt much of a post here, there's just a lesson. But believe me, its true.

So here's the lesson.

-- If a guy says to you, 'I'm not the committment type', what he really means is, `I'm not the committment type with you. '--

The truth is, when a guy really likes you, for more than your ass, he will be the committment type. That is the simple truth. End of the lesson.

This comes from a hardcore committment-phobe, so you better believe it. Also, as an aside, for some stupid reason, the moment a guy says to a girl, ``i'm not the committment type'', she loves him.

17 April 2008

How to snag literary type chicks.

Today I will tell you, the young man, how to snag chicks that read, and especially chicks that read poetry. And the beauty of it is, you won't actually have to read much poetry to do it.

First of all, you must remember that chicks that read are many. But they all pretty much read the same stuff. Those that've studied literature in college all read Shakespeare and whatever else is in the syllabus. Many of them actually didn't even understand it (but, still, its good for you to memorise these lines " When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
When the hurlyburly's done, When the battle's lost and won." Spout these words randomly, but strategically. Eg. Lit Chick : Ok, its time for me to go, i'm supposed to meet my boyfriend, and you don't seem that bright. WannabePlayer : When shall we three...... hurlyburly's.... lost and won" LitChick : Wow. I didn't know you read Shakespeare. WannabePlayer : I don't. I wrote that. LitChick. Hee hee... ok i'll wait a little longer, you're funny, and cute. (See what happened here, you led her to believe that you read and are intelligent, and yet, when she brought up the bard [Shakespeare, you dolt] you cleverly brought the conversation back to you, so you'll can talk about you, and so you don't have to actually discuss the dead dude [Shakespeare, you dolt]. Now, get her to talk about sex.

Ok, now back to the main bit, which is, how to snag literary type chicks, without actually being smart. I'm gonna teach you how to kill lit chicks till they're naked (not kill them dead, kill them horny, you dolt). Ok, here's the big secret. Just remember this one one name, but remember it well. E. E. Cummings.

What's that you say? Who is this Cummings dude? Ok, so cummings is a poet who was born to help us score with lit chicks.

So, first, google the dude, and read up about him, and you will get your first conversation starter bits. His name. This bit works better if you'll are conversing on email or gchat.

For instance
LitChick : So, do you like the romantics, or the Naturalists? (There's nothing actually called the Naturalists, except the nude white men in goa, but I'm not the poetry type either, so i don't really know much about poetry, so just assume that she throws a poetic period at you that you know nothing about)
You: Well, i don't think poetry, well, really, all art, can be boxed into little periods... i mean... time isn't linear.
LitChick : (slightly confused, cos she's actually a bit of a poseur too) What're you talking about?
You : Well, if you must know, i do appreciate E. E. Cummings.
LitChick: Don't you mean e. e. cummings?
You: Well, you can say it as you like... you know he didn't really stress on the capitalisation of his name... and he meant is as a mark of humility, really, not as the preferred orthography for others to use ... (she probably won't have read up about cummings on wikipedia, so she won't know that you're paraphrasing)
LitChick: well, what do you like about him?
You: I'd like to say that i like his versatility, and how he really says things in a way that makes me think, ``that's exactly what i was thinking'', but the truth is, because the guy's really a horny bugger ha ha.
LitChick : (ideally seeing the humour) ha ha so typical. You like a poet because he's `horny'.
--See what you've done here, boy? Not only have you showed her you're smart, and that you read, and introduced a bit of humour, but you're also slowly steering to topic around to sex, so you increase your chances of eventually doing this woman.
You : Well, typical, yes, but of what?
LitChick: Of the average, testosterone fuelled yada yada...
You : (cutting in) may i feel
LitChick: huh?
You: said he... ill squeal said she ...just once said he... its fun... said she.
LitChick: So thats why you like cummings...
You : ha ha... well... look i have to go soon, but i just want to say, that cummings really had such variety. I mean, he wrote about sex, yes, but also about love. And he wrote beautifully... very intense. Even if you ignore the punctuation, and the structures he builds with his words... very beautiful...

--remember to use these words : Beautiful and intense. Chicks dig these words.
Here, the chick will agree with you. Trust me, she will. and you continue.

You: Well, i can't stay much longer... my buddy's waiting for me... but we should continue this ...
LitChick: yea yea... I should go talk to my friends... my boyfriends not here today.
You: Well, we'll continue this later... life's not a paragraph, you know.
---Remember this life's not a paragraph dialogue, ok? its important

Remember, you're not actually going to go away. You're just saying you're going away. And now you're going to steer the conversation around to sex. Try not to do it with poetry, though. eg, you can say, ``Boyfriend? I thought you were lesbian?''. If you must use poetry, you can continue the life's not a paragraph bit with : and death i think is no parentheses... and neither are threesomes. (ok, dont fuckin ask me what parentheses are, cos i don;t know, and the threesomes bit isnt actually in the poem.)

