> Some people, said Bridget Jones, are like jellyfish. They look perfectly harmless and all, and you're all unprepared and going, "Oh, how cute, a little translucent ball of gelatin-like substance!" and wham! they get you with a little sting. And only little stings, which is what annoys about the jellyfish. Man-o'-wars can at least get you passed out for a while, but the jellyfish's subtle "BUZZ" hurts a lot more. And just when you're least prepared for it too. You're swimming, happily minding your own beeswax and suddenly, "Have you put on weight?" Or "I love the way you get away with wearing stuff that would look so slutty on other people." Things like that. I forget real life examples, but you get the general drift.
>Aargh, aargh. WHEN did the transparent shirt for guys make a comeback? I counted three whole grown-up people, people who should really know better, in transparent shirts. One tonight at TC was wearing (wait for it) a transparent WHITE shirt, with embossed FLOWERS and a set of black strings around his neck. And sitting at the Cafe Coffee Day (CCD to its admirers) in Saket, I saw a girl in a shiny metallic silver top with little sequin thingies around the bottom. God. Is it like being colour blind, having a bad dress sense?
> Here's another thing that I wonder about. Why do people who come from abroad to India briefly for a holiday get so chatty? I've heard loads of bullshit about "Oh you Indians are so warm and friendly!" Warm and friendly, my ass. Most of the time, if you're a firang and you're going on and on and on about the beautiful culture and the lovely people, we're thinking "Chutiyas"*. Or maybe that's just me being uncharitable. Maybe I should be warmer and friendlier.
* If you didn't understand that, trust me, you don't want to know.
> Since for the past few days I've been having an Abhijeet Sawant overdose, I've begun seeing him everywhere. No seriously. I'm driving, and I see him in the next car. I'm window shopping and bam! there he is loitering with his friends. I'm at TC and I see at least five of him, scattered all over the place. And each time I hold my breath, waiting to see if he acts like someone famous, so I can be scornful.
> Ex-New Boy propositioned me today. So blatantly also. "My friend's going out of town and he's given me the keys to his place." I was on the phone with him and narrowly missed having an accident because I was rolling my eyes so much. "Um.. p'raps not, " I told him. "Why?" he asked. Why? WHY? Because your mother's a psycho freak, that's why. Because I'm just not interested, that's why. But I didn't say that. I said merely, "I'm not looking for random sex, thanks all the same." I'm such a chicken.
> And then there are the boys who hit on you, only they're not hitting on you, they're hitting on your profession. They're chatting you up, everything's hunky-dory and you're all flutter-eyed and coy and then, "Hey, you know, I have a restaurant and it's really nice and you should really cover it in your newspaper." Yeah, buddy, get in line. And get a new line while you're at it.
> Yeah, I just needed to get all that bitchiness out of my system. This weather has me all out-of-sorts. Today Iggy and I met many exes and as soon as we smiled and said hello, we turned to each other and made huge "L" signs. Hypocrites, totally, but it felt so good. I've been so angelic for so long, I feel it's time for some bad behaviour. It's like indulgence, like chocolate or tequila, this badness, this bitching inside my head and it amuses me. And I enjoy being amused.