Happy birthday, isha_libran!!




( popping the question )

Len Tsukimori stared at his sempai (not that he regarded Kazuki Hihara with such respect), utterly baffled. The latter might as well have been holding out a pair of lizard's tails to him.

   "C'mon," he prompted, mistaking Len's confusion for shyness. "Take 'em."

   "But it's two tickets," pointed out Len. "You're giving me one extra."

   Hihara rolled his eyes, good-naturedly. "That's the whole point of these things, you get to take a friend along."

   Len wished like never before that he hadn't been passing by the local park at precisely eleven-fifteen, in time to watch Hihara in a heated battle on the basketball court, with a group of older boys that he didn't recognise. (Hating himself for wishing he could join them, not that his parents would ever hear of it.)

   He wished even more that he hadn't distracted Hihara by inadvertently catching his eye, making him take a break from the game and come over to the chain-link fence to talk to Len. He had been enjoying the game more than his sempai's (admittedly attractive) face.

   Somehow the entire incident had wound up with Kazuki offering him a pair of tickets.

   "Two tickets to the Gackt concert?" repeated Len in contained horror, mistrustfully staring at his sempai's offering. "I have no one to go with."

   "You sound like Cinderella," remarked Kazuki with a hint of a smirk that he could only have picked up from Yunoki. "I'm sure you'll find … somebody."

   The mental image of Ryotaro Tsuchiura popped up like an ugly Jack-in-the-box in Len's mind. He grabbed the tickets; there was no way he would let Tsuchiura beat him to this one.

"Are you asking me out, Tsukimori?" asked Nami Amou flirtatiously, her voice breaking up with static over the line. "Hold on, I'm passing through a tunnel…"

   The line went dead.

   Sitting on a park bench in formals and the noonday heat, Len glared at his phone. Amou was the only girl he knew who didn't like classical music exclusively, and then this was what happened?

   Within minutes, she called him back. "Sorry," she said breezily. "Yep … where were we? A date?"

   "It's just one evening," he corrected.

   "Yeesh, Tsukimori, I was kidding. Are you always this uptight?" She breathed the last word, laced with innuendo, and the blush shot up his face, right to the roots of his hair.

   "Bye, Amou, talk to you later," he managed out, nearly choking, and hung up.

   He stared blankly at his hands for a few seconds, with a nagging sensation that he was missing something; then the realisation hit him. I am a … cretin.

   Looking around to double-check that the park was empty, Len smacked himself upside on the head.

   Unable to make himself call Amou again, he texted her instead: Can you send me Hino's number?

   She messaged him back with it, adding a smiley face. It was smirking.

"Hello? This is Kahoko Hino, can I help you?"

   Len tried to speak, but his tongue felt like fungus had grown all over it from non-use.

   "Hello?" she repeated patiently. He had to marvel at that; he normally unleashed his icy rage on such callers who just hung on the line and said nothing.

   "H-Hino?"

   W-why are you stuttering? mocked his Inner Voice mercilessly. "Hino?" he repeated in a stronger voice.

   A strangled sound on the other line. "Tsukimori-kun?" she squeaked.

   Oho! went his Inner Voice. A nervous idiot to rival even you. You two are made for each other.

   This is stupid, decided Len firmly, telling his Inner Voice to shut up, and screwing his courage to the sticking place … which had somehow gone … a bit rusty?

   "I need to ask you something, Hino," he said formally, hoping she'd follow his example, and this wretched business would clean itself up. "Do you — do you like Malice Mizer?"

   He pronounced the bandname like he was being made to say dominatrix aloud at one of his mother's networking evening parties. He even had to cross-check the name written on his palm to ensure he got it right. (Thank god for the Internet and instant web access on your phone.)

   She seemed taken aback. "Uh — uhm — do you?"

   Uh-oh, trick question. "Yes, he said, trying to sound off-hand and casual about it, hoping she'd buy it.

   "Oh?"

   Dammit! Why did she sound so sceptical? Was Jrock so incongruous with his taste in music in general? Mentally, he reviewed his position, and winced. Hell, he was sitting in a park on a Saturday morning, in formals. At noon.

   Thankfully, Hino wasn't the kind of girl who brought these things up in polite conversation.

