Ten minutes is NEVER ten minutes. Ever.
It isnt.
No one actually means it when they say it.
What they actually mean is "In an hour, loser" or "In however long it takes me to get ready, git."
That's what 10 minutes is code for.
Now you know.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Waspishness
There's nothing like a nice tall glass of cold coffee to sooth the nerves is there?
Coffee's good stuff.
Even the annoying wasp that haunts the food court knows it.
Every morning, this particular wasp wakes up with one thought in its mind. "Today I must zwim in that MM girl'z coffee. I abzoluutely muzt. Zzz. "
It hovers patiently near the coffee stall, till its pains are rewarded with my arrival.
No sooner has the cup touched my finger tips, than the wasp attacks, and it just will not leave me alone. Hovers at a very alarming distance of an inch and a half from the fingertips, and buzzes away (literally, not figuratively) as if its life depended on it.
Okay, time for a plan, I think.
Aha! Inertia might shake it off!
I move my hand left and then right (slowly, of course, I'm not stupid).
Nothing.
There it stays, an extention to my hand, moving with it wherever it goes.
I squeal. I blow at it. I stamp my feet angrily.
Nothing.
There it remains.
I shift hands. It shifts hands.
I take a sip, it hovers before my eyes and is very distracting.
I stay still, it ventures closer.
I try handing the cup over to friends in the vicinity, they step away hurriedly.
I give up.
I place the cup on the bench and watch morosely, as the unrelenting wasp pulls off its little charade that it seems to think is so charmingly amusing:
It settles itself comfortaby on the rim of the cup, then walks around the rim, as if to survey the contents.
Once satisfied that the coffee is boiling hot enough, it finds a spot on the rim that it likes, and plunges, head first.
Resurfaces, shakes wings and buzzes contentedly.
Then goes on to swim itself to glory, in my six rupees.
The sight is fascinating, I'll admit. But I'd rather have been drinking the coffee than watching that nasty wasp swim in it.
Zero respect for money, it has. Or for food.
It must be taught a lesson. Soon.
Coffee's good stuff.
Even the annoying wasp that haunts the food court knows it.
Every morning, this particular wasp wakes up with one thought in its mind. "Today I must zwim in that MM girl'z coffee. I abzoluutely muzt. Zzz. "
It hovers patiently near the coffee stall, till its pains are rewarded with my arrival.
No sooner has the cup touched my finger tips, than the wasp attacks, and it just will not leave me alone. Hovers at a very alarming distance of an inch and a half from the fingertips, and buzzes away (literally, not figuratively) as if its life depended on it.
Okay, time for a plan, I think.
Aha! Inertia might shake it off!
I move my hand left and then right (slowly, of course, I'm not stupid).
Nothing.
There it stays, an extention to my hand, moving with it wherever it goes.
I squeal. I blow at it. I stamp my feet angrily.
Nothing.
There it remains.
I shift hands. It shifts hands.
I take a sip, it hovers before my eyes and is very distracting.
I stay still, it ventures closer.
I try handing the cup over to friends in the vicinity, they step away hurriedly.
I give up.
I place the cup on the bench and watch morosely, as the unrelenting wasp pulls off its little charade that it seems to think is so charmingly amusing:
It settles itself comfortaby on the rim of the cup, then walks around the rim, as if to survey the contents.
Once satisfied that the coffee is boiling hot enough, it finds a spot on the rim that it likes, and plunges, head first.
Resurfaces, shakes wings and buzzes contentedly.
Then goes on to swim itself to glory, in my six rupees.
The sight is fascinating, I'll admit. But I'd rather have been drinking the coffee than watching that nasty wasp swim in it.
Zero respect for money, it has. Or for food.
It must be taught a lesson. Soon.
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