Doomsday is here! How else would you explain this –
P.S: Right, she comes back after a month and post an error she received when she tried logging into Twitter? Yep, that’s me.
Nike – Flat 50% off
Adidas – Upto 50% off
Reebok – Upto 50% off
Levi’s – Grab offer – Grab 1, get 10% off, Grab 2, get 20% off, etc. Upto 50% off
Pepe – Upto 40% off
Restaurant Basil – Anniversary celebration, desserts are on the house.
And what exactly happened?
Nike, Adidas, Reebok, Pepe – The merchandise worth buying are not on sale. The ones I wouldn’t touch with a barge pole, incidentally, are.
Levi’s – Ditto reason above. And the worst part is, every single pair of jeans there costs upward of 2k. After the darn discount!
Basil – Apparently ‘on the house’ means ‘complimentary’. Pardon moi for thinking it actually meant I can order what I want on the dessert menu and it’s ‘on the house’. No sir. They decide what dessert I eat. And FYI, it contained 2 milligrams of coconut-burfi like thing, 2 teaspoons of Kubani ka meetha and 2 microscopic pieces of rasmalai floating in a nanogram of the malai – all this for 2 people!
Lesson learnt: If it sounds too good to be true, it probably isn’t.
Me: So, you wanted to talk?
Other Me: Well, not particularly..’coz I almost always talk non-stop whether you like it or not!
Me: Hmph. You can say that again.
OM: Well, not particularly..’coz I almost always..
Me: THAT WAS A FIGURE OF SPEECH, YOU ASS!
OM: Heh. Like I didn’t know. Ok, so let’s get to the point. But before that – what’s this new disgusting habit of putting up our ‘conversations’ out in the open? Ever heard of alter-ego self privileges?
Me: I’m trying to inculcate some manners into you. I’m hoping the thought of public embarassment would knock some sense into that fluff-filled brain of yours.
OM: You know, one would imagine so. But let me tell you, public embarassment never quite had an effect on me.
Me: Well, we’ll just have to see that, won’t we? Now, what did you want to talk about? I’m a busy person, get it out with soon, will ya?
Me: Hold just one moment! I agree I was out of ideas, but you did not write it for me – you just gave me an idea and I did the whole thing myself.
OM: Whatever. So like I was saying, I wrote it for you.. ah ah, don’t say anything and listen to me or this could take another 20 years. You owed me one on that. I wanted to talk about what you’d give me.
Me: Ok, I’m in a good mood so lemme humor you for a bit. I know I’ll regret saying this in about 4 seconds, but what do you want?
OM: I want to be dominant for a day.
Me: WHAT THE..?
OM: Watch it! Remember, no swearing on the blog? The turmeric and the coconuts? Remember?
Me: Ok! Ok! I have to calm down. It’s not like you mean it. ~brief pause~ Right? Please tell me you’re kidding! Please!
OM: I was not kidding.
Me: Was too.
OM: Was too not.
Me: You mean you weren’t.
OM: Really? You wanna play this game now? Now? I’m in, if you are, chum.
Me: Listen, you can’t be serious about this can you? Dominant? You? For an entire day? O dear God!
OM: HEY! It’s not that bad. Try me. You won’t regret it.
Me: You mean I won’t live to regret it. So, what will happen if I say no?
OM: Hmmm. I knew this wouldn’t be easy. If you say no, then I’ll have to talk to the others and probably plan a rebellion of sorts and take over your life after a bloody coup. And rule for life. You can kiss your sorry life goodbye then.
Me: ~nervous laugh~ Now you’re kidding, right?
OM: O you wish, sweetheart. You wish.
Me: But tell me something. Why would you want to be dominant? I mean, the prospect of all perks with none of the responsibilities seems pretty convenient to me, so why would you want a change now?
OM: That’s exactly the point. I want a change. Mujhe change chahiye!
Me: Saying it in Hindi doesn’t make it any better, you senseless git! Nope, can’t do. You can’t be dominant. You’ll just ruin me completely. If I wanted to kill myself I’ll eat sleeping pills, thank you very much. Dominant, it seems. In your dreams, buster!
OM: ~deep sigh~ Why do you always make things so difficult for yourself, hmmm? Ok, let me make you a deal. How about I’ll be dominant only on your blog? Your life isn’t that great a deal anyway. What say?
Me: My blog? Why? Why why why? What did I do to you?! Why are you torturing me like this? Can’t a poor girl have her own blog without having to fight the injustice perpetrated by traitors like you?! Why?! Dear God, why?!!
