The coldness of misery

I get up from my bed reluctantly removing my blanket. Rubbing my eyes and shivering in the cold I trudge to the toilet for the fourth time in the night cursing my bladder, the cold and this damned place. The next morning, I wake up with a giant rock inside my throat and chills down my body. I have officially fallen sick for the first time in this dreaded place.

I've always thought that I was a winter child, but until I came here to this dratted city at the peak of winter without a home or a blanket, I didn't know what winter is. I froze on the first afternoon, and spent an extraordinary amount of money on a blanket. After that, things seemed to become much better until yesterday when temperatures dipped and my life turned upside down. Without a heater in the room, no amount of cowering under my once warm blanket seems to take the chill away. Even with two sweaters, two pairs of socks, a scarf and a hat, the cold stays put. It is inside me now, the chill, and it refuses to leave.

There's something about the cold that really gets to you. Heat annoys, getting your shackles raised at the slightest of provocation. But the cold is different. The cold enters your soul and lodges itself deep within. It sucks out every ounce of your happiness, reminding you perpetually that you are nothing more than an under-developed animal. You can't think happy thoughts or remember happy memories, your laughter fades away and your smiles are forced. At the end, you are pitched into the very deepest despair. Add the young, nouveau riche of this place, and you have the perfect recipe for the most miserable time of your life.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!

i may have a headache right now but i'm sure glad i don't live with a goldfish

Have yourself a merry little christmas!!!!

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas 
Soon the bells will start
And the thing that will make them ring
is the carol that you sing
right within your heart!!! 

don't ask me what this is about cuz i don't know

I really don't miss facebook. that's interesting that I don't miss it one bit. I'm so happy not knowing who my classmate-from-10-years-ago-who-I-never-spoke-to-ever is dating or why my senior-who-again-I-don't-give-a-shit-about is getting married so young. Long live ignorance of other people's lives!!

oh my goodness gracious me!

You see, the thing is that in everybody's life there comes a time when you just got to call it the quits! You say, I have been here too long and I have been doing this too long and I don't care anymore whether the sun goes around the moon or not. Because the thing is that it doesn't. Now that may not make much sense to a lot of people, and it doesn't make sense to me. But the point is who cares?! I must point out here that I am not writing this in the tone that you think that I am writing it in. Do this. Picture an old, short, bald italian man who works with the mafia boss and has his own lamborgini and your selection of favourite gun. No don't picture that. Remove that picture.

You see the thing is that I, that is me, that is who you know in the blog as Bertie, that is I, have the EXAMS!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAHHHHHH 

Somebody who knows my real name please KILL ME!!!!

AAARRRGGGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

I wanna be a skydiver

ma budday is comin soon. like super soon. 2 days soon. there's some bhajan thingy playin next door. it's not anymore. it reminds me of the buddhism stuff. maaaannnn that is almost creepy. i know it's a religion and stuff and i don't want to be disrespectful. that's not what i'm tryin to say. but just that when you wake up at 6.30 in the evenin with the muffled sound of 5 voices chanting in the room next to yours like it's a freakin cult it does scare shit out of you. try it sometime. take 2 days of not-sleeping-cuz-of-criminalminds-nightmares, add sleep-at-horrible-hourof4pm, then add super-crazy-neighbour-who's-friends-with-creepycatlady, finally add CHANTING!!!!!!! i was talking about ma birthday wan't i? yeah. so that. i'm thinking SAILOR PARTY. hahahahaha  as if! maybe a GAY PIRATE PARTY. lol man...i'm so fucking amusing to myself sometimes.

