Of late I have come to understand that there is something exceptionally sexy about a woman’s neck. Not sure what the hell it is, but there is something there. I have watched or given many women creepy stares and analysed what attracts me to their nape, but have failed to grasp the profound reasoning behind it.

Yesterday I was looking at her while she was writing her answer and I realised that she had a very fair neck and that it was a very tempting physical aspect when her hair was tied up. The nerdy specs she wore was enticing enough with the naughty librarian look. A strand of here, ruefully fell on her white skin as she kept on writing unaware of my stare.

Who said women could not be attracted to the same assets on women that men could be? (though I am sure men find boobs to be a better distraction than the skin on a woman’s neck, then again what the hell do I know these days!) I mean why do all men end up kissing a woman’s neck? Is it cause they think their woman them to do so, or they are naturally attracted to that part of our anatomy?

Wonder if gay men kiss other men on their neck. Let me check on that one, could be an interesting analysis to launch.

So there is Sonali. My best friend, my confidante, the one I turn to when I am broke. So in short, the person I kind of have access to 24/7 and the only person for whom I tend to be available 24/7. (apart from my sister, but then my sister is barely in need of attention, she prefers to be left alone 24/7, so yes)

Anyways here is her latest venture, (I mean Sonali’s): Making a speech. With all her talent and speaking skills, she decides she is going to make a joke of herself (which for a fact I know she would not) and decides to send me her speech to check it out.

She speaks of a man who is Mr. Perfect, who will quote Shakespeare, who will talk in words I do not understand over dinner (and be actually able to spell those words uttered), and then who would climb a tree and pluck a mango for her. (I have had this conversation with her a million times, where I could understand the first two elements, but not the last one. I don’t think I have dated any man who would pluck a mango for me, well rather not even a man who could climb a tree to save his life)

Anyhow those are her requisites. And she does have logical backing up for all three elements, and I am amazed by her rationality achieved through irrationality. (AMAZED)

On having read the speech myself, I decided to forward it to my dearest boyfriend, who comes to the conclusion that he is NOT the perfect man for her.

And then adds, “by the way, I am rooting for Sonali” and goes on with his chant. “Soh-Nah-Lih! Soh-Nah- Lih!” (and goes on to add “that is how cheerleaders would chant it” to which I respond with “I see!”)

I suggest that he would make a very good looking cheerleader in a mini skirt and he says that he will go shave his legs.

While he goes on how I am to inform my fried that he is all supportive of her, and how he is willing to shave his legs if she be in need of a cheer leader, I start to wonder what I would want my perfect man to be.

The conclusion was the easiest ever reached and had ONE requisite.

“A man with shaven legs!” 😛

Another oil spill! And this time it has nothing to do with the oil spills of which we have been hearing over the year. This time they speak of the South coast of Sri Lanka. And here goes the story, as per gathered by the newspaper articles.
On 17th May 2011, NEWSNOW.lk reported of the launch of an investigation into the discovery of suspected oil floating on the seas off Galle. It claimed that the oil has spread to an area of 4km and that it “is said to contain three layers” . The source of the suspected oil spill was claimed yet to be identified.

The Director of the Coast Conservation Department Anil Premaratne was quoted saying that “tests are now being carried out on the suspected oil spill and once tests are concluded a determination can be reached if the oil had leaks from a ship or any other source or if it was any other substance which looks like oil.”

On the same day, reports of denial of such oil spill is found on the daily mirror web, according to which , the story goes “The Marine Pollution Prevention Authority (MPPA) said that immediate tests carried out on sea-water samples from areas in Galle where black patches appeared indicate that it is not caused by an oil spill.” The black patches suspected of an oil spill are claimed to be a result of “ the surfacing of a microscopic marine organism such as planktons.”

question of the day: So what do we go with? Spill or NO spill? Are the tests conclusive evidence to there being no spill as claimed?

(If anyone is more informed on the matter, please comment.)

It’s crazy how fast I get bored. Fault be mine or what surrounds me? I have no clue. But the realisation struck that it has its own pattern. Every two weeks or so, striking me harshly with a slap on my face. Then depression takes over, followed by my pretext of happiness, with hope that somewhere at some point, people will get a clue. (though their cluelessness of my state always being the norm)

Had I been Emma Bovary I would be sleeping around. Mediocrity killed that woman, with boredom and then her stupid hallucinations. Nothing too different, just that I shall try to stop at boredom and die of it, rather than stupid hallucinations. I mean at least people might not call me crazy then. But then again, I am not sure if it will be boredom and insomnia combined. That might be one sad combination to die of. No one would remember a woman who died of those two. No fun or innovation, hence to be forgotten way too fast..

So Vesak day has come, and I immerse myself in this stupid boredom that be not new and wonder whether Lord Buddha hit boredom before he attained enlightenment. I am sure at some stage of life he must have.

Someone asked me today if I had gained any enlightenment. I told him I already was enlightened. Not the way people are expected to be, but in a very warped and twisted kind of way. I think he was taken aback by my answer. Then again, how is one to answer such stupid inquiry? With more stupidity and sarcasm of course. So I obliged.

One ugly lantern hangs at my doorstep. It’s a very ugly pink. Dad was late to go shopping for paper and well sis was the one who did the honours of pasting that ugly paper onto its skeleton. I feel like that lonely lantern, out of place and just plain ugly. Just hanging there, while I keep hanging in here. Out of sheer and mere obligation because that be what is expected of us. Hence we oblige.
If I knew the tongue of lanterns I bet you any amount that the lantern dies a slow death at my door step, in her boredom. (her because the lantern is hot pink, no kidding) I am sure it is cursing out of loud, but obviously unheard.