I just started a “health” blog. Which is rich coming from someone who just had Subway for lunch AND dinner.
It’s called being pennywise, ok? For $5, you get two meals. It pales in comparison to the wondrous Publix sub, but you do what you gotta do.
And by “health” blog, I don’t mean that I offer health advice to people. By “health” blog, I mean a blog in which I chronicle my weight loss efforts. I don’t know. I think 2012 is the year. There’s something about having health insurance that puts a spring in my step, you know?
Quite honestly, I don’t know how teeny boppers survive in this day and age without their heads exploding. If I had thousands of pictures and hundreds of videos a mere click of the mouse away at age 11, my barely pubescent mind would just go into overdrive. There would be sparks and smoke coming out of my head - not out of my ears, because that only happens when you’re angry, OBVIOUSLY - but just smoke off the top of my head. My hair would slowly start to frizz and burn.
Having to sit through an entire episodes of whatever to catch a glimpse of Leonardo DiCaprio or Freddie Prinze, Jr. or Jeremy London (yea, I know) kept me sane. It forced me to take a breather. I would freak out for a minute here, a minute there, with ample time to recover.
I just don’t have the willpower, man. I can’t stop following Tom Hardy appreciation Tumblrs or searching for Adam Brody interviews. I just can’t. Even without the raging hormones, it’s a struggle. Either kids these days have extraordinary willpower or an extremely high hubba hubba threshold.
Bollywood By Way Of Finland of the Day: Finnair provided passengers aboard a recent flight to Delhi with some unexpected in-flight entertainment: Flight attendants doing a Bollywood-themed dance in honor of India’s Republic Day.
It’s a strange thing being the child of immigrant parents, but what makes it a little easier is having a group of friends within the community who you have known since the day you were born. If you look at your relationships with a Dante’s Inferno-ish structure, these people are the ring right after your family. In fact, there are things these people know that your family might not, and you can rest assured that they will take these secrets to the grave; such is the power of the Bengali Kid Code of Silence.
The oldest of our particular group got married over the weekend. She was the first one of us to drive, the first one to go through the IB program during high school, the first one to go to Rated R movies, the first one to drink legally, the first one to stay after a Bush concert in hopes of meeting Gavin Rossdale - and now, the first to get married. It’s hard to believe that we used to repeatedly rewind That Thing You Do on tape just to catch the Romeo + Juliet trailer for a glimpse of Leonardo DiCaprio. Fifteen years later, one of us is married. I know these are just normal things that happen throughout one’s lifespan, but time still blows my mind.
Sometimes, that is to say 80% of the time, the only appropriate (mid-sentence) response to anyone is “Uggggggggggggh. UGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
And by appropriate, I mean that this is all I want to say ever. If I could communicate in “Ughs,” life would just be that much easier. That is to say people would more than likely cease relations with me, and I could live peacefully without social anxiety. I would then, of course, require a job in which vocal communication would be kept at a minimum, which is really the hardest part.
My issue here is not with words; that is to say, I do not have any qualms about the written word. My issue is not with people. It is the practice of speaking that is just really tiring, and rather than attempting to eloquently vocalize my disdain, saying “Uggggh. UGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!” takes less time while adequately expressing my feelings.
Hello future self. I am doing this to jog your memory. You have always been one for nostalgia. Also, you can't seem to remember certain details from the past few years. Your name is Soma, by the way. In case you forgot or something.
