<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957</id><updated>2012-02-17T23:55:56.048-08:00</updated><category term='Iron and Wine'/><category term='Samuel Beam'/><category term='Music'/><title type='text'>So, this is me.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>89</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-5543218619363394202</id><published>2012-01-07T01:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-07T01:36:21.112-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_WhnBg7fux8/TwgR1gMrzYI/AAAAAAAAAJE/60neaYxn9zo/s1600/398152_10151134510170007_663780006_22038537_1014763112_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_WhnBg7fux8/TwgR1gMrzYI/AAAAAAAAAJE/60neaYxn9zo/s1600/398152_10151134510170007_663780006_22038537_1014763112_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;SO there we were, driving around in Bandra at 2 a.m when we saw this.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;-LOL-&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;The writings on a clearly whitewashed fence of what looked like a posh building. This is why I love the drunken stupors in Mumbai.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;I NEED to know who did this, just so that I can applaud!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;If any of you have a clue who it was, do tell!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-5543218619363394202?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/5543218619363394202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=5543218619363394202&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5543218619363394202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5543218619363394202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2012/01/so-there-we-were-driving-around-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_WhnBg7fux8/TwgR1gMrzYI/AAAAAAAAAJE/60neaYxn9zo/s72-c/398152_10151134510170007_663780006_22038537_1014763112_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-5791964751995507190</id><published>2011-12-22T04:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-22T04:27:44.121-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Labels.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;There is nothing worse than labelling a person. The problem with labels is that they put people in a bracket of assumptions, in a shell that they can't get out of. Labels are an outcome of ignorance. When something is beyond your&amp;nbsp;understanding, how much easier is it to simply label the person than to find out why that person acts in a certain manner. It is the easy way out. And&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;that&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;is exactly why I dislike it. Once you label a person, nobody cares about the evidence of its validity.&amp;nbsp;When you label a person, you scuff away any opportunity for them to rise above the expectation.&amp;nbsp;If a woman is disgusted by a 'Woman in the kitchen' joke, she's a feminist; if a straight lady has gay friends, she's a fag-hag; if a person does not involve in outrageous acts, he's a loser; if a girl does not kiss on her 3rd date, she's a prude, if she dates a lot of men, she's a slut; if a man does not make a move on the first date, he's a coward.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;How can we describe a person in just one word? People are complex,&amp;nbsp;multifaceted. When you label a jar, you are preventing yourself from seeing a part of its contents. Likewise, when you label a person, you are only trying to find a way to not see the side of the person that contradicts your preconceived opinion. Because that takes you out of your comfort zone. It's a way to 'describe' a person in the manner that suits&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;you&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;best. How is that fair?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why assume there's only so much to a person? Why not take a chance and find out more? Why not remember, that everyone has the right to be exactly who they are?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Assume nothing. Labels are for objects, not people.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-5791964751995507190?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/5791964751995507190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=5791964751995507190&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5791964751995507190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5791964751995507190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/12/labels.html' title='Labels.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-7018892805475005148</id><published>2011-11-04T02:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-04T02:58:03.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tumblr.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I joined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://whimsicalness.tumblr.com/"&gt;http://whimsicalness.tumblr.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay? Bye!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-7018892805475005148?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/7018892805475005148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=7018892805475005148&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7018892805475005148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7018892805475005148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/11/tumblr.html' title='Tumblr.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-882039828405152888</id><published>2011-11-04T00:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-04T00:50:47.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lessons I've learnt.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you think something is wrong, doesn't mean it really is.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you wouldn't do something, doesn't mean someone who does, is wrong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you don't always show it, doesn't mean you don't care.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because someone loves you, doesn't mean they have to understand you every time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Contrary to 'It's the opinion of people who know you that matters', it should be, 'It's the&amp;nbsp;opinion&amp;nbsp;of sensible and righteous people (who may or may not) know you that matters.' &amp;nbsp;Screw the rest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because 10 people agree with you, doesn't mean you are right.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because 10 people disagree with you, doesn't mean you are wrong.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you are not popular doesn't mean you are not interesting.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you are popular doesn't mean you are.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Nobody knows &lt;b&gt;you &lt;/b&gt;as good as you do. However, some people may be really close. And it's okay to be a little intimidated by them.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You are your best&amp;nbsp;judge&amp;nbsp;of character, and your best critic.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you turned a close friend down doesn't mean you're a "She/He made him/her fall in love with her/him and then turned him down" bitch of a person. It only means you are &lt;b&gt;not interested&lt;/b&gt; in being more than friends.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you love someone doesn't mean you have to be with them.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;But if you don't love someone, how can you be with them?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you're close friends doesn't mean you need to share common interests.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you share common interests doesn't mean you can be close friends. Although, it's a lot easier.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you avoid someone that pisses you off doesn't mean you're not strong enough, it only means you don't want to waste your time on them.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You don't &lt;b&gt;always&lt;/b&gt; have to do the right thing. You're human. It goes with it. You can do the wrong thing as long as it doesn't hurt anybody else and you're prepared for the consequences.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You Always know what you want. Always. You just don't try hard enough to get to the place where you find out. I&amp;nbsp;received&amp;nbsp;this message once:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"When in doubt, toss a coin, because when it's up in the air, you know what your heart is&amp;nbsp;secretly&amp;nbsp;wishing for"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I was amazed by just how true this is.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you cry a lot, doesn't mean you are weak. One of my closest friend cries, a Lot, and she is one of the strongest women I know of.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you have dated (or have had a crush on) a lot of people doesn't mean you're a player/ flirt/ slut. It only means that you are a romantic who loves the idea of being in love and that you are strong enough to take risks for what you want.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you never date doesn't mean you're a prude. It only means you don't get emotionally attached too easily and you are not willing to risk it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you have never been in a relationship doesn't mean you don't know anything about it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because you have, doesn't mean you know everything about it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We are talking relationship, we are not talking Love. And no, they don't always go together. Either ways.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A smile really can cheer a dull day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Just because I think so, doesn't mean You have to, too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Over and out soldiers!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-882039828405152888?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/882039828405152888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=882039828405152888&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/882039828405152888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/882039828405152888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/11/lessons-ive-learnt.html' title='Lessons I&apos;ve learnt.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8042583514208676015</id><published>2011-09-17T23:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-17T23:02:52.265-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iron and Wine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Samuel Beam'/><title type='text'>Iron and Wine.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KMZhSCtw6r4/TnWHpiRsinI/AAAAAAAAAH4/MYZPjwZ8aDw/s1600/Iron+%2526+Wine+-+Around+The+Well.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KMZhSCtw6r4/TnWHpiRsinI/AAAAAAAAAH4/MYZPjwZ8aDw/s1600/Iron+%2526+Wine+-+Around+The+Well.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;How the hell did I not find out about this band all this time?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;HOW?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Best music I have heard in a while. A *very* long while.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here, I am attaching the links to a few songs so that you can hear 'em too. You won't regret it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DDfM1byYLyY&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;Boy with a coin&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rogop4J9KhU&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;Free until they cut me down&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=75r87o9dmVE"&gt;Flightless Bird&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvtRLtmEhvM"&gt;Fever Dream&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s3Ag-C2y85Q/TnWHlk_nHQI/AAAAAAAAAH0/33-UcY9WmYE/s1600/8287.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s3Ag-C2y85Q/TnWHlk_nHQI/AAAAAAAAAH0/33-UcY9WmYE/s320/8287.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I thank lord for this man's being.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8042583514208676015?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8042583514208676015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8042583514208676015&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8042583514208676015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8042583514208676015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/09/iron-and-wine.html' title='Iron and Wine.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KMZhSCtw6r4/TnWHpiRsinI/AAAAAAAAAH4/MYZPjwZ8aDw/s72-c/Iron+%2526+Wine+-+Around+The+Well.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-7243802539205852004</id><published>2011-09-10T01:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-10T01:38:37.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost and found.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;You know the saying, you don't really realise the value of something until you've completely lost it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;It is true alright.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always been the kind of person that does not sulk too much over losing things/people. One of my very close friend once told me that he is not sure how he feels about who I am. &amp;nbsp;He is confused whether he should be really happy about the fact that nothing bothers me so much, or just really worried about the fact that &lt;b&gt;nothing&lt;/b&gt; bothers me so much. It bothers him that I can laugh and talk endlessly to people like nothing's wrong right after a big fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he will be very happy when he reads this post. If, he reads this post at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this sinking feeling in my heart like I have lost something. I can't really put a finger on it, but I know it's there. I feel happy and sad at the same time. Happy because I actually &lt;b&gt;feel&lt;/b&gt; something so strongly, and sad because it takes for me to lose something to have a feeling this strong in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a blank expression and a smile on my face, simultaneously. I feel strong, I feel suddenly weak. I laugh, I don't want to laugh anymore. I talk, I want to be left alone. I want a distraction, I want to be consumed by the thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel.. confused. And I'd like to believe that is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am finally open to the possibility that there are things/people that matter to me. I may not care about it so much, because my intrinsic self is fighting it so strongly, but at the same time, I know I feel the loss. I feel the pain of losing. And more than anything, I am allowing myself to sulk over it without going "Man, this is bloody stupid!" in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I am finally entering a new stage in my life. I am having an &lt;b&gt;evolution&lt;/b&gt;, for the lack of a better word.&lt;br /&gt;That being said, I am obviously going to laugh out loud and talk endlessly like nothing's wrong. I am just having an evolution, it's not like someone blew a new soul into me.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost. I found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-7243802539205852004?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/7243802539205852004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=7243802539205852004&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7243802539205852004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7243802539205852004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/09/lost-and-found.html' title='Lost and found.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-3249693788329860136</id><published>2011-09-01T08:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-01T08:35:49.815-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When I turned 23.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My father and sister flew down from Surat and Bangalore, respectively.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I had seven people call me between 11:30 to 11:55 p.m. just so that they could be the first ones to wish me. KP was officially the first one to wish me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My Grad friends (Neha, Kushi, Ram, Ashish, Alkash and Nimish) came over with a cake at 12 a.m. which read 32 instead of 23! &amp;nbsp;Haw!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qRhZKvY5DO0/Tl-f9tcKyII/AAAAAAAAAHo/Tm37RCtnV_o/s1600/DSC02157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qRhZKvY5DO0/Tl-f9tcKyII/AAAAAAAAAHo/Tm37RCtnV_o/s320/DSC02157.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My Post grad friends (Neha, P2, Poonam, Aditya, Ankit, Rachita, Nishant, Shubhra, Aditya and Naman) &amp;nbsp;threw a surprise party for me, where they decorated the room with balloons and confetti. I felt like an eight year old, it made me very happy. : )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My good friend Aditya Pathare reached college early only to decorate the board of the class for me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My good friend Poonam took a good dose of yelling from me just to get me to her place (where my friends had arranged for the surprise)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My good friend Neha Dhanuka cooked brownie for me. It was way better than most sizzling&amp;nbsp;brownies&amp;nbsp;I have had.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-99_NkPURWjY/Tl-gJZ-2UjI/AAAAAAAAAHs/XPiwP_Nrcgk/s1600/316363_10150276742955741_715180740_8289939_4796553_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-99_NkPURWjY/Tl-gJZ-2UjI/AAAAAAAAAHs/XPiwP_Nrcgk/s320/316363_10150276742955741_715180740_8289939_4796553_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My good friend Monu ran around on one of his bad days (LOL.. Aww..) so that I could get my birthday gift (a watch) on time. He got a gray dial instead of black. He thought it was a black dial, just a very shiny one. (Hahaha!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My mom cooked for 12 people in half hour notice.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My good friend Palki flew down from Chennai.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;One of my friend gifted me a pair of &lt;b&gt;Boxing Gloves&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ate almost half a KG cake.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I realised I am blessed with such wonderful people in my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love love them all so much.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;: )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-3249693788329860136?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/3249693788329860136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=3249693788329860136&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3249693788329860136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3249693788329860136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/09/when-i-turned-23.html' title='When I turned 23.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qRhZKvY5DO0/Tl-f9tcKyII/AAAAAAAAAHo/Tm37RCtnV_o/s72-c/DSC02157.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-5103388392320865166</id><published>2011-08-12T23:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-12T23:51:24.648-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The L Word</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;This, &lt;i&gt;this&lt;/i&gt; is one of the most powerful thing that I have heard on a T.V. Series (I am a T.V. Series addict, in case you already didn't know). I would curse myself if I didn't share it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I am not implying anything against men. That being said, I suppose I agree with this, like most women (and some men who are not living in denial).&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I also understand that two people &lt;i&gt;are&lt;/i&gt; capable of making each other better persons. But not this way, they are not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;There is sufficient use of explicit language. For those who dislike it, please stop now. Don't tell me that I didn't warn you later.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;[&lt;i&gt;Mark tries to make amends after Jenny discovers he has been filming her and Shane on hidden cameras&lt;/i&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Mark Wayland&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;: I wish so much that there was something I could do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Jenny:&lt;/i&gt; No, I don't think there's anything that you can do. I think you did it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Mark Wayland&lt;/i&gt;: When I moved in here, I was the type of guy who was capable of doing shit like this. But I am not that guy anymore. I know that I've said it before, but you and Shane have made me a better man.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Jenny&lt;/i&gt;: Oh, f**k off, Mark. It's not my job to make you a better man and I don't give a shit if I've made you a better man. It's not a f**king woman's job to be consumed and invaded and spat out so that some f**king man can evolve.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Mark Wayland&lt;/i&gt;: That's not what I meant.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Jenny&lt;/i&gt;: What the f**k are you talking about, then, Mark? You give me one reason why you think that I should forgive you.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Mark Wayland&lt;/i&gt;: Because, Jenny. I made a big, big mistake. But from that I have learned how difficult it is to be a woman.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Jenny&lt;/i&gt;: Ugh. Please.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;[&lt;i&gt;Walks away&lt;/i&gt;]&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Mark Wayland&lt;/i&gt;: Wait, Jenny! Hey! Look at this!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;[&lt;i&gt;Strips naked&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;]&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Jenny&lt;/i&gt;: What are you doing?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Mark Wayland&lt;/i&gt;: Is this what you want?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Jenny&lt;/i&gt;: No.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;[&lt;i&gt;Hurls a pen at him&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;]&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Jenny&lt;/i&gt;: What I want is for you to write "F**k me" on your chest. Write it. Do it! And then I want you to walk out that door and I want you to walk down the street, and anybody that wants to f**k you, say, "Sure! Sure! No problem!" And when they do, you have to say, "Thank you very, very much." And make sure that you have a smile on your face. And then, you stupid f**king coward, you're gonna know what it feels like to be a woman.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;- The L word.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-5103388392320865166?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/5103388392320865166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=5103388392320865166&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5103388392320865166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5103388392320865166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-dont-think-that-i-am-feminist-per-se.html' title='The L Word'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-2872020511484964711</id><published>2011-08-11T03:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-11T03:37:57.418-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;He will give you strength when you feel weak. He will make you tea when you're sick, it will be terrible. He will make fun of you. He will laugh when others make fun of you. He will ask them to shut the hell up when it'll cross the line. He will get jealous when other men hit on you. He will flirt with other women in front of you. He will Never flirt with other women when you are not around. He will be your best friend. He will be your punching bag. He will patiently wait while you try on clothes. He will ask you to buy the first thing you pick. He does not care what you look like when you're going out for dinner. But when you do look good, it will show on his face. He will never cheat on you. He will give you all the respect you&amp;nbsp;deserve. He is friendly to your friends. He is a son to your parents. He will not talk ill about you, whether you are together or not. He will not comment on the food you made when you are having it. He will tell you after 3 days how terrible it really was and laugh at you. He will Want to pay for you. He will let you pay if he knows it means that much to you. He will listen to your endless rantings patiently. He will leave you alone when you ask him too. He will not leave you alone if he knows you need him but your ego is giving you away. He will not let anyone hurt you. He will make you laugh on a rough day. He will laugh the loudest when you make a blunder. He loves his friends as much as he loves you, he needs you to understand that. He might not have a solution but he will listen to all your problems. He will drop you home when it's possible. He is much stronger than you are, but he will let you have your moments of glory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is a man. A Real Man. Nothing more, nothing less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"I can't go there, I am wearing slippers, I will be the mad girl who fell off like crazy!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;He took off his shoes and held her hand.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"There, now when you fall down, you'll take me down with you. So We'll be the mad people who fell off like crazy! Now just come already!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"No one can talk to you like that, I mean don't get me wrong, you really are completely crazy and a huge pain in the ass, but only I am allowed to say that."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have him, you better keep him. You might never get so lucky again.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-2872020511484964711?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/2872020511484964711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=2872020511484964711&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2872020511484964711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2872020511484964711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/08/he.html' title='He.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-625633400964832251</id><published>2011-07-20T07:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T07:41:58.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'>She.</title><content type='html'>She will put the pieces of your life together. She will dust off your old dreams and make them shine again. She will nurse you like an angel when you are sick. She will keep you grounded. She will need you to reassure her. She will be your best friend's best friend. She will make you laugh on the dullest days. She will let you open the door for her. She will pay for her expenses. She will need you to fight for her. She will hold your hand when you're feeling low. She will leave you alone when you want to be alone. She will balance her family, friends, your family, your friends and you at the same time. She is the mother of your unborn children. She will stand by you when the world doesn't. She will make your bed when you are tired. She will wait for you. She will fight with you. She will fight for you. She will make up with you and let go. She needs to know you are sincere. She wants to know you care. She will laugh at your dumbest jokes. She will make fun of you. She will punch you. She will not let anyone else touch you. She will irritate you. She will correct you. She will tell you when you're wrong. She will fix your problems. She will do all the worrying for you. She will listen to you even if she is tired as hell. She needs you to listen to her when she's low. She will be your best friend. She will have a solution to all your problems. She is stronger than she seems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is a woman. A Real woman. Nothing more, nothing less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you know her, you must be crazy to not want her.&lt;br /&gt;If you have her, you must be crazy to not respect her.&lt;br /&gt;If you had her and you lost her, you must be crazy. Period.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-625633400964832251?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/625633400964832251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=625633400964832251&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/625633400964832251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/625633400964832251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/07/she.html' title='She.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-3897960639803681411</id><published>2011-06-30T06:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T07:09:06.061-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Erm, what?