Do you know why the ‘evil step sisters’ always get away with the crap they put ‘sweet innocent’ little girls like us through, without a scratch? Its because, we’re always too busy being sweet and innocent.
My (so called) ‘best friend’ loves to brag; right from shoes to bags to clothes to fancy restaurants to fancier guys in her life. And she makes it a point to make sure that I feel ugly, lifeless, worthless and useless. I’ve always longed to get back at her, one way or the other, but in the end I always end up being the sweetheart that I am and forgiving her.
(A better explanation would be, I don’t have what it takes to stand up to her and say, “You’re a bitch, you goddamn bitch! You wouldn’t mind sleeping with the milkman if he’d give you a discount of 5 bucks per litre! I wouldn’t even run you over with my tricycle, because my tricycle wouldn’t wanna touch you with the end of a sticky stick!”)
The problem was, that she made me feel miserable so well, that no one but another girl, could tell, that she’s doing it on purpose.
Today was a regular day, when she began to blow her big fat stinky trumpet, about this hot guy in college, who everyone else wants to date, but he showers her with all the attention in the world. (Yeah I’ve seen this guy, and if you’d ask my opinion, I’d rather date Brutus from the Popeye Show.) And she began going ‘paa-paaa-paaaa’ about this sweet guy from our group, (who had a major, huge, big time crush on her, and I suppose he still does) and he dropped her home last night, and even offered to pick her up everyday, (since madame lives on mount Everest and has to scale ice clad mountains to get to our meeting place and back home *sheeesh*)
[Okay, a little fact file, background information time: The guy in question is a pet, but he, like most guys, has fallen in head over heels in love with her. I guess its because its of her ‘inner’ beauty, little of which is on display everyday, yes even in this shivering cold season of winter. And I know that she is just using him as a means of transport, and the moment she gets better transportation facilities, she’ll dump him and jump onto the next fancy ride available.]
Now that kinda ticked me off. You see, as long as someone messes around with my tinee winee brain, its ok, no issues, my brain is all your to play around with, the worst I can do is run off crying. BUT! When anyone, and I mean ANYONE, messes around with my friends, I’m all up in arms, with grenades and stuff. So I decided to teach, the ‘evil step sister a lesson. Poor me, I’m doing this without a magic wand or even a fairy godmother.
So I began teasing her, ‘Ohh! He likes you’ and ‘he still got a crush on you’ and ‘OMG! He’s reaching you home n all haan!’ I kept going on and on and on, she was really enjoying it, and she thought I’d be hurt because he’s one of my best friends and he treats her like a princess and me like one of the guys, but I didn’t stop there.
Even when we reached our ‘adda’ (hangout) I went on and on and on. Now madame began to get uncomfortable, infact, she began to get embarrassed. You see, girls like her, love the attention the guys give them, but they hate to show the other guys, that something maybe on, between her and him. If the other guys come to know, they may stop hitting on her, and that makes her lose big points in the ‘attention craving’ game.
As usual, he offered to drop her, and I kept giggling, making it terribly obvious to the rest, that something was on here, and we parted on a friendly note, if you consider dagger looks friendly.
(I’m sure she’s gonna skin me alive tomorrow, but what the heck! I got sweet revenge, lol, couldn’t have been sweeter.)
You can’t imagine the limit to which people are willing to stoop just to make you feel low. I don’t know if they get some evil kick out of it, but they do it anyway.
Last night I was really mad at my friends, because they were worshipping this hot chic of the group, and I’m sure if she hung around longer they’d end up kissing her feet. So I didn’t meet them, and expected them to miss me. I’m not exactly the ugly ducking of the whole human female species, but I’m not Jennifer Lopez either. She on the other hand, is Angelina Jolie. She goes out of her way to wear minimal clothes ever when everyone else is shivering in the winter cold. I guess it takes a lotta trouble to look cheap and available, and she’s sure working hard at it. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d turn up at a Christmas Party wearing a bikini, just so that the guys can ogle at her.
At this very moment, I hate hate her much more than most people I know, hate this guy:
Anyway, back to my friends (yes! My friends, were ‘my’ friends until ‘miss skimpy clothes’ came dancing along.). Under normal conditions, they’d call three hours in advance to find out if I’d be meeting them or not. I’m miss funny bones, God gifted me with quite a few of them which rattle turn by turn, making everyone else’s sides split laughing. But not yesterday! Oh no! Yesterday, they called me to find out if miss skimpy clothes would step out of the clouds like an angel and bless them all with little more show of “you know what”.
Aaaaarghrghrghrgh! I really lost my mind!
