Friday, May 15, 2015

A Post About Pinterest, Crotch Traps And Assholes. There Is No Method To My Madness, Sorry

I have been on Pinterest for what feels like a million years now.


Every now and then I come across craft ideas that look deceptively simple and I will pin them. But when I think about it I get really worried that people who look at my pins will now assume that my house will have these awesome things. And disillusionment is one of the worst things you can inflict on anyone so I pin away and decide to live a hermit life, nobody gets invited to my house anymore, thank you Pinterest. 

Because if they came to our house they would know that it's a fucking mess even without trying to be. I can colour code my bookshelf and throw away the junk, clear out the tiny garden in the balcony and  there would still be more mess creeping out...like some weird gravity defying oil spill. At this very moment, as I type this, let me describe to you how the computer works. No it isn't by pressing the button on the CPU, that's so passe. We simply have to yank the two wires that spring out of the CPU from the back (the button is defunct  our mechanic tells us) and we have to pretend to be like ape men trying to light a fire by rubbing stones... and join those two wires and magic...comp's on. Hurray. Day is saved. 

 "That's okay, but can you please give us a switch mould we could fit these wires into? so it doesn't look like a science experiment every time we try to turn our computer on?" I beseech. "Sure thing, " the mechanic promptly responds. "I'll get you the switch tomorrow evening at 7 p.m" It's 9:30 a.m the next day, I guess we're getting stood up. 

I like to think of it as a back-to-basics thing.

I tell my budding-engineer baby brother how we're turning into engineers based on every day circumstances and he sends me a recording of a self-composed Bengali song about dreams and this photo: 



This is supposedly an exam question 


I tell him that that looks like an awkward crotch trap and he should totally study hard and set the crotch free. 

Crotch traps apart...mom and I we try...we really do. Last week she couldn't find two of her sarees and turned 5 of our almirahs upside down(yeah 5 almirahs for two people and there are still stuff lying around the house, we are terrible hoarders). 

I found a ragged old blouse piece that she never uses and did the following: 


Try and Be Impressed. Okay? 
It's my work diary. All my colleagues have the same kind, so I thought mom's old blouse sleeve border would be my marker.  Yay Pinterest? 

Speaking of work, I kind of had an epiphany: 


Assholes. All of us have one. I don't know how it came to be an insult. But I guess it's like an equaliser right? Like when you want to call someone an asshole and then you realise you have one too, so you have to keep reminding yourself to at least try and not stoop to the level where that body part kind of becomes your defining factor. I guess what I'm trying to say is we are all potential assholes but we better just try and keep the chemistry with the commode and not people. It's kind of gross. 

I am going to stop typing now. 

You are welcome. 

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