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fFOQ_7evWbk/Tgx__LNmmGI/AAAAAAAAAE8/XpaLL9FoJJ0/s1600/baby-jumping_1387620i.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fFOQ_7evWbk/Tgx__LNmmGI/AAAAAAAAAE8/XpaLL9FoJJ0/s320/baby-jumping_1387620i.jpg" width="280" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;In Spain, during the celebration of the Catholic festival Corpus Christi, a man dresses up and jumps over newborn babies.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Why? Why?... I have no idea.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Nice of the parents of these little children to have Satan meet Elvis fly atop them. :/&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-3897960639803681411?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/3897960639803681411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=3897960639803681411&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3897960639803681411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3897960639803681411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/06/erm-what.html' title='Erm, what?'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fFOQ_7evWbk/Tgx__LNmmGI/AAAAAAAAAE8/XpaLL9FoJJ0/s72-c/baby-jumping_1387620i.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-3339372042629566407</id><published>2011-06-28T22:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T22:22:37.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ROFL</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;This is the message that I woke up to in the morning, from my good friend &lt;b&gt;Sunny George.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was ROFL for quite a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what too much drinking leads to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wasn't that drunk"&lt;br /&gt;"Dude, you were in my pool trying to find Nemo."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wasn't that drunk!"&lt;br /&gt;"You hit on your own girlfriend and asked is she was single.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dude, I wasn't that drunk"&lt;br /&gt;"You were arguing with yourself, over the phone and got upset when you hung up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wasn't that drunk."&lt;br /&gt;"You were in my closet yelling, 'Hey! Where the hell is Narnia?' "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wasn't that drunk.."&lt;br /&gt;"You were throwing rocks at my cat screaming 'GO PIKACHU!' "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dude, I wasn't that drunk."&lt;br /&gt;"You hugged a hobo with a white beard and cried, 'Yay Dumbledore, YOU'RE BACK!' "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(And this one's my personal favorite)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wasn't that drunk!"&lt;br /&gt;"You gave a sock to a midget yelling, 'Take this Dobby, you're free!!!' "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Share your jokes with me, I love love to laugh!&lt;br /&gt;Later ya'll!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-3339372042629566407?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/3339372042629566407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=3339372042629566407&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3339372042629566407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3339372042629566407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/06/rofl.html' title='ROFL'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-4876884198348027858</id><published>2011-06-24T07:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T07:15:05.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>People</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;The more people I meet, the more I realise that I prefer people who have a knack for crazy slash stupid slash trouble. The ones that are always sane and sweet make me uncomfortable, &lt;b&gt;very&lt;/b&gt;. I like to believe that it is absolutely non-human&amp;nbsp;to &lt;b&gt;not&lt;/b&gt; have a bad side to oneself. I like to believe that even the happiest person, the kind that spurts rainbows every time he/she opens his/her mouth has moments when he/she would rather just take a chair and break it on the floor than sit and smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I like to be mean at times, I am an occasional bitch and I don't mind admitting it. There are times when I feel angry and I blow off like Coke does when it meets Mentos. And I am not saying that I am proud of it, but I don't regret it either. I would rather be my crude self when I am upset than put on a facade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like people who do crazy things when they are upset. Who would call a bitch a bitch, who break heads when they are hurt. It makes them.. human.. alive. I like people who talk, who laugh at themselves and at someone who just fell down in a really crazy manner (even at the risk of looking mean), who get angry, who would call or text me at 2 in the night to tell me they hate me for having said something. I hold on to them, even if that means having a bumpy ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I do not prefer are people who are safe, people who say exactly the things they know you want to hear, who do not laugh as much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like people who fight for what they believe in even if that means we have to deal with entirely different belief systems, I am afraid of the ones that don't challenge me, those who would accept everything that I say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also come to realise that I don't enjoy the company of people who are (or who like to believe that they are) &lt;b&gt;intense. &lt;/b&gt;And not the good kind of intense,&amp;nbsp;the ones that are always gloomy and gray..I know a lot of people find it attractive but call me crazy, I just don't. It's a total turn off for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like people who are&amp;nbsp;frighteningly&amp;nbsp;passionate about something, I am drawn to them like an ant to a big blob of sugar. At the same time, I like easy going people, who are opinionated, who have a free spirit and a mind of their own, who would fight more often than not, but who would also let go when they know it's their best option.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then you know.. that's just me.&lt;br /&gt;: )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later ya'll!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-4876884198348027858?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/4876884198348027858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=4876884198348027858&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/4876884198348027858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/4876884198348027858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/06/people.html' title='People'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-1699550661990366340</id><published>2011-06-13T00:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-13T00:20:37.407-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Music, Again.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I am in Love with this song : Beautiful by Late night alumni.&lt;br /&gt;You should listen to it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rEBgl9B2G_8&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rEBgl9B2G_8&amp;amp;feature=related&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This song, it's a soul healer.&lt;br /&gt;Tell me how you like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-1699550661990366340?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/1699550661990366340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=1699550661990366340&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1699550661990366340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1699550661990366340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/06/music-again.html' title='Music, Again.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-821417698454017382</id><published>2011-06-01T22:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T23:51:26.534-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The most Challenging/ Awkward moments in (every)ones life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;When the remote control is just about 3 inches away from the point beyond which you humanly cannot stretch your hand without having to move your upper body. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Now this is really interesting, because people (you know, you and I) would rather watch the most torturous show on TV or shiver the whole night than stretch a little to reach the remote and change the god damn channel or switch the god damn AC off. &amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;When you are watching a movie with a friend (same sex, opposite sex, same difference) and a love making scene pops up. *awkward (in a high pitch)*. If you look at it, your friend might think you're a pervert, so you start looking around, at the wall, the painting on the wall that you never understood anyway, your toenails, the bird shitting right outside your window, the curtains, the Patterns on the curtains, your friend (who might just be looking at you *awkward*) and when you run out of all the things to look at, you start with the most random conversations.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;"So, what are your plans after this?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;"So, finance haan.."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;"Hey have you visited that store down the street, it's Awesome"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;So you are all set to go to sleep, tucked in your blankets, found that perfect resting position and BOOM! You forgot to switch the lights off! Now, if you have had siblings, this is the point where most of the premature sibling animosity begins. And if you are having a sleepover, this is point where the weakest (physically and mentally) friend is discovered. You know, for all the other sleepovers and plans that will follow,&lt;b&gt; for the rest of their lives&lt;/b&gt;... no I am just kidding... (or am I?).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;That awkward moment when an acquaintance falls down in a really crazy manner in public and you can't control your laughter..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;The awkward moment when you are staring at a professor with a stern face while your mind is in a parallel universe (Narnia? Hogwarts?) and the professor asks for your opinion and you have nothing to say &lt;b&gt;plus&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;a really confused look (the kind that dogs(or babies?) would have when they walk into a new street) because let's face it, you probably wouldn't even know what lecture it is if the professor had a bag covering his face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;The time when your friends try to set you up with a complete moron and you really don't know what to do when you are left alone with him/ her. That happened to me once, and I passed my time thinking about all the swear words my friend was going to hear later when I see him. An even more awkward moment was the realisation that I knew &lt;b&gt;so&lt;/b&gt; many swear words. *opens a page of The Economist to feel better*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;The time when your relatives are leaving and they give you a present and BOOM!, it &lt;b&gt;sucks &lt;/b&gt;and you have to act all excited. Or when they give you an envelope and BOOM! 100 bucks..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eT9JPthRLWs/TecgY3q8fGI/AAAAAAAAAEg/O6nyCgEz9SM/s1600/Meh+Face.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eT9JPthRLWs/TecgY3q8fGI/AAAAAAAAAEg/O6nyCgEz9SM/s1600/Meh+Face.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Someone waves at you, you wave back, you realise they weren't waving at you, you quickly shift your gaze by about 1 inch and there is nobody else on that side of the road..you are waving at an empty car.. FAIL!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;A really tanned person walks in to the room and you go, "Yo bitch you ORANGE!" in your head. And you let loose a laugh.. and then people stare at you and you say.. &amp;nbsp;"It is hot outside, isn't it?" *erm..*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Tell me about your awkward/ Challenging moments! And here, not on Facebook!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Keep rocking ya'll!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;P.S. What would be the only conversation between a rock and a ruler?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ans: You rock, but I rule!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Gaah! Not funny at all!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;EPIC FAIL!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-821417698454017382?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/821417698454017382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=821417698454017382&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/821417698454017382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/821417698454017382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/06/most-challenging-awkward-moments-in.html' title='The most Challenging/ Awkward moments in (every)ones life.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eT9JPthRLWs/TecgY3q8fGI/AAAAAAAAAEg/O6nyCgEz9SM/s72-c/Meh+Face.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-2015550406644773373</id><published>2011-05-25T01:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-25T09:09:53.241-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quotable Quotes from my Life - 2nd Edition.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;In continuation with &lt;a href="http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/12/quotable-quotes-from-my-life.html"&gt;Quotable Quotes from my Life&lt;/a&gt;,&amp;nbsp;on popular demand!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh alright, only a handful of people asked for it, but I like to show off that way!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway. Here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Avanika/ Me/ A: Can you imagine the amount of hairfall cave women must have had without them shampoos and conditioners and clean water supplies! Yikes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Pavan: Hmm. I am not surprised. You totally &amp;nbsp;have a knack of grossing me out at times.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;A: No think about it, they had Nothing. I am surprised they had the appetite to make love and reproduce. How dirty would they be no? Plus, they&amp;nbsp;descended&amp;nbsp;from Apes, so hairy, eek!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Pavan: Thanks for painting that wonderful picture in my head. I can proudly say that you disgust me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;A: You're welcome. And oh, be a man!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Pavan: Grotesque filthy women shedding hair totally turn me off, thus I am a man.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;A: Oohh, someone got Thesaurus on their phone!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Pavan: Avan..&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A: Gah, I have no mushy feelings for him, no.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eshank : Avanika and Mushy feelings... Lions may start giving birth to Zebras from their a**h***, but Avanika and mushy feelings in the same sentence is just outrageous!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-----&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay I just realised that could have sounded worse than I intended it to..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A : Are you crazy! It was hilarious! I am lmao!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A: Dude, so pissing off! One of these days, I will really punch you in the face!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Neha:&lt;i&gt; Ladki is kamzor shareer pe mat ja&lt;/i&gt;, I am a Robocop from within!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A: Hahaha, &lt;i&gt;abey chal&lt;/i&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A: Yeah, we have all those CAs and CFAs..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anurag: Okay, I know what CAs are, what the hell are CFAs?! Chartered Fu***** Accountants!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ismail : You know, till the time we have each other in our lives, we won't even give the others a fair chance.. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like I am implying that you have others to begin with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A : Really? In the middle of such a serious conversation!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ismail: : D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: I am watching Titanic.&lt;br /&gt;Pavan: And why are you watching Titanic and probably crying your eyes out? Not to mention thinking about me!&lt;br /&gt;A: Well Titanic, because it's on TV. And you, because you're always on a ship.&lt;br /&gt;Pavan: Hmm.. Fascinating though. What could prompt a catastrophically emotionally deranged kid like yourself to watch such a romantic classic?&lt;br /&gt;A: Haw. : (&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A: Monu! If you piss me off one more time, &lt;i&gt;kasam Ganga maiya ki, udhed ke rakh dungi!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aditya: Paahahahahahahha! Where the hell did that come from!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A: Okay, let's go on the stage and look our calm, composed, sophisticated best.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Benny : You have seven slides okay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A: &amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;Ai SHAPATH&lt;/i&gt;!! I thought there were three!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Benny : (Lhao) Okay &lt;b&gt;seriously&lt;/b&gt;, where &lt;b&gt;do&lt;/b&gt; these come from?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: Aaarggggh!&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;Sasuri ka naati! De ghumaayikee!!!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Monu, Benny, Ashish - Avu!! What the!!! &amp;nbsp;*ROFL*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(As is tradition, I forgot to wish one of my closest friend Varun on his birthday. This conversation took place three months after I finally messaged him, needless to say he was really really pissed off. )&lt;br /&gt;A: So how mad at me are you?&lt;br /&gt;Varun: Can you measure such a thing? I don't know a proper unit to measure feelings.&lt;br /&gt;A: Course you can! Do you want to throw coffee in my face, punch me, or throw a rock in my face?&lt;br /&gt;Varun: None, it's okay. I'll never hit a woman. Even if it's You.&lt;br /&gt;A: Touche.&lt;br /&gt;Varun: I have a more easier weapon, indifference.&lt;br /&gt;A: More easy"&lt;br /&gt;Varun: Are you seriously correcting my Grammer right now?&lt;br /&gt;A: Grammar"&lt;br /&gt;Varun: Thanks for that! It was nice talking to you about such heartfelt issues after so much time!&lt;br /&gt;A: A&lt;i&gt;rrey senti mat ho yaar! Chal milte hain kal, teri birthday treat bhi toh baaki hai.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Varun: Dream on about the treat! DREAM ON!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Mangalam and I, discussing how we hate taking pictures.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Megha - So Raghav, what profile of yourself do you like better? Left or right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A (to Mangalam): I bet he knows the answer to that.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Raghav: Left profile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Managalam and I: Aha! *Hi5*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: Let's go there na instead!&lt;br /&gt;Kushi: No, we are not going there!&lt;br /&gt;A: &lt;i&gt;Aa aa ee, uu uu oh, mera dil.. na todo..&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kushi: Avi.. &lt;i&gt;matlab..&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: : D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Dude, either I got that statement wrong, or you are a total Douche.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;Vishal - What the hell does douche mean?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Douche, as in douche, douchebag, pronounced as Doosh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;Vishal - I still don't know what that means.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Lol, let's just leave it to that and stick to you being an ass, are we good?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;Vishal - Me an ass? You're mean.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Wtf! How demanding! Would you want to be a Thigh instead!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;Vishal - Thigh! Oh F**k! Hahahahahaha!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Madhavi - I have orange nailpaint! You want to see?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A: Yes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*sends photo*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A: I've put red! Can you believe that!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Madhavi - I want to see!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*sends photo*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Madhavi: We are so weird...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A: Hahahaha! Yeah!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: I am really confused man! I don't know what to take up!&lt;br /&gt;Pavan: You know what you will be really good at?&lt;br /&gt;A: What?&lt;br /&gt;Pavan: Manslaughter. : D&lt;br /&gt;A: Yeah.. who are we kidding, I slice people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nimish and I, deciding between a golden&amp;nbsp;neck-piece&amp;nbsp;and a Grey one at a Hidesign Store.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nimish - Listen, the golden colour will rub off.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A: Let's ask the girl there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nimish: She gets paid for saying nothing will happen to it, Ever!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A: Hey, is there a possibility for this colour to rub off?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Girl at the store: Ah, yes. But you, you can always go to the&amp;nbsp;jewelery&amp;nbsp;store and get it&amp;nbsp;polished&amp;nbsp;again!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nimish: Is that right? And where should we take the grey one? TATA STEEL PLANT?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How I met Ismails good friend Dhiren:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ismail: Dhiren. this is Bitch, Bitch, Dhiren.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A: Hey Dhiren, so nice to finally meet you! &lt;b&gt;Asswipe&lt;/b&gt; has told me so much about you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aditya (a.k.a Monu): You know Avu, you really are one of a kind!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At sports bar:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Foreigner smiles at me, I smile back. He smiles again.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ismail: &lt;i&gt;Yeh saale Firang! Aa jaate hain mooh uthake hamari ladkiyon pe line maarne!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(This goes on for about 10 minutes. Lots of hindi &lt;i&gt;gaalis&lt;/i&gt; included.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Foreigner: Excuse me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ismail (smiles): Yes?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Foreigner: &lt;i&gt;Mereko hindi aata hai.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A: Bwwaaahahahahahahaha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pavan : What are you doing kid?&lt;br /&gt;A: Kid &lt;i&gt;hoga tera baap&lt;/i&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;Pavan: And then you wonder why I call you kid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KP: &lt;i&gt;Isne ek baar mein baat maan li! Yeh hamari &lt;/i&gt;Avanika&lt;i&gt; nahi ho sakti!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anurag: &lt;i&gt;Nayak nahi.. Khalnayak hun main!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neha: So much work man! My life is pissing me off!&lt;br /&gt;A: There there.&lt;br /&gt;Neha: Dude, &lt;i&gt;kuch kar yaar&lt;/i&gt;! I need some gossip!&lt;br /&gt;A: Hahaha! Me too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Right after Ismail punched a guy on the street)&lt;br /&gt;A: Whoa! You are in a violent mood!&lt;br /&gt;Ismail: Yeah, You should go.&lt;br /&gt;A: What! Me? Why me?!&lt;br /&gt;Ismail: Who do you think drives me the most crazy?&lt;br /&gt;A: ....... ...... TAXI!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A:&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;Okay, since we are going to be friends now, you should know, I can't make a decision. Cannot decide between two places to go, cannot even place an order from the menu!&lt;br /&gt;Madhvi: Oh crap, me too!&lt;br /&gt;*we walk into the ATM. I pool out money*&lt;br /&gt;Madhvi: How much should I get? How much! How much! Where are we going? Should I take out 500? Or 400? Or more? Are we going to shop again? Tell no! 500 will do? Or 400? Or maybe a 1000 or something? I have to give you! And then if we go to sports bar?&lt;br /&gt;A: 400! Just take 400!&lt;br /&gt;Madhvi: But what if we shop again? Then I will have no money! Listen, tell me fast! Now you see just HOW BAD I am at deciding! Oh, no!&lt;br /&gt;A: What?&lt;br /&gt;Madhvi: I forgot to enter my pin..&lt;br /&gt;A: That stupid ant from the screen bit me! :O&lt;br /&gt;Madhvi: How the hell did it even reach your hand to begin with! :O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: Listen! This was really not my fault!&lt;br /&gt;KP: I am not saying it was your fault, I am just blaming you.&lt;br /&gt;A: But why!&lt;br /&gt;KP: I like to irritate you like that. : D&lt;br /&gt;*punch*&lt;br /&gt;KP: Ow! What was that for?!&lt;br /&gt;A: I like to punch you like that. : D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pavan: It's strange! I am really impatient these days! You sound like my mom!&lt;br /&gt;A: That Is strange! Between the two of us, I am the impatient one and you are the one with motherly instincts! &amp;nbsp;Is everything okay? Are you eating and shitting alright?&lt;br /&gt;Pavan: Yep, Sure I am. And thanks for making me sound so gay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*After falling down three times in a row*&lt;br /&gt;A: You should know, I am clumsy, I fall down a lot.&lt;br /&gt;Megha: Oh, I noticed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: Listen, I am clumsy and I go mumbo jumbo on the road, so if I fall down in a really crazy manner and you keep walking like you don't know me, it's okay, really. Let's just decide where to meet after, say 5 minutes?&lt;br /&gt;Madhvi: Haha! Shut up you idiot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(My good friend Saurabh Todi a.k.a Todi almost got suspended from the college because he was caught playing with the planks on the camera by the construction department. After two hours of pure torture Todi walks into the class)&lt;br /&gt;A: Ssup todi? How was your day? : D&lt;br /&gt;Todi: Don't be mean okay.&lt;br /&gt;A: Aw, okay.. I know just the right thing to cheer you up! Let's play cricket! I'll bowl, you can bat! Here, use this plank!&lt;br /&gt;(Naman, Monu, Ashish and I - *ROFL*)&lt;br /&gt;Todi: Go to hell guys!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-2015550406644773373?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/2015550406644773373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=2015550406644773373&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2015550406644773373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2015550406644773373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/05/quotable-quotes-from-my-life-2nd.html' title='Quotable Quotes from my Life - 2nd Edition.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-670822196139326921</id><published>2011-05-20T01:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T02:12:45.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bestie Code 3.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;In continuation with:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/01/bestie-code.html"&gt;Bestie code 1&lt;/a&gt;: On matters relating to Purchase Behavior&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/01/bestie-code_20.html"&gt;Bestie code 2&lt;/a&gt;: On matters relating to Sharing Behavior&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Article C: On matters relating to Personal Relationships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Section 1.