I am definitely a cold person.
Maybe it is the fact that denim dries in fifteen-twenty minutes. Or maybe it is the result of watching your skin turn a darker shade in front of your frikkin eyes. Or maybe its cause in the bus it is so hot that your brain shuts down and even as the sweat drips down your face, all you can do is look at your watch and wonder when the bloody hell do you get out.
Give me minus two with the wind chills any day.
Have recently identified another sub species of mankind that I cannot stand: Gujlings. These tiny [knee to crotch height] kids infest large housing colonies and are forever engaged in some variation of catch catch. They are loud, exuberant and the spawn of the devil. Female gujlings are also known to break into those random games of hand slapping and chanting at any given point of time. You would think that they would burn in the sun.
Kucchee women have the whole backless thing worked to bloody perfection. Fatal display of shoulder bones.
Roobs is planning to draft a one minute speech which insults every major religion, belief and organisation in the world. Then somehow smuggle that to some top dog and have him/her read it out. Preferably that yellow chap in the UN. It is so difficult to be politically correct that every once in a while I actually try it just to see how it feels.
“Just to see how it feels” was also the rationale adopted before inserting finger in rotating egg whisker. Not as painful as I had suspected. Almost disappointing actually though the super melodramatic reaction of the maid did make it better.
I like Gujjus. They have an innate sense of business that I really admire. Plus, some of them have jalebis and fafra [ghatiya] for breakfast with this delicious mixture of unripe pappaya. Yummy.
In about ten days time, I shall slowly and surely return back to a life of normalcy. I will once again have to wear the mask of sanity and parade with me fellow beings down the streets of civilisation. I wonder how long I will last.