Sunday, February 15

Sad Single's Day (15th February)

Greetings Infidels,

Long time, no see, eh? Well, how was Valentine's Day for you scallywags? No, I am not jealous, in fact, I am delighted. To not to be a part of a gullible pretentious fake holiday, just because someone declared that you have the right to marry for love. Why? Why, you ask? Well, because he could have done the community a favor and abolished the concept of marriage. Think of it, wedding industry is overpriced and makes much more than actually necessary all year 'round. It would be of best interest of everyone to just do away with the stupid sad expression if "I love you legally". She wants the pre-nup, he wants the Abbeyway... Nobody's happy. So, can we move on?

Yesterday, world, there were people. Dressed. In shades of reds and pinks that didn't even exist till last year. Holding boxes in the shapes of anatomically incorrect hearts. Flowers of such beauty that belonged on a farm show. Women in shoes with heels that (like a ferrari) aren't fit for Indian roads. Chocolates mercilessly eaten but not for the love that the CHOCOLATE deserves as an entity. I wouldn't love anyone with half the affection that I have for chocolates. Seriously, how could you? Going out for fancy dinners to fancy places, basically, just blowing whatever's left of your pocket money.

It's a sad sad event in human history. And to be honest, world. A single as for myself is often questioned. "Don't you have a Valentine's date?" "How come nobody's asked you yet?" "What do you mean you don't believe in Valentine's day?" "Don't you want somebody?"

The answers (in the chronological order) are "No", "No", "I don't believe in it means I don't believe in it", and "What for?"

And this is the last time I am openly declaring: I am NOT a cynic. I believe in love. I grew up in a household of love. My parents are a romantic couple, you know, the kind that holds hand when they cross the road, and have occasional date nights just to keep the going good, he gave her eighteen notes of love for Valentine's day. My younger brother (he's not even a year old yet) had a date for Valentine's day. We're a warm loving romantic family. But being the most radical member of the family, it is hereby my duty to question this: "why?"

He spends a lot of time with her all year 'round, why not take account of that? He gets her gifts out of the blue, she gets him gifts out of the blue, they go shopping together, they eat together, and if he's away and the moment he's free he's on the call with her, there's a healthy amount of music in their lives...

I have seen love happen, and I believe that love's out there. I just find it stupid that suddenly on one day in the whole year people suddenly pay more importance to it than anything else, you know. While the ACTUAL day is the day AFTER Valentine's Day.

I mean look at this, my friend has this huge surprise for his woman, He's wearing a half heart T, expects her to wear the other half heart, he buys her flowers, chocolates, cupcakes, teddybears, she's looking pretty... and this morning they had a fight. Just because he forgot to say "Goodnight" last night. *shakes my head*

THIS is the day when Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts' Club Band comes together to pass the judgement, "I hereby declare that upon your rejection, you are now eligible to be the proud member of the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts' Club, and now you may hear the band perform."

This is the day when bars are flooded, and somewhere Roy Orbison's singing, "Only the lonely". This is the day when Chet Baker must have composed, "I guess she's the one, but not for me." This is the day the rejects unite to wallow in self misery, and get over it.

You know why? Because love happens. And just because you got dumped on the most overrated day of the year, it doesn't mean that things are never gonna work out. They will. You know why? Because everybody loves somebody sometime. And it's gonna happen. I have seen it happen. It DOES happen. It's never a fairy tale, it's never a cloud in the sky. It's a lot of work. A lot of commitment. A lot of keeping heads off the cloud and on the ground. But at the end of the day, the real deal's all there is. And all that is that it takes to be happy.

And here's to my goodbye, and happy Sad Single's Day.

Much love,
Maggie May

P.S. Switching from Neetzi to Maggie. Lemme know whaddya think? Muchos amore! :*

Wednesday, April 2



“You don’t understand!”

“Why does this happen to me?”

“My ovaries are killing me!!!!”

