Epic Shit

the stalker

I started receiving notes from a stalker in January 2014. I was thrilled at first, this being my first stalker and all, but people drilled some sense into me, and I started taking things a little more seriously.  I kept watch for a few days, and nothing happened.This really upset me.

Anyway, I received a second note in February 2014, which brought me some guilty pleasure (and a lot of unsolicited advice from the fiance, which I didn’t talk about then because he used to read my blog).  Then Aussa pointed out that my stalker was a creature of habit and there was a rhythm to his creepiness. His notes were timed, exactly a month apart. That brings us to this disastrous attempt at a stakeout, and I haven’t heard from him since.

Go figure!

 

the droolworthy guy from the highway

Once, I almost cheated on Mister with this really hot (and rich) guy.

I met A. on the highway, and because we knew we were never going to see each other again, we flirted like crazy. But I couldn’t have been more wrong, obviously. I met him again at my favorite spot in town. He owns it. What a coincidence! Then there was the obvious sneaking around and dancing. So HOT. As is the case with all things exciting, things went awry, at least for me. I think it’s finally over, our little game. It makes me sad that the chase is over, but such is life!

Go on. Click ’em links. You know you want to!

 

the naked attacker

This story is from a while ago. I worked late one night and was hoping to avoid eating leftovers from my fridge, so I decided to ask Mister if he could spare leftovers from his. He said yes, and then regretted it when a naked man attacked me near his house.

It took me a  long time to be able to get over the trauma that it caused and make jokes about it, I ran into the naked guy again. And guess what, he was still naked.

Long story, made short thanks to hyperlinks!

 

the fairytale wedding

When Mister proposed, I wasn’t sure what to really say, so I said yes. He met the parents, which didn’t go so well. But seeing as my folks didn’t really have a choice,  my mom, my little brother, and I found ourselves on a train to Calcutta having a 50-shades-of-batcrap-crazy time. Just before the journey, I also realized that I have daddy issues, but that’s besides the point.

We reached Calcutta the next morning and spent the day finishing last minute chores. We retired early and I was suddenly thrown into a two-pronged realization:

1. My mom snores. A lot.

2. I was tossing and turning in bed having second thoughts in anticipation.

Anyhow, I blew my last chance at finding a rich man and we got married the next morning in a beautiful non-Bengali non-Garhwali non-nonsense ceremony. It was perfect!

My husband (oh how I like the sound of that!) and I spent the next day trying not to peel the skin off our faces as we roamed around the city. My mom was overjoyed because she likes eating sweets and buying sarees, which is all we really did in Calcutta that day. The horror!

And just when I thought my ordeal was over, the inevitable face-off between mom and Mister took place. I think that I may be responsible for at least 50% of the global warming on that particular day.

Of course I’m thankful it happened after the wedding.

 

the honeymoon horror story

Let’s face it.

My honeymoon wasn’t exactly special. It was horripilating. No, I didn’t just make that word up. Don’t believe me?

Now that I’ve taught you a thing or two about a language that’s not even my own, I’ll tell you what went wrong on our honeymoon.

The answer to the question is: every fucking thing.

First, people on the road clearly did not share our enthusiasm about being recently married. We stopped at Panchkula for fuel and our bike stopped too.

Second, my back stabbed a knife in itself and made me ask Mister to stop for the night in Shimla, a town I abhor. And our bike stopped when we tried to leave.

Third, I nearly fell off the bike as we rode to Chindi. Several times. And guess what, our fucking bike stopped.

Then, we went to Tirthan valley. This time the bike remained okay, but I brought something back with me, something I’ve not yet written about.

Our last stop was Manali. I can’t remember what happened there, but I’m pretty sure it involved me wanting to claw eyes off a particular stranger.

Or was that on the non-stop 15 hour ride back to Delhi?

I forget.

But you get the point!