First Impressions

At least P would like the title. So yeah... I'm here in Brisbane. And I have no first impressions... I slept through them all... but I like being here... very different from home... a lot more no-clothes parties for one... and the foliage is amazing... it's like living in the middle of the jungle... with salons and pubs and cafes and ATM machines and regular bus service to other jungles.

But what has reah-lly stuck is the food... mainly because yours truly can't cook... at all... not one teensy bit... no sir... not me. Not even pasta... so for two days I was surviving on Maggie, which should now just be declared the national food of India and be finished with... then today my flatmate (bless her!) taught me how to make pasta... turned out quite well actually... I'm growing up.

Mom should be happy... exchange has taught me what she never could (of course because I never would)... to look at the lowest shelves in grocery stores, to add 1 litre of water to 100 grams of pasta and a spoon of tomato pesto, to open a bank account and to save polythene bags for future use. Who'd have thought?

Aside: My flat has a laundry room downstairs... and next to that room is another window with a placard propped in it which reads "Danger: Crocodile Nesting"... I like it here already. And this has no significance here but I really want to say it... crikey!

Swiss school needed

So. I can't eat with a knife-and-fork... therefore there's no point even talking about chopsticks. No small-talk-skills possessed at all... not even the weather dammit! Grooming is limited to wearing lip balm. I'm officially a corporate failure... and I'm not even in the corporate world yet. My education system has failed me... so has Chunnu-the-chaatwala... excuse me while I curl up and play dead for a while... there's no need to make detours though... just step over me... I won't mind.

Also I hate the new font on Blogger... what happened to democracy... or did I sleep through it all... again?

Mush Remembered: An Obituary

Mush watched: When Harry Met Sally (for the nth time), Sleepless in Seattle (for the 1st time... can you imagine!), Must Love Dogs, Frankie and Johnny.

Mush attempted-to-be-watched-but-given-up-due-to-various-reasons-including-but-not-restricted-to-food: Tristan and Isolde, Pretty Woman, My Best Friend's Wedding, Perfect.

Mush heard: On assorted radio channels... one that seems to have most recall value is a mushvaganza called "Love Hour"... I'm not letting the radio name my kids... or dog.

Hot chocolate consumed: None (I'm watching my figure... and no, you're not invited)

Coffee consumed: None (we were out of coffee... it's almost like survival camp here)

Rather tame, if you ask me... next time I'm going naturist... that way I don't have to shop either.

Down with feminism

Post recollected. Post deleted. I am un-desperate again.

Waking up

I don't believe in destiny but there are certain things I've always known about myself... for instance, one day I'll learn to make chocolates at home... one day I'll go to Paris and backpack across Egypt... and London... one day I'll have an apartment in a high-rise overlooking a very busy road... one day I'll have a secretary who'll make coffee the way I like it... one day I'll have a library dressed in ebony which will be bigger than the rest of my apartment put together... one day I'll have red heels and will speak Spanish... one day I'll have a 'patchwork cat' called Nefertiri... I've always known all of this will happen to me.
So yeah... I've been to London. A magnificent anti-climax. My dreams are so much more prettier... which is a lot more comparatives in one sentence than is grammatically allowed. But what the hell... the secretary will take care of all of that... right after she gets me my coffee.


(Some people never learn... I sympathize mom)