Enid still makes me smile

Here's this wonderful wonderful thing this guy wrote about Enid Blyton. I couldn't say it better. Enid was a law unto herself. A land of fun and frolic filled with food and adventures. It was a fantasy land and not the Harry Potter kind of fantasy, where it's fantasy and yet not really fantasy at all. Enid's world was so different from real life that it was beautiful. you always knew when you read her works that real life didn't work like that. you don't get to go off camping with your cousins when the oldest of you is 13. you don't get to fight with the bad guys and save the day. and yes, as you grow up you realize that maybe that delicious sounding salad with fresh radishes may not be your favourite dish after all. but that was the best part about her stories. she made lemonade sound like the mouth-watering drink ever made on earth. She made living in a boarding school seem exciting and mysterious. Her world was magical. A place to escape to. A place that was your own. It was your little secret hideout that no one could find or take away where you could go after a bad day at school or a row with your parents. It was your world and no amount of 'reality' could change that

calcutta is a super-awesome place (college streets is the absolute whatever-the-antonym-of-thepits-is!!)

you know what the best part of calcutta is....it's soooo fucking old!!! you go any place and some bong friend of yours is gonna go 'hey this is where satyajit ray used to eat' or 'you know subhash chandra bose used to drink coffee here all the time' or 'ishwar chandra vidyasagar used to pop down here for a sherbet'. you can't but love a place like that. you always get this feeling that you're part of some great historical shit. it's brilliant!!  And I mean BRILLIANT in big red capital letters with blinking lights and trumpets playing. it just gets to you this place. look at college street for example. you're completely down one day cuz you caught your boyfriend cheating on you with your best friend and then you go to college street and in the blink of an irritated eye, all your sorrow and despair and feeling of betrayal are all just washed out by the simple feeling of peace you get when surrounded by books. i'm talking entire streets lined entirely by book shops interspersed only with the most awesome food and drink places. if you died and went to paradise this is what it would like -

imagine this stretching for 2 km with smaller streets leading out every 200 m

The Indian Coffee House is wonderful it defies description. every time i go there i am completely and utterly overwhelmed! 

this is about 1/6th the number of people who are usually found
there at a given point in time

ICH has a style of its own. a complete lack of pretension. you go there for the simple cheap food, waiters who ignore you for ages no matter how hard you try to get their attention, the buzz of constant chatter, the smell of coffee and cigarettes, the large number of excited old men discussing politics like college students and the overabundance of kurtas and jholas not to mention the hot coffee with cream. you go there with your book and read for hours without anyone giving you a second glance, or with friends after a long day of book shopping or just because you have nothing else to do. 

and this is why calcutta is so amazing. cuz it doesn't matter who you are or where you're from or what you do or how much money you have. once you're in this city, she just accepts you like you were always a part of her. and no matter where you go, calcutta will always wait for you to come back home.

i'm wondering if i should start another blog on other things you know cuz well

Honest to blog! 

the end of an era

I never thought I'd come to say this but when I watched Jab Thak Hai Jaan yesterday I was truly and honestly sorry that Yash Chopra was gone. It isn't that I liked him. In fact, other than DDLJ i probably hated, or atleast, intensely disliked, most of his other movies. But seeing the tribute to him yesterday. Seeing another hopelessly stupid romantic movie with nothing close to reality in it made me realize that what went with him was a part of my childhood. Yash Chopra's death is the end of an era. To me, it is the end of my era. In our world of rationality and new age cinema I don't think we, at least, I, have much time for idle romances. But yesterday I remembered a time, when as a tiny little girl I had watched Sharukh for the first time. I'd believed in true love and fairy tale romances. I'd been besotted by Sharukh's boyish good looks (back then) and his charm and had wished deeply that i could have a guy just like him. 

tujhe dekha to yeh jaana sanam. pyaar hota hai deewana sanam.