Yes, yes, yes! It does happen to us! It’s the worst thing in the history to happen to us. Period (I’m not even joking). Now, I’m going to sum you up as to why it is important for you to behave around a woman during that time of the month. Thing is that this is the deadliest period… almost a test. IF you do all the right things at the right time… think about it, there is still the rest of the month to be on her good side *arm nudge*.

If you skip this article, *feminist scream* typical man! That is just so typical of you to ignore how we feel! But if you haven’t, *flirtatious grin* hello, handsome ;) …

I understand, it is an uncomfortable topic, but then again, you have to face it, you do expect to be married, or have a girlfriend. If you’re gay, chances are you have a mother/ sister/ neurotic best friend. You cannot escape the feminine monthlies. No! That just does not happen. So read on, don’t be selfish.

Cramps. I HATE them, and every woman just hates (emphasis on hate), HATES them. I don’t know, but it is terrible, you know, having my left side ovaries attacking my right side ovaries, hosting that internal war and damaging my body in turn. Sitting hurts, laying down hurts, standing hurts, laying on my back hurts more. EVERYTHING HURTS! So, if you are calling, and I don’t pick up your call, it is because I am busy. Busy not being able to move because of these damned cramps. My lower belly IS Mordor. There is not a place more deadly in the whole of the Middle Earth.

If you see me walk past you with a ginormous box of chocolates/ chocolate ice cream, (pro-tip), pretend you haven’t seen it. No, seriously. Unsee it. I am not a sugar chugging beast- chocolate understands me, satisfies my needs, doesn’t judge me, and loves me unconditionally. I remember I had this T-shirt with a gingerbread man drawn on it, and it said, “The perfect man, good to smell, sweet to eat, and if he gives you any grief, BITE HIS HEAD OFF”. I used to wear that t-shirt around on the second day. We need chocolate, it’s like, our kryptonite. And yes, you can shower me with all the chocolate you want, and I promise I’ll marry you!

Hormones, seriously? Okay, God, Mother Nature, whoever you are… WHY you do this? Why is it that around that time of the month, I have a sudden urge to get romantic while I’m on the murdering rampage? Seriously, is necrophilia a woman’s thing? I’m not even sure. It’s like, I hate men, but I won’t mind kissing one. I hate what a man has to say, but I’d love to hear a dirty joke in a male voice… Not every man can be Wolverine! Please! Stop giving me unrealistic expectations, I have suffered enough pain (pun intended)!

Now, boys, here’s an insider’s secret, if you don’t know what wings are…. Die. Please. Thing is, if you’re living with me, I’ll be in enough pain to not only not move, but also in too much pain to go get myself a pad. So, chances are, you would have to get one for a woman (not just me, but any woman) at some point of your life. And it is IMPORTANT to know which one she wears. You have to know the right one, there’s no getting round this one. You must. Treat it like your fundamental duty. And DO it!

Bleeding. This isn’t exactly the worst thing, but it is true. We bleed. For five days. We don’t die. We’re Jesus, we’re saviors… who want to kill you. Anyway, I hate this part the most. I sleep night one, wake up day two, look at my white sheets, and find a flag of Japan. Worst is shower. I go in there, warm water, calming my ovaries, calming the pain, taming the beast within (that sounds almost sexy, wow), and right after that, the race to get dry and get dressed begins. I don’t want a bloody blood stain on my legs! White pants don’t get work because of these. I ruined so many of my salwars because of them. And it feels bad. I had this medical condition, I bled more than an average girl, now it is somewhat normal for initial periods to be like that… I used to cry a lot. Having my uniform ruined, having my dress for my cousin’s wedding ruined, and having my favorite bed sheet ruined… it felt so horrible. It’s not even about the dress, it’s about that I’m bleeding, it hurts, and I can’t do anything about it.

God, things I’ll do for a snickers bar right now. So boys, if you find yourself in a conflict, the worst thing to say is, “are you on your period?” because it’s not even remotely funny. I’m serious as hell, I’ll kill you till you die. And then respawn you, and kill you again. Keep calm, and wait for the end of the scarlet tide. I promise I’ll be good. ;)