   "Well, I've got two tickets to the Gackt concert," he told her. "Tomorrow night's," he added, even though this wasn't the kind of thing one forgot easily.

   "Really? That's great." She didn't seem too enthused at that.

   "I got them from Hihara … sempai, who got them from Yunoki-sempai…" Why am I babbling like an incontinent fool? "And I was … wondering … maybe…"

   "Yes?" Her voice came out tinny, ever-so-slightly hopeful.

   "See, I've got two tickets…"

   "And—?"

   "Hihara-sempai all but insisted that I should take someone…"

   "So—?"

   "You … I thought…"

   "I would love to go with you," she finished for him, finally taking pity.

   He was about to thank her (bubbling with relief,) when it occurred to him that something wasn't quite right, that there was something funny about her voice. Heart thudding so hard in his chest that it almost hurt to breathe, he stood up on shaky knees and cautiously turned around.

   Kahoko Hino was standing not three feet away from him, phone pressed to her ear, one hand raised in a wave. She was smiling.

   Sliding his phone closed, Len thrust it into his pocket. It gave him something to do with his hands, prevented her from seeing how much they were shaking, as she came closer until only the back of the bench separated the two of them. It was the closest they had ever been physically, with him not minding her proximity, and rejoicing in the rush-thrill in his blood at being near her.

   "So," she began, smile widening into an amused grin, "I didn't know you liked Gackt."

   He looked into her coffee-coloured eyes, and all ability to lie treacherously left him. He shrugged.

   "I don't like him too much, either," she told him conspiratorially, leaning closer. "Too emo for me. Do you want to go out for a coffee, instead?"

   For someone who prided himself on his poker face, Len couldn't stop his eyes from fractionally widening in surprise. Hino was smiling at him from under lowered lashes, shy and knowing at the same time.

   "I'd like that … Kahoko."

   "Me too … I'd like that a lot, Len."

—- finis -—

I, Anissina told herself smugly, am a genius.

   She frowned, taking another sip from her teacup. That is already proven, given how I have my own lab before three hundred years of age, which just helps me patent the whole mad scientist shebang. Correction required. I am even more of a genius than what I had previously thought.

   (And that was saying something.)

   By the expression on her companion's face, he wanted to disagree.

   "Yuck," pronounced Gunter, distastefully putting his cup down. "Anissina, this is the most revolting thing I've ever tasted."

   She pouted. "But Gunter, I experimented to make it just for you."

   Gunter politely arched an eyebrow; she blushed, caught in the shameless lie.

   In a corner of the adolescent Anissina's room, a giant machine (her latest brainchild) quietly puffed smoke (green out of one chimney, and blue out of another.) He regarded it with a mixture of fear and incredulity. It was difficult to describe the thing … sort of what would happen if the daughter of a washing machine eloped with a brick kiln to have offspring that was accidentally sat on by a meteor.

   Anissina wanted to call it Coffee-maker-kun.

   ("Originally, it was supposed to be Pastry-maker-kun," she explained, "but the stuff that came out of it couldn't even pass for boiled custard.")

   "So you really think there's no hope for it?" she asked miserably.

   Gunter gave her a pointed look. "When have any of your experiments had any hope in their futures?"

  She shrugged. "I always thought it was because I was using you as a power source, instead of good ol' steampower."

   Loud, insistent knocking on the door cut off Gunter's indignant reply. "Come in!" he called out, usurping his hostess's authority, by way of petty revenge. "Ow!" He glared balefully across the table at her while she pretended to not have just kicked him in the shin.

   The knob twisted and the door swung open just as Gunter forwent all sense of dignity and lunged across the table to pretend to mock-strangle Anissina. The last thing she heard was the bang of the door and Gunter's evil cackle, before she felt him being wrenched away from her by a force that knocked her off her chair.

   She hit the floor with a hard thud, dazedly looking up at the attacker to see that he had Gunter in a headlock.

   "Oi," she protested loudly, but not in prime aristocratic, Teutonic fashion either. The attacker, on the other hand, looked well-built and fit enough to be the pride of the race. He looked like he wrestled wild boars for fun, then ate them for breakfast.

