I’m about to publicly display my moments of deviation from what’s considered normal here. Heck, everyone knows about that, so let me rephrase the last sentence. I’m about to publicly admit the level of my abnormality. So here goes.
1. Till yesterday, I wondered what a heritage walk exactly was. Was it a protest march in traditional clothes to preserve your heritage or something?
2. I didn’t know until last week, that ‘getting up from the wrong side of the bed’ was actually a phrase. Yeah, disown me.
3. I came to know last month my phone had software I could edit ringtones with. Yes, and I hope to be the editor of a technology magazine / newspaper someday. Would you try and stop judging me?
4. I also realized that there is this mean, lazy person hidden within me, who doesn’t wish people on their birthday even if it remembers (Not applicable to close friends, though).
5. I never seem to remember the names of both the guys who started Google Inc. This is shameful since I can remember the names of friends’ friends’ friends, who I may have met just once, seven years ago.
6. I am, according to Pikachu, an internet socialite. Nine out of ten people I’ve talked to in my entire life are very close internet buddies.
7. Yes, I am one of those people who keep refreshing their Orkut page after every 30 seconds.
8. I keep losing in Scrabble.
9. My saree came undone on the day of my farewell way back in the 10th std. Thankfully, no one saw my bloomers.
10. I threw up on Darshan when I was in playgroup. That was solely because my teacher thought I wanted to waste time in the loo and didn’t let me go when I asked her very nicely. By the time she did let me go, it was too late, and I threw up on the patch of floor that was closest to me. Darshan was unfortunate enough to set up his dwelling in precisely that patch of tiling and was showered with whatever I had to offer. Since then, he’s never spoken to me (In fact, I’d have no respect for him if he did).
11. I keep asking fellow customers for bigger sizes in t-shirts, pants, etc. at malls. Now how is it my fault if they want to wear the exact pattern of shirts, as the salespeople? And why do I always keep needing bigger sizes and not smaller ones (strictly in clothes, haan)?
12. I am a big loser and I don’t think you need anymore evidence. But if you do, write to me secretly and I’ll furnish you with some more proof.
I’m really bored now. Think I’ll go catch up on some food and drink. You go away, too.
(This post is dedicated to Manoj for no apparent reason.)