&lt;br /&gt;(i) &amp;nbsp;A bestie must never date her bestie's Ex-boyfriend/ crush, Boyfriend/ crush, Prospective boyfriend/ crush without her bestie's prior consent. If she does so, she is not protected for any violent behavior by her bestie as per the law(of bestie code)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(ii) Under the circumstances where the bestie is good friends with both Bestie and her boyfriend and where both are equally at fault, a bestie must always take her besties side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(iii) A bestie must always say, 'Yes' to the question, "Was(Is) she(her bestie) with you?". She must then immediately call her up and find out where on earth she really is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(iv) A bestie must always be prepared for getting fired by her besties mother. Note - 'With Partners in Crime, come Partners in Ass-whoop'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(v) A bestie must never try to be &lt;b&gt;better&lt;/b&gt; friends with her besties friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(vi) A bestie must at least make 5 attempts to get along with her besties guy. If a difference of opinion still persists, she must never ask her bestie to choose between the two. Such behavior is regarded as abuse of power.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(vii) A bestie must never(even by mistake) try to sabotage her besties relationship. However, if the bestie has good reasons to believe that the guy is a tool, she can do so, within permissible limits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(viii) In the event of a bad break-up, a bestie is allowed the &lt;b&gt;beat the shit &lt;/b&gt;out of her bestie's ex.&lt;br /&gt;A bad break can be defined as one where the boy cheated on her bestie and/or emotionally tortured her into breaking up with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(ix) A bestie could be a sister to her bestie's sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(x) A bestie must never get drunk/ go to movies with her besties boyfriend alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(xi) With respect to subsection (x), however, if the bestie has known this boy (and has been friends with him) since before the commencement of the relationship, she is allowed to do so, but must notify her bestie about the same. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(xii) A bestie must never cancel an &lt;b&gt;already&lt;/b&gt; existing plan with her bestie, to go out with her boyfriend and vice versa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(xiii) Finally, a bestie must always have a clear knowledge about the extent to which she can participate in her besties&amp;nbsp;personal&amp;nbsp;life to avoid any discomfort between the two.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-670822196139326921?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/670822196139326921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=670822196139326921&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/670822196139326921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/670822196139326921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/05/bestie-code-3.html' title='The Bestie Code 3.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8087313256130108994</id><published>2011-04-28T22:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-28T22:52:50.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WTH?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I met a really old friend yesterday. Now this girl used to be healthy alright, and the last time I met her (which was two years ago) she was chubby, in a good way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yesterday,&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;yesterday&lt;/i&gt; she looked like a stick. Almost unhealthy, in a manner of speaking. My first reaction was, "Whoa! Where did you go?!"&lt;br /&gt;And her reply to my question was without a doubt one of the most disturbing thing I had heard in a very long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dude, my friends, who smoked told me that it helps lose weight. I really wanted to lose weight too, so I started smoking. It's cool actually, I am so addicted! And see how much weight I lost! Here, you want a drag?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No", I said. Fat or no fat, that is one path I am never taking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I walked away, I realised the extent to which people will go to lose weight these days. It was sad, to be honest. This girl, she used to be cool. It's hard to say what went wrong. Being healthy is one thing, but &lt;i&gt;this&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;is another. People, &lt;i&gt;really?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a feeling I wouldn't be as excited to meet her the next time as I was yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8087313256130108994?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8087313256130108994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8087313256130108994&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8087313256130108994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8087313256130108994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/04/wth.html' title='WTH?'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8112854616418428532</id><published>2011-04-26T00:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T00:59:55.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What they say, what they mean.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I have read and agree with all the terms and conditions.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;What they mean:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Haha! Yeah! Okay!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I am on my way! I'll be there in 5!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;What they mean:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Oh crap! What do I wear!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"I am &lt;i&gt;so&lt;/i&gt; late!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Taxi!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I. am. fine.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;What they really mean:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Oh, if I had a gun right now, there'll be dead bodies spewed all around!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Leave. Me. Alone."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Of course I am not fine you mind numbingly stupid moron! Is this the face of someone who is fine?!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"If you ask me this question one more time, I swear I'll get violent"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;A girl asks: "Do I look okay?"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;*Pause*... Yeah.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;What the pause means:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Hair - Check; Dress - Check; Shoes - Check."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"OMG! Bwahahahahahahahaaahaa!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"What am I supposed to say to that!" *panic attack*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"I wonder if Voldemort has any more horcruxes that are not known of."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Well, it's not like &lt;i&gt;that.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;What they mean:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Oh crap, time for damage control!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Why the look? What's wrong with this dress?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Oh honey, nothing!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;What they mean:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Oh honey, nothing"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Damn it! Why can't I control the expressions on my face!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"You mean what is &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; wrong with that dress!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Okay, there is not enough &lt;i&gt;time&lt;/i&gt; to tell what's wrong with that dress"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"If the gods from all the religions on earth and those from the lives beyond get together and hold a meeting to set this dress straight by amalgamating all their powers into one focal point focussed on the dress, it still couldn't be made right"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sure, I have to go now, I'll call you!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;What they mean:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Okay, so I am wearing heels, just how fast can I run to catch a cab before he catches up with me"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Oh my god, that was &lt;i&gt;torture.&lt;/i&gt;"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Yeah buddy, that's not happening"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I knew it meant that!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;What they mean:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"I hate being caught off-guard like that! Urrrggghh!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"To do - Find out what the hell on earth &lt;i&gt;is&lt;/i&gt; that."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"If I just keep a straight face long enough, there is a chance in hell they might believe me"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"I wonder what dogs feel like when they walk into a new street"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;More on this later.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8112854616418428532?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8112854616418428532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8112854616418428532&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8112854616418428532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8112854616418428532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/04/what-they-say-what-they-mean.html' title='What they say, what they mean.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-7977524184507716140</id><published>2011-04-16T23:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-16T23:11:26.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stock Trading</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Stock Markets, you have my attention alright!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I have a new found love. It's fascinating how these markets work; it's even more fascinating how companies into stock brokerage work. This is what I want to do for my summer internship. I have decided.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I want to learn so much more about them. Experience the havoc. From a Celebrity Lifestyle Magazine to a Financial Securities Firm, now that's what I am talking about!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Agenda - Get placement in a stock trading firm, ASAP.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Later folks!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;P.S. Prof. Naveen Bhatia sir, you have a *huge* role in this.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-7977524184507716140?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/7977524184507716140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=7977524184507716140&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7977524184507716140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7977524184507716140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/04/stock-trading.html' title='Stock Trading'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-4540119509720086166</id><published>2011-04-15T04:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-15T19:25:19.939-07:00</updated><title type='text'>(Im)Perfect</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I am no writer. I am just a person who likes to write. And for that, I have a blog and not website, or a column.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I do not force people to read my blog, I don't force them to like it, I don't scare them enough for them to not be honest about something they don't like.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don't have a 'style', I don't feel the need to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don't write to please. I just write to share. I don't feel the need to show off my *awesome vocabulary*, I don't feel the need to sound super cool. I just want to sound like me. Plain simple me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sometimes I come up with something nice, sometimes I don't. Sometimes you can relate to it, sometimes you just can't understand what I am trying to say. And that's Okay. Because you are you, and I am me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sometimes I read my old posts and feel proud of them, sometimes I think "Jeesh, what was I thinking?!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;But the reason why I write, is because it's a reminder, for every thought that was once in my head, and of the story behind it. The times someone touched my life, and the times someone crapped all over my mood. It's a reminder of all those moments, to remember who was nice, and who was not. I mention the names of the people at most times, because I want to remember them. And because years down the line, when I will read my old posts, I will remember them and think about them and maybe even give them a call.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's not fiction, this blog, it's what goes around me. And what I think about what goes around me. It's an outlet to my thoughts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's my life, and it's not perfect.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And I couldn't care less.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;: )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-4540119509720086166?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/4540119509720086166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=4540119509720086166&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/4540119509720086166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/4540119509720086166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/04/imperfect.html' title='(Im)Perfect'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-1730978582814943018</id><published>2011-04-06T09:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T23:59:23.912-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Little things that make you (me) happy. : )</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1_hJKqtOJGU/TZyTakfE_QI/AAAAAAAAAEI/3cP9QuhmDRY/s1600/happy+cartoon+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1_hJKqtOJGU/TZyTakfE_QI/AAAAAAAAAEI/3cP9QuhmDRY/s320/happy+cartoon+girl.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Getting soaked in the first rain. With friends. And &lt;i&gt;cutting&lt;/i&gt;. Falling sick for a weeks time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Going out for a drive at 4 a.m.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Finishing the toughest exam.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Knowing that you are going to fail and still being happy about finishing it. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Maggi at 2 am. Maggi. Anytime.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Gossiping with your sister and best friend. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Your parents reminding you how much they love you. : )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Falling down, &lt;b&gt;three&lt;/b&gt; times in a row, getting up and laughing your butt off. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Watching your friends fall down in the craziest manner and laughing your butt off.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Laughing so hard your stomach hurts and your eyes water.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Finding money in the pockets of an old jeans.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Finding the perfect dress just when you are about to give up.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Having soup on a rainy day.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Knowing someone so adorable, their presence lights up your mood. (*cough* &lt;b&gt;Naman&lt;/b&gt; *cough*)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Drunk friends, who are &lt;b&gt;not&lt;/b&gt; good singers, singing at the top of their voices at 1 in the night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;An afternoon nap on a really tiresome day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Your best friend showing up when you are getting bored to death.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The radio playing your favorite song.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Being tucked in on a cold day.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Staring at your friend in an exam with a blank expression, having her/him stare back at you with the same look.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Closing your eyes, hearing the waves and feeling the wind in your face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The smell of wet mud after it rains.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;Reaching the last page of your notes for the exam.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Better even, going through the notes the night before the exam, realising you know nothing, calling up your friend only to find out they know jack themselves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Getting a massage or even just a pedicure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Someone cooking your favorite meal for you.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Meeting a really interesting person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A good hair day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Kicking ass in a game.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The first bite of food when you're starving.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Having a crush.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Telling your boyfriend/ girlfriend about it. Taking a picture of their priceless reaction.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Watching the most retarded movies (Read: Deshdrohi) with your best friends, and wolf whistling at the fight sequences.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Meeting a very old friend and realising things haven't changed between the two of you at all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Finding out your sister has shopped for you. Like Insane.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Finding your latest buy in a magazine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A spontaneous plan out with girlfriends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Somebody asking you, "When will you publish your next post?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;: )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-1730978582814943018?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/1730978582814943018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=1730978582814943018&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1730978582814943018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1730978582814943018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/04/little-things-that-make-you-me-happy.html' title='Little things that make you (me) happy. : )'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1_hJKqtOJGU/TZyTakfE_QI/AAAAAAAAAEI/3cP9QuhmDRY/s72-c/happy+cartoon+girl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-3848784220580125764</id><published>2011-03-30T09:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T11:28:17.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How much is too much?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;Is there really one person that you can talk to about everything?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;One person who will not judge you no matter what. One person who will know when to laugh a thing off and when to be serious.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"&gt;I don’t think so. At least so far I don’t.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;Can you really tell everything to the people you feel the closest to? Or are there always things that you are afraid to talk about. Because you are afraid they&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;wouldn't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;understand and more often than not, they don’t. Is it really easier to talk to strangers about your biggest problems than to your friends?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;I do believe that it is a lot easier to discuss critical issues with a stranger, since they do not know you, they haven’t seen you make mistakes in the past or they don’t know about how difficult or easy your life has been, they never judge you. And still they will give you the most honest reply as they do not care about pleasing you. And honestly, it’s a lot easier to shove a stranger who does not see your point than a friend who&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;How prepared can one really be to face a situation where the person they feel the closest to judges them and makes them feel small? We have all had the times when we know we&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"&gt;shouldn't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;have let a secret out the moment the words leave our mouth. And then we sit there and watch them judge us and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"&gt;so&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; not get our point. It's not like they are to be blamed for it. Everybody has a different way of looking at things, it's just how people handle their reactions. And more than anything, it's about how they make &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"&gt;you&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; feel about being emotionally open to them. Chances are your friend will laugh out loud, tell you that you are a stupid f*** and then say it's alright, you'll find a way, and just like that, you do. But chances also are that they will give you the&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;classic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;'I am so disappointed in you' look, and you not only have a problem, but you also have a friend that has no faith in you. And&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;that&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;sucks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;So really, even with your closest friends, how much is too much?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-3848784220580125764?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/3848784220580125764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=3848784220580125764&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3848784220580125764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3848784220580125764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/03/how-much-is-too-much.html' title='How much is too much?'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8162958838855610704</id><published>2011-03-26T02:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T00:03:31.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The right choice?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Last night I was conversing with my friend who is in a very &lt;b&gt;very&lt;/b&gt; bad situation. She thinks that she has the hots for two boys at the same time. I warned her that this might go on my blog, but not to worry since I barely know of 20 people who read it. : (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;She warned me that if she reads her name anywhere, she will cut my hands off, regardless. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;As she went on with her story, I wondered, &lt;b&gt;is it really possible to like two people at the same time?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I am really not the person to say given I find it extremely difficult to like even one person, let alone two. But I am just a loser that way.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Anyway, it all started when she met this guy; let’s call him A, about 7 months ago. They have had the whole unverbalised-mutually understood-attraction thing going for almost 3 months now. It started to frustrate her as&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;the guy never took the initiative to ask her out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Meanwhile, she met this other guy to (in her words) get her mind off A. (Read: Make him jealous). &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;Note – I, being the good friend that I am, warned her to not do it, and she being the close friend that she is&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;listen and waited to get back to me after she screwed up.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Unfortunately for her, this other guy, let’s call him B turned out to be totally awesome. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;And since the world is full of fools, the jealousy thing totally worked and A has suddenly started to *really care&lt;b&gt;*&lt;/b&gt; about her. B continues to be nice, because well, he is nice. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Now she does not know what to do. She really likes the company of B, but is more romantically attracted to A. It’s the battle between the sweet guy and the cool guy again! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Poor thing, it’s like she opened a Pandora’s Box.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;While she was telling me about it, the only thing going on in my head was is it really possible to like two people, so different from each other at the same time? Does this mean that there is really no ‘type’ for a person as we find ourselves falling for all kinds of people, the nice, the sweet, the cool, the good-looking, the funny et al?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;That being said, how do we decide what’s the best kind for us. On what basis do we decide between two equals, good in their own way when our heart beats for both. Or is it simply a delusion and in our sub conscious mind we already know what we want, but we just don’t listen to it. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua', serif; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Or is it because we know the right thing but favour the wrong? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked her, just to confirm, if she likes B out of guilt. She thought for a really long time before replying, "Oh crap.. No."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;I told her, in &lt;b&gt;that&lt;/b&gt; case, she's totally screwed.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I don't know what she is going to do about it, and since I don't really know the guys, I am in no position to help either.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I do know that the jealousy trick does you no good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I will tell you when she makes up her mind.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;So long!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;P.S. I won another competition, this time in Finance. : )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8162958838855610704?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8162958838855610704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8162958838855610704&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8162958838855610704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8162958838855610704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/03/last-night-i-had-really-tough.html' title='The right choice?'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-2428819224126776082</id><published>2011-03-18T00:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-26T03:39:46.261-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The generation gap.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I am really tired of people of generations before us (the aunts and uncles of our parents), calling us, "the spoiled ones".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank god for our parents to be the chain between us; separating the two!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think there is anything wrong with the way we are, I really don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We do not discriminate on the basis of where one is coming from? What caste they belong to? How rich or poor they are?&lt;br /&gt;We don't even Care to find out about all that. We do not live our lives like string puppets, with the &lt;b&gt;society&lt;/b&gt; being the puppet master.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are not brought up believing that girls need to be custom made to take care of the household and boys need to do a suitable 'respectable' job. We dare to think beyond doctors and engineers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We do not judge a person based on whom they love. We don't care as long as they are happy and it does not hurt anybody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We do not leave our friends when society goes against them. We stay right where we are and stare back at the society. We do not care if you think we are audacious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what if we party hard and go out! Don't we work as much? Aren't we doing well? Aren't we eager to earn our own money and spend that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We do not care if someone is working in a food joint or if someone is working in a bank, we&amp;nbsp;believe&amp;nbsp;that work is work. Period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, we believe in knowing more about our life partners than getting to know what they look like on the night of our weddings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being in a relationship is bad, holding hands or kissing in public is bad but expecting a girl to have a child within a year of an&lt;b&gt; arranged marriage &lt;/b&gt;is not?