Mom Alert!

Since mum’s on the prowl, snipping off all links I’ve got with mah precious Nibbles (Facebook haters, f**k off!) and mah granddad has just well…you guessed! So the atmosphere’s really solemn at home and I’m kissing blog updates buh bye till my mum decides that I’m NOT a bit of cockroach whose life she HAS to dissect under the microscope. Sniff!

So with all the pundits-with-extremely-fat-tummies chanting stuff in the background, (oh yeah! I’m feeling really guilty), I’m waiting for loads of bugging kiddie cousin’s to show up.
I DON’T want people to send me loads of offline messages telling me how sorry they are- its bullshit coz u never knew the person anyways.

Hope you had tons of fun on Holi.

Hating every moment of this inopportune s**t and I’m SINCERELY hoping that I don’t sound like Anu when he’s depressed (shudder!)

Signing out, (sigh)
Au revoir till we meet again!
P.S. I’m terrified of the results!

If Love Is Blind, Why Is Lingerie So Popular?

Warning:
Boys, girls and shirish*,
This line was a gimmick to catch your attention and DOES NOT discuss the finer aspects of a thong or a g-string. All perverts and family members requested to buzz off.

Aha! (yell of triumph) Now that I’ve graduated from an amateur blogger to a not-so-inexperienced novice, I’m gonna quit blabbering on any social issue (including lobbying for Shirish* to attain human status…yawn!) and start moaning (my favorite pastime) about how my life is a colossal tragedy surpassing even Ann Frank’s. Well, after falling in a gutter, looking like a moron before my crush, trying to operate DC++, trying (and failing magnificently) to sneak out and visit City Centre (don’t you snigger! My butt’s never been the same again) and attempting to hide from my mom that 2 liters of Baskin Robbins’ finest had disappeared down my stomach and were now happily chugging down the sewage, my week has finally grounded to a halt. Phew!

So with a mournful five days before I depart for hell with its raging fires and face my evil bent-upon-murdering-me teacher’s smug grin…gotta give my farewell to you all.
So here I present my last will and testament (appropriate solemn expression):
1. My love obviously goes to mum, dad and Rafael Nadal
2. My gravely-in-doubt brainy genius goes to The Academy Of Brilliant Brains
3. The money in my piggy bank goes to the selfless, noble and gallant organization fighting to eradicate all the shirish’s* in the world (spare me the simpering looks…I KNOW you’re trying to say thank you!)
*Shirish – a vile evil stupid creature comparable to a troll, gives off an evil smell (be careful of the undies since their origins are unknown) with a mucus laden EVERYTHING and an abnormally long nose with hair sticking out of the nostrils (unless it’s got it trimmed). Found generally in the forests of Zaire but it is believed that an infestation may have occurred in Apeejay as well.

Having finished my monologue let me resume the highly interesting topic of life after castration…of Wobbles, a cat of amazing bravery and devoid of the over-inflated ego that most males of the human species posses in relation to their libido.

Wobbles’ observations on post operation life
By Wobbles the castrated cat
On sitting
I feel a little less comfy
As I sit inside the hall
Since I’ve lost that special cushioning
Of my furry little balls

On washing
Licking myself was a sheer pleasure
Especially around there
Now it’s a fruitless pastime
With nothing but a tuft of hair

On hunting
The mice are getting cheeky
While I watch them, prone
Since I have no more resource
For good old testosterone

On sex
My sex days aren’t over
Since they haven’t yet begun
Oh! My wet dreams now turn dry
I feel like a monk on the run

On revenge
I can’t do very much to that f*****g doctor
To pay back in the same coin
Except hide in darkened corners
And scratch every suitor’s groin

I decline the honor of having composed this; it reflects the creativity of Albert Barton, friend and lover of the glorious feline species.
With loads of love and luck, and wishing you all a very happy death (with a knowing smirk to the numerous fingers wagging at me)
Duly signed,
Chocoholic

Guys - No Shirt No Service Gals - No Shirt No Charge

Well, honestly speaking I think guys always run behind those gals with flashy boobs and well…ah. Experience must echo from thousands of teen gals with mousy brown hair and bucking teeth – millions of Cinderella’s without the blonde hair and sapphire blue eyes. I’m not exactly the epitome of goddess Venus or any ethereal beauty, who pities lesser endowed mortals, I’m a tiny non-descript gal myself. I’ve always wondered why girls should always be sexy figure-endowed and FAIR (oh yes guys lust for the fairer sex after all) while the boys can get away with being fat and waddly and be considered ‘cool’ just because they have a, well never mind. Don’t brains and attitude count even a little bit? Well, got no time now to finish this thing (if it merits interest of course) but I’ll definitely try to connect my oh-so-ancient computer (I’m not a big techno-wiz) to my not-so-willing net and try to finish it!
Well, coming back, yeah so how many guys have Jessica Alba wallpapers splashed across their desktop (c’mon don’t lie!)? I’m NOT jealous (skeptics kindly stop those disbelieving smirks!) and I’m definitely NOT of the opinion that boys shouldn’t drool over Angelina’s pout (hell, girls go crazy over Johnny Depp!) but a little more respect to the uglier segment is DEFINITELY in order (no revolted looks when I prefer Justine over Sharapova). Well, I’m a really un-revolt-y kind of person (to be translated as lazy) so I won’t go barging on doors with S.P.G.W batches (Society for the Promotion of Girly Welfare for the amateurs foraying into the misty magical Harry Potter-y world) reminiscent of Hermione but I WILL write about it regardless of the you’re-such-an-old-hag looks it’s gonna fetch me.
I know loads of girls with a cool attitude but with stuff sticking out of unlikely places whom the apparently oh-so-cool guys don’t give a damn about but Mother Teresa didn’t gain sainthood by yakking about Orlando Bloom’s smile did she? (Stop the grumbling, I DIDN’T know that you held that guy in abhorrence!)
So I dunno WHAT good I did for myself or those ugly ducklings out there by CREATING a blog and muttering about boys and their oh-so-crappy habits but I managed to spend an entire hour without ransacking the fridge and hey, isn’t a toast in order?