On Aunty-dom, stinky lions and all such random thoughts
Instead of philosophising and being aatel (arty farty intellectual types), this post is for random thoughts and random achievements, random lies and random truths...
Ah the biggest achievement of the day - told college aunties about the perils of seeking the company of a stinky dwarfy quiz master who did his imaginary PhD from an imaginary land (Princeton, Haryana?) under some imaginary John Nash. Maybe by now his resume shows that he fought in World War II as well and still managed to stay 28 years old (yups it's him, the super man Parnab). I know it's stale news and nah I don't have any personal grouse against this man who claims that the reason why he never brushes his teeth is cos lions never do (DUH?). But since these Bongo aunties insist on hiring him for quiz shows I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Unfortunately I think he has them in a coma with his bad breath and the show goes on....
I am approaching the next phase in my life. I am guessing there is a deadline beyond which you have to cross over to another phase, no? I' ve lived the life of a stubborn moody teenager for 8 years more than the legal limit. I refuse to accept I am 27, independent, with a home and partner of my own. I refuse to bow down when kids call me aunty and when I am expected to make chit chat with 8 year olds about "their bast friends and favorite colors" and when aunties ask me "beta kaha sattle karne ka socha?" (where do you plan to start your family) . I took a BIG step towards aunty-dom and spoke to the 8 year old boy next doors about his favorite Enid Blyton and didnt burst into indignant protests and nervous giggles when my cousin mentioned "marriage date"...Shites I've been converted...
I had an imaginary affair through Orkut, fretted and laughed over it with FOC and I decided I miss home. But where is home? The answer to this biggy threatens to make me take the aatel route. I will resist.
The choices:
a) Home = Delhi
b) Home = this campus
c) Home = mummy daddy
d) Home = Amherst
e) Home = 92 ?
I'll sleep over it and tell you tomorrow :P
Ah the biggest achievement of the day - told college aunties about the perils of seeking the company of a stinky dwarfy quiz master who did his imaginary PhD from an imaginary land (Princeton, Haryana?) under some imaginary John Nash. Maybe by now his resume shows that he fought in World War II as well and still managed to stay 28 years old (yups it's him, the super man Parnab). I know it's stale news and nah I don't have any personal grouse against this man who claims that the reason why he never brushes his teeth is cos lions never do (DUH?). But since these Bongo aunties insist on hiring him for quiz shows I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Unfortunately I think he has them in a coma with his bad breath and the show goes on....
I am approaching the next phase in my life. I am guessing there is a deadline beyond which you have to cross over to another phase, no? I' ve lived the life of a stubborn moody teenager for 8 years more than the legal limit. I refuse to accept I am 27, independent, with a home and partner of my own. I refuse to bow down when kids call me aunty and when I am expected to make chit chat with 8 year olds about "their bast friends and favorite colors" and when aunties ask me "beta kaha sattle karne ka socha?" (where do you plan to start your family) . I took a BIG step towards aunty-dom and spoke to the 8 year old boy next doors about his favorite Enid Blyton and didnt burst into indignant protests and nervous giggles when my cousin mentioned "marriage date"...Shites I've been converted...
I had an imaginary affair through Orkut, fretted and laughed over it with FOC and I decided I miss home. But where is home? The answer to this biggy threatens to make me take the aatel route. I will resist.
The choices:
a) Home = Delhi
b) Home = this campus
c) Home = mummy daddy
d) Home = Amherst
e) Home = 92 ?
I'll sleep over it and tell you tomorrow :P
posted by Amrita Pande at 4:56 AM
3 Comments:
honey what in God's name is an FOC?
you are tagged
aur saali meet me at gmail or yahoo...
main depression se mar rahi hoon and u don't give a damn
yeah - what is an FOC?
You anon type chicken shit (I learnt that along with crapwhore) and the woman who coined the term FOC :
FOC aka friends of convenience, those friens who you call/ping/sms/love only when either they or you are crying/dying/getting married/having baby.
Post a Comment
<< Home