&lt;br /&gt;Really now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it when the oldies back at my native place tell me how they (we) are superior because they (we) are Brahmins. I am the black sheep of the family just because I don't care that I am a Brahmin and I do not thank god for it, every living day of my life.&amp;nbsp;I just thank god for my being.&lt;br /&gt;What decides if a person is superior for the sensible folks of my generation is the nature of that person, the attitude, the qualification, the knowledge and not what caste he/she belongs to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, I am a girl, and I want to travel the world, meet new people, make my own money and start with something of my own. I have not planned my life around a marriage and I don't intend to.&lt;br /&gt;And no, I will not settle unless I am completely sure, whether that's when I am 23 or 43. You think I am too bold, I think you don't have to live my life, so you are nobody to talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We believe in respecting the elders of the society. I look up to so many people. My grand father for one. He was the kindest, most modest and the most sensible human being that I have ever known of. And I love him. I remember him telling me, that no matter what the world says, pursue your dreams, listen to your parents but with time, you will be grown up enough to decide what's wrong and what's right. And when you know something is wrong, don't do it, and don't let anyone force you into doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only all of them thought that way. They have the wealth of information that could be more helpful to us than we realise. We need the knowledge and experience of the elders to not make a mistake that could be avoided. But does that mean that we &lt;b&gt;should&lt;/b&gt; be stopped from making our own experiences?&lt;br /&gt;It is OKAY to make mistakes as long as we learn from them.&lt;br /&gt;It is OKAY to try something new, for all we know, there might just be the most incredible thing at the end of the tunnel.&lt;br /&gt;It is OKAY to have an opinion.&lt;br /&gt;It is OKAY to not do something against your principles because the society wants you to.&lt;br /&gt;And most importantly, it is OKAY to have your own set of principles because everyone is different and we must respect that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not saying my generation is perfect, we are flawed, all of us. But not because we don't think like we are expected to. That's just not fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because if we did, 46.65% of the country would have been unemployed only because they belong to the fair sex.&lt;br /&gt;There would have been no writers, artists, photographers etc. Just doctors, engineers and politicians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People would have been discriminated against and half the nation would have lived with guilt and&amp;nbsp;vengeance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Believe it or not, but I think we are doing just fine to move forward in a brighter, more honest manner.&lt;br /&gt;And I am sure that even in difficult times, we'll find new ways and sail through, because we can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-2428819224126776082?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/2428819224126776082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=2428819224126776082&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2428819224126776082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2428819224126776082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-am-really-tired-of-people-from-two.html' title='The generation gap.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-4434897305425696537</id><published>2011-03-06T09:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T04:34:04.892-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So, Yay!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"&gt;I was dying to get a nice animal print hand bag, a nice pair of wayfarers and a nice pair of stilettos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"&gt;Oh wait, my sister already brought 'em for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"&gt;Hah! Burn ya'll!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"&gt;: D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"&gt;P.S. I am really excited right about now yeah.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-4434897305425696537?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/4434897305425696537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=4434897305425696537&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/4434897305425696537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/4434897305425696537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/03/so-yay.html' title='So, Yay!'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-1188104611968505652</id><published>2011-02-11T07:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T07:04:36.472-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Erm.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Starbucks has entered into an agreement with Tata Coffee for a strategic alliance and is coming to India.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now all those Indians who have never been abroad but have&amp;nbsp;'Like'd several Starbucks pages on Facebook can finally taste it for real.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just saying..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;: D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-1188104611968505652?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/1188104611968505652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=1188104611968505652&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1188104611968505652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1188104611968505652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/02/erm.html' title='Erm.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-1979684255184741659</id><published>2011-02-05T20:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T20:24:51.493-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What was she thinking?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I have a really busy week ahead, so I won't be able to write in anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But ya'll can take a look at this till then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=422293&amp;amp;id=663780006&amp;amp;saved"&gt;http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=422293&amp;amp;id=663780006&amp;amp;saved&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel free to make your contribution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. As much as I appreciate all the comments, don't be&amp;nbsp;anonymous&amp;nbsp;no? I'd like to know about you all.&lt;br /&gt;Also, don't comment on Facebook, plis? Let me know in here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-1979684255184741659?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/1979684255184741659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=1979684255184741659&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1979684255184741659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1979684255184741659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/02/what-was-she-thinking.html' title='What was she thinking?'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-4803414980231462124</id><published>2011-01-27T19:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-27T19:52:19.794-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Music</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I am in Love with this song called &lt;b&gt;Bloodstream&lt;/b&gt; by &lt;b&gt;Stateless&lt;/b&gt;. You should listen to it to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can download it from &lt;a href="http://beemp3.com/download.php?file=7532446&amp;amp;song=Bloodstream"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;See, I gave you the link also, I am good that way. : D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, all those who read this post, please feel free to suggest good music. Of any kind, of all kinds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-4803414980231462124?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/4803414980231462124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=4803414980231462124&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/4803414980231462124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/4803414980231462124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/01/music.html' title='Music'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-2098501876358046165</id><published>2011-01-20T06:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T02:12:11.494-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bestie Code 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;In continuation to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/01/bestie-code.html"&gt;http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/01/bestie-code.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/01/bestie-code.html"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Article B: On matters relating to sharing behavior.&lt;br /&gt;Section 1:&lt;br /&gt;(i) A bestie must at all times agree to share clothes, unless befitting the cloth involves use of extreme physical force.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(ii) A bestie may or may not use the larger feet advantage of her bestie to loosen her shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(iii) A bestie must &lt;b&gt;not &lt;/b&gt;expect a share in food items.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(iv) With reference to subsection (iii), a bestie, however, is allowed to steal from the plate of her bestie in case of the&amp;nbsp;absence&amp;nbsp;of her bestie. Such behavior is not punishable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(v) A bestie must not share items that are personal to her bestie without her consent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(vi) A bestie must not counterfeit the fad of her bestie. In case of actions such as colouring hair, straightening hair, piercing et al, a bestie must wait at least 1 month before trying the same, so as to let her bestie bask in her glory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(vii) &amp;nbsp;A bestie must &lt;b&gt;never, ever&lt;/b&gt; think of sharing the guy of her bestie. 'Guy' can be defined as the likes of &amp;nbsp;current boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, prospective boyfriend or a crush. Such behavior is regarded as unethical and can lead to the dissolution of 'bestie-ship'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(viii) In case of breach of the above rule, a former bestie is allowed to use violence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(ix) A bestie must always protect her bestie's interest, and therefore if she finds someone wearing the same dress/shoe as her bestie, she must attempt to &lt;b&gt;burn&lt;/b&gt; it at least one time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch this space for:&lt;br /&gt;Article C: On matters relating to Personal Relationships.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-2098501876358046165?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/2098501876358046165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=2098501876358046165&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2098501876358046165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2098501876358046165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/01/bestie-code_20.html' title='The Bestie Code 2'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-5358415159208496622</id><published>2011-01-12T18:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T18:23:30.158-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I &lt;b&gt;detest&lt;/b&gt; people who although born and brought up (to a good age of 20-22) in India, fly off to other countries and then start to act like &lt;b&gt;that's&lt;/b&gt; their home in just a months time and presume that they have suddenly acquired the rights to talk Shit about India.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, seriously. You couldn't get into a decent university here, you go to the U.K., you are an engineer, you fly off to the U.S., that is acceptable, but you sit there like you are sitting on a high pedestal and start to talk rubbish about my darling country and Mumbai city, it's then that you piss me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no issues with people going abroad, but you left your country, and with that you lost&amp;nbsp;whatever&amp;nbsp;right you had on it. It's like telling your &lt;b&gt;awesome&lt;/b&gt; ex that you don't like what she's wearing. Here's the thing - She does not care, and you are the loser who needs to mind his own business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who start to act like strangers in a new land when they get back to their home country and throw tantrums all around, seriously, &lt;b&gt;get a life.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also some sense of relatedness and shame, if I may say, while you are at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;: |&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-5358415159208496622?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/5358415159208496622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=5358415159208496622&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5358415159208496622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5358415159208496622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-detest-people-who-although-born-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-2295767350629170224</id><published>2011-01-12T07:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T07:45:46.611-08:00</updated><title type='text'>'D' Day.</title><content type='html'>Our semester 1 results are out. I passed in all the subjects. (Yaay!) But that's not what this post is about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember the open houses in school? Where we used to be terrified about our parents coming in to the school and the report card being given in front of our classmates (about 30 of them, and there was no compulsion to tell them the marks).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, so here's how we got our results in college today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the auditorium. 240 students. Entire faculty (almost).&lt;br /&gt;That's right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It began with the statistics (We have managed to bag the 'worst performance amongst all the batches' award. Yes, all that hard work and dedication finally paid off! : D Shameless, no?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the number of failures in each and every subject in each and every division was announced, followed by announcing the toppers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ashish Borar stood first,&amp;nbsp;indisputably. I am glad, he deserved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the names of all the students who had passed were announced. The rest were asked to stay back and then they were dealt with personally by the director in his cabin.&lt;br /&gt;:Gulp:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you thought open houses were scary.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-2295767350629170224?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/2295767350629170224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=2295767350629170224&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2295767350629170224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2295767350629170224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/01/d-day.html' title='&apos;D&apos; Day.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8451180141686582258</id><published>2011-01-04T12:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T12:18:46.824-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What a day! : )</title><content type='html'>The first three days of the year had brought nothing but bad news to me, and just when I was about to go in the "holy shit, this year's gonna suck" mode I found my redemption.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know you are not&amp;nbsp;interested&amp;nbsp;in the kind of day I had, but bear with me no? Please?&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Sybil and I won the Inter-Management Institute Presentation Contest conducted by the Forum of Free Enterprise in collaboration with Central Bank of India. Good stuff.&lt;br /&gt;*smug look*&lt;br /&gt;Clap? No? Okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slept like a squirrel the rest of the day (which is awesome because I am &lt;b&gt;always&lt;/b&gt; in college during the day!), went for a happy-birthday party in the night and then caught up with an old friend that I have been meaning to meet for quite a while now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perfect end to a perfect day. And now I am going to put on my socks and curl up in my blanket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Night all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8451180141686582258?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8451180141686582258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8451180141686582258&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8451180141686582258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8451180141686582258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/01/what-day.html' title='What a day! : )'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8228829898010233224</id><published>2011-01-01T21:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T02:13:55.592-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bestie Code 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;A Bestie is a girl-friend who stands by you every time, makes sure you look fabulous on your worst days, abuses anybody who harms you and never says no to the holy act of shopping. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Article A - On matters relating to Purchase Behavior.&lt;br /&gt;Section 1:&lt;br /&gt;(i) A bestie must at all times say 'Yes' to the question, "You in for shopping?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(ii) A bestie must never:&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;(a) purchase an item that her bestie desired;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;(b) do an activity, that her bestie has done, is doing, or is about to do&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;without prior notice or acknowledgement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(iii) A bestie must, at all times, be honest about the appearance of her bestie (preferably in a subtle manner) when she (her bestie) is about to step out for something important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(iv) A bestie must always stop her bestie from spending preposterous amount of money on something that she will never use (incorporation of violence under absolutely necessary conditions, is permitted).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(v) With reference to subsection (iv), a bestie must also always chip in (when backed with the monetary ability to do so) in the purchase of something that is fabulous, even if ridiculously priced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(vi) A bestie must weigh all the pros and cons of the following:&lt;br /&gt;a. Hair-Styles&lt;br /&gt;b. Hair- Colours&lt;br /&gt;c. Any other form of (an almost) permanent change of such kind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(vii) A bestie must, under all circumstances, inform her bestie about an incredible sale regardless the time or &amp;nbsp;network availability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(viii) In the absence of her, a bestie must always pick up items that will rock her bestie's dress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch this space for:&lt;br /&gt;Article B: &lt;a href="http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/01/bestie-code_20.html"&gt;On matters relating to Sharing Behavior.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8228829898010233224?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8228829898010233224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8228829898010233224&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8228829898010233224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8228829898010233224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2011/01/bestie-code.html' title='The Bestie Code 1'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-7097233771609638116</id><published>2010-12-30T18:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T18:52:24.299-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This new year.</title><content type='html'>To all those people who stood by me, bore my mood swings and bitch-fits, kept me strong and made me smile:&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, I promise to be by your side too, keep you strong, fight for your happiness and call/message back more often. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To all those who pissed me off and took me for granted:&lt;br /&gt;Okay then, Fuck You. I am done. I am gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a Happy New Year, everybody!&lt;br /&gt;: )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-7097233771609638116?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/7097233771609638116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=7097233771609638116&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7097233771609638116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7097233771609638116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/12/this-new-year.html' title='This new year.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-4035188717210832773</id><published>2010-12-27T06:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-27T08:19:31.047-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TRig3gDv6GI/AAAAAAAAAD0/eGWwVbUVTxM/s1600/Mother+and+Child.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TRig3gDv6GI/AAAAAAAAAD0/eGWwVbUVTxM/s400/Mother+and+Child.JPG" width="331" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have read so many posts about folks my age complaining how their moms just don't GET them. My mom doesn't get me all the time either, I am not allowed to go out of station without at least one elder person, I am not exactly allowed to go clubbing (which works wonderfully, given that I detest the idea of clubbing. Drunk people thrashing around like a pair of eels in a closed dark place. Ew.) and we have our fair share of heated arguments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, I can't miss onto the billion things that she has done for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She wasn't brought up in Mumbai city like me, neither did she live the kind of life that I live. Although she heads from a very good family and has had her own share of fun, it's still Nothing like the fun that I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always tell her that she can not compare my life with hers. And then I feel the lowest that I possibly can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Love my mom. I really do.&lt;br /&gt;And here's why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She lets me party with my friends, &amp;nbsp;she lets me stay out till 11, 12 even, she has always held my back with dad, she has never stopped me from staying over at a friend's place and I am&amp;nbsp;pretty&amp;nbsp;sure the&amp;nbsp;concept&amp;nbsp;of a stay over did not exist when she was my age. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She did not react much when I told her that the guys in my group drink every now and then, she has never stopped me from being with them because she knows they are nice, no judgement, she lets me have my guy friends over, she will even make sure they have something to eat (aww..).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She keeps a calm face when I unload tales of my crushes (which aren't too many to begin with). She knows Everything that goes on in my life, and she keeps my secrets in her heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom and dad had an arranged marriage, and since the day of her wedding, she has given her 100% to this family, she is a typical Indian housewife, a home-maker, as I like to call her. And yet, she gives me the freedom to chose who I want to be with, and she shoves any discussions of my marriage aside adding that I have a career to make first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is a PhD. If I could be half as intelligent as she is, I can go places. But she gave it all up to raise me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She makes coffee for me at 1 in the night when I am studying.&lt;br /&gt;She wakes me up with a tea next to my bed.&lt;br /&gt;She cooks everything that I like.&lt;br /&gt;She goes on high alert with just a cough from me.&lt;br /&gt;She irons my clothes before I go to college.&lt;br /&gt;She never worries about me with a guy.&lt;br /&gt;She respects my privacy.&lt;br /&gt;She covers me up when I don't even realise I needed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is a beautiful person, she makes me proud and she makes me love her. : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;And that's why she's the single most amazing person ever.&lt;br /&gt;They all are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Now, if only I could get my bum off this chair and tell Her all this. : D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TRigxDSfJoI/AAAAAAAAADw/j7mjcUwblsA/s1600/Heart-Felt-Mother-s-Day-Crafts-for-Kids_full_article_vertical.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TRigxDSfJoI/AAAAAAAAADw/j7mjcUwblsA/s320/Heart-Felt-Mother-s-Day-Crafts-for-Kids_full_article_vertical.jpg" width="270" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-4035188717210832773?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/4035188717210832773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=4035188717210832773&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/4035188717210832773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/4035188717210832773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/12/mom.html' title='Mom.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TRig3gDv6GI/AAAAAAAAAD0/eGWwVbUVTxM/s72-c/Mother+and+Child.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-3794990101609335578</id><published>2010-12-20T08:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T21:32:08.071-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh, for the love of footwear!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I am really tired of all this nonsense about girls being complicated and moody. I mean, Seriously?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leave a girl alone to shop with a debit card in her hand and she does not give a Damn about what you said, &amp;nbsp;what you did or didn't do, for that matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world around us dissolves and all that we can see are those pair of amazing shoes or that beautiful dress. We are as good as an eight year old in a candy shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I speak for every girl on this planet when I say, we love clothes, we love shoes and we love bags. And there is not a flying rat's chance in hell for anybody to tweak that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, for example was having a bad day, till I lay my eyes on these:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TQ-EMij70VI/AAAAAAAAADo/-GNh6xGRH2A/s1600/20122010540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TQ-EMij70VI/AAAAAAAAADo/-GNh6xGRH2A/s320/20122010540.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gorgeous, aren't they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously I bought them. And No, I don't care if my shoe-board is overflowing, I will always find space for more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So long!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-3794990101609335578?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/3794990101609335578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=3794990101609335578&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3794990101609335578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3794990101609335578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-am-really-tired-of-all-this-nonsense.html' title='Oh, for the love of footwear!'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TQ-EMij70VI/AAAAAAAAADo/-GNh6xGRH2A/s72-c/20122010540.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-5340838366679705797</id><published>2010-12-18T11:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T21:35:17.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Yeah.. remember that time (about a couple of hours ago) when I said I am going to keep this blog girly. I have a feeling that's about to go to hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, for all my friends who have been complaining about my blog being, well..suddenly very girly, here's why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last to last template - Awesome, but made things difficult to read. Sheh!