But that’s not where it ends. That miss no good goodie two shoes calls up, and I just made up a stupid excuse that I had had a migraine problem, and she reacts as if she is the most concerned person on this goddamn planet, and she’s die if something happened to me (Yeah! She’d die partying for sure). Not only that, but she called from MY BEST FRIEND’s cellphone . I could have ripped her apart limb from limb. I mean, she hadn’t even noticed him ever. I’m sure that was all because he wasn’t the cute sweetheart that he is now. Well, now she acts like they’re childhood friends.
I hate it when people get to your best friend just because that person is your best friend and they can get all the juicy stories out.
I really don’t feel like going back there, she’ll probably hug me and pretend that we met after seventeen thousand years (which would have been a very peaceful seventeen thousand years indeed). I guess I’ll stay home and work on my blog instead. The way things are going, I’ll definitely come up with many more “grumble” sessions in the near future!
Life is so annoyingly crappy at times, it makes me so sick that I feel like going out and killing someone’s cat. And when life begins to get slightly crappy, everything else that doesn’t need to contribute goes ahead and makes a million dollar donation to make it crappier!
I don’t know what crappy exactly means. Its some philosophy of something I made up in my head. My philosophies make sense to three people in this whole wide world; I, me and myself. Yes they are three people, three people the world gives a damn about and I love the most. I wasn’t a complete “me” freak since the time I was born. I was a nice little helpful butterfly, flitting around the place, being nice to people. At that time I actually believed that good things always happen to good people. Good things began happening to me only when I went rotten.
People come up with a million philosophies a year, I could come up with a million philosophies a second. The only difference is, that their philosophies make sense to 1/5th of the planet, and then, 1/5th of that 1/5th of the planet ends up including 1/9th of the influential part of the planet, and so that lucky fool ends up becoming rich overnight. On the other hand, 2/3rd of myself begins to contradict the 1/3rd of myself that came up with some philosophy. In short, my philosophies aren’t worth any pondering.
Now that I’m done with the introduction, and I’m sure you’ve managed to guess what state of mind I am in at the moment. I suppose I can start raving and ranting about how miserable my life is, and justify my becoming a serial killer in the future.
I read “Catcher in the Rye” the other day, I haven’t finished it yet, but it’s a good book. Its about this boy, Holden Caulfield who flunks in a hell lotta subjects (except for English) and gets kicked out of school. Instead of heading home like all good ducklings do, he decides to take a little tour around the city. The book is mostly about his journey and the people he meets along the way, but what caught my attention was this one word – “phony”. Holden hates phonies and keeps criticizing them whenever possible, but ends up dating one crappy female named Sally, who gets all sentimental over nonsense.
I remember this one time he tells her that she’s a pain in the ass and she begins to cry tank fulls (yeah tank fulls not bucket fulls. Man! Can she cry!) I’d have punched the guy in his nose, emptied a glass of milkshake on his head and stormed off. But she just cries. Duh!
Fake people with fake laughs and smile and care and concern make me sick to the last intestine. Guys aren’t too fake, well most guys I’ve met are too dumb to be fake. But girls! Oh my! I suppose we’re just born talented. We can make a vulture believe it’s a swan for goodness sake. We don’t usually do it, we do it when there’s a very good reason, say loads of gifts, expensive parties, bike rides, blah and blah and blah.
That explains why I never managed to get a guy in college. They loved the girls who’d make them feel like Tom Cruise or Ben Affleck or even Hritick Roshan. If I was a guy and someone called me Hritik Roshan, I’d burn her alive and get a plastic surgery done (on me ofcourse). But the guys really fell for that stuff. Infact, they still do. Like yesterday, I was out with my usual group, and my ultra glamorous friend shows up wearing ultra glamorous clothes and with her hair left so that she looks like some hot hotty, whatever that means, and the guys suddenly forget that I even existed. I’m not heart broken or anything, but their stupidity never fails to amaze (and amuse) me.
Beauty and brains never go hand in hand. Dumb girls are always gorgeous, and the sensible ones walk around looking like “behenjis” or half dead zombie like creatures, but there are a few exceptions, like Sushmita Sen. Now she’s all brain and a hell lotta beauty. But I’m not dumb, and I’m not an exception either, I’m on my way to the zombie look, but that may take a while. The major hurdle between me and the zombie look is parents. YES! Parents. My mom (like all other moms) wants me to look pretty in pink and lace and weird girlie dresses. My dad desperately wants me to wear salwars. And I wanna look half dead.
I have successfully managed to take another topic off track, and I’m feeling much better so my raving and ranting ends here.
In the end, I’d like to thank my glamorous friend for being such a bitch, and the guys of my group for being her motivation of bitchyness. I’d also like to thank L’Oreal for creating a wonderful haircolor so that she can show off. I’d like to thank my mom for making me wear weird clothes yesterday, God for bad weather and Microsoft Corporation for creating Microsoft Word so that I can write cranky stuff (with automatic spell check) till kingdom come. Hope your day goes better than mine. Ciao :)