If you can get thru this bit ok, then this chick is yours. Just remember never to talk more poetry with her. Like, you can say, ``Words, really, only limit expression. There are only so many words, and so many more feelings. Not my opinion... Parmahansa Yogananda's.'' Or say, ``Look, i dont really feel like talking now... lets just enjoy the silence for once.'' Or even, ``I'm really more the prose type...its always easier to carry prose when you're on motorcycle trips''

So, thats how to handle Lit Chicks. Just remember, they're not really that bright either, and want to get laid as much as you. And because they're lit chicks, will probably be more likely to be open to a threesome with another chick, and probably have lesbian lovers. Definately do if they're from LSR.

Thats it for me today. But just for your own happiness, check out this poem by cummings.

it is at moments after i have dreamed

it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when (being fool to fancy) i have deemed
with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds
the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;
moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination, when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:
one pierced moment whiter than the rest
-turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.

And also, any man who writes this, below, has to be a stud, and we all can learn a lot from him
the boys i mean are not refined

the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a fuck for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night

one hangs a hat upon her tit
one carves a cross on her behind
they do not give a shit for wit
the boys i mean are not refined

they come with girls who bite and buck
who cannot read and cannot write
who laugh like they would fall apart
and masturbate with dynamite

the boys i mean are not refined
they cannot chat of that and this
they do not give a fart for art
they kill like you would take a piss

they speak whatever's on their mind
they do whatever's in their pants
the boys i mean are not refined
they shake the mountains when they dance

16 April 2008

Milk boy! Save us, Milk boy!

Please allow me to introduce myself
Im a man of wealth and tasteIve been around for a long, long year
Stole many a mans soul and faith
And I was round when jesus christ
Had his moment of doubt and pain
Made damn sure that pilate
Washed his hands and sealed his fate

See, now the thing about me is, that I have fairly decent Game. I don't pick up women in bars (this is India, i know very few people who do, cos women can be really prissy here), but I do have conversations with them, and i do flirt with some fairly succesfully. I can't charm the pants of any women you point out at me, but i do know if i get into a conversation with a woman, i have at least a 70% chance of scoring. Its another matter that i'm very picky, and really dont want to score unless they're very pretty or very intelligent.
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name
But whats puzzling you
Is the nature of my game

The unfortunate problem, i think, with all men, regardless of the quantum of Game we may or may not have, is this : when we meet a woman we really really really like, we lose all game, and become charmless, tactless fool with the Game of a 14 year old hedgehog. (for those of you'll who are wondering what i mean by Game, if you don't know, erm, what can i say? Read a nice book by a dude called neil something or the other).

I stuck around St. Petersberg
When I saw it was a time for a change
Killed the Czar and his ministers
Anastasia screamed in vain
So, when you deal with a lady. Or a girl. Or a woman. Or a child, i am told. The rules to be successful are always the same. Their application may be varied a little, but they essentially stay the same. For instance, don't fawn over the woman. Don't get her gifts. Don't ever ever let her know you like her. Let her do all the work. Be confident. When you see the signs, do something about it. Don't be a wuss. And don't ever, ever, ever be afraid of rejection. And of course, develop `samurai mind', don't care if she never calls you. Of course these don't really apply if you look like that tall dude in Rang De Basanti, or a certain Mr. Pitt, or a certain, now deceased, Mr. Dean. They don't apply if you drive a Bentley in Bombay, or have a penthouse on Marine drive. But if you're an ordinary journo, with nothing more to his name that a car (with the bolt that holds the windshield in place missing, as I have recently discovered) and a personality, then well, they do apply.
I rode a tank
Held a general's rank
When the Blitzkrieg raged
and the Bodies stank
And honestly, i've had my share of women. A lot less than a lot of men, but that is because I have very strict standards. Most guys i know, even incredibly nice guys who are my best friends, will sleep with anything that moves. Or moved. I have the same policy for food, but not for women. If i've been in any sort of relationship with a girl, thats testimony to the fact that she's got something special about her (except for one...the only thing special about her, was her boobs). Allright, enough of blowing my own trumpet.
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name, oh yeah
What's puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah
So, why, i ask, why? Does a young gent such as myself, forget all that he's learnt, and do everything he really shouldn't, the moment he meets the one girl who he would like to date for a little longer than three weeks? Why does he buy her gifts, and pay for coffee at the Taj Blue Diamond(two cups each). Why does he write her an email telling her just exactly how he feels. Why does he feel like he's the one being judged, rather that let her feel like that. Why does he care if he gets her or not? Is it because, he actually likes to watch her laugh? Is it because he actually likes to hear about her childhood, and isn't thinking about how he can steer the topic around to sex (which happens anyway, when she says, ``tell me two truths and a lie about sex'' which is a game he made up). Is it because she challenges him so much? ("I'm not going to fall for the strategy. There's so much more to you", she says) Is it because it doesn't matter to him that she is, actually, quite pretty. And why does he feel like he's setting himself up to lose this one? What is she doing? he knows she does like him, somehow, but she's not letting him win.
I watched with glee

While your kings and queens

Fought for ten decades

For the gods they made

I shouted out, "Who killed the Gandhis?"