   "Let him go," she added, as authoritatively as she could from the floor. When the stranger didn't react, she tried an approach that never failed to work for the royals. "I am Lady Anissina von Karbelnikoff, and I command you—"

   "I know who you are," interrupted the other, turning around (without releasing Gunter, who was turning blue in the face) to look at her. Any ordinary girl in her place would have wilted before that sneer. "The question is do you know who I am?"

   "Prince Gwendal von Voltaire, firstborn," she said easily. "Honestly, you say it like it's difficult."

   Gunter turned pruple from trying not to laugh; Gwendal flushed red.

   It wasn't that Anissina trying to disrespect him, but she'd spent so long in her lab that it was difficult to see people in anything but a strictly scientific light. To her, the only difference between Gwendal and Gunter right then, was their body weight, not even their hair colour.

   Not that Gwendal saw it quite like that. As a red-blooded adolescent male who has just been bested by a pretty girl, he blurted out the only thing that mattered to him just then:

   "Aren't you going to thank me? I just saved your life!"

   "No you didn't," she said coolly. "Gunter was just kidding. And who do you think you are anyway, jumping in to rescue people against their will, as and when you want?"

   "I'm Gwendal von Voltaire, that's who I think I am," he said exasperatedly, accidentally releasing Gunter who collapsed in a heap on the ground, sucking in relieved gasps of oxygen. "And he—" an accusing finger pointed at Gunter, who was trying to crawl away, "looked like he was trying to kill you. He was even laughing evilly."

   Anissina rolled her eyes as she hauled herself to her feet. (The big moron with all his talk of chivalry hadn't thought to even help her up!) "He was just goofing off. It's what friends do, which isn't something you'd understand." Evil glare. "Given your inability to recognise a joke, I doubt you even have any friends."

   She knew she'd regret it the second the stupid words tripped off her tongue.

   For a lingering moment, she was staring, stricken, into Gwendal's widened, blue eyes; then he drew himself up to his full height and said formally: Good day, Lady von Karbelnikoff. I'm sorry I interrupted you."

   And he was gone.

   Anissina slumped intoa chair, meeting Gunter's horrified eye. "I just blew it, didn't I?"

   "All the way to Jupiter," he agreed.

   "I think I'm going to be a feminist for the rest of my life. Or a lesbian. Boys are annoying little invertebrate gits."

   However, she didn't have too long to contemplate that, as the door to her room banged open again. ("Oi, watch it! It's a door, not a catflap." Her angry protest died on her lips when she saw just who it was.

   "Uh — hello," she squeaked intelligently, before Gwendal entered, striding towards her and stopping inches from her chair. She started to rise, but his hands on her shoulders gently pushed her down on the chair again. His blue eyes were like St. Elmo's fire, and the grim mouth suddenly smiled.

  Leaning forward until their gazes were inches apart, he whispered throatily: "By the way, I'm Gwendal von Voltaire, that's who I think I am," he smirked. "I thought it was an easy question."

   "Took you long enough to think of a comeback," she smirked feebly. He was so close that Anissina thought that he was going to kiss her (or headbutt her) (whichever appealed more to his Big, Dumb Teutonic self.) The very thought turned her brain into a gelatinous pool of hormones and sticky apprehension, and no further coherent thought came to her. Just as well, because Gwendal took advantage of her stunned silence to press his lips to her, electrocuting every molecule in her body as he did.

   "Anissina—?" broke in Gunter's tentative, enquiring voice. She closed her eyes, and groaned. It was all a stupid figment of her stupid imagination…

   Warm breath grazed her earlobe. "You," a husky, foreign voice whispered wonderingly, "taste of cocoa. I think I like you … I mean, it!"

—- finis -—

So Nagasaki and I aren't in an anything, and it never would have worked I guess. (I'm clinically undateable, remember?)

And so he treats me like a princess for twenty-four hours, before sending me a Dear John (Dear Jane, technically) SMS (a text message?!) telling me that he's commitment-phobic, but likes me and wants to be "sp frnds," and that I deserve better, blah, blah, blah.

He doesn't want to date me, whatever. He doesn't even like me? — ouch, ego-insult, but feh, I've got an Eco paper to worry about tomorrow. I think I'd have been okay with all of this if I didn't like him back as much as I do, and if he didn't try to be Devdas about it.

