The anomaly that is singledom.

So i go to his Wordpress site and read. And read and read and read. And keep laughing my ass off and smirking, torn between marvelling at his sense of humour and being dazzled by his intelligent posts. And then, for kicks, i scroll up and see his face.

Ah. Peace.

The face that peers back is a basket case with a full-bodied, neatly trimmed French beard and tousled, neck-longish hair. So who cares about his pot belly (if he has one) and the size of everything that follows after? He's smart, and oh-so-sizzling-bloody-hot. Before i type his blog url in my Explorer address bar, almost ritual-like i put rubber sheets at my feet, keep a 30-litre bucket within reaching distance and cover my desktop with Turkish towels to act as drool-absorbers.

And so i work my salivary glands overtime, till his profile ruins my fantasies - he's been happily married for pony's years.

Which, of course, brings me back to my eternal grudge against life and everything about it:
Why the heck are all the good guys taken? Like, got girlfriends or are married?
Why the heck are the wedded ones all happily married????
Where in the name of Zeus were they when i was of a more eligible age?
More importantly, where the hell was I and wtf was i doing??

Sigh. Like Donkey* says in Shrek, "I think i need a hug." (And maybe plenty more.)

*Refrain from letting your mind grapple with allusions, allegories or the like. The comparison to above-mentioned animal is limited only to its common name, and not its characteristics or traits.

Let's go!

The link to the pictures, as promised.

I won't apologise for the lack of water pictures. They're all going to come from someone else.

http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/Nabila.Tazyeen/LetSGo

I went to Coorg.

After much speculation on the night of the 14th, i woke up at 5:45 a.m (five hours after i went back home from work) and packed my bags, getting ready for a promisingly gorgoues drive to Coorg.

The weather was perfect, the drive peaceful, the view calming. I was wide awake throughout the journey. Good thing, that. Was able to see tobacco plantations - for some reason i'd always thought they were trees and not bushes. I was proven wrong. The tobacco is used in cigarettes of course, while the leaves are used to make beedi wraps.

At Nagarhole, we spotted plenty of spotted deer and a very hungry young tusker. He was an angry one too, considering he sort of threatened to come at us with a flailing trunk when we got close to take a picture.

We stayed at Polybetta the first night - a full bungalow to ourselves. Four poster bed (yeah pp, they had one of those. Pity we didn't know of it when we were together), hot water, antique furniture, skylights - the setting was pure fantasy. Everythe the estate owners served us was homegrown - even the coffee we drank.

Our next stay was at Dreamland Holidays - another home stay, this time a stone's throw away from Iruppu Falls. So while A and L went gallavanting to the falls, i stayed back to soak in the beauty of the place and more importantly, the comfortable silence. When it started raining, i went into the estate owner's home, settled on a stone seat in the kitchen and had an easy conversation with Maya, the proprietess, about marraige, having kids, running a home stay, the works.

Sunday morning was the most exciting. My first time out rafting. Barapole was the chosen river. Slightly muddy, but not in the rapids where the water was crashing against the stones and churning. Manju, the very easygoing organizer of the rafting, made us get into the water wearing our life jackets. So i floated for a bit, my breath coming in short gasps because the water was freezing (and not because i don't know swimming). Then he pulled us all into the rafts and we went in search of gushing rapids.

Good Morning, Grasshopper, Wicked Witch aka Raam Jaane, Milk Churn - each rapid more unnerving than the other. My favourite was the Wicked Witch. (No guesses why). I loved the whole experience. So much so, that every opportunity i get to go rafting, i will. I recommend it to everyone - you must experience it at least once in your life.

We arrived back in Bangalore at 11 on Sunday night to torrential downpours. Surprising, because we didn't have so much rain in any part of Coorg we passed through - this, despite all the floods that it was rumoured to be ravaged by.

The trip was totally worth it. Sprawling tea estates, lush coffee plantations, lakes, rain showers, drive-throughs, spotting wild animals, stopping anywhere we wanted... it's my first trip for the year. About time as well.

Will post link to pictures soon.

Celebrating Independence Day in a liberated way.

So, i'm off to Coorg tomorrow. Everybody i know is too busy to travel before the 16th. So i decided to go. Now i'm having second thoughts. Apparently, i can't change my mind. The money's already been paid.

Oh well, let's see.

*Mariyal marghooz*

Running nose, running temperature, running cough, running commentary, running boss, running behind juniors, running away from my past, running away from marriage, running to stay fit, running, running, running... Can i just stop and please shrivel up and die instead?

A penny for my thoughts.

I could do with a few. I'm quite broke.

For sex maniacs out there, i can think a sex-related thought every six seconds. But i doubt if i'll get more than a shag of the wag if i do. They're all broke losers looking for a freef***.

For the awardophiles, i can think of award ideas. I definitely will get more than a penny, but most of it will go for taxes. Which will then leave me with a penny. And an award that i can sell at the pawn shop for more pennies. Yay!

For the depressed, i (sad) can (kill myself) think (hate my life) depressing (bleaagh) thoughts (nobody loves me) at (if you're here, God, prove it) the (i need love) snap (i'm a failure) of (everyone's having fun, everyone but me) my (i want to shrivel up and die) fingers (si...igh).

For the pious, i can think good, clean thoughts. Downside is, i might either be converted or slaughtered for religion.

For my parents, i will think the 'M' word thoughts. Then they'll give me many pennies. In the form of dowry.

For the men in my life, i will think grateful thoughts. Maybe then they'll come back into my life and stay with me forever and not leave me begging for pennies and buy me everything i need instead.

For the terrorists, i will think violent thoughts. That way, i'll become a supplier of arson, get rich, mingle with the underground, grow a big moustache (which is in the process of growing anyway thanks to my infrequent visits to the parlour), be called "Maamu" or "Bhai" and get my driving license and passport without hassle.

For life, i will think, "F*** you b****". And remain hopeful for a penny till i die.

(Pliss bare, I yam fee ling very sick today. Balle Balle.)

Loser thing i did this morning.

So i was sitting in the backseat this morning, on my way to collect my checkbook from the bank, when i see a familiar face on a bike. Now, this familiar face i saw last evening as well, so the image was fairly fresh in my mind. So was the motor bike - red and gold, i think a TVS or a Hero Honda.

So anyway, i get all excited on seeing this familiar face. Just to be sure, i check bike for familiar signs. No, i didn't know what i was looking for, but the first thing that seemed recognizable - 'Nag's' stuck above the tail-light - i latched on to, and waited for the car to go ahead, so i could wave out to him.

Car inches closer, closer until we're level. Then i wave at him, with a big, big grin on my face. The familiar face looks back at me. Only, it isn't familiar any more. It's a total stranger i was waving at like a madwoman!!!!

Guy thinks i'm weird and zooms away, afraid of what i might do next. As for me - i roll window up to the mark, skulk down in my seat, avoid looking out and just wait for the car to safely deposit me within the confines of my fourwalls of workspace.