Chillar Party and why I had an amazing train ride

I wanna write about Chillar Party cuz it's a pretty darn amazing movie! I spent all of the second half of the movie crying my eyes out in the train. which. was. EMPTY. okay...not so much empty as not cramped full. i had the whole bay to myself. so i spent a very nice diwali all by myself in an airconditioned coach in a train with bad biriyani and a coupla movies and a book for company. that's fun too. honest! the movie is beautiful. it's cute and feel good and makes you feel all gooey inside. it's a nice feeling. and of course crying helps. i don't know what it is about crying but once you let those little drops of tears flow they just keep on coming. and you cry and you cry and then you cry cuz you're crying. strange old thing. Oh and dogs are absolutely lovely but cats are the best! 

what a terrible, horrible, horrendously ugly day was yesterday

You know i don't usually talk about my day and what happened to me and what i felt and all of that. I leave it to the other bloggers. After all, you're not my diary. And I'm not 14 years old. So usually, there's no 'dear diary' business. But yesterday.........well, yesterday was so bad that I feel that I'm in high school again. Let me tell you what happened -

11.11.2012
Dear Diary

Today was a horrid day. I was in a foul mood all day, and ended up with an extended bout of crying in the night. It all started in the morning, when I woke up really late. I then had to have an argument with my boyfriend and his friend about stepping out. My boyfriend's friend's girlfriend and I wanted to go sightseeing here, get some air; the two boys wanted to sit in. It was all very unpleasant. We did manage to go out to see this beautiful little palace here. But we walked there, and as Ra (the Sun God, not Royal Airforce) and I don't get along very well in general, all that heat gave me a terrible headache and worse mood. We came back and I sat around getting very bored for a very long time and feeling quite, quite horrible about everything. Later in the evening, I see that my ticket to leave is not confirmed. A call to my friend (whose dad is a bigshot in the railways) usually does the trick. But well, let's just say that I had my overestimated my good luck. After that came the worst bit. The part where I told my dad and he yelled and yelled and yelled and told me what to do (as usual) and threatened to cut me loose (financially you see, because I am, after all still dependent on him). And that was quite horrible. cuz that's when I felt like I was 15 years old again, knowing that despite my resenting this breach of my privacy and being old enough to look after myself, and do my own thing, I knew that I had to toe the line. He has the money. I don't. So I cried a lot about this, and thought a lot about this, and I know (I mean, I really really understand) why women just absolutely must get an independent source of income. I can't be free until I earn my own money. Such a sad, cynical thing to realize. And no matter how good someone is, or kind, or how close you are, no one is above pulling the money line on you. It's cheap, it's ugly, it's true.

Sincerely
unhappy little girl 

I cry when I listen to Jagjit Singh

i hope there's a life after death because it would be so incredibly sad if no one gets to listen to him anymore. why do wonderful people die?! 

a tale of two or more cities

so here's the deal. i hate bangalore! ok so maybe not hate, but definitely intensely dislike bangalore. after the city i call home this place SUCKS. people are not friendly and everyone wants to charge you so much money for stupid things right. and there's just a general i-don't-givafuck attitude here wrt to other human beings n stuff. damn nasty. it's not like delhi though. bangalore is soulless. delhi has a nasty soul. i don't know what's worse. delhi i think. their attitude is if-i-could-i-would-stabyourback-and-laugh-maniacally. you see what i mean. delhi is worse. but it's got good places to eat. GREAT places to eat in fact. afghani restaurant in lajpat...parathewaligali in chandni....andhra bhavan...yumm! also old delhi is still pretty great. soulwise. you'll still get raped there though. i don't know about bangalore. i think you could get raped but not, say as much as in delhi. that's a horrible damned place. you know what's the best place on earth? Calcutta. oh yeah. you ignore all the dirtiness and the stench and the misery of the people and you know what you'll see? A soul. a character. a city au naturale. the way cities were always meant to be. chaotic, welcoming, crowded, filthy, friendly, charming. there's that guy who said about calcutta that if you stay there long enough you can smell the fragrance behind the stench. and that's so true. it's such a wonderfully lovely place. godbless! 

