I am the funny and sexy one, pick me, pick me. Pick me please. i'll do chorsd for you, please pick me.
I am not being sarcastic here, but if you want to work with me, you have to learn to get over it. So I have to figure out what exactly he said, and try to remember not to say any of the words he has already said before. It's true, and we will hide our driver, they gunpowder trains in the tar roof of the splinter.
The falling start will not hit though, my dear ates at the different popis.. so they are going to go for the usual time. We need to get a special math class, and we need to more rishi chharis.
i hove the way they have socialized the internet, and today, anything that anyone says from anywhere in anytime can be casted as true, as long as you can represent the entire event in a series of comic-hating audies.
Black, white, and Brown dogs
"That's Vybz," Seun said. "He's a Boerboel. They were bred by South African farmers to attack blacks, but I'm training him to bite white people instead." He looked down at Vybz, who was licking my hand. "I guess it's not working."- A Wild Week in Lagos (read it. fantastic writing)
What to do, what to do
What to do what to do.
I've not written for a long time. Not that I don't have things to write. Everything seems to drain energy out of me-- and when I'm in by room, at the end of the day, ready to bang out a few hundred words, I'm like, gaahh, why does it matter anymore?
Besides, the way I've thought about writing has been evolving lately. I don't know how though. I just feel it evolving, you know. Like, sometimes, you can feel something bad is going to happen, but you still go to Dolalghat anyway, and on the way you see a large truck carrying cloths from China overturned, and you're like uh-oh-hope-thats-not-me, but you reach Dolalghat safe and sound, and eat the fishes, do the swimming, have the fun, and return in the dangerously driven motorbikes, when, in Koteshwor, you see a dead man on the street, drenched in blood, apparently hit by a Bus before it was abandoned by the staff, and now it's on fire, and at the end of the day, back safe in your house, you've forgotten everything about your hunch about something bad happening and you realize you're so glad to be here, and alive, and not dead, thank god.
Women. Amirite? You're nodding, nodnod. You're right.
I've not written for a long time. Not that I don't have things to write. Everything seems to drain energy out of me-- and when I'm in by room, at the end of the day, ready to bang out a few hundred words, I'm like, gaahh, why does it matter anymore?
Besides, the way I've thought about writing has been evolving lately. I don't know how though. I just feel it evolving, you know. Like, sometimes, you can feel something bad is going to happen, but you still go to Dolalghat anyway, and on the way you see a large truck carrying cloths from China overturned, and you're like uh-oh-hope-thats-not-me, but you reach Dolalghat safe and sound, and eat the fishes, do the swimming, have the fun, and return in the dangerously driven motorbikes, when, in Koteshwor, you see a dead man on the street, drenched in blood, apparently hit by a Bus before it was abandoned by the staff, and now it's on fire, and at the end of the day, back safe in your house, you've forgotten everything about your hunch about something bad happening and you realize you're so glad to be here, and alive, and not dead, thank god.
Women. Amirite? You're nodding, nodnod. You're right.
International 'Try a Guy' day celebrated with full vigor and entusiasm
The annual international 'Try a Guy' day was celebrated all over the globe with full vigor and enthusiasm today. Originally organized as a defiance against homophobia and later modeled to celebrate the proud statement of male homosexuality, the day has today evolved to become this one time of the year when dudes can bang other dudes with absolutely no consequences or judgements.
SteFan Gaylabangos, the head of the coordinating committee for the event said that approximately 22 million males, of all ages, ethnicity, nationality and other interesting descriptions he would not mention because he is not twelve, and puhlease, talking about size is just immature now k, had celebrate the event 'formally'.
"The number we have received, 22 million, is just the official number, which we can definitely confirm. I'm certain there's a lot more madfags who banged each other without considering what would happen if there girlfriend just decided to pop into their friend Sam's apartment, who they should technically be consoling because they told her that his girlfriend broke up with him and he's supersad, but of course she's just gone to Hungary to see her parents, while they are using all mathematically possible permutations of each others' orifices and phallic structures, ramming one into another," Gaylabangos said. "I'm sorry if I got the volume wrong: something seems to be wrong with my ear today, " he added.
