Monday, July 26, 2010

Rant I can; rant I will

I hate people.

I hate people I meet in places where you shouldn't really be spending time, but you always do. Places like lobbies, queues, traffic jams, elevators.

Particularly Elevators.

The guy who invented the elevator must've been pretty impressed with himself. He probably thought "Gosh dude, this is like so totally cool. People won't like have to you know, walk up and down and stuff"

Pictured here: The guy who invented the elevator and his future wife.

What the poor guy didn't realize was that he was actually creating tiny claustrophobia inducing capsules of hell.

And I haven't even started talking about the people.

Okay, you know what, I'm not gonna go into details. In fact, I'm gonna talk about just one guy. One single dude.

I call him Overtly-Effeminate-Random-Guy-Who-Apparently-Lives-In-My-Building (OERGWALIMB for short)

I don't know him. I've lived here for four years now. I still have no idea who he is/what he does/on which floor he lives.

But this lack of information doesn't seem to bother him. Mr.Watsisname insists on talking to me. Every single time. And he gets on my nerves. Real bad.

Its always the same questions:
"Where are you studying"
"Oh. You know I studied in ______"
"How are your studies going?"
"How is Dubai?"
"How long will you be here?"
"Which branch?"
"What are you planning to do after B.E.?"
Yep, every single time.

Today (thankfully) I didn't have to spend more than 10 seconds with him. I was getting out of the elevator and he was entering. And still, that amazing man pissed me off.

As I was walking (read: running) away from him he shouts-not remarks-he shouts "Oh! Your hair is straight. Did you get it straightened?"

Die, you bloodsucking rat, die.

Now I ask the normal people out there: why on earth do you have to state the obvious? For four years my hair has been like chocolate colored fusili pasta pasted on a human head. Hair doesn't decide on a random morning "Hey, I wanna be straight!" (no pun intended. However, a person is more likely to "switch" his/her sexuality than my hair getting de-curled on its own) Its like asking a corpse "Excuse me, but are you dead?"

"I asked her whether she was dead. That was three hours ago and I still haven't gotten a reply"
'Well, in that can I guess we can assume that she's dead"

I don't know what to make of him. Either he's some sort of an evil perv or he's just plain perky.

Either way, when I rule the world, I'm throwing him into the Pit of (death and) Despair.

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