He's like the frog prince, only in reverse. Right now, he's only a frog.

Hmm, does this even count as going under "crush?"

But I had the world's weirdest day on Friday, namely because it was a Math class and I told Akhil I wanted to castrate him and then … you know, eat him for breakfast, then I got inexplicably road-phobic on my way home thanks to the pujo rush, then it fried my brain so much that I took a wrong turn and ended up going into Dover Lane instead of my street.

Then I go home to find out Guns N' Rose is doing a tour in India: rather, coming to India, and homg, this is it, this is him, this is like Rock in India on acid, this is Axl Rose, the be-all, end-all, the god, the strength and the inspiration … and I STILL have an Eco paper on Monday.

:(

That and, uhm, the guy who is so aptly named Nagasaki asked me out. As in, not on a date, as in the whole deal: the whole girlfriend deal. And all I can think is that his sense of timing sucks.

Ola Hudson is dead. She died from lung cancer.

Because a Random Conversation Can Spawn Many Things ... including making me update and write for a lazy change...

Adam HAS got 100% star potential (kind of the same reason why Sawant became Indian Idol, not that dweeb Sana, who was musically MUCH more talented) and I'm sad that he didn't make Idol.

But the fact is I don't like Adam. And I don't support him because he's a gorgeous, sexy pop idol who sings about his feelings, because he's just no one extraordinary, save for his singing which is a notch above the rest. On the other hand, Kris is upbeat, cocky-nervous, he's actually progressed from this gawky guy who sang retro to this confident young stage personality person thingy; but I maintain he didn't deserve to win.

I like Kris because he has his moments of idol-greatness, and I like him for those moments. Face it, at the end of the day, Adam is a better artist … that and he oozes sexuality like chocolate sauce. >_<

 

I am such a Photoshop nerd. I spent last night, saturated with pizza, cake, Snickers, and wine (I almost gave out with sheer slack-jawedness) (not because my parents are letting me having some, but because at that point, even Shiraz wine smelt like Tropicana apple juice to me) and I am still deliriously happy nonetheless. Not least because Riti and I were messaging each other at midnight with flirty innuendo. Maybe my ex-wife and I are going to get together for the n^th time again…

Made Rock On!! icons because I was so frustrated at not being able to make a decent Rock On!! banner. On the off-side, "Pichhle Saath Dino Mein" pwns my socks still!!! And damn young!Adi was hawt on the big screen ::drools like a caveman:: (Does anybody else like him in the first outdoor concert of the movie??)


   

 

Plus, a certain someone called and made my day…


 

OTP meme stolen from isha_libran … who probably wants to murder me slowly and painfully for being this late.

1. List your top seven character ships
2. Put all of them in order of your love for them; 7 to 1, 1 being your main fixation.
3. Name the movie/show that they're in.
4. Supply photos for said people.
5. Tag people.

For this one, I tag:

x_electrolite_xprimafacet

x_electrolite_x

mitsukiyame13

 neocloud9

 beaumontrulz  (if you want to do this one)

hellz_happyface  (if you want to do this one, of course, and I hope you do!)

animaniacxx

Please, please check out and comment on the artwork!! They're by absolutely, mindblowingly talented people … and (PIMPAGE ALERT) check mine out sometime (link in the sidebar) ::whistles innocently)
 
7. Kazuki Fuchoin x Juubei Kakei (Get Backers):

Yes, they ARE the thread and the needle, and a mis-matched couple anyone? but take in Juubei's astonishing devotion to his charge (to the point where he literally blinds himself) and he needs Kazuki to always keep him grounded.

sakurascented.deviantart.com/art/Secrets-of-the-Strings-Kaz-Ju-6049735

6. Scott Summers x Jean Grey (X-Men Evolution):

Because they are my most fave teenger couple ever. PERIOD.

MUST CHECK OUT THE FANART:

blumoonx06x.deviantart.com/art/Scott-and-Jean-70353145

shadowsaturn.deviantart.com/art/Jean-Grey-and-Scott-Summers-35709233 (Forgive his bulging pecs and abs, he has no such…)
http://algy.deviantart.com/art/Commission-blclionkth-60546101

5. Conrad Weller x Yuuri Shibuya (Kyou Kara Maou):

The pure selflessess of Conrart's love is heartbreaking. *Jhessail has stolen pretty much all my reasons … minus the über-cute Wolfram bashing.

