I name it..Writing excercise..Tada!

Often in life you'd wish it resembled a movie-that you have a steady flow of witty commentary , that "music played in epic moments of your lives and not just in movies"(<--how many of you have "liked" that on Facebook?) and that you get standing ovation and a screen award or 7 on your unusual ending.

Of this I've gotten only the commentary part covered.That too  often on pause and repeat.
Also,I have no idea where this post is headed.So unless its raining outside and you've already fed your dog,had your daily orgasm or just plain gotten off work and looking for writing roadkill, I say you kick it  and move on.
However,I must admit I do do love people who stick around with  no purpose at all ;)

My Dad never told me how much is too much..

...Probably because he never knew that I would put on my mermaid pants,jump in the ocean and come out clean without any trace of the scaly paraphernalia as evidence.(Have I significantly creeped you out yet?)

Last time I happened to give only a shady view,mere empirical data.I never got around to establish what kind of a drunk I am-which is quite difficult to demarcate-but, one which I believe,can be aptly described by a Bengali saying we have.Roughly translated it stands at- “Drunk by nature,Sober by practice” ;)

“Better me than a horny frat boy,” was what my father had said when he mixed me my first drink.I had slept well that night.(Author's note:I'm not sure horny was the word he had used-but I guess it does add pizazz to the dialogue and make my dad seem a whole lot cooler.)

You see,my association with alcohol has always been with one singular purpose-“Let’s get piss drunk”.How much is too much was never a point to considerUnderstandably,I have a lot of growing up to do.But here’s the fun and tragic part-it takes me one hell of a lot of the happy juice to go from Buckingham Palace guard to Mr.Wobbly Man.Meanwhile on the trippy road,I enjoy getting other people drunk and  watching them act out the painted fool in them.I mean,I don’t do it on purpose(so what if I did?Hell’s a lot hotter than Heaven anyway)-there are people who know how to conduct themselves,there are people who don’t.And it’s not taking advantage if the trapeze tricks from barstool to neighboring tables are voluntary.

Half-way across the channel we conclude:I’m a sadomasochist drunk with a conscience-which, in a way, negates the sadomasochist part and begs that I be better educated about the definition of the said term.

Also,when alcyhol goes tingly toes into my system,my senses become heightened-almost like a temporary genetic mutation into some creepy spidy-woman.Scratch that.The only thought that buzzes around my head-and successfully kills the buzz-is that I MUST return home sober(if I'm planning to return<---read:threatened at gunpoint that I absolutely must)-Or I’d be sleeping forever in a coffin that most definitely wouldn’t be mahogany,nor lined with velvet cushions.

Three-quarter way in:I’m a scared drunk,or-hardly drunk at all.

And last but not the least, the Magic Eraser drunk.

My entire persona-I’m a goofball and a hunchback with a warped sense of humour-which blurs the lines between my sober slurs and drunken drivels.This is a Divine Gift,my friend.Absolutely Heaven Sent on a winged horse that probably farted scented rainbows.How can you let it go to waste?You Mustn’t.

(Power to you if you can figure out if this was a sober slur or a drunken drivel ;) )

Till then…

One Tequila…Two Tequila…Three Tequila..floor!more!

 P.s:What kind of a drunk are you?

Tres,Dos,Uno

Number One:

I don’t know what kind of a shopper I am.But I know this..I’m definitely not a good one.To my credit,I only go shopping when I need things.Clothes.Makeup.Accessorries.

To my discredit..I need those OFTEN.I think the word is want,for want of a proper word.Want.Ye.

And when I roll the cart...

I’m definitely not presenting an inspiring picture,but somehow I feel,putting myself out here makes me more creditable. Muttering resolutions like rolling prayer beads certainly hasn’t helped me in any way,and like I said I’m not good with resolutions.I do better with challenges.

So here’s what I’d like to do

 over at  Travel Babbles starting next Monday.

Project Do Me[;)] involves setting goals that make you happy-daily,weekly,monthly,yearly.Kudos to Kymmy for the inspiring post and the sassy name ;)

The little things make you soar,

The little things take the floor..

 Number two:

Any ordinary day starts out with two resolutions.Actually three.1)I get to poop on time2)I shouldn’t,shouldn’t SHOULDN’T even think about caloriegenous food3)That I wouldn’t have to open my purse except while paying the bus fare.And I donot know WHY I feel the inexplicable need to pay everybody’s bus/tube/cab fare when we are travelling together. Even strangers’.Creepy?I think so too.

Adorable old man?

May I pay your bus fare?

Cute kid?

May I pay your bus fare?

Cute guy?

May I jump your bones?

Uh,Nevermind.

Point is,I’m not good with money.I get paid first day of the month,and almost by the middle of it I’m broke.It’s a good thing I live with a my parents(I can’t believe I said that,but I did!pat me) or I’d have to resort to eating frothing year old milk or mildew.

Number three:

I’m travelling the world.You can too.

So,doc,may I pay your bus fare?