Like for shizzle. I dont get awkward, I get awkkkkward.
So there is this chik who I thought was hitting on the me. And I nicely told this chick’s friend this and also told the friend that I am going to hit back. And so this chick’s friend told the chick. Turns out that chick is madly seeing someone else. And so now, that chick is trying really, really hard to make sure there is no scope for miscommunication. Like properly.
Which is fine. So far, all is normal.
The awkkkward part kicks in cause I am a bit of an asshole (or is the asshole a bit of me? ahahahhahaha). So for some, really really fucked up reason, I continue to act like I am hitting on the chick. And the chick, pretty obviously, is trying to de-crush me. And I am fully aware of what she is doing but still I go on. I just do not get it.
Dear God, why did you make me this way?
Jajajajajajjajajajja. My god is an alcoholic little bastard with yellow nails and an addiction to snuff. Bugger keeps dropping down to earth and quietly raises the curtain to Hell, just to get a peek in from the corner of his eyes. Gets caught by the Gods God and is yelled at and gets all flustered and shit. “No no, I was not lifting the curtain, I was merely brushing it. Must have lifted by mistake.”
I really, really like the idea of a personalised god. Like a butler except you cant order him to do shit. You can beg and pray but no ordering. Otherwise, you get sent to Hell.
I dont like the concept of hell sometimes. There is this one story in some Gaiman compilation of what Hell is like. And its basically this one guy torturing you for eternity. And then, when you think its over, you become the Master who tortures a new guy. So, so fucked up ya.
I like to imagine that there is a planet inside my head. And I mean that literally. So if someone was to peek into my head, they would see a dude sitting on the beach, watching the sun set. And inside his head there would be another planet and another planet and so on and so forth.
I suppose that is what is so fascinating about infinity – the lack of finality, the lack of a boundary. I mean a lot of times you hear about being free, but this Infinity mothafucka has it really figured out. Infinite. Of that which has no limit.
Fuck. What a goddam concept.
Acha aur kya hooan aapke din mein? Bataon, bataon. As the gurudev used to say, Why be shy?
I want to go hunting. I wonder if I would make a good hunter (ya fuck off. ya you with the sudden case of the snivels). I think I might. I can be very patient and not move for a long time, but I would have first have to find a suitable place for the television. Fuck, that would be an awesome way to catch animals. Get a tv and just plonk it in the centre of the forest. Turn it on to Animal Planet or something. Get all these motherfuckers all riled up and then just catch them all at one go.
Something tells me Mother Nature would kick my ass. Like cream it.
I like ice cream. I really do. There are few things which taste better than a cone of ice cream, a cone wrapped in a thin film of tissue paper. The ice cream melting and running down your hands before you suck them off your skin.
The name’s Overand, sweet cakes.