Ditchin Da Dump?!
Omg, am so friggin pissed?! Just wrote the first "intellectual" entry that i have EVER written, and this stinkin' site just died on me?! Grrrrr...Anyway, I've decided not to let the computer win this battle, even if it means me staying awake until 5am to finish this friggin thing! (Shuddup, I'm past the denial stage, I know I have no life, aite?).
Well, tonites the last night I'm gonna spend in Oz for quite a bit. Tomorrow, at this time, I'm going to be a billion miles up in the air, on my way to India! (which, as many of you already know, I refer to as 'curryland'). Yeah, I'm all excited and all that, I mean, I love my grandma's cooking, visiting my cousins and relies (some of which I never knew even existed) and indulging on heaps n heaps of sugary goodies; the only problem is the idea of 'getting there'. I mean, don't get me wrong or anything, the concept of being able to travel halfway across the globe in a matter of half a day totally excites me, but its the very idea of having to spend around twelve hours (in total) in three friggin planes that makes my gut turn to jello.
My plane journey primarily consists of hogging the window seat, ensuring that my mum's head doesn't end up hanging into the aisle as she sleeps, playing Mario consistently (and losing every 5 minutes), watching crummy movies and doodling out postcards (to a million curry 'aunties n uncles'). Wait- and that's just the BETTER part. The rest of the time is spent with me trying to gulp down chunks of unidentified plastic tasting matter, wrapped up in little foil covered containers- yep, welcome to the wonderful world of plane cuisine! I only do this so as to prevent my stomach from digesting itself, and keep my good ol' ma happy. In order to do this, however, it usually means I end up swallowing gallons of Coke, which in turn (more sooner than later) results in me having to .. er.. 'go'. And that's the worst bit! (for those of you who do not wish to read any further, just stop now.. don't say i didn't warn you!)
I mean, ok, as many of you know, I have a phobia against many things- things that fly, things that crawl (esp. spiders), hairy things, .... and little spaces. One of the biggest unsolved mysteries of life that plague me constantly is that of the whole "let's see how small we can build the cubicle" mystery. Most of you can probably relate to what I'm sayin. I mean, geez, have you seen the size of those things?! Sometimes I wonder if they built them based on a blueprint from some kinda horror freakshow or something. What with the amount of space in there, its no wonder that one of my worst nightmares involves me suffering from concussion caused during turbulence and left just lying there! If that were to happen, knowing my luck- I'd just be left in there to rot, while the other passengers probably think that Im just taking a dump! (sorry, couldn't think of a politer way of putting it). Oh and to make matter worse, they decide to throw in one of 'em suction flushes that feel like they're just about rady to suck you into wherever they lead!
Omg, I think I'm just about to begin hyperventilating.... that's it for now.
P.S.
Hope I survive tomorrow's journey! Amen!
Well, tonites the last night I'm gonna spend in Oz for quite a bit. Tomorrow, at this time, I'm going to be a billion miles up in the air, on my way to India! (which, as many of you already know, I refer to as 'curryland'). Yeah, I'm all excited and all that, I mean, I love my grandma's cooking, visiting my cousins and relies (some of which I never knew even existed) and indulging on heaps n heaps of sugary goodies; the only problem is the idea of 'getting there'. I mean, don't get me wrong or anything, the concept of being able to travel halfway across the globe in a matter of half a day totally excites me, but its the very idea of having to spend around twelve hours (in total) in three friggin planes that makes my gut turn to jello.
My plane journey primarily consists of hogging the window seat, ensuring that my mum's head doesn't end up hanging into the aisle as she sleeps, playing Mario consistently (and losing every 5 minutes), watching crummy movies and doodling out postcards (to a million curry 'aunties n uncles'). Wait- and that's just the BETTER part. The rest of the time is spent with me trying to gulp down chunks of unidentified plastic tasting matter, wrapped up in little foil covered containers- yep, welcome to the wonderful world of plane cuisine! I only do this so as to prevent my stomach from digesting itself, and keep my good ol' ma happy. In order to do this, however, it usually means I end up swallowing gallons of Coke, which in turn (more sooner than later) results in me having to .. er.. 'go'. And that's the worst bit! (for those of you who do not wish to read any further, just stop now.. don't say i didn't warn you!)
I mean, ok, as many of you know, I have a phobia against many things- things that fly, things that crawl (esp. spiders), hairy things, .... and little spaces. One of the biggest unsolved mysteries of life that plague me constantly is that of the whole "let's see how small we can build the cubicle" mystery. Most of you can probably relate to what I'm sayin. I mean, geez, have you seen the size of those things?! Sometimes I wonder if they built them based on a blueprint from some kinda horror freakshow or something. What with the amount of space in there, its no wonder that one of my worst nightmares involves me suffering from concussion caused during turbulence and left just lying there! If that were to happen, knowing my luck- I'd just be left in there to rot, while the other passengers probably think that Im just taking a dump! (sorry, couldn't think of a politer way of putting it). Oh and to make matter worse, they decide to throw in one of 'em suction flushes that feel like they're just about rady to suck you into wherever they lead!
Omg, I think I'm just about to begin hyperventilating.... that's it for now.
P.S.
Hope I survive tomorrow's journey! Amen!
posted by NaZZ at 8:11 pm
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