Friday, September 30, 2011

Idiots and other things

I’m quitting my job.

There, I said it out loud. I’ve been terrified of articulating it, but I said it, I’m quitting. Okay, I’m done talking about that now, onto other things.

The main motivation behind this post is a woman. Usually, I like women, I have some amazing woman friends who are very dear to me and who also love me a lot. The dynamic and honesty in those relationships really makes my life a much better place to be in.

However, there are the girlfriends, complications, and other assorted relationship categories who will want to mess with you because they’re crazy, I dedicate this to them.

Dear crazy lady,

God clearly missed out when moulding the many segments that make up your non-existent brain. Which explains your complete lack of a decent sense of humour. Since your head is hollow and light, and your liver is marinating in alcohol [an excuse you use all the damn time, mind you], and you cannot look past the blinders you’ve got on, I am not going to waste my time trying to explain what friendships mean.

You are way too insecure and I cannot deal with your shit. I will not entertain you, who has no concept of boundaries, texting me from your boyfriend’s phone. I’m usually not a very nice person, when people like you behave the way you do, I’m inclined to being more terrible than usual. Which leads to a confrontation with my friend, which leads to him distancing me, which leads to you being happy.

Which brings me to I don’t like it when you are happy. For the most part, I’m very peace-loving. However, when you are this annoying intentionally, then you will have to live with the fact that I don’t like you being smug. I just don’t. I don’t care if you’re his woman and two of you love each other so much. I don’t care, really. I do care when you take a joke, an insider thing, and make it an issue. Like I told my friend today, you need a brain and a one-way ticket to Antarctica.

And please, don’t tell me this was a drunked episode, it wasn’t. You wanted to stake claim to territory, I don’t feel like letting you do it.

So yes, your boy is my “husband”. He always will be. I don’t care if it makes you miserable. I don’t care if your insecurity is too overwhelming that it kills you every time you hear it from me. I don’t care if you think that being the love of my friend’s life gives you privileges. I don’t care.

The “Wife”

Okay, I’m done.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Sunday questions

  • Is it just me or has the "Blogs of Note" segment in the new blogger interface disappeared completely? Might be me. Just asking to see if anyone knows where I can access that.

  • Also, I think my father just wants to spend his money on some showcase wedding so people will think we are socially appropriate. I mean, not once has he shown me any profile online that is worth any kind of discussion. The last one I saw, I just shuddered. I mean, I think I can do better, but as time passes and my father's "picks" get worse I'm wondering if this is all just a joke to him or if he thinks that these boys are actually worth my time because their parents are hounding my father. It can't be because he's feeling pressurised no? It can't. Can it?

  • There are two short stories that are in draft mode. Two. I haven't been able to finish them and it is seriously bothering me. I don't like it that I haven't been able to. Shit. What's this bleddee nonsense?

  • Do you like runny eggs? I mean, I love eggs, cooked any which way, but it should have at least coagulated you know? Soft boiled eggs that still look transparent bother me a little. Does it bother you?

  • I don't like this point format writing that I've been doing a lot of in my recent posts, but then, so much to talk about, how to make everything an essay and post it at one go?

  • What do you do when you meet someone who arranges currency notes the exact same way that you do? The only other person, apart from myself, who does this is my father. I recently met someone who does the same thing - arrange currency in descending order arranged in a way where Gandhi's face is in the same direction. Sigh. I was so overjoyed, I almost kissed him at the coffee shop we were standing at. Maybe I should marry him and have his babies? At least we'll have the same values to give our children, No? Yes?

  • Have you read this? I think she's an idiot. She's making me and others like me look like a complete mental. The reality of women in the South is completely different from her "empowered" self that it makes me sad to watch how she keeps going on and on and also, it's not a very objective opinion! She then comes up with this to deal with the viral blog post and trending topic on Twitter. I have nothing more to say except, you should have thought it through. For someone who rants as much as I do, I think she kind of overdid it. But hey, mine is a personal opinion, as is hers.

Happy Sunday everyone. I hope you woke up late and are lazing! :)

Thursday, September 15, 2011


Mindfuck. It’s a term that I’ve used a lot in the recent past. Especially when it concerns the men that have come and gone from my life. To me, it means a place where you are having an eternal conflict with getting your ego on and telling guy-who-hurt-you to fuck the hell off and balling up in a corner and crying your eyes out because you miss the idiot so damn much. It’s about being in an unhealthy place where your every thought is about someone who doesn’t seem to care about you as much you care about them. A mindfuck is a pain in the brain of epic proportions.