* jhessail.deviantart.com/art/Five-Reasons-for-ConYuu-49411745
yurecia.deviantart.com/art/KKM-You-are-beautiful-45381381**

** This one is a lot like the final scene of Memoirs of a Geisha, with Saiyuri (Chiyo) and the Chairman in the pavilion. (That movie was like a zero-depth painting of that book.)

4. Sirius Black x Remus Lupin (Harry Potter):

MUST CHECK FANART OUT. NOW.

maru-.deviantart.com/art/Young-Remus-n-Sirius-3211977

kunisaki.deviantart.com/art/Sirius-x-Remus-EMOTIONS-25099943

I don't agree with a lot of the supposed "canonical backing" for this ship, but they look really, really, really good together, (just like Draco x Ginny,) and it'd be a shame to slash James and Sirius give them the benefit of the doubt, whydont'cha?

3. Harry Potter x Luna Lovegood:

Another favourite teen couple. The way these two click is incredible, and its fallacious for me to even try and put in words … sorry for lack of a better, more coherent explanation.

lunacyandme.deviantart.com/art/Harry-and-Luna-60056741

2. Maes Hughes x Roy Mustang (Full Metal Alchemist):

Not officially a couple, but they have an incredible Sirius-James-esque bond from being in the army together, and of course, Hughes's promise "I will push you to the top." And of course … just how he loves getting Mustang's goat!!

The picture says it all:

da-phase-meister.deviantart.com/art/Drunken-fun-with-Roy-Maes-37773011

1. Axl Rose x Izzy Stradlin (Bandom/Guns N' Roses):

Axl may be the most homophobic man alive, but everybody knows he's got something for Izzy…

thenizu.deviantart.com/art/Lunapark-56703511

community.livejournal.com/the_hell_house/29622.html (try for taste)

Who the hell am I kidding? I'm a stupid twat who's still got the biggest crush ever on I and all it took was for him to say he lost my number, Kashmira, could you please give it to me again?

Like hell I'd get over him that fast, when I know that he maybe he does give the most superficial damn. And the funny thing is, I've never let a boy screw me over in my head like this. He doesn't like me, oh good, great, bye then. This is the first time I've fallen like this, and fallen real hard on my arse this time. Bloody prat's spoken for to boot. AND he thought I liked PG. (Which I did, a teensy-weensy bit, who wouldn't at first? but I got over that one, didn't I?)

Someone Up There is throwing peanuts at me, I swear.

Incidentally, Sully Erna just sounds plain hawt when he goes, "I fucking hate you, you're such a liar…" Almost as sexy as "I Stand Alone" (Godsmack) which you must listen to. Right NOW.

Nicked from hellz_happyface

Pick your birth month
- Strike out anything that doesn't apply to you
- Bold the five-ten that best apply to you
- Copy to your own journal, with all twelve months under an LJ-cut

JANUARY: Stubborn and hard-hearted. Ambitious and serious. Loves to teach and be taught. Always looking at people's flaws and weaknesses. Likes to criticize. Hardworking and productive. Smart, neat and organized. Sensitive and has deep thoughts. Knows how to make others happy. Quiet unless excited or tensed. Rather reserved. Highly attentive. Resistant to illnesses but prone to colds. Romantic but has difficulties expressing love. Loves children. Loyal. Has great social abilities yet easily jealous. Very stubborn and money cautious.

I dunno why I've been off LJ so long, when it was as sweet as caffeine addiction. At least my life fixed itself pretty good in the last week.

Ameetosri and I are going back to our normal, matlabi relationship (withOUT Ruchira) and I'm looking forward to that a lot … unexpectedly. She's the best sort of pick-me-up and I've been under the weather all December probably because I've been missing her. Messaged I and everything's cool between us now. Basically, he doesn't give a damn about me and that's nice to know. At least I won't be wasting my life, chasing  him like a bimbette. Yay for me!!