OM: ~cough~ Drama queen ~cough~
Me: Ok, I’ll agree if you make that ‘one post’ instead of ‘one day’. You can write a guest column. But that’s it. Deal?
OM: ~evil grin~ Oh sure! Just the one post. Deal.
And thus one made a deal with oneself to dig one’s own grave and be buried 6 feet under, for all eternity. Good luck with guessing who’s the “one” and who’s the “oneself”. I’m going into hiding after the next post on this blog. There’s no internet and blogging in Timbuktoo, right?
The title refers to my very emotional outburst when I stubbed my little toe  (which I think is not exactly so little anymore) on a sharp corner and spent the next 48 hours limping around like Capt. Long John Silver, minus the crutch and the parrot. It’s amazing how a little toe can cause so much pain and anguish in my otherwise painless and anguishless life. The little bugger was swollen to two times it’s normal size and wouldn’t let me take a step without wincing when the pain shot up till my knee.
Once there was a girl who was accident-prone –
Whatever she did, it always ended with her groan.
She stubbed her toe today,
Like she does everyday
It’s a pity resistentialism won’t leave her alone!
Now for the conspiracy theory: When this happened before, my allegations were pointed at the Chair and the Bed. And I was this close to actually proving that the Bed did not like me one bit. I mean, let’s face it – you stub you toe once, fine. Twice, fine. Thrice, well I have doubts. But the fourth time? And the fifth? I’m not blind, people! I can see things before I actually go bump into them and my policy in life has always been to never bump into the same thing twice. So the only other explanation to this painful incident is Mr.Bed . The 6X6 wooden Goliath is taking on a poor hapless David aka me. Injustice, I tell you!
Just as I was on the verge of asking my husband to throw him out (and get me a new one, all at the risk of sounding highly insane and plain mental), I stub my toe on the door frame. The interesting thing here is that Ms.Door Frame is also made of wood, from a good teak lineage and has a really slim figure with a glossy polish – which Mr.Bed totally fancies. That cheating bag o’ wood hasn’t given a second thought to his wife, Mrs.Mattress and their Pillow kids. How awful, isn’t it? And Ms.Frame is so smitten by this 6×6-monster-with-a-fancy-bedstead that she had absolutely no qualms in going against the Door family and turning against me, me who owns the very marble and concrete on which she stays attached! Where is this world coming to, I ask you!
So, what’s gonna happen now? Nothing much. Mr.Bed and Ms.Frame are going to elope, leaving me sleeping on a weeping Mrs.Mattress, who’s now orphaned with two little Pillows. If this isn’t heart-rending, what is?!!!
There’s just no point rambling here on my blog when I have this grave a situation on my hands at home. I’ve declared a state of emergency, and any Door related activities can happen only with my prior approval. Mr.Bed has been considerably warned against carrying on with his nefarious doings – hopefully he understands that being dismantled is a very ugly thing to go through indeed. Ms.Frame has been let off this one time with a strict warning that anything like this again would mean 100 times of shutting the Door really hard into Ms.Frame. Mrs.Mattress keeps thanking me profusely everytime I walk into the room (with unstubbed toes, mind you), and the Pillows have been so well behaved that I decided to let them lie around on the bed for a day without being stuck to one position.
I’m still watching out for any new developments on this saga. And how will I know if something’s cookin’? Well, I still have some unstubbed toes left. And I still live with the same furniture.
 Contrary to popular belief, the title does not refer to a famous blogger’s famous blog of the same name. I’m hoping he hasn’t copyrighted the words, ‘coz I really don’t know what I would say when I stub my little toe!
 Note that it’s Mr.Bed and not Mrs.Bed. I do not share Ekta Kapoor’s ideas on how women do all the cheating, scheming and evil things, while men are their poor victims. I’m not exactly a feminist, but I do have my prejudices, whims and fancies. Sue me.
Poll is still on, please feel free to goad me to new heights or lambast me to newer lows, as applicable. Since I’m the one who started it, who actually asked for it, apparently I don’t have a right to complain. But don’t take everything light, ok? As opposed to good people with good hearts, I don’t take criticism in a nice way. I keep grudges and take revenge all the time. If you’re mean to me, well, count your days for they are numbered!
(I’m hoping if I intimidate you enough, you’ll all go ahead and vote saying you dont care what the blog looks like ‘coz I write so amazingly well. Time will tell if my plan worked or backfired. Bless the two souls who actually voted for that option.)
And the following ‘comments’ from the not-so-blessed souls who clicked on ‘Other’. As usual, sarcy comments in square braces by me –
Thanks much. I asked for it, yes.
Like I’ve said before, with friends like this who needs enemies!