The idea of 'Try a Guy' day arose last year after several successful years of celebration of the annual 'Lemme do a Femme' day, that celebrated the fluidity of female sexuality. It had been designated as a day when every woman who had ever said things like ' I wish I had a girlfriend', or ' maybe I should do something with women some day', would be encouraged to 'do' 'something' with women. The organizers had expected mild interest for the event, but the day was remarkable as a significant portion of global business and trade almost came to a halt when women started frequenting their visits to the women's room with other women, even more often they usually do.
SteFan Gaylabangos, the head of the coordinating committee for the event said that approximately 22 million males, of all ages, ethnicity, nationality and other interesting descriptions he would not mention because he is not twelve, and puhlease, talking about size is just immature now k, had celebrate the event 'formally'.
"The number we have received, 22 million, is just the official number, which we can definitely confirm. I'm certain there's a lot more madfags who banged each other without considering what would happen if there girlfriend just decided to pop into their friend Sam's apartment, who they should technically be consoling because they told her that his girlfriend broke up with him and he's supersad, but of course she's just gone to Hungary to see her parents, while they are using all mathematically possible permutations of each others' orifices and phallic structures, ramming one into another," Gaylabangos said. "I'm sorry if I got the volume wrong: something seems to be wrong with my ear today, " he added.
The idea of 'Try a Guy' day arose last year after several successful years of celebration of the annual 'Lemme do a Femme' day, that celebrated the fluidity of female sexuality. It had been designated as a day when every woman who had ever said things like ' I wish I had a girlfriend', or ' maybe I should do something with women some day', would be encouraged to 'do' 'something' with women. The organizers had expected mild interest for the event, but the day was remarkable as a significant portion of global business and trade almost came to a halt when women started frequenting their visits to the women's room with other women, even more often they usually do.
The weak-kneed ones and those that are not
Sh says, she may not be the most attractive person on Earth, ever, but she can look pretty whenever she wants to. To which I'm like um, suure. Water has long gone under the bridge since the PotterGirl and
Heroni days, so it's safe to be sarcastic without being too mean now.
"No, seriously yaar. If I try hard, I can actually be quite attractive ni," she says, and sends me a Halloween photo of herself. The devil that she is, she looks nice. I suspect foul-play.
"Photoshop!" I go for it. I'm trying too hard though though-- she stands next to a professional model-- whom I have had the fortune to see at work, thanks to Sh-- and she looks...not particularly different than her usual self. No foul play here.
But clever as she may be, Sh has forgotten to hide an important, often looked-over, clue. The knees. The weak-knees.
As Sh stands on what appears to be a disappearing floor revealing the underworld beneath, with her Scimitar, daring the camera with her eyes glowing like the eternal fires of the Erebus ( where she is presumably from), cloaked in material apparently designed for the deities of the fiery worlds (I want to talk to the designer who put hoodie caps on fancy party dress), along with someone who bears a striking resemblance to both Cleopatra and Isis, the goddess of Magic and Life, there's only one mistake that can ever reveal her mortality, and the veneer of striking attractiveness : the knees. The weak knees.
For a man, knees are a way prove himself beyond what he may seem to be. Yes, I may be ugly, and fat, and not terribly bright, but look at the strong knees of mine, he says, and it works. A man's knee rarely works against him, and yet can do wonders to make him a hero -- a modern-day knight with the shiny bony knees of his.
On a woman, knees are mostly a liability. Unless a woman is exceptionally good with her physique ( as some people are, ahem) the knees are wobbly, knobby, and do not correspond to the otherwise attractive physique. She may be the most physically attractive person around, and yet the knees will still be knbby wobbling mass of unrestrained meat (not to be confused with the other unrestrained mass of wobbling meat), not important enough to warrant a cosmetic industry for themselves, but significant enough to make one's look considerably different. Anyone with a skirt shorter than knee-length has to have an unusually flattering body image. The knees to a woman are New Jersey to New York, the Bagmati of Kathmandu.
And so Sh is revealed -- her knees reveal it all. The model is a step ahead-- she has a royal gown going way below her knees. You wonder if she's really an immortal-- the manacle and all.
"No, seriously yaar. If I try hard, I can actually be quite attractive ni," she says, and sends me a Halloween photo of herself. The devil that she is, she looks nice. I suspect foul-play.
"Photoshop!" I go for it. I'm trying too hard though though-- she stands next to a professional model-- whom I have had the fortune to see at work, thanks to Sh-- and she looks...not particularly different than her usual self. No foul play here.