Here's some stuff that made my December 25^th fun:

5] Cartoon by Shreyas Navare that has Pakistani President Zardari in the witness dock of a law court, toting nuclear missiles and other WMD, and Manmohan Singh holding up Z's blood-stained hand, while Z says: "You still haven't proved that this is my hand."

4]] Getting over I.

3] Being cool with Ameetosri.

2] A Chinese Democracy.

1] KFC.

Mmm, another Christmas and frosty toes. At least three epiphanies in the last seven days, and one amazing CD and two amazing books. One confrontation pending. Last counted eight pending unfinished "debut" novels. Two movie marathons (Pirates of the Caribbean and The Santa Clause, if you must know.) And when I look out the window I see pigeons snuggling under the AC and a toasty Yuletide inside my room.

'Cause yesterday's got nothin' for me

Old pictures that I'll always see

Some things could be better

If we'd all just let them be.

 

Cameo: The Three Vignettes

Characters: Slash, Duff McKagan, Axl Rose, Stephanie Seymour, a fake priest

Rated: PG

Summary: [Inspired by the implied-Sluff moments in the "November Rain" video.] Stephanie and Axl weren't the only ones having a helluva good time.

Status: Complete

DISCLAIMER: THESE INCIDENTS NEVER HAPPENED. Period.

A/N: The video of "November Rain" has two spectacularly blaring instances of Sluff, and one scene that I thought could be reworked to include it.

Untitled

Characters: Axl Rose, Izzy Stradlin'

Rated: PG

Summary: One night and two lost men. Present day timeline.

Status: Complete

DISCLAIMER: THIS INCIDENT NEVER HAPPENED. (No matter how I wish it did.)

A/N: Just a bored scribble that I thought was dramatic enough to merit public viewing. Tell me if you liked it!!

Yay for Independence Day and free holidays, because finally I got to watch "Jaane Tu .. Ya Jaane Na" and it's so totally worth the hype. Brilliantly executed plotline, and the airport-climax-cliché was just non-stop hilarity. Amit! Amit! Amit!!! I have never seen a sharper, more intelligent Hindi-movie character in my life!! And this coming from a Priyadarshan fan…

Imran Khan is an awesome actor, so is Genelia D'Souza … oddly enough. Loads better than "Jab We Met" (worth it ONLY for the Bhatinda cracks and Kareena). I loved the whole lot of them: especially Sandhya's Playboy tees. I didn't particularly like Jai and Aditi apart, but they made a fantastic couple!! So KEWT!! Yeah, random gushing … weird.

Can't help it. I even got addicted to "Pappu Can't Dance," and lol, I used think that was such a lame song … ahem, not that it isn't, and I'll just go back to my rational way of thinking in a few days … until then: HE'S A BACHELOR! HE'S POPULAR! HE'S SPECTACULAR!!! Lol, I swear I'm drunk.

And I so, soooo wanna see "Baachne Ae Haseeno," only it sucks that all my friends are in Science, and not only to I feel guilty asking them to hang out and waste precious study-time, they rope out such crappy excuses, I shudder … JRC must be seriously holing their lying capacity. Whatever. "Black Dahlia" tonight. I don't think it'll be a mindfuck, but I've been itching to see it as much as "Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels."
 

The Drishitikon Fest (La Martiniere for Girls High) yesterday was just one of the oddest occurrences on my life. I mean, I just got to know I was going on Tuesday, and at nine-thirty I was fumbling through phone books, trying to call up people for information. I spoke to Aditi Roy one-on-one for eight minutes, and she even laughed at my joke! … I think she likes me already from Lotus Buds Editors' meetings and I think I know I sound like I have a new crush, but it's not everyday you have a Head Girl you aspire to emulate.

For Creative Writing, the English Prose topic happened to be an ESSAY (gurk! I am so not placing) and even worse, this is how it sounds: "Remix defines the youth culture of today's generation. Do you agree?"

Duh, I do: I was writing that thing at LMG.

(It's similar to the topic we got at the Albert Barrow Memorial National Inter-school Essay-Writing Competition, and Ameetsori placed Top Ten. I'm so proud of her!! … which sounds like condescending bullshit, but I do mean it. And there are two pigeons visible from my window, doing something that eerily resembles shagging.)