&lt;br /&gt;The template after that - People assumed I was a boy. When I had a picture of me on. *awkward silence*&lt;br /&gt;Hence this template. Pink BG, birds and weird patterns. I have made my point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to have it on for at least a week!&lt;br /&gt;At least I will try my best to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-5340838366679705797?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/5340838366679705797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=5340838366679705797&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5340838366679705797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5340838366679705797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/12/yeah.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-3621564511717744211</id><published>2010-12-18T04:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-18T04:24:21.730-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Somebody suggest/get me a new Television Series to watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now. Plis.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-3621564511717744211?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/3621564511717744211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=3621564511717744211&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3621564511717744211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3621564511717744211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/12/somebody-suggestget-me-new-television.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-396160398110790215</id><published>2010-12-18T04:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-18T11:12:08.919-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WoOT!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;For starters, I have made this blog as girly as I could.&lt;br /&gt;I am on a mission to prove to the world that I may not act, jump, laugh or hit like one, but that does not make me any less of a girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And No, I was not walking like Aishwarya Rai Bachchan from the Lóreal ad while writing the "I am on a mission part" above. That ad was plain.. how do I put this&amp;nbsp;delicately&amp;nbsp;.. RETARDED. Thank heavens for the new ad.&lt;br /&gt;You can watch the old one here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kW9DPhvOJFk&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kW9DPhvOJFk&amp;amp;feature=related&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See my point?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings us to this post.&amp;nbsp;I have a &lt;b&gt;unique inability&lt;/b&gt; to stop my mind from wandering. And I have some of the most hilarious visions in my head while keeping a blank face on. I am going to list down a few.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;The head of one of my professor looks like a butterfly from the back. (True story). More often than not, I have an image of his hair leaving his head and flying away like a butterfly. Literally. : D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;At times when I am watching a romantic movie (they don't go down too well with me) I have the image of one of the characters shooting the other right in the head&amp;nbsp;for being so effing cheesy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Every time someone hurts their foot/leg, I almost invariably have the image of them doing the "Thriller" dance. That is beyond weird, I know. And that someone can also be a really old/overweight lady.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Every time I hear a good news, I start doing the MC Hammer dance in my head. Oh no wait, I actually do that. My bad. : D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Ooh, there are times when I am like, Really pissed off on somebody, I might have a calm blank face on but in my head, I picture his/her head exploding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one time, while shopping at Hill Road, Bandra, my friends and I were going through the tees in a stall. And I swear to god, they were so bad I wanted to burn them all. Plus I was rather tired that day. I was smiling at the stall owner while in my head I had an image of me picking up the stall and throwing it away, Hulk style.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;When I reach the last bit of Maggi, I always wonder how cool would it be if I had that &lt;i&gt;Yudhistir&lt;/i&gt;'s plate from &lt;i&gt;Mahabaharta &lt;/i&gt;that refills on its own.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Hmm... I think the rest are just Way too weird for me to share.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;: D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-396160398110790215?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/396160398110790215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=396160398110790215&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/396160398110790215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/396160398110790215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-have-unique-inability-to-stop-my-mind.html' title='WoOT!'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-622771218375151669</id><published>2010-12-04T05:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-05-25T23:01:36.834-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quotable Quotes from my Life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Quotable quotes from my life:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - Dude, I am hungry, &lt;i&gt;kuch khane ko lana.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Me (A) - Ek spoon le and eat your ass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - You know, I will make the best sandwich In the World and name it after you. I’ll call it, ’The Bitch-Burger’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Eshank - Dude, any guy who has a crush on you should talk to you for five minutes and he wont ask you out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Haw, That bad?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Eshank - No, it's just that you will have such a big "F*CK OFF." written all over your face, he wouldn't have the guts to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;(Facebook conversation)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Moushami - You look so cute avanika :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Thank you. *blush*. That candy floss Sucked BTW.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Moushami - aww..haha :) As long as u look like a cute candy with the candy floss! whatever..lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - hhahahahahahahahaa! So you realised how weird that sounded haan! Lol, dude!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Moushami - omg... bahahahaaaaa!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - I So wish I was dusky instead!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Sunny - Tsk tsk, my melanin deficient buddy, what you need is a tan or finding comfort in your skin (literally).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - "melanin deficient buddy". Hahahahaha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - It's my birthday next!!!! Yesssssssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Neha - Good lord woman, you will be 22.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - I know!!!!!!!!!!!! Budday cap and Budday cake!!!! YAAAAAAAAAAAAYY!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Neha - :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - *dances* Budday! Budday! BUDDAY!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Neha - :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Yess! YESSSSSS!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Neha - Avi, you are a freak.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;(Varun went out of scene for a very long time, no calls, no messages, nothing)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- &lt;i&gt;Yaar, tune desh chod diya bataya nahi&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Varun-&lt;i&gt; Haan yaar, kya batun, is desh mein rakha kya hai mere liye. Kaun hai mera yahaan??&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- &lt;i&gt;Paka mat chal.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Varun-&lt;i&gt; Chalu kisne kiya.&lt;/i&gt; :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Kushi - Nobody cares about me, nobody loves me, I am crying, nobody sees my tears.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Kushi - See, you are giving me a face, even you don’t care about me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Kushi- I have nothing left in the world to do, sob sob sob.. I wrote sob thrice.. And Still nobody cares&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Kushi- Dude, I am really bored.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- I figured.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Alkash (to me)- &lt;i&gt;Aur gabbar, kaisa chal raha hai tera samrajya??&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- Dude, you are my buddy, you know that right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Neha- Huh? What happened to you?! B&lt;i&gt;ol kis Ch***** ki chita jalane ka time aaya hai!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Wait, what!? *rofl*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- She asked him to suggest her a gift for Valentines. I asked her to get a one tetra byte HDD and a graphic card. What do you think?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Pavan- You know Avan, it’s not that you are Romantically challenged, you are romantically Paralyzed. :\&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- Please, I am more subtle than I have ever been these days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Sunny - Subtle and you? Please, that's like an elephant trying to look dainty by wearing a tutu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - Did you finish that file for me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - I have Alzheimer, I don’t remember who you are and what you wanted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- Dude. :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Neha- I know. :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- Lame joke &lt;i&gt;tha woh. Rona aa raha hai mujhe.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Varun - &lt;i&gt;Achcha! Mera goo, goo aur tera goo gulkand!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- Wait, what!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;*rofl*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A -&lt;i&gt; Paka mat chal.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Sooraj - &lt;i&gt;Arrey nahi nahi, milunga main tujhe, haath mein Gulab ka phool liye, kamar lachkate, sharmate, hahahahaha, &lt;b&gt;ULTI&lt;/b&gt; ki hogi na tune abhi abhi.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - Whoaa! Did you get a plastic surgery?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- I am assuming by that you mean I am looking good today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - No I am just asking, did you get a plastic surgery?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- I am not all that ugly on a usual day you know!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - I am just asking, did you get a plastic surgery?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Well, what can I say, thanks, I guess.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - No, did you get a plastic surgery?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- God NO! Stop f**king my brain!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - Too bad. You should. *XD*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- The weather is so damn awesome today! It’s drizzling, and cold! And it must be breezing like hell at Marine line, so OBVIUOSLY I won’t get a break from work and will be inside the whole day!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Neha - There There.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Papa- &lt;i&gt;Tumhari badi dadagiri hai ghar mein haan?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- &lt;i&gt;Yeh mere BAAP ka ghar hai! Kaun mera kya bigaad lega!?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Papa- :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- heheheehhe. *runs inside*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- (at 2 pm) Dude there is a match today, aaj office ke baad let’s go to Sports Bar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;(at 7 pm) Yaay, my work is done, I am leaving.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail- Huh? What about the Sports Bar plan?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- Screw that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail- &lt;i&gt;Yeh tu soye hue sher ko chimti kaatke bhaaga mat kiya kar!!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- Dude, how was your paper?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Sooraj- It was bad yeah. It was like getting laid without any feelings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - So here’s the joke,&lt;i&gt; Commode mein dekha maine behta hua go.. Commode mein dekha maine behta hua goo.. Goo se yaad aaya, yaar kaisi hai tu?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Haan? Haaan? Funny right!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Neha- :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Kushi- :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- Laugh bitches LAUGH!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Neha- :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Kushi - F**k off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - So there, that’s my plan. Now what do you have to say about it Miss ‘I have an opinion on everything’?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - I am not clear if that’s a good thing when you say it like that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - Oh alright, alright, let me put it this way, what do you have to say about it y&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ou painfully high opinionated bitch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Hmm. Thanks for clearing that up yeah. But Nice try. Gaah! So I think.. :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Nimish - Pata hai jab hum dono ki shaadi ho jayegi toh ek din we’ll run into each other and I’ll ask you, yeh Navratna tel kiske liye hain? And you will reply, for my husband, he has suddenly gone bald after our marriage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Hmm.. Aur main bolungi, chuck that yeah, tu bata, bhabhi kaisi hain? And you will reply, She is in Coma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Both- :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;*rofl*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Kushi- Dude, I saw this TV sky ad today. Lol Lol. It was dubbed in Hindi. It goes like this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;“Hi! Mera naam hai Randy”&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Nimish, Sneha, Me - *Paaahahahahahahahahahahhahaha*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - I got a new system!! 21” screen, 500 GB internal memory, 4GB Ram, core to duo processor, Graphic card, wireless mouse and keyboard. Yaay!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Siddharth - Great.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ab nariyal phod uspe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;*phone rings*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- Hello?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;D**** - Hey, D**** here, Ismail said you wanted me to call you..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;(Now, FYI, this fellow, I am just going to call him D, is Ismail’s friend and he is an A**HOLE. Male chauvinist pig, passes comments on girls, and all that he can talk about is money. In short, perfect e.g. of a guy that I LOATHE. Like if someone asks me, what category of guys make you want to throw up?, I will say the D category.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;- Next day-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - Hey.. You got a hard board?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- Yeah, that’s for you, save your face! You are about to feel some pain!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - What, why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - So D called, said you told him I wanted him to call me, also, that I couldn’t STOP talking about him and his BODY after we met. He asked me if I maybe wanted to go out with him sometime.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - *rofl* I was really bored. :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;*multiple punches*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- You-son-of-a-!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- Yo! Got to hear this at work today, inside news, Ranbir and Deepika broke up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Kushi- Yeah, I knew about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- Huh? You did?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Kushi - Yeah, I met Ranbir yesterday, he was telling me, I can’t do without you Kushi, I am madly in love with you..I can leave the world for you..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yeh ladka bhi na&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;. Tch”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Kushi- :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Anurag - I wrote a short story, you want to hear?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - No.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Anurag- It’s called, ‘If pigs could fly’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- Wait What! *rofl*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Papa, I have to go out,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thode paise do na&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Papa -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yeh lo paanch rupaye, jaao aish karo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Papa - :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Papa - :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A -:/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Papa - Oh alright! How much do you need?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - You know what, I am not gonna speak with you now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - Haha, Yes!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;(after five minues)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - Okay, enough already. Talk now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;….&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;I will let you punch me and I won’t punch you back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;…..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;I will do your work..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;…..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;(long breath) I will listen to your jokes, and Laugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Yeah, so I was saying.. :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- I will ride this Damn bike today come what may!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Rohan - Please god, please get me out of this alive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A- Sunny, I am a girl! Give me some credit!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Sunny- No you are not! You are just the gayest guy ever!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - So you think she likes me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Dude, yeah! She was all Over you! She was like the moss and you were the stone!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - You are sick. BTW, I know she likes me, I wanted you to see how she gets all over me. Hehehe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - It’s funny when you call ME sick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail (Super duper high) - Dude, I wrote a song for you, long time back actually, never really got around to singing it out loud.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - Awww.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Ismail - Its called, '&lt;b&gt;The bitch drives me crazy&lt;/b&gt;'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;A - :|&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;More to come, as I remember them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-622771218375151669?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/622771218375151669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=622771218375151669&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/622771218375151669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/622771218375151669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/12/quotable-quotes-from-my-life.html' title='Quotable Quotes from my Life.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-1605609307671240960</id><published>2010-12-04T03:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-04T04:49:06.747-08:00</updated><title type='text'>L.O.L.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;So I heard this song called "Just the way you are" by Bruno Mars.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Nice Song, BTW. Not the type I usually listen to, but nice nonetheless. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;You can watch it here:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjhCEhWiKXk"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjhCEhWiKXk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Anyway, the first thought in my head was, "What if he was dating &lt;b&gt;Amy Winehouse&lt;/b&gt;? Would he still be singing this song?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Excerpts&amp;nbsp;from the lyrics:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;'Oh, her eyes, her eyes, make the stars look like they're not shining&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;Her hair, her hair, falls perfectly without her trying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;She's so beautiful, and I tell her every day..'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;img height="320" src="http://latenightdebates.files.wordpress.com/2010/09/amy_winehouse.jpg" width="242" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;'&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Her lips, her lips, I could kiss them all day if she let me'&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;'And when you smile, the whole world stops and stares for a while'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;(This might actually apply, for all the wrong reasons of course)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;img height="320" src="http://divaartist.com/divablog/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/amy-winehouse.jpg" width="272" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;See my point?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;^_^&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-1605609307671240960?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/1605609307671240960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=1605609307671240960&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1605609307671240960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1605609307671240960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/12/lol.html' title='L.O.L.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-6086369593511456666</id><published>2010-12-01T03:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T03:05:00.491-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random</title><content type='html'>Someone here asked me to put up my sketching/drawing or whatever it is that I do. So here you go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TPYp8FMzB-I/AAAAAAAAADE/pkZ7m4gIFig/s1600/15112010466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TPYp8FMzB-I/AAAAAAAAADE/pkZ7m4gIFig/s320/15112010466.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TPYqSWnyqYI/AAAAAAAAADI/xl4fUd8oRnk/s1600/15112010467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TPYqSWnyqYI/AAAAAAAAADI/xl4fUd8oRnk/s320/15112010467.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, these should be credited to extremely boring lectures.&lt;br /&gt;There are lots more, will put them up later. Right now, I need to get back to Economics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note to self - Must. Study. Now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-6086369593511456666?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/6086369593511456666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=6086369593511456666&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/6086369593511456666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/6086369593511456666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/12/random.html' title='Random'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TPYp8FMzB-I/AAAAAAAAADE/pkZ7m4gIFig/s72-c/15112010466.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8060773834627559707</id><published>2010-11-28T16:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-28T16:56:47.552-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Financial Accounting. :|</title><content type='html'>I have a love-hate&amp;nbsp;relationship&amp;nbsp;with Financial&amp;nbsp;Accounting. Love to study it once I am on it, hate to take the initiative to actually sit down with my book and start reading. : |&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My FA textbook is 1124 pages long, that helps in not wanting to look at it even!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, my school bestie, Nupur is in town! Yaay! 15 more days before she flies back to the US of A, and in the meanwhile I have six exams to give. Urgh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8060773834627559707?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8060773834627559707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8060773834627559707&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8060773834627559707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8060773834627559707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/11/financial-accounting.html' title='Financial Accounting. :|'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-4516638509668498586</id><published>2010-11-24T23:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T23:07:15.662-08:00</updated><title type='text'>There was once a girl..</title><content type='html'>There was once a girl.. with a thousand secrets in her head..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She kept a happy face but no one really knew what truly went on behind those happy eyes and the smiling face..she had learned the art to shut out the voices in her head.. learned how to think of a big black wall when memories would haunt her.. she had learned how to fight every thorn that came in her way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She spoke of how people must let go and move on.. she told everybody that what they make of their life is in their hands.. for she had learned that, and learned that the hard way..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;She laughed and talked and had a billion friends.. but she could never tell anyone about the days when she couldn't even manage a smile..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People wondered what was going on in her head when she zoomed out every now and then.. while she tried to push thoughts out of her head while keeping a blank face.. she would say that she is thinking of nothing, and nothing it would be.. for she had learned how to just &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; have any thought in her head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;She was happy one minute and sad the other.. she loved the night sky.. the beach.. the forest..for their pure serene beauty..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;You could ask her a billion times if she were fine and she would say yes..because she is. She has taken good care of herself, or so she believes..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But she knew more than she wanted to.. she had the burden of truth on her.. she knew the meaning of ignorance is bliss and wished that had been the case with her..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was once a girl.. with a thousand secrets in her head..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-4516638509668498586?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/4516638509668498586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=4516638509668498586&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/4516638509668498586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/4516638509668498586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/11/there-was-once-girl.html' title='There was once a girl..'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8124314585610056638</id><published>2010-11-13T20:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-13T20:22:23.221-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My favorite Romantic songs.