hindi the most beautiful of languages

हमारी प्रिय सहेली बगल वाले कमरे मे हिंदी का अभ्यास कर रही है, तो मुझे लगा क्यों न मैं भी हिंदी लिपि का अभ्यास करते हुए मेरी ब्लॉग को हिंदी में ही लिकूँ। अब इसकी समस्या ये है की ऐसे लिकते हुए मुझे बहुत कटिनता हो रही है। एक तो कई वर्षों से मैंने हिंदी का लिकाप नहीं किया है। न ही हिंदी की कोई किताब पढी है।  वकालत के अध्ययन में हिंदी का अध्ययन हो नहीं पाता। फिर बात है की जब अंग्रेजी की किताबें ही नहीं पढते, तो कहीं कोई हिंदी की पुस्तक बला  क्यों उठाये? इसमें कसूर मेरा ही है की मै अपनी हिंदी को अविकृत न रक पायी। अब ऐसे बतियाने से कुछ सिद्ध नहीं होगा। अच्छा होगा की मै अपनी हिंदी को दोबारा जागृत करूँ। इसमें उपरोक्त सहेली का प्रभाव और उसकी सहायता महत्वपूर्ण रहेगी।
वैसे ये 'इंग्लिश टू हिंदी' भाषांतर जो है, इसमे लिकना भी इतना मुश्किल हो रहा है। चलो अब बस।

खुदा हाफिज़। लाल सलाम। शुक्रिया महेरबानी। शुभ रात्री। 

"Our integrity sells for so little, but it is all we have. It is the very last inch of us, but within that inch, we are free"

                     

                                                      
                                                       Remember, remember 

                                                        The 5th of November
                                              The Gunpowder treason and plot! 
                                                           I know of no reason
                                                  why the gunpowder treason 
                                                       should ever be forgot!

                                                    

masculinism is funnier than feminism :D

I always thought that feminists (i mean the ones that can't take a joke) are really funny. to really, passionately believe that there is a huge-ass anti-female conspiracy theory in EVERY goddamn thing i think requires....well....a complete and utter lack of a sense of humor. but, here's something funnier.

Masculinism.

These guys call it "legal terrorism" and have a specially reserved hell for what they call "MALE FEMINISTS" also known as "PROTECTORS OF WOMEN" who according to these lovely men have been afflicted by the "LOOKING GOOD SYNDROME" (I'm not kidding you. these are their real words!)

Oh, and also, they claim that many men are also victims of "MISPLACED ASS SYNDROME". Now I can't seem to figure out what that is (surely, because my female brains aren't equipped to handle such sophisticated thought) but it seems to have something to do with Sachin and Mumbai Indians and domestic violence petitions and extra-marital affairs. (Don't look at me!)

So, if you're one of these misplaced souls, please read this for enlightenment.

Peace all!

If I had known

This song is written for River Phoenix. But when I heard it, I knew that it wasn't meant for River, it was meant for him. I can't miss him because I never knew him. But if I had known.....

So many times I stopped, then turned away 
If I had known that you would soon be leaving 
I might have listened in a different way 
I might have walked with you a little farther 
And on the bus I would have held your hand 

I might have said to you come on my brother 
Let's get going home. 

the most fucking beautiful guy on the planet

Phoenix is so gorgeous it breaks my heart!

                                                                                                         

thinking in points....please don't do!

so my friend writes this post about 10 minutes before i was going to write one on the same topic. and well, i don't agree with her. and since i was gonna go writing a post about this anyway, i thought hell i will! it's not copying or plagiarism or shit.

so believe it or not, the topic that got a hold of our minds was well point-thinking, meaning thinking in points. This is what she thinks. (she says its sarcastic but god man! you gotta know that it's sarcastic or there's no fucking point) anyway...this isn't about her. this is about him (although he writes well. organized he is damn him!)

and i say THE SHIT! what are we, like some kind of bamboozled monkeys trying to write Shakespeare or something? i mean, if i were a monkey (i mean, the banana obsessed creatures that live on trees and not the banana obsessed creatures that live in houses and work on computers) and i was put in front of a typewriter and told to come up with Shakespeare, i wouldn't be thinking "Right. Shakespeare. 1. We FIND OUT who Shakespeare is. 2. We UNDERSTAND how he works. 3. We begin to LEARN typing....and so on." Heck! that sounds like something from a management book. i were a monkey and put in front of a typewrite and told to come with Shakespeare, I would go "ook ook" eat my banana and promptly smash the typewriter on the idiot's head. if i could get away with it i'd also probably pull some hairs, break some glasses and generally be a nuisance to everyone.

the point is, we got this beautiful chaotic world right? and this beautiful chaotic mind inside us? why we wanna ruin it by thinking in points man. we gotta think whatever we feel like thinking and say it too. i'm not a number man! 

i love you guys so much!!!

i got a whole ton of kind, good-hearted friends who are also smart and funny and awesome and i love them all to pieces. and i feel uber lucky right now (and also all sorts of affectionate thingies) to have you guys. and it makes me feel awesome cuz all of you are so awesome. and well even if i don't see you now for a long long long time you'll still have made these 5 years of my life absolutely wonderful and some of the best. and i'm not one for too much nostalgia but i really will miss you. all of you. i'll miss how you cry all the time baby-girl and laugh all the other times. i'll miss talking english with you anne of you-know-where. and my red ballooned princess, i'll miss you for dishing me F.R.I.E.N.D.S jokes all the time so that i feel like i've watched the show. i'll miss being food-buddies and toilet-buddies with you. i'll miss making fun of you for you every tiny thing, my very own nightingale of milan. and not being able to fight with you all the time will really take away a part of my life. i'll even miss you drummer boy cuz you're funny and nice. and how can i forget my dear ragamuffin boy (yes i know you'll kill me if you read this) for filling me with beatles-love. and the little buddha i'll always love for being the best roommate ever! and without my supermodel i won't have any clothes anymore. :) i'll miss coming to your room on a whim and taking over your bed you little terrier and your crazy soulmate for food and boy stories and embarrassing me in public. i'll miss hugging you so my hands go completely around you skinny girl and you crazy, noisy, annoying lover of hers i'll miss hugging you and hating you and loving you and drinking with you and being boisterous with you. and even if you never see this my dear pretend-studious girl i'll miss the redness of your room and knowing that i'm secretly friends with you and seeing people's faces when they find out. 

also for girl referred to in previous post. yes the beautiful kind one whose house i'm living in. like i said before man, it's platonic. don't rub it in

       DON'T WAKE ME UP
           
                NON WAKE MOI


               MUJHE DON'T UTAO 

this is all for you my darling girl who i'm in love with and whose house i'm living in right now but only platonicaly ofcourse

my beautiful gorgeous magnificent wonderful darling.....i know you're gonna check this first thing in the morning cuz that's what you do and i luuurrvvee you for it even if i make fun of you all the time. here's my public love message to you - how shall i compare thee to a summer's day thou art more lovely and more temperate rough winds do shake something or the other and something to do with the darling buds of may and so on and so forth. anyway, let's get to the serious bit.
(pbaps: what's with this script man! why can't they let punctuation be seen?!)
(ppbaps: if you're not this particularly wonderful girl and are otherwise un-interested in my life and just want to laugh a lot watch seinfeld. or also you could watch the video at the end of the post. i'm not very funny but i'm a little funny says my friend who is very funny but only ocassionally but ellen is funny.)

the serious bit. i decided not to send in my application just yet. you know to the thing i was going to apply to that i don't want to put up on a blogpost because hey what if there's like a creepy stalker dude stalking my blog and he finds out who i am! whoa that wouldn't be nice at all and would in fact be really creepy and maybe also a little dangerous and i really should get to the point now right? yeah so the application. i sent the essay to my lovely (not-so-much) bro who says, and i agree, that the essay is not personal enough. he says, and i agree, that i should write more about experiences i've had and how they've affected me. he says, and i agree, that right now the essay reads like something someone would say on a tv debate (heartbreak!

(pppbaps: if you're interested pbaps stands for post but also pre script)

also he says, and i agree, that all the ambitious people would've already applied so while there'll be fewer vacancies there'll also be less competition. he says, and i agree, that my application needs a lot of work and what's the point of sending it if you (that is I and also i think he) are not happy with it.

okay all of you non-existent stalking people who are here for funny stuff and don't want to understand the tragedies of my life, my really awesome friend who watches gossip girl xoxo sent me this funny video. here you go. there. happy now? laugh all you want. she's funny. i'm not. damn funniness anyway. who wants to be funny. not me. All Hail Pens for Her!

my life is a whole lot of shades of pink...oh yeah

have you ever thought that maybe charcoal has erotic fantasies about going into the fire and getting a good burning with some other bits of charcoal. my boyfriend thinks that's interesting. i think it's perverted of him to think that it's interesting to think about erotic fantasies of charcoal. ofcourse i'd never tell him that. again. i mean people sit there you know. by the fireplace. and watch them burn. he also thinks that toast would like steam baths. i'm thinking i should get a new boyfriend.

you see, the sea does these things. takes things I mean. like glasses. or underwear. or maybe shoepolish

here's this cool ad that ma friend sent me. it's nice. and if you ever seen loksabha tv you'll see it's true. those dingbats don't behave. no seriously, they don't.

           What I should be doing is

   

What I am doing is 

I am an influencer!!!

Yeah...that's right. I'm an influencer. I know that word doesn't exist. But I am anyway. An influencer that is. I just had my best friend (read girl-I'm-madly-in-love-with-but-can't-tell-cuz-she's-straight) start a blog. Not that I did it. But I helped her out and that counts. I swear it does! And I got people drinking and smoking and yeah yeah even smoking up but they'd have done that anyway without me cuz our college is this shit crazy place and all. Anyway I wrote this cuz I thought 'hey she started a blog so I should write in mine'. There you go. That's all I gotta say. Blogs don't make any sense to me. I never know how to start or how to end. So I just write the middle. 

some opinions that are best left said

This is part of the email I sent to a friend of mine. The article in question is this one - http://www.suhaibwebb.com/ummah/women/a-letter-to-the-culture-that-raised-me/

Is this oppression or is it an expression of their free will?

"I do find this interesting. The conversation and the article. And here's what I think of it (I know no one asked me for my opinion, but I'm used to giving it nevertheless). It doesn't matter if she believes that God asks her to cover her body from men for respect. It doesn't matter if she, or rather another woman with a different point of view, wears short skirts to impress men. And it doesn't matter if gender is a dividing line in religion. Each individual life form (or at least every sentient life form) has the autonomy to decide what is best for them. So if one woman wants to wear makeup and pretty clothes and make men go gaga on her, who are any of us to tell her that she must not be so? If we say that she is more than just a pretty face, then we must also say that she has the ability and the right more so, to decide if she wants to be just a pretty face. If another person wants to cover herself, let her do so. If a man wants to wear a burqa, let him do so too. I think where a lot of movements go wrong is that when a particular point of view arises that tries to impose on others, then a contrary opinion arises that tries to impose too. And that's where we go wrong. All of us. We make the same mistake that the other side does. Believing that our moral stand point is the right one, or the superior one. I don't wear a burqa and would feel constrained if asked to do so, but that doesn't mean someone else would too. Unfortunate it is that we usually judge others by our own experience, and believe we have the right (in a moral sense, not in a legal sense) to tell others what is best for them. Like our parents did with us. Like we realized that they don't know what's best for us. We do. 

(sorry that was really long. i was just mostly thinking aloud)"

just thoughts

I was going to write about something else but now I want to say first that I don't like this new layout of blogger. Or maybe I do. I don't know. I could get used to it I suppose.