But clever as she may be, Sh has forgotten to hide an important, often looked-over, clue. The knees. The weak-knees.
As Sh stands on what appears to be a disappearing floor revealing the underworld beneath, with her Scimitar, daring the camera with her eyes glowing like the eternal fires of the Erebus ( where she is presumably from), cloaked in material apparently designed for the deities of the fiery worlds (I want to talk to the designer who put hoodie caps on fancy party dress), along with someone who bears a striking resemblance to both Cleopatra and Isis, the goddess of Magic and Life, there's only one mistake that can ever reveal her mortality, and the veneer of striking attractiveness : the knees. The weak knees.
For a man, knees are a way prove himself beyond what he may seem to be. Yes, I may be ugly, and fat, and not terribly bright, but look at the strong knees of mine, he says, and it works. A man's knee rarely works against him, and yet can do wonders to make him a hero -- a modern-day knight with the shiny bony knees of his.
On a woman, knees are mostly a liability. Unless a woman is exceptionally good with her physique ( as some people are, ahem) the knees are wobbly, knobby, and do not correspond to the otherwise attractive physique. She may be the most physically attractive person around, and yet the knees will still be knbby wobbling mass of unrestrained meat (not to be confused with the other unrestrained mass of wobbling meat), not important enough to warrant a cosmetic industry for themselves, but significant enough to make one's look considerably different. Anyone with a skirt shorter than knee-length has to have an unusually flattering body image. The knees to a woman are New Jersey to New York, the Bagmati of Kathmandu.
And so Sh is revealed -- her knees reveal it all. The model is a step ahead-- she has a royal gown going way below her knees. You wonder if she's really an immortal-- the manacle and all.
Paranoid reports: Police log watch #34
Log 34:
Checked the local news sites, the local police log, and the keywords of the place of study. Is it too much to call the local hospitals yet? No reports of accidents/unexpected incidents. Yet. And I grow ever more paranoid.
Checked the local news sites, the local police log, and the keywords of the place of study. Is it too much to call the local hospitals yet? No reports of accidents/unexpected incidents. Yet. And I grow ever more paranoid.
Big teeth
"They are too big," he says, in almost a mumble, staring at the carpet, as he rubs his palms.
"What, what happened? " the mother says. The words sound tired, but fatigue had never never stopped her from also being irritable.
"The girl's teeth are too big. She looks like a little girl. Unn, like Marichman. The teeth are too big, yes, " he says, partly convincing himself.
"That will not matter. The girl's is pretty, and she has a good job, and she will work her way up, and you also had things to talk to her with. With a girl like that, what are big teeth going to do? " she says.
"No, no, it will matter. The teeth are too big and she has a very bony face. She looks like a skeleton. She looked like she does diets all the time, and did you see the color of lipstick? That was the ghinlagdo pink. Her face looks so triangular," he says, his growing confidence now showing in his voice.
"Listen, she is an ambitious and educated girl, and she will do well with the NGO's. You won't find anyone like her again. We can keep looking more girls, but they'll all have some fault or other. Maybe someone will be too short for you, or someone could be too tall, or too fat, or too modern. She is a brilliant girl, and she studied in America, so you two will have things to talk about. If you want to go abroad for Masters or Phd, she will definitely get good jobs wherever you are. Things like family, and money they have, and their history, and the looks-- they are all temporary. But this girl has charms, and she is intelligent, and with her you can be stable," the mother explains, patiently, logically, knowing she is right in this one.
"Yes, but her teeth are too big, and they show. She looks like a rabbit, like the small girl who lives next door. What will people think about me? I want to keep looking more girls -- I understand everything you said, but I will compromise later on. She has too big teeth, and I can't live with it," he says. He is breathing faster, and he can feel the hear the thumping of his heart.
"So tell me, what kind of girl do you want? You want an educated girl, she is educated. You want an attractive girl, she is beautiful. She is intelligent. She works hard. She has ambitions about her professional career. What is it then, that you want in a girl? Tell me now, and I'll look for exactly what you ask," the mother says. There's unexpected calmness in the air-- as if things aren't as serious as circumstances would have one believe.
"Thikka ko keti. The girl who is just right. I don't want too hifi girl-- I just want a girl who's studied, and who's attractive, and who has brains, just the right amount k. This girl is really nice, but her teeth are too big. It won't work, please understand. Bujhnu na," he pleads his mother to understand him for the second time.
