A flea and a fly in a flue
Were imprisoned, so what could they do?
Said the fly, "let us flee!"
"Let us fly!" said the flea.
So they flew through a flaw in the flue.
I had a fun day today. I learned how to strum my first guitar note. On a shiny red electric guitar, which made strumming the note all the fun-ner. What can I say? I’m a sucker for bling. Speaking of bling, a friend of mine showed me an enviable rock on her hand today. Yet another one bites the dust. And all I can do is look at myself in the mirror and say ‘Alas poor Yorick’. Or some such. Her story is amazing. Apparently he’s an arranged match who she’s fallen in love with. And my reaction to this is: do these things actually happen? She’s happy – like a choco-holic at Max Brenner – and that’s the important thing. But I wonder how some people manage to fall in love with the boy their parents pick out (thereby getting the best of both worlds) and as it turns out he’s not only rich (her parents probably saw to that one) but he’s hot as well. As in head-turning hot (or-so-I-am-told-by-those-who-have-checked-him-out). And the cup runneth over. This is the point when my soul rebels the unfairness of an arranged marriage to a ‘lovable’ man who happens to be both rich and hot. And not that she doesn’t deserve her happiness, she does, she does (and I am truly, truly happier). It’s just that I also truly-truly wonder: Mera number kab aaye ga?