I was talking to my friends about internet security. I'm always talking to them about internet security. I'm not entirely listening to my own advice though am I? Writing on blogger and stuff. But then again, my opinions have always been public. So all I need to do is to make sure that I only write opinions on blogs and stuff like that. There was this article I was reading the other day that my friend sent, that spoke about how what we all really want is to be heard. And that is really true. That's why we write on blogs and go on facebook and stuff right? Because what we want is to have other people watch us. We want them to see our lives as we want them to see it. Pretty neat in a way.

I'm really zonked out today. At work, but can't concentrate or socialize. What am I thinking of? Lots of things. Right now, internet security. And also how there are some people who are just born with brilliance. And there are others who are born with slightly less brilliance. And all the slightly less brilliant ones can do is admire the more brilliant. I think brilliance is something that comes easy to the brilliant. I think there are few brilliant people who would actually believe that they are brilliant.

What am I getting at? Nothing. I just wanted to write. Put myself in the public domain so to say. I'm done now. 

continued from the last post

Here are the labels I came up for myself -

1. Female
2. Indian
3. Mallu
4. Bi-sexual
5. Urban
6. Student
7. Upper middle-class
8. Liberal/progressive
9. Leftist
10. Political
11. Agnostic
12. In a non-exclusive relationship
13. Tom-boyish
14. Intellectual
15. Foodie
16. Vegetarian
17. born christian
18. lawyer to be
19. Feminist
20. Human rightist
21. Non-conformist
22. Fat
23. Morbid
24. GOT fan

that's where I stopped counting

Labelling

We love labelling. Us, humans. Everything needs to have a name, a label. Homosexual-heterosexual, asian-caucasian, friend-boy/girlfriend. Why can't we just people be? Let ourselves be, actually. I wear 'boyish' clothes sometimes, and speak English, and have lived all over India, and like both women and men - sexually and otherwise. I study law and want to teach in a school and love old hindi songs and Beethoven. I'm also in love with (and sexually attracted to) a fictional imp who in turn is fascinated with whores. (which ofcourse is a very politically incorrect thing to say cuz imps are "little people" and whores are "sex-workers", which would usually lead me on to a tangential line of politically correct words, which I think is bullshit cuz I don't think it fucking matters what word you use and what really matters is the intention with which you use it). I'm apparently a feminist who wears the symbol of female slavery, the anklet. That makes me a whole lot of labels. I counted 23 and then got bored. 

Because I'm so mad this sounds like a diary entry

There are few things that I'm prickly about - books, my intelligence, and (I realized right now) my appreciation of good humor. I'm a comedy fan. It is my favourite genre, of movies, music, books, tv....anything. I enjoy a good laugh. But it's more than that. Comedy is to me what fantasy fiction or science fiction is to some people. It's almost a religion. And I feel just as outraged when someone says or implies that I don't appreciate humour as when a Harry Potter fan is told that s/he is a muggle! So today I got irked. Okay, more than irked. I got mad. I got mad because three of my friends who are big fans of the tv series Friends implied that I don't appreciate humour because I don't like that show. And I know this probably sounds silly, but I actually could not stand that!! The essence of appreciating comedy is understanding the difference in tastes of humour. Not everybody likes the same kind. And here's the deal - Friends is NOT about comedy!! It may be a great show, but it isn't about comedy. I'm not saying it's not funny. It is. But the show is a sitcom - it is some drama and it is some comedy, and most of all it "endears" to people as the very same friend says. COMEDY DOES NOT ENDEAR!!! I know all the Friends fans will kill me. But I'm so sick of this! Enjoy the kind of funny that you like, but do NOT tell me that I don't appreciate humour. Because if this is ever done to me again, I will watch all of Friends just to criticize it as a work of comedy. And I don't want to do that. Because as a fan of comedy, I must accept that every person likes a different sort. And really, shouldn't friends keep away from sensitive topics? Pulling someone's leg is funny, but even comedy has a limit and when stretched too far, just becomes sad and terrible.