My laundry for the week is done. Oh wait, I still have that bedsheet to deal with. Ah well, I'll give it to Sancy. Damn, they charge a lot. Oh, I have to stop at the ATM. Screw it, I'm too tired to stop anywhere, go straight home and into bed. Erm, dinner. What should I eat? Those sattu parathas from Food Junction are brilliant. But I don't want to go alone. Too many guys at this time. Ergh. Grow up. You're not in a small town anymore. And those guys are cute too. Ah well. Dammit, forgot to call Mom again. She's going to be upset. I have to book tickets too! How long is it to salary day? Damn that's too long. And the office trip is this weekend. Shit, I have nothing to wear. Shut up, Conscience, I DO NOT have anything to wear and that's true. Reminds me, where is that shrug I got last week. I hope she didn't flick it like she flicked the last one. I have to talk to her about moving out. Better still, I hope she moves out. God, why does she have a problem with how late I get home! Just because her boyfriend is too busy to entertain her. Ugh. Why do I get stuck with such people. And I cribbed about my college roommates. I miss them. Okay, now I feel guilty, I suck at keeping in touch and I still crib about missing them. I'll set reminders to call Indu this weekend. I should go down and visit her sometime. Been too long since I even talked to Aunty. Oooh, that be a sexy bike. I wish I had legs long enough to ride one of those. Damn. What and all God chooses not to give us. I should ressurect my Twitter. Well, fine, I'm hopeless at fitting things into 140 characters but still, I like the new app. And I need to check my inbox, too many messages unreplied. Why is that guy revving his stupid scooter? 19 seconds more to go and he's already in a hurry. The last straw will be if he honks at me. There he goes, asshole. I'm not budging until it's green, moron, go over me if you want to. Ah, here come the pedestrians, one day I'm going to take the time to stop and tell you how fucking awesome you are, not. I should get pizza and watch the rest of Magic Mike. No pizza, no money. Tickets. Tatum, I love you, how could you marry Dewan. The Duchess is having a baby! No shit. Please start. NOW. Ah, thank God.
P.S: In case you didn't guess, this is a depiction of what goes on in my head when I'm waiting for the traffic light to turn green. Yes, I'm entirely, hopelessly random like that.