Bah!

Hello all.

It's 10.20. I have a lec. I'm not attending the lec. That's cos I screwed up some presentation thingy I was supposed to organize. I don't wanna be there when they sort it out.

I hate fat ladies in the train. But I hate the skinny ones even more. Its pissing off when you sit on the fourth seat on the edge of your skinny bum only to spite the other skinny bums who refuse to move over and make space, the types that spread their legs like they're waiting for a dick to turn up just to reiterate their fatness so I don't sit on the fourth seat. AND they're not fat.

Consider my measurements (approximate). My ass must be a maximum of 10 inches wide, and I can make do with six inches of space. Gimme 8 inches on the seat and I will even manage to quietly go to sleep. So when the skinny chuts refuse to shift, its AAAAARGH! Which leaves me with very little option except to sit on the fourth seat in a terrible cramped way just so I can take revenge. I poke them with my elbows. (Which, just in case you're wondering, can puncture truck tyres. I wish I could call that an exaggeration but I'm afraid it could be true.)

Now for some information about me as The Commuter (in order to create pathos).I'm a very quiet commuter. I don't sing loudly in trains, I don't laugh loudly, I don't talk to anyone (partly due to the fact that I travel alone and nobody ever calls me..). I sit in a small corner (small, so other people can appreciate how accomodating I am when they sit on the fourth seat), often by the wind window, and listen to my music, which is on headphones so as to not disturb anyone. Often, I sleep all the way to wherever (partly cos I'm terribly sleep-deprived) and sometimes, I'm told, I sleep with my mouth open. I'm sorry about that, but I don't drool, so atleast I'm not repulsive. I even smile at babies in the train when I'm in the mood or when they aren't ugly.

Why anyone would deny me a seat is beyond me.

Bye.

ps- I'm done with making songs for a bit. No more wasting riffs. This is the new and determined me. Quite different from the old fickle and pathetic me.

Bye.

*waves at F, K, A, and K*

 

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Advertisements

Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s