</title><content type='html'>I am not a romantic person (true story), but here is a list of songs that I Love to listen to. Good music, good lyrics (at least for most of them)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In no particular order:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The book of love - Peter Gabriel&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dice - Finley Quaye&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Kissing - Bliss&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fresh Feeling - Eels&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Clarity - John Mayer&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tempatation - Moby (You might not like this song right away, let it grow on you)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Honey and the Moon - OC soundtrack&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bloodstream - Stateless&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Beautiful - Late Night Alumni&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Brighter than Sunshine - Aqualung&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You belong to me - Lifehouse&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Only hope - Switchfoot&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Closer - Joshua Radin&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Island in the sun - Weezer&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She could be you - Shawn Hlookoff&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sunburn - Owl City&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hello Sunshine - Super Furry Animals&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stay here forever - Jewel&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Teenage Dream - Katy Perry (Haha, yes! I actually like to listen to this one!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm yours - Jason Mraz&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are loads more, will add them sooner or later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Till then enjoy.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Peace.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8124314585610056638?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8124314585610056638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8124314585610056638&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8124314585610056638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8124314585610056638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/11/my-favorite-romantic-songs.html' title='My favorite Romantic songs.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-2943882748392199060</id><published>2010-11-12T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-12T19:42:33.861-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frustrating, it is.</title><content type='html'>Have you ever wondered how there are so many ideas in your head that you want to put to action. Stuff that has been in your mind for a very long time, but you couldn't, for some reason, go ahead with it. It could be anything, writing a short story, completing a painting that has been unfinished for a very long time, visiting a boutique to get that dress you sketched/designed finally made, learning a new recipe, catching up with a really old friend, watching that movie from the 1980's, you've heard so much about..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you wondered how your brain becomes the focal point of &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;all&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;these ideas &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;on the day before your final semester exam?&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Everytime!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-2943882748392199060?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/2943882748392199060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=2943882748392199060&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2943882748392199060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2943882748392199060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/11/frustrating-it-is.html' title='Frustrating, it is.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-1070514630142184942</id><published>2010-11-01T18:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T22:36:13.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eastern Indians</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Every time I come across an eastern Indian, by golly the first thought in my head is, ARE THEY BORN THAT STYLISH?!&lt;br /&gt;No, Seriously!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent two months this summer in eastern India, travelling through Assam, Arunachal Pradesh and Meghalaya. I usually take off during summer because the summer in Mumbai is a bitch. Last year it was Bangalore..good times.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I distinctly remember walking down the streets of Tawang and Bomdila, wondering to myself, all day everyday,&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;where &lt;/b&gt;do they get all this stuff from? And how come &lt;b&gt;all&lt;/b&gt; of them are &lt;b&gt;that&lt;/b&gt; stylish! They&amp;nbsp;would&amp;nbsp;wear the most awesome-est (I know there is a grammatical error there, but that's how much I mean it, I am risking a Grammatical error, ME!) cloths ever, even if they were just taking a walk down the lane. And I can bet that I didn't find two people wearing the same thing. They had their unique styles, and all of them were, to put it simply, brilliant. I remember wearing trousers and an old shirt for a morning walk, and when I saw them fellas, I had to rush back to the hotel, change into something fab and step out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came across two of them back home in Mumbai yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picture this, first guy walks in wearing a checked basic red-white-blue shirt with&amp;nbsp;beige&amp;nbsp;shorts.&lt;br /&gt;Just when I was thinking how effortlessly cool the dude was, walks in his friend, wearing a Metallica T-shirt with big skulls and.. wait for it.. white cotton loose trousers that you can sleep in. For real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH. MY. GOD.&lt;br /&gt;It was hot and cool at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought it would be unfair to not acknowledge my awe in public.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ze- Cool - ness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-1070514630142184942?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/1070514630142184942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=1070514630142184942&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1070514630142184942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1070514630142184942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/11/eastern-indians.html' title='Eastern Indians'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-355702229829907406</id><published>2010-10-10T01:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T20:36:35.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It is weird how life picks you up and turns you around when you are falling upside down.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is weird how that almost rhymed. ^_^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is weird. Not that I am complaining. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a battle and a celebration, at the same time, all day, everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Change is the only constant, I have never quite understood the meaning of it as much as I do now, and I couldn't agree more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is weird how certain things, that we wanted so bad years/months/seconds ago we don't anymore, nay, we run in the opposite direction when we see them coming. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most difficult thing to do is to get in touch with &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;yourself&lt;/span&gt;. True. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second most difficult thing is to face yourself, your reality, what you &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; want. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third most difficult thing is to take the right decision, no matter how easy and appealing the wrong decision is.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Respect yourself, respect your rights and demand them. - Prof Rooshikumar Pandya.&lt;br /&gt;Strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I am aware of how &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;totally&lt;/span&gt; random this is, yes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-355702229829907406?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/355702229829907406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=355702229829907406&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/355702229829907406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/355702229829907406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/10/it-is-weird-how-life-picks-you-up-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8568409743313610733</id><published>2010-10-06T03:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T18:33:57.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I haven't written anything for the longest time. And not because I did not have stuff to write about, but only because there was too much going on and I had too little free time on my hand. For starters, MBA sucks the life out of you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Last couple of days have taught me more than what I have learnt my entire life, or so I can safely say. I have seen sides of me that I didn't know existed, I have seen sides of other people that I half expected, I WON A SINGING COMPETITION (Hell. Yeah!). See my point? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now realise that I am actually quite good at certain things that I thought I am going to (down-right) suck at. At the same time, things that I thought would come easily to me are so far off, I might take eons to get there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People don't change, they just do not show all sides to them at once. You know when you get that feeling that a person has changed, think again, has the person changed or were you too blinded to see things as clearly as you do now? Too ignorant? Too afraid to accept? I always maintain, whether a person is good or bad can truly be defined only when that person is in trouble. That is where the true values surface. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also realised that it is the best for me to go in a shell when I am in a bad mood, I can not, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will&lt;/span&gt; not, be answerable to people when all that I really want is for them to leave me alone and let me pull myself together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised the beauty and potency of silence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised that it's the best to follow your instinct (always) and stay true to your character. I am not a very cool person, I am highly controlled, emotionally and I have done good so far, I should not mess with that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, I have also realised that I need to work on my emotional side a bit, make that a lot. I really am, in every meaning of the word, emotionally paralyzed. (Pavan, there, you were right.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised that it is bad to put a person in a bracket of judgement based on what you hear or think about him. You miss on to knowing some really cool people. Keep your mind open, give people a fair chance, and for all you know, you will be pleasantly surprised. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised that no matter how far a person is or how much time has passed, some people just NEVER CEASE TO BE ROYAL BITCHES. Why? Because that's what they are, Evil. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also realised, that nothing is bad enough or embarrassing enough for your best friend to not understand.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;how&lt;/span&gt; much I love my independence. And it almost scares me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised that no bond is stronger than that of a mother and her daughter. I love my mom. Inspite of all the differences in opinions, and in-spite of the crazy arguments, I love her, for she loves me, for the screwed up crazy insane person that I am. And although for some people, loving me seems like a cakewalk, the more you know me, the harder it gets. True story.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I will go to any extent to keep my mom and my sister happy and protected. Because they need it the most, I know Dad and I can take care of ourselves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know that I am as strong, (probably even more) as I always thought I was. And I am proud of that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who are always super cool and super funny, have some of the best minds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who give too much importance to winning, have no fun left in their lives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who give too much importance to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt; are almost always sad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who give too little importance to everything have nothing left on them to call their own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Balance, is the word. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is alright to be confused about how you feel, the toughest thing to do on the planet is to understand one's own behavior. Honest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8568409743313610733?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8568409743313610733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8568409743313610733&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8568409743313610733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8568409743313610733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-havent-written-anything-for-longest.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-149341724242194957</id><published>2010-08-22T00:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T18:38:14.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This post is Important. This post is (almost) necessary. &lt;br /&gt;I am going to list down what people deduce about me, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;before&lt;/span&gt; they have an actual conversation with me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am going to defend myself, Yes, sir, I will!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I have a lot of Attitude problem / Superiority complex. &lt;br /&gt;False. I do not have a superiority complex. I have a face that reflects it. So unless I get a plastic surgery done(and I am going to no extremes, unless of course, absolutely necessary), there is nothing that I can really do about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I have a lot of ego. &lt;br /&gt;True. I will not fight that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I am very unapproachable. &lt;br /&gt;False. Then again, it's just the face people. I will not beat you to death if you walk up to me and try to have a conversation. In fact, I talk a lot. But you will need the courage to deal with my expression (which is usually, a big blank straight face).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I never initiate a conversation. &lt;br /&gt;True, in case of boys. False, in case of girls. I am not a hypocrite, I just don't like to walk upto a guy and start talking to him, at most times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I will disregard them, if I think they are not cool enough. &lt;br /&gt;F.A.L.S.E. I don't judge people by the way they look, no matter what kind of vibes they get from me. Everyone is cool, no-one is cooler than the others, when I don't know any of them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I am rude. &lt;br /&gt;True. I can't beat around the bush, I can't flatter people unnecessarily, I am critical, and I am a no nonsense person. How can I Not be rude? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I might insult you, if you try to talk to me. &lt;br /&gt;False. I don't do that. Period. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. I will not be nice to girls. &lt;br /&gt;This just cracks me. It is true that I usually have more guy-friends which is because I have nothing to contribute to a 'girly' conversation, but that does not mean that I can not be friends with them. Most of my closest friends are girls. And they are strong willed women. Coz that's how I like it. : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I am a mean person. &lt;br /&gt;Unsure. I am not intentionally mean, I am honest and rude, of course. So, I really can't say whether or not I draw a line when required. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I am highly opinionated.&lt;br /&gt;True. No arguments. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So,if you see me, talk to me, before you judge me and have shit rocking your pants. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd be surprised, I might not be half the bitch you think I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Vishal and Aditya - I hope you agree. You both have contributed a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lot&lt;/span&gt; to this post. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vishal, who thought I would sit by myself during lunch because I thought the others weren't cool enough. :D&lt;br /&gt;Aditya, who thought I would tell him "Don't talk to me" if he tried to have a conversation. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*laughs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-149341724242194957?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/149341724242194957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=149341724242194957&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/149341724242194957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/149341724242194957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/08/this-post-is-important.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-6455213931632619996</id><published>2010-08-05T06:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T06:24:57.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My MBA college has begun. The batch of the 2012 is divided into three devisions. And from what we hear, our division (Division C) is the coolest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first day was Intense. We got Owned by our seniors, Big time, for good 12 hours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day two and three were awkward. Mainly consisted of people looking around to find some faces that seem approachable, people walking around with the food tray trying to find a place to sit in the canteen, people Actually paying attention to what the professors had to say since they Had no other choice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a Lot better, it was the fourth day, we all knew the faces, we all knew the names, all we had to do was talk. And talk, we did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is safe to say, I like my class. &lt;br /&gt;So far, so good. &lt;br /&gt;: )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-6455213931632619996?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/6455213931632619996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=6455213931632619996&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/6455213931632619996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/6455213931632619996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-mba-college-has-begun.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-3960918765389674992</id><published>2010-07-31T03:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T03:51:54.401-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am in LOVE with this song called Beautiful by Late Night Alumni. You should hear it too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-3960918765389674992?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/3960918765389674992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=3960918765389674992&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3960918765389674992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3960918765389674992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-am-in-love-with-this-song-called.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-7489152410160854909</id><published>2010-07-19T01:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T01:24:21.126-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This just in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me- That is Ridiculous! I will never be jealous of my best friend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - What if she buys the same dress that You have been dying to get. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - Then I will hit her.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Ismail - What if she wasn't aware you liked it too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - Then we will Totally share it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - What if she goes to Scotland before you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - What If that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - What if she gets a new really good friend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - So what? She is my best friend, not my girl friend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - Oh, okay, so what if, she turns gay, and then starts to date a really hot chick, and then buys her the dress that You loved and goes on a vacation to Scotland with her and then post pictures on Facebook with a caption that reads - My girlfriend, my love, my Best Friend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - Hmm.. now That is something to think about. So maybe I might be a little jealous then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - I Told you! All the girls are Jealous!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - So maybe we are, but so are boys!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - Oh, I never denied that, we are jealous bastards, I will shoot my best friend if he went out for beer with some other friend when he was supposed to hang out with me.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Me - Sissy. Plus, my bestie already Has a boyfriend, so if she turns Bi, it's her guy that should worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - I don't follow you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me- Like D'uh! Isn't that obvious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - Are you F*cking Insane?! If my girl tells me she is into girls too, I will be the next happy tree friend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - You're Sick.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Ismail - : D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-7489152410160854909?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/7489152410160854909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=7489152410160854909&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7489152410160854909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7489152410160854909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/07/this-just-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-5549180018742561662</id><published>2010-07-19T00:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T23:24:53.062-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wheel of Time - The Eye of the World.</title><content type='html'>So, I am reading this book called The Eye of the world.&lt;br /&gt;And man, do I love Fiction or what! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, so good. : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And ooh, how cool would, Avanika Sedai sound! There is a good chance for me to be universally hated, but I think I can risk that. &lt;br /&gt;: D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me give you an idea of what I might look like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TEQCiIctxCI/AAAAAAAAACg/m6fKtuSOpSA/s1600/Moraine+aes+sedai.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TEQCiIctxCI/AAAAAAAAACg/m6fKtuSOpSA/s320/Moraine+aes+sedai.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495520230705579042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that pretty though, No. But with powers, that staff and that cloak!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention I Love fiction? : )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-5549180018742561662?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/5549180018742561662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=5549180018742561662&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5549180018742561662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5549180018742561662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/07/wheel-of-time-eye-of-world.html' title='Wheel of Time - The Eye of the World.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/TEQCiIctxCI/AAAAAAAAACg/m6fKtuSOpSA/s72-c/Moraine+aes+sedai.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-6038120624066498639</id><published>2010-07-16T00:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-11T04:15:14.869-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Critical. Practical. Realist. Honest. Sarcastic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liars don't go down too well with me, neither do people who don't mind their own business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Incapable of lying or diplomacy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate phony people, hate drama, hate hypocrisy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate manipulative people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also love to read, write, sketch and paint. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love to gossip with my bestie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love the rains, Hate the muck. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love the night sky. Love to figure out constellations.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have the inherent talent of cracking the most ridiculous jokes at the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;wrong&lt;/span&gt; time and worsening the situation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emotionally screwed up, my E.Q. is as good as that of a Robot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like to respect the elders, voluntarily. And I like for people to respect them too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anybody who cannot respect Women falls down a bottomless pit for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't expect me to be comforting if it's Your fault. If it isn't, I can fight the world for the truth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a billion friends. Like to interact with new people. Love to travel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Appreciate people who Try to be better human beings, but people who Pretend to be better than who they really are piss me off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate power. Hate authority. Like working, love a simple life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't like to talk about money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can be really mean when in a bad mood. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dead easy to irk me, I don't fight unless provoked, but when I do, I mean it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pushover, don't stay mad for long. But take that for granted, and I will let go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not really a job for me to cut people off, it comes rather naturally. And I don't care to get back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Major trust issues. Skeptic. Friendly, yet detached.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Believe in having faith. Believe in letting go. Believe in moving on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like to have high expectations, Only with myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Self-critical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Highly opinionated. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say things as they are. Can not beat around the bush. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheating, infidelity, jugglery, et al, make me want to take a bat and beat the concerned person to pulp with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sufficiently violent. I Love to punch people. : D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can be mad at a moment, laugh in the middle of an argument, maybe even crack a joke and then be crazy mad again. It's quite normal for me. : D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate people who make fun of their partners in their absence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate touchy people, dislike over-protective people. I can take care of myself, thank you very much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't like anybody except for my father and me, to pay for My expense. And when I go out with a guy friend, I like to pay for my own food. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gallantry and Male chauvinism are two Entirely different concepts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that the world would be pretty f**ked up without women. That being said, I don't believe in one being superior to the other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People with a superiority complex need a reality check and a Life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Attitude, not money determines the class of a person. I have come across brilliant examples of super rich with zero class people. Eg. A certain V.M. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't mind people who are full of themselves as long as they don't try project they are Better than the rest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate judgmental people. I still can't see the problem with living in or homosexuality. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jealousy is natural, but being jealous of a friend or family member is Really Shallow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost everything gets me cracking, I laugh a Lot, I talk a Lot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And No, Just because I laugh at your joke or talk to you does not mean I am interested in you romantically. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leave me alone when I say I want to be alone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think listening to music when you are in a sad/apologetic mood is a complete &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;disaster&lt;/span&gt;. Tried and tested, that. : D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate pity gestures. People, keep your pities to yourself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am either just detached or a strong person, emotionally, nothing seems to bother me for more than a day, but I could never figure out on which side do I fall. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like my friends, Love my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love catching up with old friends, that being said, I am Really bad at keeping in touch. I don't call, I barely ever message. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like people with a sense of humour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love food. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get bored very quickly. Restless. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like people who take the blame for their faults, and I forgive them. The ones that Don't, piss me off. In that case, I never forget and I never forgive. And I make that clear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can easily see through a lie. It's a talent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can sit around a person that I don't like without a problem, just don't talk to me if you know I don't like you. Which again, I make sure, you do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love Harry Potter. I always wished I was a wizard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fiction excites me, I like to read about the super natural. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I hear about something, I can't rest till I know &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love Travel and Living.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love to shop for clothes and shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love the colours black, white and gray. I don't have a single bright piece of clothing that I bought myself, oh, except for a bright yellow Spongebob Squarepants t-shirt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love getting gifts, specially the small ones. : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I save lame things, and they mean a Lot to me. I still have the Friendship band my  bestie Sneha gave me back in 11th when we didn't even know each other. One of my drawer is Full of such stuff. It confuses the hell out of my mother. : D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could be a hair stylist. : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate owing money to anybody. It makes me Very uncomfortable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finding money in an old jeans makes me wants to dance with joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I like to dance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love to clean. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love to ride a bike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love to help. I could have been a brilliant doctor if the sight of blood didn't scare the guts out of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like action movies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love cartoons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TV series addict. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can listen to someone play an acoustic guitar forever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate closed spaces, air conditioned cars and airplanes make me Very uncomfortable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perfectionist, and yet, I am not even Close to perfect, and I couldn't care less.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-6038120624066498639?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/6038120624066498639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=6038120624066498639&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/6038120624066498639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/6038120624066498639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/07/about-myself.html' title='I am.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-3140753112258972212</id><published>2010-07-03T22:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-04T00:04:03.152-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mueh.</title><content type='html'>I am having one of those mornings where you just get up will a zillion thoughts running in your head. And this happens a lot to me, given that I have a serious problem of over-thinking and over-analyzing. Hence, the completely random obtuse thoughts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What IS the problem with having a rock solid attitude as long as you don’t throw it around on people who don’t deserve it. Why say one has an attitude problem? What is the Problem in having an attitude anyway? Isn’t everybody different? Don’t we all have our set of rights and wrongs? Is it necessary for them to coincide with the others? What’s the fun in being then. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do So many people say anywayS? Grown up people who should just Know it’s never anyways. It’s always just anyway, ends right there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do Not take the name Death by Chocolate, Not seriously, there is so much chocolate in the cake, it seriously Can kill.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did Argentina lose the quarter finals? And Bloody ridiculously for that matter? 4-0? You have Got to be kidding me. That being said, one of the status message of my friend Khalid Khan, who is clearly a German supporter had me cracking. It goes like this:&lt;br /&gt;"As I was waiting 4 a Nazi assult....... Da wait was worth it...&lt;br /&gt;By da way...... Did anyone See Messi around.... If yes, Dan tell him dat Argentina jus lost 4-0 to Germany.. :D"&lt;br /&gt;Witty! &lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, seriously? WTF Mess-i?&lt;br /&gt;Spain won, saving grace. And what a match that was! Penalty-miss-penalty-score-foul-penalty-miss. And the goal in the nick of time, David Villa is the man! But why does he hit the grounds every time he scores? That should hurt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The saying, "Remember: No good deed ever goes unpunished" is depressingly true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is wrong with being homosexual? Why do people still have prejudices about people’s orientation? Isn’t the whole point of love is being with the person that you Like to be with? What has that got to do with the sex of the person? And even if it does come across as a little weird to some, why object or ridicule it? Why do people Assume, that they have a right to pass their judgment on people that do not fit in their tiny bracket of, if I may say so, Batshit convictions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does nobody F**king clean the area around Borivali Court? It stinks so bad, you'd rather bolt to a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sulabh Shauchalay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to swim, I want to go to Water Kingdom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To each their own, true that, but I just find it Really hard to not contemplate over someone who dares to wear &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Silver Printed Shiny leggings&lt;/span&gt; with a short top in public. It looked like the lady just stepped out of a life size tank of Aluminium in a molten state. I swear, if anybody stared at it closely, they could fix their make-up and do their hair, in the reflection. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two blogs that I really love to read, &lt;a href="http://khamba.blogspot.com/"&gt;Khamba&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://phoenix2100.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ashish Shakya&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, has a Really annoying voice! And my lord knows that every time she opens her mouth, I want to take one of those pins you use to clip clothes and clip her lips with it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh, Eshank Bansal, thanks a ton buddy. MBA admissions procedure would have been &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;insanely&lt;/span&gt; boring if it weren't for you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times you just need to let go of things. You can try as much as you want, but you have to respect the preference of others and chose where your loyalties lie. And honestly, if you have a clear mind, it is never really that difficult to decide where your loyalties lie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can totally like someone without having to be romantically interested in them people! There really are some good people out there, contrary to what I thought. &lt;br /&gt;That being said, I continue to trust No-one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell is Wrong with my dreams. Alien invasions, animals, water fights, flying, diving, blasts, running to a no-where, I have had them all in the past couple of months. How depressing! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really like how a friend, Esha Rehal posts her statuses on her page followed by a "|". It's very neat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I see a diamond, my mind almost instantly starts to picture a lot of little kids mining. I am not too fond of jewelery, no. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time it pours, I want to be in a shack in Scotland. : ) &lt;br /&gt;How weird is that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I always knew I was crazy, I have been making that point to myself rather frequently, it's uncomfortable. I was almost about to open up my head to somebody. I have to be more careful now and stick to, "Switch phone off when feeling low" mantra. &lt;br /&gt;It does me no good to share, I hate follow up calls like, "I hope you are fine now", how much I love for people to keep their pities to themselves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have realised that it is unfair to judge a person by a mistake they make. Even the best people on earth can make some truly disastrous mistakes. Either you can choose to let go of them, or let go of the mistake. It is always better to go for the latter. Yes, I, Avanika Vashistha, am saying to Not let go of a person. See, how I have changed.&lt;br /&gt;: )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like guests that stay longer than two days. I really don't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want Spain to win the world cup, now that Argentina has been buried. Although I will miss watching Maradona going loco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, I need to clean the room. Yes, I clean, a Lot. I am anti-dust.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-3140753112258972212?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/3140753112258972212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=3140753112258972212&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3140753112258972212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3140753112258972212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/07/mueh.html' title='Mueh.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-5849064223096846487</id><published>2010-06-24T23:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T01:09:46.698-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>As FIFA goes on, there are two things, that I have realized. &lt;br /&gt;There are a Lot of boys who know &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;nothing&lt;/span&gt; about Football. Some of them are man enough to say, “Dude, I am not really into football that much, so I don’t know what you are talking about”. I am very appreciative of them. And no, I don’t think anybody would judge them for not being into football. And then there is the second category of boys, who know nothing abut football, but are &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Pretentious Douchebags&lt;/span&gt; who would question &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt; ("A girl, who knows about football! Whooa!" And then some suspicious looks are the reactions I generally get). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I come across such dorks, I have the same reaction. It starts with ‘ : | ’ and ends with ‘ : ) ’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me explain the contradicting reactions. Whenever being looked down as a suspicious poser or whenever I come across guys who fall under the category of Pretentious Douchebags (PD), my first immediate reaction is a straight face. And then my thoughts say the exact same thing every time. &lt;br /&gt;It goes like this. “Aww look at you, with your &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;batshit&lt;/span&gt; knowledge about football. We both know that you probably know as much about football as a &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;cow&lt;/span&gt;, but you feel that there is a lot of ‘peer pressure’ on you to like it. You probably don’t even like beer and honestly, all that you want to do is go home, lock the doors, and try on that &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;cute pink dress&lt;/span&gt; mommy made for your sister. But you’d rather just stand here, question me and make a fool of yourself. Let me let you bask in the glory of your retard-ness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And by the end of it, I can’t help but smirk. Hence the  : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;: | ………………………..: )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that thought process repeats &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; there is a pause between my straight face and the smile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, allow me to help with a few examples for better understanding. All the below mentioned Ds stand for Dorks/ Douche bags/ Dumasses, whatever you wish to read them as. Suit yourself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Dude! FIFA is here! &lt;br /&gt;D: What do You know about Football?&lt;br /&gt;Me: : |&lt;br /&gt;D:  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kabhi dekha hai kya game?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: : |&lt;br /&gt;D: Lol, okay, which are the teams you like?&lt;br /&gt;Me: : |. I have a soft corner for England because it has a lot of my favorite players, that being said, I’d love for Argentina or Spain to win. Which team do you support?&lt;br /&gt;D: I like England too. &lt;br /&gt;Me: Which is your favorite player in the English team?&lt;br /&gt;D: &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;CHRISTIANO RONALDO.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: : |……………………………: )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D: You like Football? What is an &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Off-side&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Me: : | ……………………… : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, here is the thing. One of the easiest ways to find out that a boy is a PD is if he asks you about the Off-Side rule. Here’s why. They probably don’t get it themselves, but they have heard about it from football fans or Read on &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Facebook discussions&lt;/span&gt; about this rule, and they think it’s cool to ask this question for them to &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;fit in&lt;/span&gt;. I bet at most times, they are just looking for the answer to what it really is themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you know a person is a true football fan? Tell them you are into it, and they don’t Care if you are a boy or a girl, their first reaction would probably be - “Yeah baby!” Or “Let’s watch the finals together dude! We can bet on it, even!” And there first questions would probably include, which team or teams do you support? Or who is your favorite player? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Dude, I can’t come out. Match today.&lt;br /&gt;D: You watch football! :O Oh really?!&lt;br /&gt;Me: : |&lt;br /&gt;D: Tell me when there is a match between England and Argentina.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Erm.. They are not in the same group.&lt;br /&gt;D: What group?!&lt;br /&gt;Me: : | ……………………… : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: So which team are you supporting at FIFA this year?&lt;br /&gt;D: Manchester United.&lt;br /&gt;Me: : | …………………………  xD &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D: You know about football?&lt;br /&gt;Me: : |&lt;br /&gt;D: Ever played it, LOL. &lt;br /&gt;Me: : |&lt;br /&gt;D: Achcha what position?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Mid-fielder, left wing. You?&lt;br /&gt;D: Arrey main toh gali ka football khelta hoon.&lt;br /&gt;Me: : | ……………… : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  FIFA! FIFA!&lt;br /&gt;D: What do you know about FIFA?&lt;br /&gt;Me: : |. What do You know about FIFA?&lt;br /&gt;D: Ask me anything!&lt;br /&gt;Me: What does it stand for?&lt;br /&gt;D: *silence*&lt;br /&gt;Me: : |………………….: )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D: Is Chritiano Ronaldo not playing this year? I did not see him in the match yesterday!&lt;br /&gt;Me: Which match?&lt;br /&gt;D: England Vs. USA&lt;br /&gt;Me: : |……………………. : )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will add more as they come by. And THAT, they will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-5849064223096846487?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/5849064223096846487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=5849064223096846487&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5849064223096846487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5849064223096846487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/06/as-fifa-goes-on-there-are-two-things.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-5673526381337491302</id><published>2010-05-08T11:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-09T02:52:06.305-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Like, What!</title><content type='html'>I am So sick of the people who believe they are so cool, that everybody wants to be like them. Everybody &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Lurves&lt;/span&gt; them, everybody wants a piece of them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sick of the shell of the hypocrisy they live in. Sick of them wanting to put everyone down, because that is the only way they see themselves above the others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sick of them Assuming that if anyone feels the way they do, or if anyone travels the same road, it's because of them. It's because of that anyone wanting to &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;be&lt;/span&gt; them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sick of people who are living a lie, sick of the people who don't see it for themselves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sick of the people who question other's beliefs, when they can't stand anyone questioning them. Sick of them using their Cool(Read- Manipulative, Bitchy, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Annoying&lt;/span&gt;) ways to conveniently intimidate the others out of it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sick of them to expect the others to Explain themselves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who the hell, no, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;seriously&lt;/span&gt;, who the hell are they again?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-5673526381337491302?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/5673526381337491302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=5673526381337491302&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5673526381337491302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5673526381337491302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/05/like-what.html' title='Like, What!'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-1209909806407982910</id><published>2010-05-03T02:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T00:30:18.437-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ROFL times.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Time: 8 pm. &lt;br /&gt;A car, six people in it, all going, Aksa Beach! Aksa Beach! &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Aksa Beach!!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time 8:30 pm&lt;br /&gt;A car, six people in it, collective sounds of, "Yeaaah, so I will have to take a U-turn", "Damn I hate this traffic", "We won't reach there before tomorrow", "I was so excited, WTF dude..", "I think the city hates me, personally more than everybody else.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nimish- Have you guys ever thought about the most embarrasing moment that you have had?&lt;br /&gt;:|&lt;br /&gt;Nimish- I think, one of the most embarrassing moment that I had was at Avanika's place.. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;jab hum sab &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;adhedh&lt;/span&gt; umar ke log dark room, dark room khel rahe the... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neha, Nimish and I- ROFL!! How Awesome was that!&lt;br /&gt;Kushi, Ashish, Ajay- What the hell are you guys talking about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rewind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost a year ago. BMS- Last semester, last project work. &lt;br /&gt;Subject- Entrepreneurship&lt;br /&gt;Project- To develop an entrepreneurial idea of our own. Complete with a Business Plan, Financial Analysis, Break Even Analysis, and analysis of a gazillion other economic terms. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five days before the submission of the project (the other groups had already finished working on their projects, with the surveys, some had even showed the professor a rough presentation of their work)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me- Don't you guys think it's high time we start working on that project that was given almost a month and a half ago. I think we need to submit it at the end of the week. Everybody else is finished with their BPs already. You know what, let's meet up at my place tonight around 7-ish? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time: 7 pm. Neha comes over, she is genetically modified to be on time even if a blast happens on her way. &lt;br /&gt;7:30 pm. Manisha, walks in, "Sorry! Sorry! I am late! I just got a little held up! Erm, where are the boys?"&lt;br /&gt;8:15 pm. Nimish and Sudarshan walk in. "Wazaaa! Why are you guys staring at us?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:15 to 8:30 - The warm up session, the PC is switched on, a couple of ridiculous ideas are put up on the table, the ridiculous ideas get thrown away from the table, a bit of discussion on how the hell do we never manage to do the projects before time, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ever&lt;/span&gt;, what are we going to after BMS, where are we going to go after the last exam, "Let's have a night out!",  mom brought in drinks and snacks, "You guys are working hard, let me get you some more stuff to eat", "We will never finish this project in time..", who is the most annoying professor, who is the best professor, et al.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:30- 8:45 - Same as above. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time: 8:45&lt;br /&gt;Sudarshan- Dude, I think that's enough for the day. Let's sit tomorrow again, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kal toh pakka decide kar lenge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me- Let's play dark room-dark room.&lt;br /&gt;Manisha- Lol, what!&lt;br /&gt;Sneha- Dude, no way.&lt;br /&gt;Nimish- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Aaj ki dawai nahi li tune?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sudarshan- What the hell is dark room-dark room?&lt;br /&gt;Me- Nothing, it's like hide and seek, only all the lights will be switched off, so you can break your head or leg. But it's fun! Seriously guys, let's play it. It will take away all the tiredness (hahaha, yes, I Said that!) &lt;br /&gt;Come on! Seriously now, you guys! &lt;br /&gt;Rest- Dude, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;No effing way!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time: 9:15 pm.&lt;br /&gt;Five rounds of Dark room-Dark room down. &lt;br /&gt;My turn to seek. I am in the living room counting till 20. All the others are in my room, hiding. &lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, mom, in her room, thinks to herself, "Aww.. the kids have been working so hard for now, I think I should just ask them what they want for dinner"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I was not there to know exactly What happened, but all I know is that I was happily on the 18th count when I heard Sudarshan scream "Dhappa! Dhappa! Hahaahh! It's your turn again!" And I heard a couple of pats on the back. And then, it happened, I heard my mom, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; screech &lt;/span&gt;,"Eeeeps! What the hell! What the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HELL&lt;/span&gt; is going on in here!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out, Sudarshan was hiding behind the door, so when mom walked in to ask what should she cook for dinner, he pounced on her, gave her a pat and yelled.. It was only when mom screeched, and I ran towards the room, I heard a faint "Uh-oh..". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom - Come out in open, All of you! Now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nimish gets up, he was lying on the floor besides the bed, Neha was standing on the head post of the bed, Manisha comes out from behind the curtain, Sudarshan was still too numb to react.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom made us stand in a row and yelled - "You guys are &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;21&lt;/span&gt; years old for the love of god! Your Graduation is coming to an end, and here I thought you were all studying hard! What is wrong with you guys!!...."&lt;br /&gt;That went on for quite a while. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moment mom stepped out of the room, we had a hysteric ROFL moment. And it went on till she stepped back in again only to see us all laughing our asses off.. &lt;br /&gt;*Multiple Gulps*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nimish and Sudarshan walk out of the room, out of the house. Manisha, Sneha and I open random journals just to show that we are working on the project again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom goes back to her room, I think I heard her say, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Hey bhagwan.. kya hoga in bachchon ka.."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, we managed to make a project, the professor quite liked it, even! Obviously we told her that we have been working on it for months. Little did she know that 90 percent of the facts were fictional, and their resemblance to any fact or living person was purely co-incidental. &lt;br /&gt;If there is one thing that you truly learn from doing a course like BMS, it's sucking up so bad, and so Damn confidently that nobody would even as much as dare to question you. &lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a day that was.. &lt;br /&gt;*smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, crows shitting in my balcony again! Damn! &lt;br /&gt;*runs*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-1209909806407982910?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/1209909806407982910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=1209909806407982910&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1209909806407982910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1209909806407982910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/05/time-8-pm.html' title='ROFL times.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-9135030018935118601</id><published>2010-03-02T23:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T01:17:52.953-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Quotable quotes from my life:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - Dude, I am hungry, kuch khane ko lana.&lt;br /&gt;Me (A) - Ek spoon le and eat your ass.