Captured with my manual Yashica

First time using a manual and these were the only two I loved from the 24 shot reel. Still figuring out how to avoid camera shake and make best use of the aperture…

Don’t touch!

I love my hair as much as you do. I love tickles as much as any 3 year old. I love it when you playfully touch me.

You, I’m referring to the boyfriend no, not you, Tom, Dick or Harry and most definitely not you, yeah that’s right I’m talking to you gay boy, yes I know you’re gay but no you still can’t touch me!

Yes, I absolutely hate it when random people or rather men touch me, or play with my hair. But do feel free to look and if you do feel the urge to touch, I hope you’re wearing a ball guard. I can and will work my knee into your crotch in an ungraceful manner resulting in a facial expression you never thought was possible.

It’s over

He was one incompetent moron!

He was immature!!

and hopeless…

As you can see I’ve thought long and I’ve thought hard about this…he wasn’t all of the above (strike that). Ok I’ll be honest, he was immature but certainly not incompetent and definitely not hopeless. We pulled through, partner and I and made it as 1st runner up (that’s running to win a free trip to France) and as second best we head in the opposite direction. Yippee!!

Ah this was going to be a long rambling post about how much I suffered during the competition, how ill I was with worry and frustration but I think I’m going to lay off the drama. I do have a few congratulatory notes and a round of thanks.

First up, Tall One. I’m proud of you and extremely happy, and at the same time insanely jealous that you get to see France and Venice before I do. So anyway au revoir, amusez-vous bien and also while you’re at it find an un homme too (is it me or does that sound retarded??)

N won her first Silver and Bronze and I’m thrilled to bits about it. Cheers girl, you deserve it!

Special thanks to Cookie for being a sport. You really are amazing for putting up with a bunch of ad people without mortally wounding them and especially for putting up with my whining, grumpiness and hysteria. Oh Pokey you too are remembered, thanks so much for making me go through this ordeal and without your constant drilling I just might have been a quitter.

Now that it’s over, onto more important work…

Blurtings…

Men tend to irritate the hairs that cover my head, and that my friend happens to be a million angry curly bastards.

Psycho Girl annoys me till I feel the heat burn on my ear. Oh shit maybe it’s the radiation emanating from my phone.

Clients who want to release their artwork at 10 in the bloody night frustrate me so much that I want to crack their craniums. All 142 of them!

Ah the family has its own set of troubles, which I feel rather worrisome about.

So no wonder I’m an explosive packed bunch of neuroses, waiting, as G would say to release an explosive outburst.

I’ve also been sleep deprived.

Warning: Run in the opposite direction if you see a red eyed, fizzed haired, demented creature in PINK!

How to steal a pair of boxers in 8 easy steps:

1. Check for remnants of the tag
2. Pick a few articles of clothing and carry them in your hand
3. Look for CCTV camera and pillars
4. Repeatedly take your phone out and put it back into your big handbag
5. Find pillar and get a really tall guy to watch your back
6. Slip boxers into bag (do not look suspicious while doing it)
7. Have a contingency plan if you get caught
8. Walk out with a few people who have bags from the same store. This particular step helps if you get caught, because security usually checks the shopping bags first.

Yes I stole from a department store, well because Shia dared me (the tall guy who watched my back) and well I can’t pass a dare, I’m a sucker for them, really. The boxers are cute and well worth the intense turmoil and sweating.

Note : Please don’t steal. Stealing is bad, it’s just wrong and I promise I won’t ever do it again.

P.S don’t tell Santa

Theme change

Feeling very light and breezy…must be because I’ve been spending my nights in Negambo…soaking up the sunshine and breathing the salty air…nice to be back there after two years…but memories engulf me at times…

I believe he exists

“You’re looking for the perfect man and you won’t find him”  said my mother

“No not perfect, near perfect” quipped the daughter.

As a frivolous 16-year-old, I was confident that I would find the right man. What I didn’t realize is that at 16 you look for a MAN!. Things like compatibility, attraction, career, sense of humour and long-term benefits don’t cross your mind.  5 years later as an ambitious wisecrack I realize that I not only need a man but also someone who fits my description of the near perfect guy. As every year slowly passes along my chase keeps getting harder, my heart is giving up hope and my insides are getting desperate. But I will not fall into this desperate status. I will trudge hoping he’d come along.  If not, well then I’ll try to become a successful single old aunt (I’m glad my brother is married and on his way producing nieces and nephews)

Am I expecting too much of this poor man who might come along? According to my well-meaning mother I am but according to the average intelligent daughter I think not. Let me state my criteria of the near perfect man.

I thrive on witty banter and intelligent conversation. The need to constantly try and come up with something smart keeps the conversations from getting stale. Plus who doesn’t love a good laugh. Heated arguments on controversial topics have an extreme effect on me. They flush my cheeks, make me take a defensive stance and I’ll probably attack either verbally or physically.  Its great fun and I love those moments and if the guy is really good it only makes everything so much more interesting.

Height plays a tall role in my relationships. I can’t and will not marry a man shorter than me. I want to feel safe in his arms and protected and somehow short men don’t seem to have that sense of security.

I don’t want him to be just out of school or irresponsible. He needs to have a sensible day job. He doesn’t have to be extremely successful but I need to know that he’s stable and won’t decide to quit his job after we’re married with 4 kids. So being responsible is a must.

He should find doing stuff ‘out of the blue’ fun. Spontaneous and carefree are words I would use to describe my near perfect man. A relaxed easygoing manner like mine always puts everyone at ease.

He doesn’t have to be good looking although good-looking is a plus. I need to find him attractive. I’ve always found guys with a mop of thick longish hair and a great ‘flash’ smile attractive. A sense of mystery takes attractiveness to another level (wink).

I like a man who could teach me a thing or two, things I don’t already know. For instance I got into the whole rock band mentality/jazz and a number of other things because my ex rock band boyfriend introduced me to a world that I would have otherwise not known. Then my love for cricket all began when Gypsy Boy made me fall in love with the game simply because he used to play for a team. Basically variety is a must. The more cards you pull out of the bag the more you’re gonna get from me.

Men with a good dress sense never fail to impress me. If they have an opinion about art, interior design and anything creative then I’ve got my hands on them. I actually like men who are creative like duh and the best ones I feel are the ones who are not in any creative field, they are rare finds but not impossible to find.

This is the last one. I love a man who can dance. I love to dance and I would be quite disappointed if my man didn’t. Besides you know what they say about men who are great dancers don’t you?

So am I asking for too much?

So I walked under a bus
I got hit by a train
Keep falling in love
Which is kinda the same
I’ve sunk out at sea
Crashed my car, gone insane
And it felt so good
I want to do it again

- Lyrics from the song Buses and Trains. 

This chorus probably best describes my emotions right now. 

21

I waited all my life to turn 21. Now that I’ve turned 21, I feel strange, alienated, unhappy.

Wrong Diagnosis

So it wasn’t a crush really just an infatuation, which thankfully is over. So time to get some sleep.