It was may be a bad idea on my part to start reading Richard Branson's biography. The bugger just keeps showing off about the amount of times he had sex when he was a juvenile delinquent. And I keep getting a boner. Mr. Branson's never hovered near an IIT, in all likelihood, doesn't bother what the full-form of IIM or for that matter, IIN is, but nevertheless, doesn't boast about his three mistakes, or even three hundred mistakes. Yet, in his life, there was Pussy Galore, and no sir, he wasn't dreaming, at least apparently.
Holy Virgin olive oil! How do you get out of a dilemma? Sleep? Now there's a scarce commodity. Coffee? Nope! Definitely not if you have been thriving on the black liquid for the last four days. I'll tell you what. If the lady is slightly reluctant, and you just happen to feel like a pussy at the same time, a good jerk-off is the best solution. Basically, a classic situation where the phrase "Go, fuck yourself!" actually makes a lot of sense.
Here's what I do for a living, at least for now. I go to places, all expenses paid, watch things, write about them, come back, try and get someone to fix the grammatical errors in what I write, and get payed. Simple, easy and fun. Somewhere in the middle, I also get to fly around a racetrack at 220kph. Problem is, I still don't know how to hold a conversation. You see, that's the whole point. Things that give you existential issues may be as related to what you do or don't do as much as a giraffe is related to the tree you got your chair made out of. That is excatly how much I understand of what I write when I go about reading what I write. For a change, I won't be the only one facing that problem.
But there's one more problem I am confronted with. I can actually see when things are not in a sequence or an order. Not that one would give a hoot about sequence or order, unless you're one of those OCD infected types, who faints at the sight of strewn paper all around. Let your new found eye for orderliness set in and you will be appalled by another fact, that you are actually conforming to the norm, that of organisation, that you abhorred.
Yeah, I'm losing my creativity. It feels like a balloon with the air leaking out of it. I started with writing about ladies, intricately detailing every curve on the luscious bodies. And now, there's one figurine I want to detail to the point of making the woman a holographic projection in the reader's head. The issue now is that there is a good chance that my dad will read it.
Anyway, here's the deal with the lady. Things are a bit pear shaped. That said, have you ever eaten pears that are just a bit post their firm ripeness? They are just that perfect bit soft to bite into, the skin happy to yield to the teeth's pressure, and all you want is another bite, then another and another. Now, I have a weakness for haunches. Yes, that's a new word I picked up from a car review, which also happened to be my word for the day, actually my favorite word for the day. Don't know what 'haunch' means? Look it up, you lousy human! And the haunches on this woman just kill me. Though, I think I'll die if this holographic image in your head right now ever happens to sit on me, a) out of happiness, b) out of asphyxiation. If the woman reads this, I'm dead for sure. That's what happens when you don't communicate a lot and one of the sides goes about being a bit too in-depth with the details. But if I were to describe this 'Eve' in the least amount of words, I'd call her 'unconventionally sexy'. The only thing I can hope for from here on is that I don't fall for the trap this time as hard as I did last time, because at the end of it all, "It's a TRAP!!"
Holy Virgin olive oil! How do you get out of a dilemma? Sleep? Now there's a scarce commodity. Coffee? Nope! Definitely not if you have been thriving on the black liquid for the last four days. I'll tell you what. If the lady is slightly reluctant, and you just happen to feel like a pussy at the same time, a good jerk-off is the best solution. Basically, a classic situation where the phrase "Go, fuck yourself!" actually makes a lot of sense.
Here's what I do for a living, at least for now. I go to places, all expenses paid, watch things, write about them, come back, try and get someone to fix the grammatical errors in what I write, and get payed. Simple, easy and fun. Somewhere in the middle, I also get to fly around a racetrack at 220kph. Problem is, I still don't know how to hold a conversation. You see, that's the whole point. Things that give you existential issues may be as related to what you do or don't do as much as a giraffe is related to the tree you got your chair made out of. That is excatly how much I understand of what I write when I go about reading what I write. For a change, I won't be the only one facing that problem.
But there's one more problem I am confronted with. I can actually see when things are not in a sequence or an order. Not that one would give a hoot about sequence or order, unless you're one of those OCD infected types, who faints at the sight of strewn paper all around. Let your new found eye for orderliness set in and you will be appalled by another fact, that you are actually conforming to the norm, that of organisation, that you abhorred.
Yeah, I'm losing my creativity. It feels like a balloon with the air leaking out of it. I started with writing about ladies, intricately detailing every curve on the luscious bodies. And now, there's one figurine I want to detail to the point of making the woman a holographic projection in the reader's head. The issue now is that there is a good chance that my dad will read it.
Anyway, here's the deal with the lady. Things are a bit pear shaped. That said, have you ever eaten pears that are just a bit post their firm ripeness? They are just that perfect bit soft to bite into, the skin happy to yield to the teeth's pressure, and all you want is another bite, then another and another. Now, I have a weakness for haunches. Yes, that's a new word I picked up from a car review, which also happened to be my word for the day, actually my favorite word for the day. Don't know what 'haunch' means? Look it up, you lousy human! And the haunches on this woman just kill me. Though, I think I'll die if this holographic image in your head right now ever happens to sit on me, a) out of happiness, b) out of asphyxiation. If the woman reads this, I'm dead for sure. That's what happens when you don't communicate a lot and one of the sides goes about being a bit too in-depth with the details. But if I were to describe this 'Eve' in the least amount of words, I'd call her 'unconventionally sexy'. The only thing I can hope for from here on is that I don't fall for the trap this time as hard as I did last time, because at the end of it all, "It's a TRAP!!"
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