When after all It was you and me

Men dig their own graves you know. They set themselves up for failure. They build it up in their heads, they make the task impossible for themselves. They have it in control, and then they let it go. When they don't care, they do great, but the moment they start, they shoot themselves in the foot. Some of us grow balls, and take the bull by its balls. Some of those that do, get trampled, and some, strangly, get loved by the bull. And the thing is, they can have been with a hundred women, but when they meet the woman that they could fall in love with, they turn into idiots. They say things like, ``she could never like me'', or ``i'm not into committment'', or ``she's got a funny tooth'', or ``it'll never work'', or ''we're friends'', or ``i don't know if she likes me or not''.

Let me please introduce myself

I'm a man of wealth and taste

And I laid traps for troubadours

Who get killed before they reached Bombay

So i know what i must do to get her. a) Stop being such a wuss. b) Stop caring about whether i get her or not. c) Game her a little, charm her a little. d) Make her want me, rather than the other way around. But the problem is, i know i could get her like that, but I might not want to. I want to care, and i want to be afraid, and i want her to want me for what I am, cheesy as that sounds!

Pleased to meet you

Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah

But what's confusing you

Is just the nature of my game

Love, or more precisely, the possibility of it, i tell you, ruins a man. It leaves him begging, when he should be demanding. Women don't beg when they're in love. They only demand when they're not. When its just about the sex. But then, when it's not about the love, and not about the sex, i think maybe, they don't demand then too, but this I can't say for a fact, and thats what fucks us all.

Just as every cop is a criminal

And all the sinners saints

As heads is tails

Just call me Lucifer

'Cause I'm in need of some restraint

So if you meet me

Have some courtesy

Have some sympathy, and some taste

Use all your well-learned politesse

Or I'll lay your soul to waste, um yeah (woo woo, woo woo)

Pleased to meet you

Hope you guessed my name, um yeah (who who)

But what's puzzling you

Is the nature of my game, um mean it, get down

My house was vacant for a month, and the last people to visit were my sister and my bestbuddy (seperatately, with his girlfriend). One of them left a copy of Filmfare. So i opened it, and leafed through it. There were a couple of hot pics of Mughda Godse. And a photo-type-feature about an ageing model called Rahul Dev, who chooses a young model from a bunch of pictures and `grooms' him.

Now both of them are fairly good looking guys. But Rahul Dev puts the young'un through a ritual which involves a hair expert after saying, ``something must be done about his hair.'' The hair expert says, ``the problem was that he had re-bonded hair...so we had to touch up the base and correct the re-bonding.''

So here'r my questions.
What the fuc* is re-bonded hair?
If you have to re-bond hair, dont you fuc*ing have to bond it first?
And if you correct re-bonding, shouldn't the fuc*ing thing be called 're-re-bonding'.
Who the fuc* comes up with these things?

shite... i'm really out of date, no? But i still believe men should know only two kinds of hair for themselves. Hair, and no hair.

09 April 2008

I've been thinking of posting for a while. And i think this is the perfect time to do it, considering i have a deadline for a story looming large, and i'll get screwed if its not in on time.

As usual, i'll write about a woman. This time, my sister. A former girlfriend who professed to having a thing for women says is very cute. I, of course, don't think so, cos that's just sick. So I will just say that she's smart. And i've just realised that she's smarter than me. And i'll post this g-chat conversation that i had with her to demonstrate.

Sis : (in response to my status message 'Crabs are cute'): and yet u eat them
Sent at 12:03 PM on Wednesday
4wd: i'll show you the whole poem
Sis : show show
4wd: crabs are cutecrabs are sweet
they are full of delicious meat
when u eat u feel like ur in heaven
then u realise that u've gobbled up eleven!
with butter or with chilly or even just with curry
with crabs crabs crabs... never worrryy!
Sis : hehehehehe so cool
4wd: hee hee
whats up
Sis : when you comin home?
then i go offline for a bit, and then come back

4wd: yo supp
Sis : yo yo yo blubber brudder (i dunno why she calls me this, i'm pretty fit)
4wd: hows it hangine
Sis : hangin ok chucky chucka psycho .. how bout u ?
Sent at 7:05 PM on Wednesday
Sis : have u ever heard the whine of those boars that live near the office ? its like the fingernails on the blackboard of the bottom of your soul
Sent at 7:11 PM on Wednesday
4wd: i like it
it sounds like the prelude to a ballet of the making of pork sorpotel
Sent at 7:28 PM on Wednesday
Sis : pork sorpotel from those little buggers seems like it will end in the sonnet of the simmering soup of puke
Sent at 7:34 PM on Wednesday
4wd: true art is never understood in its own time. The ode to the buggers will be deified on the altar of gluttony
Sent at 7:39 PM on Wednesday
Sis : cant argue with the most pious of devotees..whose life is a to and fro pilgrimage between the altar of gluttony and the shrine of shit
Then i dont answer for a bit...because I don't know what to say.

Sent at 7:53 PM on Wednesday
Sis : well bro .. hope ya'll be chillin' at da crib dis weekend coz me thinkin' o' spendin' some fly time popping em c's widy
4wd: c's?
Sis : umm .. i dunno .. hehe
Sent at 7:56 PM on Wednesday
4wd: you're a loon
Sent at 8:02 PM on Wednesday
Sis : thankfully im also also a crab. so im cute . yaay.
Damn it. I am no longer the smartest in my family.