First of all, it’s associated with food, and that too, butter. I would rather call it a flower fly or a wonder bee or Shazam. Butter? Really dude? Now I am glad they did’t name the dung beetle a shit roller. I still can’t understand how someone can come up with such an elegant name like ‘grasshopper’ and then fuck up the name of one of the most beautiful insects in the world.
I would like to take a minute to talk about a season that makes me hate life more than life itself. The time of the year when mercury rises, brings a lot of joy to a lot of people around the world. Not to me. Here, in Kolkata, summer has a different meaning. The striking similarity between the words ‘heat’ and ‘hate’ was no matter of coincidence, my friends. Summer means death. You knew it was coming, but every time it arrives I can’t help but ask nature “why do you hate me? why do you rape me through all the pores of my body?”. Life as a whole turns very sticky during the summer. Sweat is no longer confined to arm pits. There’s just a wet animal walking around, looking for an airconditioned space. I know the Earth goes through phases, just like you and me, but if I had any say in the matter, fucking summer needs some work.
Update: A few hours later. it was announced that A Super Cyclonic Storm called AMPHAN will hit Kolkata later in the day.
I used to go around telling people I am depressed, but I stopped doing that once people started asking me, “have you been diagnosed with it?”, because I have not. I have met people suffering from depression, and no offence, but it seems really fucked up. In fact, on the scale of depression, I think I would fall on the lower end called “sad”. Sad, because I don’t have many people I can talk to (or maybe I push away the people with whom I can). Or, as that girl on OkCupid put it so elegantly, “it’s because you’re not getting any action”. Maybe it is. I’ll be honest, having someone, or at least the thought of having someone who genuinely cares about you, is sometimes all it takes to give you a boost in life. My problems are the usual, pitiful shit, but they are problems nonetheless.
- No friends, not very good at socializing
- Too immature to deal with life
- To top it off, I hate my job
Handpicked attributes that lead to the making of a fine mass shooter. I also do nothing to get out of these troubles. I just run away from it, because it’s difficult to deal with. That brings me to Kanan Gill’s comedy special, Yours Sincerely. Throughout the show, he talks about a “friend” who comes to him with his problems. A nagging, incompetent “friend” who’s sad, and just can’t stop yapping about his shitty troubles in life. At the end of the show, he reveals that this “friend” is just someone he made up in the show, to talk about his own depression. I don’t know where I am going with this, so I am going to end it here.
Mathew (short, incompetent) used to come into the classroom, throw pieces of chalk at me(bigger, has no ego), and then run away. One day I found myself choking Mathew in the hallway, while all the kids watched with glee. The chalk-attack stopped. Respect was gained.
I am 29 years old. Today, Mathew appeared in my dream. This time, carrying a bottle of old water. How old? It had mosquito larvae jumping around. As he proceeded to spray it onto my face, I could see his and his accomplice’s faces light up with glee, like, it was pure, genuine happiness. After all these years of failing at stand-up comedy, this is what it takes to make people happy. The plan of action was obvious. Pick him up, throw him over the fence. Try to get him to fall on the fence, as it had pieces of glass sticking out of it. But as you know, dreams behave like bipolar people. You can never predict the switch to a nightmare. My legs wouldn’t move.
(Sound of children playing in the background. School bell rings)
My legs wouldn’t move.
If people don’t respect you, that’s fine, but if you don’t respect yourself, stop reading my blog.
You know what’s the grossest thing in the world? To watch someone aggressively lick their fingers after a meal, as if they are not going to have any trouble resorting to cannibalism, when the need arises. However, given the present circumstances, and the utmost care we are taking with regard to personal hygiene, I would like to propose an amendment to the laws of culinary art.
Dynamic Etiquette Management (DEM)
As you all know, Etiquettes are gay. So you need to assess the present situation, and modify your approach. For example, I’ve begun to lick my fingers (within the confines of my home). Not just the thumb, the whole bunch. If I am cooking it, I’m licking it.