Been a nice long time since the last post. Time to do one of those resuscitation things again, if only to save this nice happy soda-type orange template that sindhu gifted me when I was template-less and footloose and hanging to her door by my fingernails, whining to her to get me a sexy new template. Of course, she picked my fingers off her door and kicked me out with the least snazzy template she had, but whaddaya know, I seem to like it after all. Live another day, friend. ;)
Today is a feel-fat day. I don't have these very often...hell, they don't even bother me too much; being declared medically obese in upper kg kind of takes the edge off these things.;)
I've done my daily quota of blogsurfing and after eight posts on the unmentionable-event-in-bombay (yes. I said bombay. Not mumbai. Deal with it.), and an equal number of posts on proposition 8, I have decided that I shall not be left behind.
Proposition 8: Try all you want, gay people are going to keep having fabulous sex and living together if they want to. *Wave* to Ashim and Nishanth, keep showin' em haters. I know you're having better sex than them ;)
Bombay attacks: this to the newspapers: The 'Spirit of Bombay' thing is getting lamer and more annoying by the second. Give it up, nobody believes it anyway.
I want a nice cheesy pasta, garlic bread and poutine right now. Now. I also realise I have hit the bottom of the pit of coherence and articulation. I am going to toddle off and snuggle into a blanket now. Or two. Three? (What? I grew up in Madras! We don't HAVE winters!!)