Detectives And Baby Animals

I just ate -

A McChicken burger, large fries, a coke and a small chocolate soft serve with extra topping. (But I still fit into my skinny jeans! It's like Shakespeare said - Haters gonna hate, potatoes gonna potate)

I feel a little sick.

I haven't played in a week, I have no idea how I'm going to burn all this junk I'm piling on. In the meantime though, I can't exactly say this bothers me. (The getting fat part. The not playing badminton bothers me. It bothers me a lot.)

Good Evening!

Inspite of being a non model student, I have accidentally once again been selected in the student council, as the Vice Captain of my house. We had the ceremony today, and it was so funny, the sash I got with the badge was longer than my skirt. Way longer. My co vice captain and I shared many laughs about this.

Also,

*3 hours and one Physics Tuition later*

Also, what? I don't remember now.

So I was thinking the other day, about my depressing love life and all. Why is it so hard to find nowadays? I mean all I want in a boy, is charm like James Potter, wit like Mohammad Tariq, humour like Dave The Laugh, maybe a singing voice like Flynn Rider, a brain like Michael Moscovitz, and looks like Sirius Black. Like wow, is that really too much to ask for.

Anyway, that is not the point. The point is that there are currently three lizards living in my bathroom. I have christened them, namely, Pascal, Slytherin, and Juju. I'm sure there are more than three now, it's somewhat alarming to see at how fast a pace they're reproducing. But ah, live and let live, or something. 

But the awesome thing is that one of them is probably the baby lizard I had previously blogged about. It has grown up to be a fine young man. Or woman, I'm not gender biased like that. It's good to see your young ones grow up before your eyes.

I currently have an obsession with baby animals. From baby teacup pigs, to baby pandas. I want them all. I keep telling this friend of mine, let's call him Jai, to get a baby polar bear for me. We must remember however, that boys are species unknown to mankind, so I don't know whether he will keep this promise or not. I was also telling him the other day (for no reason at all) about how I wanted a dolphin, and how I would name it Fuzzy Boots, when he pointed out that the name was ironic since the dolphin in question, or any dolphin for that matter, did not have legs, hence making the name scientifically incorrect.

Touché. 

When I was a kid, my mother always told me that she wanted a baby elephant to keep in the backyard. There was a catch though; she wanted this elephant to never grow up, thus maintaining it's cuteness, forever and always. I'm pretty sure the 'never-growing-up' theory has devolped because of me. When I was like two, and we lived in London, I would carry brooms up and down the streets and randomly clean stuff, and now that I'm sixteen (almost, just two months to go) I clean my room about once in four months.

Anyway, we must remember that this cleaning-streets-of-London story was told to me by my elder sister, who has deceived me many times in the past. Allow me to quote an example.

The year was 2006. We were in Fremantle, Australia. I was in elementary school. My sister was in high school, meaning that she came home about ten minutes before me, everyday. Anyway, I was eight, and like all eight year olds, I was obsessed with detectives. I was obsessed. My parents got me this magnifying glass, and I would carry it everywhere with me. I would pretend to be a detective, and when my then-thirteen-year-old (now twenty) sister was in a good mood, she'd play with me. I'd put on sunglasses (like all detectives, duh) and scramble around the house with my magnifying glass. Bliss.

Anyway, one day, I got an email. From an actual detective. Wow, I know. Impressive. Legit detectives keeping tabs on eight year olds pretending to be detectives - believable! The email said that it was from a detective agency, and they wanted to hire me. But this was a secret, I couldn't tell anyone. I was on cloud nine. My entire career was planned out for me. Life could be enjoyed at last.

I held on to this secret. It was my pride. I had proved myself. God was rewarding me for my endeavors.

My glee was short lived.

My mother sat me down one day, and explained to me how this was all my sister's (evil) doing. She'd come home everyday from school, and send these emails to me every day, just before I came home. That's how she was always one step ahead of me. Ah.

Retrospectively speaking, I should have guessed that someone was messing with me, I'm sure the email address that I was getting emails from was something like 'detective123@wearedetectives.com'. Like come on, we all that all detectives have awesomesauce and believable addresses like 'vanilla thunder 93' and so on. So anyway, my sister had been tampering with my dreams and aspirations. I made a very long plan to get back at her, which involved me pretending to be her basketball coach and saying that she had been selected for a tournament, but the plan backfired because I fell asleep devising it. 

Hello, I was eight.

That's how my sister broke my heart seven years ago, about which I still cry into my pillow at night (sometimes). 

The End.