Winter Wryness

So yeah. Winters. Winters suck. Cause whenever winter starts yours truly is reminded of the 'Now is the winter of our discontent' and then around November it's GNR's 'November Rain' and around spring it's 'Bring wine, For tis spring!' and around April it's 'April is the cruelest month'. Thankfully there is not much depressing literature or music about summers, because in summers one sweats a lot and nobody can be depressed or unhappy when they sweat. The only thing good about winters is canoodling and sex, which is neither sweaty nor messy. So yeah.

But yours truly hasn't had any action for such a long time that he is practically a virgin now. And feels slightly like Ardal o Hanlon who once said in a stand up that lovemaking is not an unpleasant activity, if memory serves me correctly. So yeah. Life. Anyway, this winter is cold and particularly windy and for some odd reason yours truly is reminded of a long gone winter when he was just a young boy who used to ride his bicycle all through the afternoon trying to figure out his small and dead-end home town and used to come home at dusk to always find a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice on the kitchen counter. And mother was usually not around after squeezing them oranges and there was something purely raw in the evening. And the first girl friend of yours truly used to call it the saddest time of the day. Yours truly on the contrary believed it to be a time to shower and refresh. But back then  everything was so emptily innocent that the merest of nostalgia makes one feel Proust-ic.  Like yours truly said, life huh. Anyway bottom line being that yours truly is not big on winters and all that rain, snow, fogs, chilly winds etc are not worth the sweat-less lovemaking.

Anyway so met yours truly this girl, as usual. She was the text book yours truly type of a girl. Naturally curly black hair, easy to laugh, cheerful brilliant honest laughter, voluptuous and biggish thickish kind of lips. She kept saying she drinks like a man. And there was a bottle of whiskey to be killed. Although she didn't prefer whiskey like any ladylike lady, yet she still took on yours truly drink for drink at that cheap whiskey, which yours truly doesn't know for sure was ladylike or unladylike. Nevertheless, as bottom of the bottle was neared, she got drunk. Like massively smashed. And it was the textbook cute drunk act. She would just laugh each time yours truly gave her the monosyllable caution, "laugh". And then there she was half lying on the bathroom floor, hugging the commode trying to throw up. And she couldn't throw up. And then as yours truly was going to drop her to her home, she threw up all over the curb. And then at her door step. Yours truly stared and watched. And felt nothing.

Hence, that night yours truly concluded that he must've become either impotent or homosexual.

And then yours truly got a terrible flu and didn't take any medication except panadols and in this high fever had this dream in which two of his dude mates were making out in subway. Hence it is to be inferred of this post that yours truly is now officially gay. And it's probably because of the winter because winters are dangerous. FML!


PS: The last post Winter Wryness, which some of you might have read in the RSS feed burners. Yours truly was terribly stoned, drunk and bitter that night. Drunk posts suck. Apologies.