Assumptions.

Once, a smart ass once told me that when you assume, you're making an ass out of you and me. And like all smart ass, he got that from tumblr. Seriously, he reblogged it on his page. Anyway, the point is that, assumptions are stupid and you're making yourself look like an asshole with your mouth yapping crap. Huh, that's an image for you.

If you want to know something, just ask.

Yes, it was just a stupid post.

I'm surprised you guys still read this crap, after many times I quit.

The thing about Jack.

It is 4:58 a.m. so I don't know why I am writing this either.

Jack.

I can't remember how we started. He was that cool dude with that afro and penguin waddle. Overtime, we talked and found out mutual things which grow into this funny dynamic. He was one of the "forbidden" ones as my ex would call it because of the way we interact - frankly it was because he can never understand our conversation. Actually Jill had that problem too, so whatever.

We are not that close though, it's not like a BFF sort of thing. But looking back,  Jack had been there every time I cried in public and was the guy that came over when I was sick and alone. If I list everything he did for me, it would be endless. Heck, I just realised this. The stupid telepathic conversation, the overthrowing of Jill's veto and saving up each other secrets.

But one thing I will never forget is that when he picked me up at the bus station, and like any self proclaimed big brother, took me out for dinner. When we arrived there, lo and behold, everyone's favourite douche was there with his new muse. Being a good big brother, he stepped on the pedal and told me not to look.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, sometimes we forgot those people around us and the stuff they did for us. Be it favors, the subtle you'll-be-ok comments or giving you a not so subtle slap when you just don't know when to quit. The stuff Jack did suddenly matters now. So I guess a thank you is needed.

Tick Tock goes the cranky clock.

Time is running out and like all scaredy cats, the moment we realized that we all ran towards God, presumably with our tail between our legs. It had been one heck of a year, in which a friend called it "the year Ira gone bonkers". Oh wait, it is actually a year today!

Anyway, so what now? Take it in strides? Stroll my way? Or how bout a light jog? 

Meh.
 
Might as well do it like Lance Amstrong.

Feet thumping.

Min invited me over today, seeing as I have nothing better to do. It's weird being in her apartment. It didn't suit her and her bohemian ways at all. It's all structural and steel. Without having to ask, she answered that it was all her husband's doing. Min being Min, ushered and fussed me to her studio and that is where all Min's aura exploded. Feathers, fringes and tie-dye. Now that is the Min I knew.

We talked a bit and finally Min decided I should listen to the stuff she's been fiddling with. I always had butterflies when Min decided to play her song to me. We had a thing where both of us would lay down and listen to her masterpiece, as I would call it, and she decided that if my feet were thumping (her words not mine) it's a good song.

She made about 7 songs. And I love each one of em. Min had a quirky way of putting weird lyrics in her song like "it was your toes, it was always your toes baby" It got me laughing and rolling around. And not only that, she serenades her favorite blue dress telling it to make beautiful blue skirts. I love the fact not everyone gets to listen to em.

We talked till her husband got home and played the piano for us. Min got out her phone recorded us doing the most horrible rendition of Paper Bag. She told me to stop listening to sappy songs and loaded my iphone with her own. Min decided then she wants to "decorate" my hair with feathers.

"Too bad its all going to fall off soon," I muttered. The reality of everything made us quiet and Min stopped playing with my hair.

Min then created me a song about my hair.

Won't stop rambling

I was pretending to read a book when I heard footsteps coming towards me. Suddenly the place doesn't smell like coffee anymore but an unmistakable scent that was oh-so-familiar. I took a peek, and was a bit disappointed that it was a complete stranger. He smirked a bit. I decided then, I hate people who smirked.

He said hello and introduced himself. I muttered a somewhat appropriate greeting and continue to read.

"You like to read?" he asked. No shit sherlock. "Yeah when I have the time, which I don't" I replied hiding my face to prevent anymore contact. It failed miserably when he continued asking about the books I read, and asked if I read magazines. "I read everything I guess, whatever that grabs my interest,"

"I see. Well I work for GQ magazine," and that ladies and gentleman, caught my interest.

"Are you a writer?" I asked. Please say yes. "Nope, I'm the graphic designer," Oh well.

"Cool job," I said and back to Chopin. Yeah not a chance, he started rambling.

Here's what I gather (remembered). His blood is a fascinating mixture of 5 races. He hasn't decided his religion. He had been all over the world. He owns a chihuahua, which he uses to pick up chicks. Have a CELTA certificate. His job pays him 15k and provides an apartment with a killer view. Yep, he showed me photos. More ramblings about his wealth.

Then he started telling me about his girlfriends. Plural, mind you. This is the point where it gets extremely awkward and uncomfortable. Words like sneaking in, being caught doing acts, naked and boxers was uttered. I can't look at him at that point. I looked at my watch, and pretended to be late. Thank you White Rabbit for being an inspiration.

A week later, he added me on Facebook. I looked at the mutual friends, and hot-diggoty-dang. Stupid small world.