However, an emotional mindfuck pales in comparison to what happens a dentists office!

I got a root canal done today. I had an anesthetic injected in my jaw and the right side of my face went a little limp and then, after 15 minutes in the waiting room I watched as a dentist with a drill was fixing my tooth. I didn’t feel a thing. I heard everything, smelt something strange, watched as the dental assistant used some kind of suction device to get the muck out of my mouth, and saw stuff being put in my mouth and then it was over. I didn’t feel a thing, obviously. But knowing what was going on and not feeling it was, well, a mindfuck. Not that I wanted to feel it. I get the feeling I would have passed out in pain or something close to that.

The last time something like this happened, I was getting my wisdom tooth extracted. Now that was a whole other kind of tableau. That poor dentist had to yank really hard on my tooth while I just chilled on a reclining chair not feeling a blessed thing, while this poor man had to stand up, brace his foot on the stand and yank. I was torn between laughing and pretending to wince in agony. After that procedure was done, the rest of the evening was spent talking through a mouth stuffed with cotton with people hovering over me.

To make today’s trip to the dentist even more exciting my darling friend Poornima sent me a link. Ogden Nash’s poem was prescribed reading for me in Class 9. Thanks to the poem, I was thinking of the dentist’s drill accidentally drilling my cheek open, and like another colleague at work thought it through, possibly leaving a hole in my face thereby disabling my ability to drink water and other liquids. Honestly? I don’t know what I would do without people like them.

I might be a little high on painkillers and antibiotics at the moment, so I’m going to stop rambling, yes?


Monday, September 12, 2011

September things

  • Onam has come and gone. My favourite festival this year saw some 50 people coming home for an epic sadya. My mother’s avvial was just awesomesauce. Then were my aunt’s payasams (both ada pradhamn and pal payasam), gorgeous! I love Onam so much! What’s not to love? It’s the one day dedicated to vegetarian food. Sigh. Joy!

  • My friend over at Moonshine and Dubito has left Chennai for Scotland where she will be working on her masters in Creative Writing. I miss her terribly! It makes me sad to see people leave Chennai in the search of better things from life. There is a sudden paucity of coolness that occurs and in Chennai, we need what little cool we can get. Add to this brain drain the hipster culture that seems to have taken over and I want to throw up. I mean, really, you think you’re cool because you’re not interested? Then why don’t you tear yourself away from your phone and look at the damn leaves to kill time. Why text?

  • I need to write. I feel like my writing’s been too neglected for too long. I mean, I can write, that’s the reason why this blog is running and people read it. So this need to keep pushing myself is a little wrong. This is why I sort of dislike a career in writing, it doesn’t leave you the mindspace to have a creative writing career. Or maybe it does, and I am, as always, the last person to know these things.

  • I strongly dislike younger siblings. I love mine, but I also want to smash his head in from time to time. Keeps harping on fatness and ugliness. I know, bro. I know. Stop pretending to be a talking mirror if it’s not too much trouble. I’d like to not be in a bad mood thanks.

  • How sad the death of Hazare hype after the High Court blasts? Everything is still the government’s fault. Everything always is, has been, always will be. Now, Narendra Modi’s case, India’s War on Terror (only because we’re incapable of coming up with original names for our wars) and other things are at the forefront. Hazare is threatening other things of course, but it’s no longer the headline-making monster it was in August. It will be again, the people behind the whole operation are nationalistic propaganda artists par excellance, Hazare will be headlines again, soon. I’m waiting for it.

  • People bother me. Especially people who pretend to be close to me and then spout steaming turds of bullshit like “you’re awesome”, “I love you”, and then come up with some inane reason not to have conversations with me. Reason? They’re busy. I mean, really? Really? You’re busy? Are you fucking kidding me right now? You want me around when you’re having a crisis and then you expect to be a silent spectator when I’m having a crisis? Go and hang yourself from an old ceiling fan!

  • I am on Twitter (@shruthipady if you're interested :D). I finally caved. I have managed thus far to make a point in 140 characters. It’s a little boring to be honest. I mean, you have to keep tweeting (I don’t like the word “tweeting”). I need more characters to make a point, which is why I love blogging, so much space!!!