Where the phone flashes in the pocket of my translucent shirt, highlighting the area around my nipple

Well it does and I can’t bloody figure out a way to stop it. I have also managed to subscribe to this “Learn a new word every day” SMS thing where I get a word messaged to me thrice a day, along with its meaning, opposite and how it is to be used in a sentence. The last two words have been “regret” and “alone”. The ones before that were “joy” and “pride”.

Its like the SMS Mother is also a manic depressive.

Random bit of facebook stalking has told me that two of the ugliest people I know are getting married. And the image in my head is what the fuck their kids are gonna look like. And then if the kids turn out to be cute, would they get all suspicious of each other and wonder “Where the fuck did this kid get the good looks from?”.

And when the family and friends and well-wishers would crowd around the little critter and call him cute and all that shit, would they also wonder “Oh fuck, I can’t say that this fellow is toh totally gone on his mummy ya. Now what do I say?”.

Ugly babies.

They remind of the movie “Omen”.

Ugly twins. Oooohhhh. Lying on their beds, their necks moving here and there and grinning that evil grin.

And then pooping into their diapers.

Speaking of which, went and saw the broadcast of the play Frakenstein by that Danny Boyle chap and have to say that the shit was pretty mediocre. I mean sure its got Sherlock and all but there are some scenes which are just so bloody pathetic and what the fuck is the  “Dad from Trinidad” doing in the middle of it all?

What the eff ya.

Ever since that “Shit Delhi girls say” video has come out, I say that every once in a while. “What the effff ya”. These bloody townies all say it here. “Aye no we dont yaa”.

I woke up one night to see fat, wicked drops of water crashing against the window. And I mean with some serious violence. It was beautiful.



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