Fucken place. The past two days felt like school because we got back home by early evening. We were packed off like good little children because of the riots and everything. But nothing ever happens here, where we stay, because it’s made up of deadness and dust. Hah. Sounds so silly. Deadness and dust. Like P’s notes in English classes. If there was ever a place that came close to Eliot’s Wasteland, this would be it.

They took away the dogs from Hira’s. Hardy, Whoopie and the pretty one with the hazel eyes and dainty legs. She was my favourite. Whom did they bother anyway? Idiots.
I miss home. I want to curl up on my bed and sleep. I hate this place. I can't even gather up the energy to rant man. Fuck it all.

This on top is Pushtmashkin's Cellar. When the time is right, he will be formally introduced.
Now I want to whine. Which is why 90% of the people I know blog anyway. See, the funny stories just don't happen, the hormone shattering social life is non-existent (when was the last time I had a proper night out?), the daily events cannot be scripted to sound fantastic - some people can do it - like the eM sorts - but she's too cool for school anyway, so forget her, aaand - I think I used to make an attempt of sorts to make myself presentable - and even pussyfoot (nono, ignore puns) around the prospect of flirting - before, but now I just don't give a fuck. Will the frumpy-dowdy bag lady with the love handles please stand up? It's all very terrible, with Ma looking all panic stricken for a moment when I casually mentioned I'm not really into the boyfriend or marriage thing, and I'll think about it when I'm 30-odd. Heh. It sounds very - oh nonchallant - phoo, I don't need a guy-ish - eesh. Oh my god, I've become of those desperate fat woman friends, trying to conceal the horny humper within. You know - the ones that look longingly at a couple - and then be all "I don't need a guy. I have my books, music and blah blah boring - Go feminists! Go singles!"...y'know? Yikes.
But no. I mean, it is great to be single (although I'm not much of a feminist) and all that - but it's definitely fun to have a mate - especially one that comes without a whole lot of emotionial baggage. But it's just SUCH an effort! Right from combing your hair, to losing weight(oh but fat girls do have boyfriends, just so that you know) and being all conversational and funny(I could do that bit really well when I was younger - talk about the things they wanted hear - and talk about it really well) - but even repartee is such a bother - too much brainwork. It just seems so much easier to smile and stare vacantly. It always works for the pretty ones. But the ones with the "nice personalities" just have to have something to offer right? Sheesh. I'd rather be single than go through all that. And besides, it's all about the hormonal vibes anyway. So if my body isn't giving off the right signals, I'm always going to be chomu fat woman, who smiles too much (have you seen my bloody orkut album? Sheesh) and is that "nice" friend in the lives of every fuckwit boy.
Man, whatever happened to instant chemistry?