Outside LMG, school just got over, so people were swarming out of both LMB AND LMG, and cars spilt all over the road. (The LM-schools don't have bus service … spoilt rich brats!!) So I was trying to hide behind Radhika Ganguly, (who, Prakriti promises, was a bathtub on wheels when in kindergarten) hoping no one I knew recognised me. Right across the pavement (and I'm so glad he didn't see me) was either Ricky or Micky, and I'm not particularly concerned which. He lives in the building opposite mine in our apartment complex, and whenever I think of them, I have this disturbing memory of one of the twins saying:

"See, the only way to tell us apart is by the length of our eyelashes,"

… this being accompanied by the thought: Wow. That's totally something a transvestite would say.

My sneakers got soaked and drenched and splattered in the waterlogging outside school on Tuesday, and I was too embarrassed to turn up at school on Wednesday wearing Mum's gym Reeboks (they're pink and they resemble clown shoes on my feet.) So I went in those concealed-heel white walking shoes, really cute, except that they're Size Three and my feet are Size Four. I just thought they looked cute at the time. I mean, they're just feet.

Wrong.

I waltz into the school lobby, and there's Nityangi with Atong (UK exchange girl with the fantastic corn-rows.) I wave. She's staring dumbfounded at my feet.

All day I had to put up with people asking me what the hell I was wearing. Alisha Islam's unsolicited opinion was (and I swear I really like that girl on a good day) they looked cute, but like a doll's ballerina shoes.

Report card came home today. I think I like my grades. Mum's threatening to frame and laminate it and hang it in the drawing-room: the first and last time that I'll ever produce such a decent report since Junior School. Not funny. Mrs. Bhattacharyya was all gooey praises, stuff about expectations and hoping I'd fulfil them, and talk about low pressure. Mrs. Chatterjee told Mum that I had "a good sense of humour." See where laughing at her jokes got me? Chatterjee's sense of humour STINKS. You can smell it a mile away.

Finished "Artemis Fowl and the Lost Colony," on loan from Megha Mukherjee. The ending was a lot like the "Eternity Code" and all the ole heartstrings got twisted in a loop. On the whole, pretty second-grade. Like "The Spaghetti Incident." I expected so much more, but maybe Colfer's losing out a bit on his magic touch. (Gah, I love that song, but I wish it would stay out of my head.)

Also reading Tim Moore's "French Revolutions: Cycling the Tour de France" and can barely breathe for laughter stitches.

Also reading "Guns": the neophyte's guide, and it's riveting, although I'm shocked I can read anything after "Cat On a Hot Tin Roof."

Have officially heard every song Godsmack turned out for the third time. (Shout-out to Pratyay for lending their albums to me!!) Must be the principal cause for the header.

Had An Experience on Sunday: watched "Capote." Hoffman's disgusting nasal accent complemented Capote brilliantly. Only one word for the movie: mindfuck.

Okay, so now I can walk past a music store without being tempted. Period.

   I haven't had time to listen to ""The Spaghetti Incident?"" yet (DAMN SCHOOLWORK!!) but I only bought it yesterday from M3 at City Centre, and I'm still caught up in the unending loop of "Appetite For Destruction." Move over Kroeger (my effing gorgeous gay-Colin Farrell look-alike, 'cos "Night Train" has now become my new pick-me-up.

   That makes it all the released GN'R albums, right? Minus "Use Your Illusion I" which I'm going to grovel before Laboni to borrow, since I can't find it ANYwhere. Grrr. 

   ... Yup. All the albums. No biggie deed.

   On another note, I've become a Rammstein-convert, too. Minus lyrics. I think they're awful industrial-grade Commie shit. Their music is mind-blowing.

(I'm not going to ask you to comment on this one if you've got no time for it, but I'd really appreciate if you read it. This is a 16-year-old shooting off her mouth about the world at large and about herself. You have been warned.)

I thought about a couple of things today, that I wanted to write about, and I'm in a spectacularly mellow mood. (PS. Kudos to Raul Castro— having done away with egalitarian wages and allowing sex change operations, he's actually catapulting Cuba towards the socialist ideal rather than the Communist cesspool.)

Here's the first one: