My White Tee. And more.

Morning, boys. I say boys because if you're reading this, I'm pretty confident you're male. You see, I keep tabs on people who come here, and I suppose there are about four of you who are regulars, two who are reasonably frequent, and two more once in a while. And except for the last two more once in a while, the rest of you are male. And so, when I address you as a boy, I'm not making a patriarchal generalization or whatever it is you would call it if I said 'boys' when I thought girls would be included in the audience (and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't call it a patriarchal generalization but this is my blog so you're free to leave if you can't just agree with me whose blog this is), but I'm taking an intelligent guess at your identity.

So. The point was: Morning, boys B-)

[Fun Activity For Today: One of the things I mention in this post from here on will be a lie. A cookie to whoever guesses what the lie is.]

Now I'm in the mood today to tell you about My Mood Today. It's like a dog sleeping in a patch of sunlight on a very cold day in the afternoon kind of mood. You know..lazy..pleased with the Universe..all of that. Which is sort of absurd considering I still have to work on my wall, it's a very painful task, (and by painful I mean like back ache kind of pain, not pain in the ass kind of pain) and I have no clue when I'll be done and sometimes, after more than six hours of painting, I want to poke someone's eyes out with the back of a paintbrush. But since I'm not painting today, there is no such occupational-murderous-intent-type-hazard today. Today I have it all sorted. I woke up at 10:30 *stretches for effect*, had my coffee, barely looked at the papers, and came online to tell you about how I have it all sorted. Because, Zonk dearest, you are..wait for it…………………my Favourite Person For Every Sunday. Indeed. I do have a carefully selected list of favourite people for certain carefully selected days of the week. Like Thursdays and Fridays, if you want to know; while Mondays merit no such care because Mondays tend to suck.
In any case, I still have my wall to finish, and it's about 2.5 or 3m long, which I think would be the amount of distance I'd cover if I lay down and rolled over six times, and I know this because I'm damn good at estimating lengths in terms of meters and in terms of rolling people. So though its only a bunch of small things left to do, I still think it will take a while to finish. Tragic, eh?

But even more tragic:
I have a t-shirt most people would never imagine I'd wear. And it's true, I'd never have bought it from the shop myself. But someone did buy it, and I did happen to wear it once. And then twice. And then no less than 35 times. Because, contrary to popular belief and my expectations of myself, I loved that white t-shirt with black and grey butterflies. Sure it was depressing how the butterflies were so many, and so symmetrically arranged in a V-shape below the V-neck of the tee. If they'd just been a little less generous with the creatures and made them dwindle towards the side, the whole thing would have been so much more aesthetically pleasing. But they didn't. And I learned to forgive them for it. Because I was beginning to get attached to the tee, if you know what I mean. And specially after I got my new black fake corduroys and the whole outfit started looking so uniform punk, I really started loving it all.

Now that I've established how much I care about my white t-shirt with black and grey butterflies, I think you'll appreciate how devastated I was when my mom pulled it out of the washing machine and it had turned into a pale splotchy pink t-shirt with black and grey butterflies. I wailed then Zonk. I broke my bangles and fell to the floor and howled to the moon. I rolled around six to eight times and covered about the same distance as my wall, and then I rolled back because it was starting to feel fun a little, and then I said enough with the drama and told my sister we should go to hypercity and check if they have that t-shirt still. And then I decided to tell you about it. Of course all the drama I just made up right now, no cookies for guessing that all of that is a pack of lies. The lie is somewhere else. And now we must all mourn for My Used-to-be-white Tee.

*minute of silence*

And now I must eat. Baye :) 

 

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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.

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