Just another pretty poem.

if only you knew that i touched your feet,

every time my eyes fell on them,

that I saw you smile secretly while I wasn't looking.

I wasn't shrugging, it was a shudder

only if i could give you up for another.

if it weren't for you, this sweet pain would be but an unfamiliar stranger

and i'd still be searching for that unknown face

but there you are, a part of every crowd

and I cannot un-remember you.

you, with the depth of the seas,

only if you knew.
________________________________________________

Something which the Lioness and ShowMe came up with over IMs 15 minutes back.
Thank you, come again.

If only we could
Just eat and sleep and roll around in our own filth
And eat...and sleep and eat...

*voice trails off*
*lights fade*

-_-

our purpose in life.

Lioness' ambition in life is to become a mad old spinster with 80 cats writing a book on the failed lives surrounding her.

I, Showme, shall become the wasted sexoholic who ODs and dies at the age of 27 leaving behind a vast legacy of extremely bad poetry.

Danny will end up as the hooker standing on kalighat bridge whose sole purpose in life is to find the 4'10" guy with a perfect nose who forgot to pay her for her services.


Thank you.
Come again.

because this blog is dying

and no one seems to be reading this shit anyway.

Panic! at the Disco

So, exams start on the 19th.

What I have read: V for Vendetta.

What I don't know: Everything else.

What I don't have: Most of the material.

aami post korbo.
tumi aamake atkate parbe na.
doobe moro.

Eyes at the back of your head?

Sigh. I don't know if I should be exasperated, flattered or indifferent. *start rant*

A certain someone I used to know has taken stuff out of my old blog (presumably before I made it private), tweaked it a bit and put it up on their blog. The blog is so poorly publicized that I only saw this recently, and that too only because I happened to randomly log into my account in a certain social networking website where this gentleman relentlessly visits me. Some of the copying is so bad, that in some places he hasn't even replaced my "I"s with his own "her"s. Those are his only original bits. How flattering, thank you. =/

The second one is more annoying and still upsets me. This is back in 2006, when I was sixteen and a friend had offered to introduce me to someone who wanted me to write for his website. The website was supposed to be all about literature and the guy asked me to send him stuff I'd already written, which I promptly and naively, did. He wasn't supposed to put it up in the first place, but he did, without asking me (he has subsequently removed the credits for most of my stuff that's put up there). At 16 I was pretty non-confrontational and timid (except maybe when it came to feminism) and I let it be. The guy proceeded to give me work to do and then didn't pay me for it. The whole thing was a disaster. The website has now morphed into something indescribable. Even though I don't even relate to all the stuff that's up there anymore, I can't help feeling a little pang. I want to punch the guy.

And as if I need a little more drama in my beautiful life, as if I DON'T have too much work to do anyway, this third guy I don't even know that well reads my every word he can lay his hands on, and then sends me long preachy emails about my irresponsibility as a writer and how I don't talk about real issues. Why do I worry about cats when real people are dying? Why care about gay people when there are brothels? Shudder gasp! Immoral woman!

Actually, I think I'm going to settle for feeling amused and going back to work. *end rant* Hee haw.

*Mumble Mumble Squeal*

Shut up Showme. It cannot possibly have been that bad. In fact, from whatever I've heard of it, it's actually pretty interesting. Can't wait to read it!

In other news, most road rage crimes are now being committed by a fearsome quartet - a purported Harem-owner, an emo kid with black eyeliner and pink clothes, another emo-punk kid with striped arm bands and funky eye glasses and a fourth unclassified small furry specie. They blame the heat and the government for their crimes, which include tripping people who are peacefully elbowing their way through the city streets, dousing potential Indian Idol contestants (who have wandering eyes) with water and holding up traffic by having concerts in the middle of Hazra, Rashbehari and Gariahat.

The police officers who tried to catch them dropped dead like flies on the way to the scene(s) of the crime.

ohyestheraccoonlordisnotlying.

i finally completed my term paper and i actually did submit it.
however, i shall admit that it is the worst term paper ever written.
aah, well.
aami ekhon khela dekhbo.
goodnight.

This blog is active....

This blog is active....

My life is.....

...Guava Jelly

Blog Blogger Bloggest

So I've invaded this blogspace now.....

I am zee Raccoonzel...

I have an illicit relationship with atleast one of the co-authors here...shhh....

And let me clarify this....the ascending order of hair length of the authors is as follows...
Showme < Raccoonzel < Semi-bebe < Kreepi < Raccoonzel < Kreepi......yass.....

...and this be my theme song for now....


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctyIKVKMoq4

..or this....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKz-RXSeIYA




put yo shirt back on mo-fo....more symbiotic love later.....

Pinky and The Brain

They're Pinky and The Brain
Yes, Pinky and The Brain
One is a genius
The other's insane.
They're laboratory mice
Their genes have been spliced
They're dinky
They're Pinky and The Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain
Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain
Brain.

Before each night is done
Their plan will be unfurled
By the dawning of the sun
They'll take over the world.

They're Pinky and The Brain
Yes, Pinky and The Brain
Their twilight campaign
Is easy to explain.
To prove their mousey worth

They'll overthrow the Earth
They're dinky
They're Pinky and The Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain
Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain
Narf!

this blog is too active for anyone to keep an update.

Hair Raising Tales.

Out comes the comb.
*frantic frenzied brushing of her long glossy mane*
surreptiously sways her head from side to side....beaming....her hair sparkling...her eyes twinkling.

