EEK!

a mouse! a mouse! and this isn't just the fevered imaginings of a hysterical victorian maiden looking for whatever little attention she is allowed to claim. This is the true-blue reaction of a little girl who is alone in her flat and sometime sinisterly close to midnight, has a big fat rat calmly waltz into her room, its uplifted nose twitching inquisitively in the air, as if sniffing out her fear. Well, our redoubtable heroin, being the modern-day capable woman of the world that she is, does not so easily relinquish her territory to the invading vermin. With her rousing battle cry (or as close as she can come to it at the moment) leading her into the attack, she springs into unpremeditated and instinctive action. Crouching back into the farthest corner of her bad (which thankfully meant her legs were already off the floor, and no unseemly hopping up had to be resorted to) our heroine utters a real, live, heat of the moment 'EEK' of her own, at a frequency high enough for the mouse to register, thereby proving that fiction is seldom stranger than truth, or too far from it. Well, what can I say, I refuse to be ashamed: it actually worked. It sent the mouse scurrying away out of the door, leaving me free to (once I had control of my limbs again) bolt across the room and quickly shut my door. Yeah, I admit I'm too cowardly to care what it does to the rest of the house on its recce (looks like it was examining the place preliminary to moving in), at least till the sober light of day that encourages the putting on of a mask of calm bravado that will allow me to deal with the problem with perhaps some shreds of my dignity intact. Well, one can hope, and tomorrow is, to quote just one of those corseted, cosseted yet cunning and capable precursors, another day. Also, put it down to the heavy darkness and solitary quiet of midnight that seems to encourage this sort of paranoia, but it seemed like a trained mouse sent here to do just that: do a recce and freak out the lone female inhabitant of the place to have her run out in all her skimpy underdressed glory for the enteertainment and eternal delight of boorish burly bastards who have nothing better to do with their time than feel good about themselves because a girl shrieks when she comes across a rat. Hmphh.

The Comic Bunglings of a Panicked Fool.

Item 1 : who spends 250 bucks on beer with a group of relative strangers

Item 2 : who spends hours cruising gay blogs for a purported (ha) paper on representations of the male as an aestheticised object in the male gaze

Item 3: who drops ash all over her keyboard because she cannot do only one thing at a time

Item 4: who goes to the chemist and asks for nicotine gum for her professor, and then, oblivious to extremely interested onlookers, proceeds to engage the chemist in a long discussion on why gum for tobacco chewers is different from that for cigarette smokers.

Item 5: who then goes back to said professor, and engages him in a long conversation (over lunch) about the severity of withdrawal for a nicotine addict. (the same professor who spent a month in hospital battling for his life because of his smoking a couple of years ago. Oh yeah.)

Item 5: who tells the maid to make 4 paranthas and then spends the whole day wishing she had asked for 8.

Um hum, uh ha… ladies and gentlemen – I give you:

The greatest of all fools, the fool fit to be the next American president, the fool who wants to teach English in a foreign country, but can’t even read an application form correctly until the seventh try, in short, the fool who gives a bad name to fooldom…

And then, in her colossal blindness, has the nerve to talk blithely of other ‘retards’.

and if you don’t get the answer, you deserve to be my friend.