1001 Ways to Embarrass Yourself While Avoiding Injuries

The child's loose curls doth bounce so lightly on his head, Causing a tight pain in my strange heart. Oh, how could it not! How could this babe not bring back a humorous, paining memory? It was... The Mukherjee. Tall, be-pimpled, gangly, tennis god, deep of voice, shy of girls, You-who-seemed-to-never-speak, I adored you! And that adoration translation became silence, hiding behind my fringe! My conquest of you, had, in, my mind, Failed. So I rushed for a glass of water, Oh fateful, Christmas day. The baby reminded me of future we could have had, Amit Mukherjee. Remember? Remember, with trembling hands, I beseech, Look upon my face, and the hands, which so embarrassed me. The tale I must grudgingly and happily tell. Christmas day, I had not eaten, my stomach as bare inside as the manger we didn't have, I went into the kitchen, swearing to this day, for a glass of water, WATER, If only I had just water, sipping demurely, We might be Mr and Mrs Mukherjee...

'Cha.' 'What?' 'Cha,' I say calmly, stirring a cup of thick, milky brown tea and gazing into her cornflower blue eyes, hoping she would understand. She doesn't. As expected, really. I almost want to withdraw into my dream land, filled with a starry cosmos and interesting fairy-people, with names like Dylan-Bob and Mary-Jo, and grass that looked like gold and nearly end the conversation. But I don't. Instead, I tuck the ends of my shoulder-length black hair behind my ears and try again, to explain the intertwined concepts of family honour and chai. Which is, by the way, pronounced 'cha'. She sits behind her desk, hair up in an untidy blonde bun, mascara evidently clotted on her sparse Nordic eyelashes. 'Could you explain? I'm confused,' she says with a self-satisfied smirk on her face that doesn't really annoy me. I drag a plastic Ikea chair over by her desk and try to sit gracefully down, hoping to God I do not spill the...

Im so ready for life/take take take take. shout out to ADAM

JAYSUS! When I first encountered CF, it seemed like a perfectly fun, Jesus loving thing to do. I mean, every brown person's secret dream is to be a) white b) say the words "I'm Christian" c) marry a hot white person and d) have mixed milo-coloured babies.... #truth So, can you really blame me for wanting to join? At least the second one would be kind of fulfilled... (something is clearly so appealing about wanting to say 'Hail Mary') because the only white people in our school, are a) intellectual girls or b) the 50 year oldteachers (one of the white girls isn't fully white I think) . But, for your exclusive perusal *shoutout to the SATs, which I probably WONT TAKE because CF ruined my life, I'll get to the point* -5 REASONS WHY CF RUINED MY LIFE ^GG^ #Reason 1: The FIRST maths test I took after I joined CF was a. BARE. MINIMUM. PASS. Like, legitimately *coz computer doesn't understand what legit-ly is* the worst grade ever at KT-Blog/jai...

As I have unrelentingly been unproductive besides a few SAT questions, I have decided to grace the internet, once again, with my awe-inspiring virtual presence. "You cry like a little girl!" This blog is probably going to become a lot more academic since I am so caught up in the 'A-levels' and 'SATs'. (HAHA KIDDING. WHAT IS 'ALEVELS'?) Okay so now to address the elephant in the room, or rather the webpage, little boys cry too. Two words; watch Whiplash. The drum teacher, JK Simmons, yells at Miles Teller and says something along the lines of 'You cry like a little girl' or 'Stop being such a nine-year old girl'? IDK. (#shoutout to my cousin, Mansheel Kaur Randhawa from Kuala Lumpur who gave me this idea) Moving on... Why is this such AN insult? #FEMINISM My cousin said she felt really uncomfortable when she watched the trailer with us, 'us' being a bunch of my male cousins' male friends (one of which I really rea...

New Girl This quote is actual goals. Nick is me.

Mazel Tov, loyal readers! My relatives have come to visit and one of them, Harry (that's not her real name) is married to a Jewish man, I think? Also, I am obsessed with Jewish culture for some absurd reason; I think it has something to do with shared features, a.k.a the disproportionately large noses. But, moving along, I feel like I must introduce you to Vitas, an absolute legend. The story of how I came about discovering him is quite funny ( WELL did you expect anything different, I mean it's me. :) ) So, basically, one of my best friends from Eastwood Prep tagged me in a Facebook post, with a link to this song- called Opera N2 by Vitas. This is essentially a not-so-subtle reference to when I screamed in the common bathroom in my boarding house. Do I regret it? NO! It was the most therapeutic things I've ever personally experienced; shouting in a public place, that is. I plan on making a parody video of me stepping on a Lego piece to the tune (hard to explain, when y...