Wishlist

—-Edit—
The birthday approaches. And I just found out that the Hyperbole and a half book has been out for a while now. My wishlist is being updated accordingly to reflect this change in the state of my knowing-of-things.
———–

Dear Zonk,

I happened to buy some new stationery recently, and decided to make an illustrated wishlist this year. I sort of got lazy midway through it, though, so I’ll be coupling it with a written list.

wishlist

It’s actually in colour, but I messed up quite a bit, and I think it looks much better in black and white anyway.

So here’s the list. The most important items are in bold. I’ll cancel things out as and when I get to know that someone’s getting them.

The List (in no particular order)

  • Surprise me. You don’t have to stick to the list.
  • THE HYPERBOLE AND A HALF BOOK. You can find out more about it here and you can buy it on Flipkart, I think.
  • A backpack. It should be smaller than my current backpack, but big enough, a nice dark colour on the outside and a bright colour on the inside (so I can stop losing my wallet in it everyday). Also, it should have straps that won’t slide off shoulders, and also, you should probably take me along to buy this item.
  • Red Converse. Or dark green Converse. Size 4 or 5. I’ not too sure about that.
  • White ankle high canvas shoes. Not converse. So I can paint them for myself.
  • A Calvin & Hobbes t-shirt. You will get this at Teamo in Bandra. Please get a size M, because these t-shirts tend to shrink.
  • Pants that are not jeans.
  • Headphones.
  • The XKCD Book.
  • Any nice book. Including nice poetry. It’s been a while since I read poetry. Or a nice book about music.
  • Stationery.
  • Pajamas. There is no such thing as too many pajamas.
  • Oversize sweaters or sweatshirts.
  • Nice stuff from Chumbak.
  • A Dan Mangan album. Oh Fortune, perhaps.
  • Wish me Happy Birthday here or via email. NOT Facebook.

That’s all, folks.
Love always,
K.

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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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