Bloody Hell!

I wished things were slightly better. I am it is ok, that it's still fucking cold most of the time. And it's June. Those women out there should be roasting. Themselves at this time of the year. The forecast is gloomy, so you don't plan for a proper outing. And voila the sun is out for about as long as you can see right up Britney's skirt while she gets off the car. And they're gone - the view of the sun and the moon. It will rain mostly this weekend. The wind that bringeth this weather should be shot or atleast covered in a largish towel, the towel sent for dry-cleaning, and lost forever in the dark hole of the laundromat.

I sometimes envy the guys - you know the types who topped whose camaraderie with their school pals is still intact, who won all the competitions on the way to topping in their classes, who got into IITs and then into IIMs and then quit a cushy ludricrously paying job to start a new venture and made even more moolah there. Meanwhile, ran through a thousand girl-friends, all just giggling and eye fluttering at these handsome hunks (yes, they found the time to body scuplt as well), and then got married to the most gorgeous babe in town. I don't just envy such guys, I hate them from the bottom of my gall bladder. You would think, that such guys form a miniscule portion of the populace like those who do the shirshana at 5.45 am every morning and simultaneously read 'Gravity Is Going To My Head' by Chutpati Vedamuttu, over and over again, and then under and above. Endlessly. No, these guys exist in ample. They prowl the streets of Goldville, and own the most popular blogs and have the most number of friends on Orkut. Oh, how I hate them.

Self doubt is a place where you had been earlier and demolished all the street signs. And you are there now. You don't know where to go or what to do.