"So what is the most important thing for you? Is it the looks that matter? Because this girl is very pretty, and smart too, and I don't want to let her go-- I'll talk to Shanta about her son's marriage. He's probably just about her age, but this girl will do great things. We should keep him. So tell me what matters the most to you-- is it brains, or looks, or should she have stayed in the US, or should she be a greencard, what do you want? Explain it to me," she says, with a hint of exhaustion in her voice.
"The girl's teeth are too big. All I want is an educated girl who works, and it would be nice if she could cook. She should be attractive too, but not have teeth like this girl's. Her teeth are like Jacky's,"
he says, his confidence growing.
"I have told you-- if you have such specific choice, you should find a girl for yourself. We have even ignored your grandparent's wishes for the same-girl caste, and you can marry any Nepali girl you want. We just want you to get married by this year, so your cousins can get their turn. Marry whoever you want to, and if you cant find a girl, we'll find one for you, and you have to marry who we tell you to," the mother says, ending the conversation.
And so a very interesting story ends, and a sad one begins.
"What, what happened? " the mother says. The words sound tired, but fatigue had never never stopped her from also being irritable.
"The girl's teeth are too big. She looks like a little girl. Unn, like Marichman. The teeth are too big, yes, " he says, partly convincing himself.
"That will not matter. The girl's is pretty, and she has a good job, and she will work her way up, and you also had things to talk to her with. With a girl like that, what are big teeth going to do? " she says.
"No, no, it will matter. The teeth are too big and she has a very bony face. She looks like a skeleton. She looked like she does diets all the time, and did you see the color of lipstick? That was the ghinlagdo pink. Her face looks so triangular," he says, his growing confidence now showing in his voice.
"Listen, she is an ambitious and educated girl, and she will do well with the NGO's. You won't find anyone like her again. We can keep looking more girls, but they'll all have some fault or other. Maybe someone will be too short for you, or someone could be too tall, or too fat, or too modern. She is a brilliant girl, and she studied in America, so you two will have things to talk about. If you want to go abroad for Masters or Phd, she will definitely get good jobs wherever you are. Things like family, and money they have, and their history, and the looks-- they are all temporary. But this girl has charms, and she is intelligent, and with her you can be stable," the mother explains, patiently, logically, knowing she is right in this one.
"Yes, but her teeth are too big, and they show. She looks like a rabbit, like the small girl who lives next door. What will people think about me? I want to keep looking more girls -- I understand everything you said, but I will compromise later on. She has too big teeth, and I can't live with it," he says. He is breathing faster, and he can feel the hear the thumping of his heart.
"So tell me, what kind of girl do you want? You want an educated girl, she is educated. You want an attractive girl, she is beautiful. She is intelligent. She works hard. She has ambitions about her professional career. What is it then, that you want in a girl? Tell me now, and I'll look for exactly what you ask," the mother says. There's unexpected calmness in the air-- as if things aren't as serious as circumstances would have one believe.
"Thikka ko keti. The girl who is just right. I don't want too hifi girl-- I just want a girl who's studied, and who's attractive, and who has brains, just the right amount k. This girl is really nice, but her teeth are too big. It won't work, please understand. Bujhnu na," he pleads his mother to understand him for the second time.
"So what is the most important thing for you? Is it the looks that matter? Because this girl is very pretty, and smart too, and I don't want to let her go-- I'll talk to Shanta about her son's marriage. He's probably just about her age, but this girl will do great things. We should keep him. So tell me what matters the most to you-- is it brains, or looks, or should she have stayed in the US, or should she be a greencard, what do you want? Explain it to me," she says, with a hint of exhaustion in her voice.
"The girl's teeth are too big. All I want is an educated girl who works, and it would be nice if she could cook. She should be attractive too, but not have teeth like this girl's. Her teeth are like Jacky's,"
he says, his confidence growing.
"I have told you-- if you have such specific choice, you should find a girl for yourself. We have even ignored your grandparent's wishes for the same-girl caste, and you can marry any Nepali girl you want. We just want you to get married by this year, so your cousins can get their turn. Marry whoever you want to, and if you cant find a girl, we'll find one for you, and you have to marry who we tell you to," the mother says, ending the conversation.
And so a very interesting story ends, and a sad one begins.
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