*swishhh*

I quickly snatch the comb away from her and wage a futile war against my unmanageable wig.

Shreky and I often have bouts of rambling about how we are having a horrendously bad hair day.
(just that she never actually dies, but i do!)
:(
*runs to that blessed dark corner and cries her heart out as Showme smirks and Shreky laughs in a decidedly evil fashion*

When Showme disowned us

I am proud to announce that me and Dee are responsible for the lifelong trauma and speechlessness of the Third Retard. Though this has led to unpleasant side effects such as her not wanting to be seen with either of us in public, her not acknowledging our existence, etc.

It all started when me and Dee shared a deep dark secret which I am going to reveal right now. Although both of us are pro-women-rights (me being slightly more rabid about it), we secretly listen to Akon sometimes. More specifically, Belly Dancer, that illuminating track where he urges the ladies to "jiggle jiggle it all, all night".

Disclaimer: Neither of us believe that any lady should do the aforementioned activity for the visual pleasure (or otherwise) of misogynist gentlemen such as Mister Akon, who is also famous for other gems such as Mister Lonely and I want to four letter word you.

So to get back to my little anecdote: after we had shared this secret, we instantly engaged in some friendly banter about the said song. Unfortunately for Showme, a few weeks after this friendly exchange, the three of us got together and prepared to attend what they call a Gig in this part of the world.

We clambered into the taxi and were immediately overtaken by the overwhelming desire to sing Belly Dancer, which we proceeded to do with gusto.

Dee generously provided the background rhythm -- basically went "aaa - aaaaaa" several times in different pitches, while I launched into a very desi version of the song, quickly joined by Dee. It's hard to demonstrate here, but this is basically how it went -

"Hay ladeej drawp eet daawn, just wantoo see you taach that graaund,
Don't be sai garl go bananjaa, sake it laike a bailey danceeer"

This is my personal favorite part -

Girl shake ya body body
Wit somebody body
Whatever you do don't break your body body
After the party party
Grab a hottie hottie
In the back seat of your Maserati-rati

Dee's speciality is the "aaa aaa aaa" sound that immediately follows this excellent verse.

While me and Dee enjoyed ourselves immensely, it has led to a permanent estrangement with the likes of Showme and another friend who was unfortunate enough to be present in the cab with us.

Too bad the auditorium was so close to University. Me and Dee were planning to launch into Kevin Lyttle's (sic?) Tempted to Touch reggaeton remix and would probably have substituted the incomprehensible Spanish lyrics with some neologisms of our own invention!

Harharhar! B-)

PS - All of this was, of course, before a certain phenomenon popularly recognized as "Scansion" ruined all our lives. It's a part of our RhetComp course and while our course content is generally very agreeable, this one had us tearing fistfuls of hair out of our scalps.

This is how we think now:

"Before the end of the night" - iambic tetrameter

I wan | na hold you so tiii | ght - trochaic dimeter with spondee.

Music is forever ruined for us. Why oh why must we be put through this?

The Dejected One

Showme and The Tyger hate me :(
i just realized that.
*walks away in the blizzard....cold....hungry....tired...looks back one last time*
:(

hate mail.

i ask them as i ask myself.
"why do i even talk to these people?"
they make my life something close to unbearable.
Shrek and Danny.
bleh.
they should go kill themselves.


however, i think that i'll be the one taking the plunge first.
they'll take suit.


oh, yes.
its our mission.
to not let the others rest in peace.

Jhapsha

Jhapsha with the one who she loved.

When Kitty Eyes Are Smiling.

[An extremely animated conversation is taking place between three extremely jobless and highly bored retards. They are quite precariously seated near the murky jheel right in front of the UG Arts building. They are talking about what animals they resemble....]

Shreya tells me i look just like a snake...and then goes on to talk about the pretty snake at resides in the jheel...and in a state of sudden euphoria and slight madness, contorts her face into something that she says resembles that of the prety snake..i immediately intervene and make another face which might be better suited for the snake...Soumi is unnerved. Then Shreya declares she looks like a horse and all three of us agree. She IS Hayavadana. Soumi's uncanny resemblance to a persian cat does not escape us either and then a heated debate starts between Shreya and me about who looks more like a cat. Soumi concludes that Shreya is more feline (much to my chagrin) and Shreya rubs it in by saying she has more grace and poise. (Hey! What about me? :( Nobody loves me anymore!!) Sigh...The battle might be over but the Kitty War is still on! :x

The Magic Box.

Sitting together "on" worldview. Three of us together. One is sitting quietly, texting away to glorylnad and once in a while giving me a completely cold-blooded stare which scares the living day light out of me. The other one suddenly opens her back pack...n then everything happens in slow motion. Out comes The Magical Tiffin Box with Magical Food in it. Yes, it is the same lunch box which has food that its rightful owner never ever gets to eat. Because in a matter of few minutes, 87% of its contents is devoured and/or mutilated by me. With helpless edges of sandwiches scattered all around me- The remains of the day. What would i ever do without the tomato-cheese sandwiches (from which i carefully remove all the tomatoes much to the disgust of Showme and silent indulgence from Shreya), the upma and all the other life saving moral-boosters :D :D :D

Debjanee-ism

While crossing the road, in the midst of serious conversation, Dee suddenly emits a bloodcurdling shriek and runs to the other side without looking back or pausing for breath. Upon enquiry, it is quickly revealed that the source of the horror is a perfectly amiable looking taxicab that was slowly moving forward in our general direction.

"Did you see it charging right at me? (grimly). I think I know who sent him."