Yes yes, it is I. *Strikes a pose* The one and only. You may stop your applause, and you may take your seats.
It's the day back after the Easter long weekend. There is something a bit disorienting about returning after a long weekend. The way the change in routine tends to boggalize the mind, and leave one feeling a day lost somehow.
For me, I find myself pausing everytime I dwell on the idea that today is Monday. I have to stop and recheck that it is in fact Monday, and not Tuesday, which for some reason I feel it must be. Don't ask me how it works. If you're confused thus far, trust me, you'll be superconfused if you hear me attempting to explain how it works.
I am not even going to try. Breathes of relief are expected. In, two, three, four, and out, two, three, four. There was one occasion when I tried that breathing exercise out on a friend who was superstressed at the perplexities presented by the opposite sex. Yes, he was male; "Yo, wtf. I aint in labour."
So as I was on the topic of disorientation, I present to you a fine example today: Myself.
I woke up feeling like I hadn't slept all night, when in fact, I had done so for a good 8 hours. I slept the entire way to work, and while there is nothing new in that, it somehow contributed more towards the disorientation effect. I got to work to be treated with truffles from a coworker. I highly suspect that having champagne truffles first thing in the morning does not cure disorientation.
And so it is that I stumble along giddily to encounter specimens of potato. Yes, you heard me. The solanum tuberosum, the starchy plant tuber that is one of the most important food crops, cooked and eaten as a vegetable. MINE. Cmon now, it is not just a coincidence that it SOUNDS like awesome. Tuberosum, repeat after me, tuberosum. The Awesome Tuber.
I firmly hold onto the belief that the best things in the world start with the letter P. As the world goes on, and time and experiences take me down that river of life, I find it amazing how often this rule of thumb holds true. Pizza, pasta, paratha, pineapple, peach, pumpkin, pie, paani, potato. POTAYTO. PoTAHto.
What is in a name? That which we call a potato (n. /pəˈtātō/) by any other name would taste as potatoey.
So, I've got a thing for potatoes. So WHAT. It's not clinically critical. There are times I do refuse potatoes (just don't ask me when)...and yes, I don't experience withdrawal effects when I am not partaking of it.
I brought samosas for lunch. I was told that isn't lunch, its a snack. I must digress, five samosas are more than enough for a lunch. Before lunch however, I committed a crime. I visited the other department and under the pretext of socializing and disarming my coworkers with my charming smile, stole another truffle. A Jamaican Rum truffle. Of course, I think I did a booboo by announcing "I'm stealing a truffle!" because all the glee in stealing was flattened with "Yeah! Go ahead! They're organic! Good for you!". So it was that I trudged back to my floor with a not-so-stolen truffle and dreams of samosas and Coke waiting for me.
Yes you're tuned into Disorientation Station. Brought to you by white champagne and rum chocolates from Germany, Coca Cola, samosas and yoursssss truly.
My coworker brought me sweet potato fries. "Let's get fat together," says she. "Yesh," I blushed at the fries, "What a splendid idea."
It's the day back after the Easter long weekend. There is something a bit disorienting about returning after a long weekend. The way the change in routine tends to boggalize the mind, and leave one feeling a day lost somehow.
For me, I find myself pausing everytime I dwell on the idea that today is Monday. I have to stop and recheck that it is in fact Monday, and not Tuesday, which for some reason I feel it must be. Don't ask me how it works. If you're confused thus far, trust me, you'll be superconfused if you hear me attempting to explain how it works.
I am not even going to try. Breathes of relief are expected. In, two, three, four, and out, two, three, four. There was one occasion when I tried that breathing exercise out on a friend who was superstressed at the perplexities presented by the opposite sex. Yes, he was male; "Yo, wtf. I aint in labour."
So as I was on the topic of disorientation, I present to you a fine example today: Myself.
I woke up feeling like I hadn't slept all night, when in fact, I had done so for a good 8 hours. I slept the entire way to work, and while there is nothing new in that, it somehow contributed more towards the disorientation effect. I got to work to be treated with truffles from a coworker. I highly suspect that having champagne truffles first thing in the morning does not cure disorientation.
And so it is that I stumble along giddily to encounter specimens of potato. Yes, you heard me. The solanum tuberosum, the starchy plant tuber that is one of the most important food crops, cooked and eaten as a vegetable. MINE. Cmon now, it is not just a coincidence that it SOUNDS like awesome. Tuberosum, repeat after me, tuberosum. The Awesome Tuber.
I firmly hold onto the belief that the best things in the world start with the letter P. As the world goes on, and time and experiences take me down that river of life, I find it amazing how often this rule of thumb holds true. Pizza, pasta, paratha, pineapple, peach, pumpkin, pie, paani, potato. POTAYTO. PoTAHto.
What is in a name? That which we call a potato (n. /pəˈtātō/) by any other name would taste as potatoey.
So, I've got a thing for potatoes. So WHAT. It's not clinically critical. There are times I do refuse potatoes (just don't ask me when)...and yes, I don't experience withdrawal effects when I am not partaking of it.
I brought samosas for lunch. I was told that isn't lunch, its a snack. I must digress, five samosas are more than enough for a lunch. Before lunch however, I committed a crime. I visited the other department and under the pretext of socializing and disarming my coworkers with my charming smile, stole another truffle. A Jamaican Rum truffle. Of course, I think I did a booboo by announcing "I'm stealing a truffle!" because all the glee in stealing was flattened with "Yeah! Go ahead! They're organic! Good for you!". So it was that I trudged back to my floor with a not-so-stolen truffle and dreams of samosas and Coke waiting for me.
Yes you're tuned into Disorientation Station. Brought to you by white champagne and rum chocolates from Germany, Coca Cola, samosas and yoursssss truly.
My coworker brought me sweet potato fries. "Let's get fat together," says she. "Yesh," I blushed at the fries, "What a splendid idea."
