Nostalgic for Disaster

When I started blogging, around six months ago, blogging was already a 'thing' but I may as well have been Amish for all I knew about it. In fact, I started blogging when the world had turned to micro-blogging and I was still a blogging snail. (I still am, by the way.) I made my grand appearance on Blogspot and began narrating the mundane saga of my life for those unfortunate souls who did not have ring-side seats to the real deal.


(FYI: Half an hour ago, while I was working on a project, Microsoft Word displayed an unexpected sense of humour by correcting 'defect' to 'defecate'. Nice try, Word. But at least I gave up on the project then.)


Now that I quit the internship and have so much time on my hands, I have no excuse to not write, and if I do write, to write crap on my blog. I owe it that much. (I think.)
Because, I suddenly realized, if I keep spouting rubbish here and many years later, people come back to find this  blog in the cobweb on the ceiling of the internet (Please, it takes imagination to come up with such stupid phrases), it will come back to haunt me.
For example, if I ever write a book, it will be kept beside the "10,000 Love SMSes" collection, whose pages bristle with corny poems and quotes for those spontaneous times you wish to express your love for that special person in the most despicable manner possible, typically by skipping vowels and over-punctuating with <3.
All the people who know me will desert me without a second thought, and I will be left with no choice but to rent friends. Know about that concept? It's springing up all over world, it seems. I read it on BBC or CNN or some such reliable website, so I bet it's true, too.To use the service, you need to sign up, pay a membership fee, and browse for a friend you’d like to hang out with. You then rent their time, paying for all expenses incurred while you’re spending time with them—like buying them coffee or tickets to a movie. Then, when the meter runs out, you bid them goodbye—or maybe take an appointment to meet them again.
How sad and pathetic will my life be if things come to this?


Out of fear more than anything, I pledge to make more sense in all future posts. And not just be a person who knows her grammar and random big words.
Bear with me.


P.S. Abhishek Bachchan needs to get a life. Every time he says 'Get Idea', I feel like punching him in the face.


P.P.S. People who, in the "Favorite books" section of their social networking profiles, list all the books they've read. Please note - it says "favorite". Hence it implies, you pick the ones you liked best. If you liked "One Night at the Call Centre" and "Dan Brown" best, you deserve to die. If your favorite book is "Agatha Christie and Sidney Sheldon," you deserve to be slaughtered.