This is an old post

What am I doing here? I left a lovely home with a kick-ass job to live in this horrid town where you can't find a decent, clean, safe place to live for love or money. My laptop battery is running out, I can't find a single three pin socket, I have no internet connection, I'm bloody hungry because I haven't had breakfast or lunch, there isn't a single commercial establishment within a 3 mile radius and every time I poke my head out the door I get asked if I've found a place to live yet.

I don't want to be here like this. I want to be settled in and unpacked and working on school. It doesn't help that everybody and their uncle calls me from fun exciting places to tell me what a joy their lives are. Bah humbug. I could do with a healthy dose of the Cartoon Network and a very large cup of coffee. I'm going to have to get my ass off this bed and haul it into town to get some chow and a few bits and bytes or I'll just lie here in my depressed melancholy until the putrid smell of old people food overcomes me and I start retching.

Did I ever tell you that, by the way? Old people and babies make me physically ill. I know it's a horrible thing to say and feel but it's true. They make me want to throw up. I cannot eat at a table with old people or babies. I get all nauseous and have to throw up. I don't know why this is. I was a baby once. I shall be an old person soon enough. It's bizzare. Does it have a name? It's not a phobia. It's just.. well.. bizzare.

Anyway. If this post has seen the light of day it means I've scrounged up enough change for the subway and I'm in a hotspot.

Post note note -

So like the day wasn't so bad. I got fed (which is always nice) and watched some tennis and read the New Yorker's 75th Anniversary compilation of comic strips and had a crazy conversation with Black Cobra Hello comprising mostly of 'hellos' and 'wots?!'.

Did I ever tell you about Prakash? He's from down south somewhere. I sat next to him in accounting and the very first question he asked me was, "how much did you get on your GMAT?". Upon being told and after seeing me zip through the accounting problems he is convinced I'm some sort of gal-genius (which, I'm sure he finds very surprising seeing as I'm a)non-brahmin, b)an NRI, c)a girl and d)from the north. He did question my heritage and made pointed references to the quality of education received outside the glorious sub-continent and I glared at him and said something inane like, "well aren't we all NRIs now?" At which point he scuttled off to do homework. On Thursday afternoon. For a Tuesday morning class. And wouldn't come out drinking with us. "Obviously not". And he didn't sit with me at lunch on Friday. I think that's 'cuz he noticed I was eating a roast beef sammich at one point. Very strange.

Oh and Madan is only 23. He reminds me of A.P. Kinda looks like him too. I'm quite taken with him. He's a smart cookie that one. Bugger'll prolly do better. Still. It's nice that he reminds me of A.P.

Dude, this obsession has to end.

Which reminds me. Kuttyman and I are going to start up www.sambarweddings.com. You know, for those sweet, unassuming telu ones. They're nice guys and nice guys need love too. That and I'm thinking of an alternative BU film festival. Wot say? Think this town could do with some more culture? I mean, the Pops are a hard act to follow.

The apartment hunt continues tomorrow. Pray Wolfie finds her studio/loft w/ hrdwd flrs/ht/hw inc. nr T & lndry. I'm going to go sneak downstairs and dig into the Turkish sweets I got mine host. He doesn't seem to want any so I guess that's ok.