muffins

banana muffins straight from the oven (or microwave, ha ha) with a nice baked good banana-ish smell with maybe a tiny treat of partially-baked banana in the banana muffin. sigh. this is my craving now. and what do i have in my room (edible)?

i have.. 8 bottles of water (i know, i'm sorry), 2 packets of coffee (but no mug, as it is in the study room, which is where i have to be at the end of this blog), stale weetbix (maybe shall eat that if im too constipated), 3 packets of apple juice (also for constipatory reasons, though have to drink before it turns into alcohol, yucky, soury alcohol, so obviously not the good kind), assorted sweets, strepsils and staple pins and a packet of unopened oreos.

unopened oreos. shriek. reverberating shocks of revulsion that will be heard, when i make this confession to my dear friends. its much akin to not opening supersize packets of of evil Lays. like pimples, Lays and oreos have a life-like, menacing presence in our lives. much to my horror, my hand sneaks into the bag where the oreos are kept partially out of sight, but i snap it back: an imaginary mommy slap to prevent the robbery of fresh baked goods out of Singer ovens bought for ridiculously high prices just before discount sales in the following month. goddamit.

oh, back home, the original McDonalds is attached to the premier place for electronic consumer and other white goods. so once ur done with chewing ur juicy, standardized, tasteless McChicken's bathed in mayo or ketchup, u can stroll into Abans (as this place is called) and contemplate buying a washing machine, sewing machine, microwave, random glassware or even random Santa Clause's to enthrall your children with the spirit of Christmas. yes, im not getting to any point in this blog. yeah? deal with it ok! fuck off

but one day, on Holi. my enterprising cousins and i, soaked in the colors of a drug-infused, pupil dilated (paula), rainbow, stumble into McDonalds in Sri Lanka. people obviously stare fiercely. we intentionally, walk around the whole of mcdonalds trying to find an appropriate place to sit (even though, the place had many, many places for four people to sit). So through this impromptu, purposeful and very real fashion show we get asked, very cautiously, and might i add, very politically correctly, by a very efficient waiter(i think he was the manager, explaining his level of busybodiness and efficiency), why we are the we are? So one of my cousins, decides to throw some kind of a fit and screams, in a key right above a whisper, that its none of his business since we are buying food from the damn place and filling its coffers with a much needed 550 bucks. But madam, u might stain the seats. And she says, hee hee, u silly man, we'll just use ur bathroom dryers to help with that problem. ha ha ha. ended up eating food in bathroom and disrupting peace in McDonalds. however, i think of it as infusing a bit of ancient culture and indian-ness in a world dominated by a western presence. right. what a load of cock.

coffee makes me rub my feet vigorously against each other. also makes me very nervous. and makes me think that puking my thoughts out on a computer will make me a carrie bradshaw. wonder what a male version of carrie bradshaw will look like? me? larry king? al gore? dr.mahathir? vajpayee? trannies in geylang?

ahh well. oooo..yay.