Normalcy

Sunday – 13 Rajab 1428 – 07 Sravana 1929 – 29 July 2007

So, it turns out that when I get quite drunk on Friday nights and I come home late at about 4 ish and I call my sisters on their cell phones to wake them up to open the door and they do not answer or open the door for more than ten minutes then I will have to start using the very large flower pot with the strange ugly palm tree situated at the end of the parking area as a urinal even though it might be disgusting or perverted or not upto the general standards of public hygiene prevalent in our society it was an excessively relieving experience unsurpassed by any in the recent past. And, good God that was a long sentence.

What is wrong with me?

And, when you are sitting on the net at about 0321 hours; which in itself is a scary and worrying thought, but moving on; and you have to go through the following conversation with an old friend who you haven’t been in contact with lately (OFWYHBICWL),
OFWYHBICWL – Hey man! Do you make tea?
Me – Yes I do. Is this really about the tea of are you falling in love with me? (by the way, he is straight, but I act like this with most people from my college, so moving on)
OFWYHBICWL – How many teaspoons for one cup of tea?
Me – One full heaped Table Spoon.
OFWYHBICWL – For one cup? No way. That’s too much.
Me – Yes, yes. By the way, is this Chai or English Tea?
OFWYHBICWL – Chai.
Me – Yes. Then its ok.
OFWYHBICWL – Thanks.
Me – Don’t mention it.
10 minutes later
Me – Fuck! No! Wait! I meant teaspoon.
OFWYHBICWL – Ah, that’s much better.
Me – Yes, but please use a heaped tea spoon.
OFWYHBICWL – Thanks.
Me – Don’t mention it.
My Internal monologue – Please love me.
Note – OFWYHBICWL if you are reading this, don’t fucking say anything!

What the fuck is wrong with me?

And then to top all this off I get a call for a wrong number of my cell phone. Somehow we ended up talking to each other. Actually I know how, but I can’t tell you guys. And, we ended up talking to each other for four hours. I know about all the problems she is having with her boyfriend and I seem to have given her some advice about how men operate. In turn she knows that I am gay, that is the only way I could get out of having to sleep with her. And she knows about what is going on in my life. And she agrees that it is indeed difficult for gay people in Pakistan to fully express their inner feelings and desires. I think we are friends now because we have started to exchange sms. So, I seek out seriously disturbed people and then unload all of my psychosis on them. Wow.

I mean, fuck, fuck, duck, you are crazier than a baboon jumping on a purple ball in the main hall of the Moulin Rouge.

Notice the second person in the previous sentence. The multiple personality disorder seems to be jumping right out of the page.

I feel like I need to overdose on tea, hyperventilate, and laugh like a fucking hyena for the rest of the day to calm myself down.

Oo behave!

Please excuse me while I go menstruate

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1 Comment»

  goblinbox wrote @

Here’s to wrong numbers creating new friends!

And if you’re menstruating, we’ve got problems hon.

*smooch*


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