&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - You know, I will make the best sandwich In the World and name it after you. I’ll call it, ’The Bitch-Burger’ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Varun went out of scene for a very long time, no calls, no messages, nothing)&lt;br /&gt;A- Yaar, tune desh chod diya bataya nahi.&lt;br /&gt;Varun- Haan yaar, kya batun, is desh mein rakha kya hai mere liye. Kaun hai mera yahaan??&lt;br /&gt;A- Paka mat chal.&lt;br /&gt;Varun- Chalu kisne kiya. :/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kushi - Nobody cares about me, nobody loves me, I am crying, nobody sees my tears.&lt;br /&gt;A- :/&lt;br /&gt;Kushi - See, you are giving me a face, even you don’t care about me&lt;br /&gt;A- :/&lt;br /&gt;Kushi- I have nothing left in the world to do, sob sob sob.. I wrote sob thrice.. And Still nobody cares&lt;br /&gt;A- :/&lt;br /&gt;Kushi- Dude, I am really bored.&lt;br /&gt;A- I figured. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alkash (to me)- Aur gabbar, kaisa chal raha hai tera samrajya??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eshank - Dude, any guy who has a crush on you should talk to you for five minutes and he wont ask you out.&lt;br /&gt;A - Haw, That bad?&lt;br /&gt;Eshank - No, it's just that you will have such a big "F*CK OFF!!" written all over your face, he wouldn't have the guts to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A- Dude, you are my buddy, you know that right?&lt;br /&gt;Neha- Huh? What happened to you?! Bol kis Ch***** ki chita jalane ka time aaya hai! &lt;br /&gt;A - What!? *rofl*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A- She asked him to suggest her a gift for Valentines. I asked her to get a one tetra byte HDD and a graphic card. What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;Pavan- You know Avan, it’s not that you are Romantically challenged, you are romantically Paralyzed. :\&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A- Please, I am more subtle than I have ever been these days.&lt;br /&gt;Sunny - Subtle and you? Please, that's like an elephant trying to look dainty by wearing a tutu.&lt;br /&gt;A- Wait, what! *rofl*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - Did you finish that file for me?&lt;br /&gt;A - I have Alzheimer, I don’t remember who you are and what you wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A- Dude. :/&lt;br /&gt;Neha- I know. :/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A- Lame joke tha who.  Rona aa raha hai mujhe.&lt;br /&gt;Varun - Achcha! Mera goo, goo aur tera goo gulkand!&lt;br /&gt;A- Wait, what! &lt;br /&gt;*rofl*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A - Paka mat chal.&lt;br /&gt;Sooraj - Arrey nahi nahi, milunga main tujhe, haath mein Gulab ka phool liye, kamar lachkate, sharmate, hahahahaha, ULTI ki hogi na tune abhi abhi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - Whoaa! Did you get a plastic surgery?&lt;br /&gt;A- I am assuming by that you mean I am looking good today.&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - No I am just asking, did you get a plastic surgery?&lt;br /&gt;A- I am not all that ugly on a usual day you know!&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - I am just asking, did you get a plastic surgery?&lt;br /&gt;A - Well, what can I say, thanks, I guess. &lt;br /&gt;Ismail - No, did you get a plastic surgery?&lt;br /&gt;A- God NO! Stop fucking my brain!&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - Too bad. You should. *XD*&lt;br /&gt;A- :/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A- The weather is so damn awesome today! It’s drizzling, and cold! And it must be breezing like hell at Marine line, so OBVIUOSLY I won’t get a break from work and will be inside the whole day!!!&lt;br /&gt;Neha - There There.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Papa- Tumhari badi dadagiri hai ghar mein haan?&lt;br /&gt;A- Yeh mere BAAP ka ghar hai! Kaun mera kya bigaad lega!?&lt;br /&gt;Papa- :/&lt;br /&gt;A- heheheehhe. *runs inside*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A- (at 2 pm) Dude there is a match today, aaj office ke baad let’s go to Sports Bar.&lt;br /&gt;(at 7 pm) Yaay, my work is done, I am leaving.&lt;br /&gt;Ismail- Huh? What about the Sports Bar plan?&lt;br /&gt;A- Screw that. &lt;br /&gt;Ismail- Yeh tu soye hue sher ko chimti kaatke bhaaga mat kiya kar!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A- Dude, how was your paper?&lt;br /&gt;Sooraj- It was bad yeah. It was like getting laid without any feelings. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A - So here’s the joke, Commode mein dekha maine behta hua go.. Commode mein dekha maine behta hua goo.. Goo se yaad aaya, yaar kaisi hai tu?&lt;br /&gt;Haan? Haaan? Funny right!&lt;br /&gt;Neha- :/&lt;br /&gt;Kushi- :/&lt;br /&gt;A- Laugh bitches LAUGH!&lt;br /&gt;Neha- :/&lt;br /&gt;Kushi - Fuck off. &lt;br /&gt;A- :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - So there, that’s my plan. Now what do you have to say about it Miss ‘I have an opinion on everything’?&lt;br /&gt;A - I am not clear if that’s a good thing when you say it like that.&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - Oh alright, oh alright, let me put it this way, what do you have to say about it you painfully high opinionated bitch?&lt;br /&gt;A - Hmm. Thanks for clearing that up yeah. But Nice try. Gaah! So I think.. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nimish - Pata hai jab hum dono ki shaadi ho jayegi toh ek din we’ll run into each other and I’ll ask you, yeh Navratna tel kiske liye hain? And you will reply, for my husband, he has suddenly gone bald after our marriage. &lt;br /&gt;A - Hmm.. Aur main bolungi, chuck that yeah, tu bata, bhabhi kaisi hain? And you will reply, She is in Coma. &lt;br /&gt;Both- :/&lt;br /&gt;*rofl*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kushi- Dude, I saw this TV sky ad today. Lol Lol. It was dubbed in Hindi. It goes like this. &lt;br /&gt;“Hi! Mera naam hai Randy”&lt;br /&gt;Nimish, Sneha, Me - *Paaahahahahahahahahahahhahaha*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A - I got a new system!! 21” screen, 500 GB internal memory, 4GB Ram, core to duo processor,  Graphic card, wireless mouse and keyboard. Yaay!&lt;br /&gt;Siddharth - Great. Ab nariyal phod uspe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*phone rings*&lt;br /&gt;A- Hello?&lt;br /&gt;D**** - Hey, D**** here, Ismail said you wanted me to call you..&lt;br /&gt;(Now, FYI, this fellow, I am just going to call him D, is Ismail’s friend and he is an ASSHOLE. Male chauvinist pig, passes comments on girls, and all that he can talk about is money. In short, perfect e.g. of a guy that I LOATHE. Like if someone asks me, what category of guys make you want to throw up?, I will say the D category.)&lt;br /&gt;- Next day-&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - Hey.. You got a hard board?&lt;br /&gt;A- Yeah, that’s for you, save your face! You are about to feel some pain!&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - What, why?&lt;br /&gt;A - So D called, said you told him I wanted him to call me, also, that I couldn’t STOP talking about him and his BODY after we met. He asked me if I maybe wanted to go out with him sometime. &lt;br /&gt;Ismail - *rofl* I was really bored. :D&lt;br /&gt;*multiple punches* &lt;br /&gt;A- You-son-of-a-!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A- Yo! Got to hear this at work today, inside news, Ranbir and Deepika broke up.&lt;br /&gt;Kushi- Yeah, I knew about it.&lt;br /&gt;A- Huh? You did?!&lt;br /&gt;Kushi - Yeah, I met Ranbir yesterday, he was telling me, I can’t do without you Kushi, I am madly in love with you..I can leave the world for you.. Yeh ladka bhi na. Tch”.&lt;br /&gt;A- :/&lt;br /&gt;Kushi- :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anurag - I wrote a short story, you want to hear?&lt;br /&gt;A - No.&lt;br /&gt;Anurag- It’s called, ‘If pigs could fly’&lt;br /&gt;A- Wait What! *rofl*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A - Papa, I have to go out, thode paise do na.&lt;br /&gt;Papa - Yeh lo paanch rupaye, jaao aish karo. &lt;br /&gt;A - :/&lt;br /&gt;Papa - :D&lt;br /&gt;A - :/&lt;br /&gt;Papa - :D&lt;br /&gt;A -:/&lt;br /&gt;Papa - Oh alright! How much do you need?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A - You know what, I am not gonna speak with you now. &lt;br /&gt;Ismail - Haha, Yes!&lt;br /&gt;(after five minues)&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - Okay, enough already. Talk now. &lt;br /&gt;….&lt;br /&gt;I will let you punch me and I won’t punch you back.&lt;br /&gt;…..&lt;br /&gt;I will do your work..&lt;br /&gt;…..&lt;br /&gt;(long breath) I will listen to your jokes, and Laugh.&lt;br /&gt;A - Yeah, so I was saying.. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A- I will ride this Damn bike today come what may!!!&lt;br /&gt;Rohan - Please god, please get me out of this alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A- Sunny, I am a girl! Give me some credit!&lt;br /&gt;Sunny- No you are not! You are just the gayest guy ever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - So you think she likes me?&lt;br /&gt;A - Dude, yeah! She was all Over you! She was like the moss and you were the stone!&lt;br /&gt;Ismail - You are sick. BTW, I know she likes me, I wanted you to see how she gets all over me. Hehehe.&lt;br /&gt;A - It’s funny when you call ME sick. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More to come, as I remember them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-9135030018935118601?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/9135030018935118601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=9135030018935118601&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/9135030018935118601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/9135030018935118601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/03/quotable-quotes-from-my-life-ismail.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-6007876260700038364</id><published>2010-02-16T09:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T23:25:40.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hip-Hop Culture</title><content type='html'>Now one thing that is really common on the roads of Mumbai these days is the existence of petite ( or absolutely obese - its always an extreme) little boys wearing jeans so low that every time I come across one I have an urge to step my foot down on the damn pair and embarrass the guy who's probably wearing an under pant with the U.S.A flag on it, layers of loose t-shirts which is probably bought from the ALL-SIZE store, weird hand gestures which nobody cares to understand, annoying blings, weird caps and flashy shoes which can make the rainbow sob with inferiority. All hail for the 'NIGGERS' [more commonly known as NIGGAS or wiggers (white niggers)] take a bow, take a bow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will find them driving cars with ears popping music systems (which is probably their mother's car), looking like absolute retards with their front seats pushed back and playing 'music' which is just NOISE ( my friend Varun Bobhate will vouch for me here) lacking rhythm and probably all that makes sense, having flashy lights under their cars and blings all over them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The question is, why do these people who come from well mannered, respectable, and probably conservative families decide to dress and behave to kill. And they are rather proud of their abstinence from decent dressing and vocabulary. And there is no answer to their strange and extremely illogical behaviour to this date. Tch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And mother of all that is evil what is with this show called 'Yo mamma'. For all those who haven't seen it, it airs on VH1 a channel that I so liked and is about affronting the mothers of the participants. It is fun to watch for the first 20 seconds after which it gets plain ugly. And some of the 'mommas' have the courage to support their kids while they are AT IT, standing next to them and smiling as they blissfully blow their image so much that a little part in them dies every time a comment comes up. I mean, take a look around you morons. Look at them. There is a holocaust going on inside your mother right now, this very moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I cannot seem to understand is the raging popularity of the show. Now, I do not say you are a moron if you like them. But personally I dislike it more so because I see no sense in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean 'yo mama so stupid she sat on the TV and watched the sofa' or, 'yo mama so ugly she went to cook and the rice went no! no!'. SERIOUSLY? YOU GUYS HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mothers from all over the world unite to fight against it. No, seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the guys (NIGGERS) who picture themselves standing next to hot dusky babes with their trash talking, try talking to me like that once. It will probably be the last thing you say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-6007876260700038364?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/6007876260700038364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=6007876260700038364&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/6007876260700038364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/6007876260700038364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/02/hip-hop-culture.html' title='The Hip-Hop Culture'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8913644758193252299</id><published>2010-02-16T09:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T00:29:35.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Them Idiots!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Guys are stupid. They are nice, but stupid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway my friend just had a horrible fight with her guy for an absurd reason. I think her guy is just too stupid to function.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I will not want to take any names here, yet here are a few little something all you guys reading this article should understand (more so because you will probably have to live with it), also this is mainly in context with my friend, me and the other girls who might be similar to us. I am not generalising it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. We do not mind you playing games as long as you don't call us out for a walk so that YOU can play on OUR cellphones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Most of the girls can express their love but some just cannot. My friend and I fall under this category. So just because we don't say we love you that often, it doesn't mean we really don't. You mean a lot and don't expect us to say it over and over again. (ARE YOU LISTENING?!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. When we do something to look good and you see the difference, COMPLIMENT. It makes the effort worth it. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Next time you get an urge to say something stupid which can lead to an argument, DON'T.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. You can check out other girls as much as you want. Now here's the tricky part, if we do not say anything to you its not because we don't care, its because we trust you so don't get pissed. And if we DO say something, its not because we doubt your intentions but its because we think YOU will like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. We are not the sweet girly type and we are well aware of it. But remember that you liked us because we were a little crazy and freaky, remember that every time you think we are too disgraceful for a girl. (now this one applies quite a lot for me, I love to punch, chase stray dogs who bark at my car and dump the clutch around them, I love locating constellations, finding the entire Zodiac belt is what I am vying for, so count on me for not being romantic on a starry night and yes, I like to ride bikes even if I have fallen like a zillion times. LIVE WITH IT. PLEASE.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. When we say we are fine, we are not. that IS true. NOW, at this point I have come across some misleading mails that say 'When she says she's fine, she's not, talk to her". DON'T do that. Leave us alone and we will get back to being our crazy selves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. At most times we are not interested in the movies you like and the games you play, so when you are talking about it and we are looking around, and you GET that we are bored, don't avoid our gestures. Please stop. Us asking you to stop can again lead to an argument. And we will have the last laugh, most of the times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Throwing mindless spastic scenes of jealousy are attempts of stabbing yourself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. We don't care how rich you are, as long as you are funny, well mannered, chew with your mouth closed and do not fart in public. Glam watches are not cool, they are Lame, it's only for the time, what's the fuss all about? Do not wear sunglasses in a mall in the evening even if they are from Prada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it for now I guess.I'll add more as they come across. Which, they will.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8913644758193252299?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8913644758193252299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8913644758193252299&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8913644758193252299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8913644758193252299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/02/guys-are-stupid.html' title='Them Idiots!'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-6611206623383305364</id><published>2010-02-14T23:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T00:29:59.595-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Them Idiots #2!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Here is what men look for in their lady-love:&lt;br /&gt;1. Should have a sexy body&lt;br /&gt;1. Should have a warm smile&lt;br /&gt;1. Should not ask questions&lt;br /&gt;1. Should not demand too much&lt;br /&gt;1. Should have Just the right amount of make up on&lt;br /&gt;1. Should not even as much as Look at other men&lt;br /&gt;1. Must be well spoken&lt;br /&gt;1. Should be able to talk about almost everything&lt;br /&gt;1. Should be hotter than their friends' girlfriends&lt;br /&gt;1. Must cook like their mother&lt;br /&gt;1. Should be open minded, and when the lady does get open minded, *OMG! My girl is a slut!*&lt;br /&gt;1. Should dress well, almost always.&lt;br /&gt;1. Should Not put on weight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what women want in their Love.&lt;br /&gt;1. Chew with your mouth shut and don't fart in public. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now here's the irony.&lt;br /&gt;Men:&lt;br /&gt;1. Tend to gain weight all the time, given that they eat like a cow.&lt;br /&gt;1. Warm smile, sure, just without stuff in your mouth.&lt;br /&gt;1. Wants to know where their girl is, almost all the time! The one's that say they don't are pathetic liars.&lt;br /&gt;1. Don't even care to shave at most times. So much for the right make-up. &lt;br /&gt;1. Will stare and even flirt with every second woman that crosses their path.&lt;br /&gt;1. "You want a hottie huh? SLUT!"&lt;br /&gt;1. Can Only talk about sports and money, at times, Not even that. &lt;br /&gt;1. Would have Never in their lives helped their mothers cook, or have done Any chore for that matter. &lt;br /&gt;1. Are hypocrites, they say, tell us what you want, and when you do speak out, my god, look at you! You demanding bitch! &lt;br /&gt;1. 'We can't think emotionally', whatever happens to That when they over think and get jealous on almost everything. &lt;br /&gt;1. Believe that when they talk share markets, women don't understand. They don't realise:&lt;br /&gt;a. We probably know more than you. But we listen.&lt;br /&gt;b. We don't want to rip you off your manhood. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they still won't chew with their mouths closed and fart in public, because they are men! And that's the way the cookie crumbles for them. Take it or leave it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they say they want space, it's because we do not let them live in solitude. It's our fault.&lt;br /&gt;When we say we want space, they get drunk and make out with other women. "You said you wanted space! It's all your fault"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And THEN, they will talk about how woman are confusing, and how woman are demanding.&lt;br /&gt;Here's the deal big boys, We are not confused, You are weird. We just try to catch up and deal with it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. All the points are marked '1.' on purpose.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-6611206623383305364?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/6611206623383305364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=6611206623383305364&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/6611206623383305364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/6611206623383305364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/02/here-is-what-men-look-for-in-their-lady.html' title='Them Idiots #2!'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-7630518226741689727</id><published>2010-02-10T21:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T00:28:23.318-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shaadi in Dilli. :D</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I have just stepped into my house. Well for those who didn't know (all) I was in Delhi for the past couple of days, for a wedding. I never thought I'd say this for anything remotely close to Delhi, but the wedding was Awesome! It was way more fun than I had imagined it to be. And although I was initially reluctant to go for it (my bestie's birthday was on the same day as the wedding- 9th February, she hates me now), I am glad I did not ditch it last minute! &lt;br /&gt;It was COLD, (" What!!! It's not cold at all!" As someone from Delhi would think, but I am from Mumbai, and anything beneath the normal temperature where you need a jacket is cold for us)&lt;br /&gt;And it was Awesome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to wear a Backless blouse (My sister had warned me against making any alterations to it, no matter how tiny they were). I told her, "Dude, it's cold, and it's Delhi, I don't want people staring lamely". To which she said, "Dude, you are in a wedding, in Delhi, you might as well be the most dressed person in there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Jiju is from Germany, so he had a lot of German friends. Now, THEY were hilarious! No, they did not have a good sense of humour, they were enough to cause a laugh riot by themselves. If it was a stand up comedy act, all they had to do was to go up there and stand, and they'd take the prize with them. Although they were sweet, and completely awe-struck by each and every ritual (they took pictures of everything, and when I say Everything you believe me!), they had put together, in every bit of sense, a complete 'What-were-you-thinking?' ensemble. &lt;br /&gt;Picture this - German woman, weird looking &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lehenga&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;, a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jacket and boots&lt;/span&gt;. That's damn right. And given that it rained that day, there was mud all over her black boots making her look like a Brinjal rolled in mud. The guys were decently dressed on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sherwanis&lt;/span&gt; (and Boots, to kill the mood) yet, nothing stood out as much as the woman wearing a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lehenga&lt;/span&gt;, jacket, boots, weird bangles, who walked around lifting her &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lehenga&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;higher than the knees&lt;/span&gt;, all the while. Now, you know what I meant when I said, hilarious. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, everyone from the guy's side was &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; nice! And I loved the father of the groom! He was sweetest, fun loving old man, I have met off late, and he got totally gambolled in my name! It took him a long long while to remember Avanika, so he just settled with Chinu! (Yes, that's my ridiculously humiliating nick name. Thank the fact that my hindi rashi is Pisces. Although, you all must know, I am a TRUE Virgo.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the Best part of the wedding has to be the '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;joote churai&lt;/span&gt;' &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;rasm&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Now, right before the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feras&lt;/span&gt;, the younger brother of the Groom, came over to me and in every bit, Challenged me. &lt;br /&gt;Here's how the conversation went:&lt;br /&gt;Ankur- I am assuming you will be stealing the shoes then.&lt;br /&gt;Me (With the most confident look on my face)- Absolutely. &lt;br /&gt;Ankur- Confident? Or over confident?&lt;br /&gt;Me- Confident.&lt;br /&gt;Ankur- Well, good luck then. &lt;br /&gt;Me- Oh, you need it more than I do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And obviously, the moment he turned around and walked away, first thing I did was turn to my cousin and say, "Oh crap! Now if we don't find the shoes, it's gonna be so fucking humiliating! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the time of the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feras&lt;/span&gt;, I think everybody was more interested in the shoes than in the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feras&lt;/span&gt;. When I finally got hold of the shoes (that were hidden beneath a stack of mattresses and blankets, with a kid sitting on top of it all), the father of the groom(the cute fun loving old man!) yelled, "Arrey! She has got the shoes!! Catch her!!" to the amazement of the pandit, the bride and his Son.&lt;br /&gt;Rofl. &lt;br /&gt;Next thing I knew, I had a parade of groom's bothers running behind me for the shoes. They couldn't catch up with me. Of course.  *flicks collar up*&lt;br /&gt;I threw one of the shoes in the direction of the other &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;salis&lt;/span&gt; and there's a stampede. Four girls snatching it away like a piece of meat that is thrown right in the centre of four hungry lionesses. (the german guys taking a million pictures of the same, NOT very graceful, it was)I ran with the other in the opposite direction. Wore it, and sat snuggled up in a stack of blankets in a way  that nobody could as much as touch me after that.&lt;br /&gt;And then came the 'taking the reward' part where Ankit (groom) almost ritually began with a hundred bucks (some of us went rofl outright while some in the head) and ended up paying a BOMB.  &lt;br /&gt;Let's just say, we came back home Rich. Muhahahaha. &lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, obviously, even if we hadn't managed to find the shoes, we would have got back home rich. Pretty girls in saree with a sad face won't melt everyone's heart- You think!! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, the groom's brother was taken aback. I smiled at him smugly and all that he could manage to say was "Good confidence".&lt;br /&gt;To which I replied, "Thank you. Hmph" and walked away. &lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;The bitch that I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, the usual worst part- Bidai. I am not taking about that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all a great wedding! I am missing Kaushik uncle (groom's father) already! I wish I would have been a little nicer to Ankur(Groom's borther).Mini and Ankit (bride and groom) make one hell of a pair and I got to meet my sister! Yaay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I was hoping a bitch-fight breaks out, but it didn't. Next wedding maybe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-7630518226741689727?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/7630518226741689727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=7630518226741689727&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7630518226741689727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7630518226741689727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-have-just-stepped-into-my-house.html' title='Shaadi in Dilli. :D'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-6038175422612950426</id><published>2010-01-24T20:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T20:53:53.079-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I woke up to the craziest dream &lt;strong&gt;with a cramped leg&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;Mental note- Watching &lt;em&gt;So you think you can dance &lt;/em&gt;and &lt;em&gt;Final Destination &lt;/em&gt;simultaneously before going off to bed is NOT a very good idea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Excerpts from my dream – &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am walking in a mall with three bags in my hand. Yes, Neha came over to my place last evening with bags of clothes to announce there is a kick-ass sale in Oberoi. Since I have some shopping left to do for an upcoming wedding, I planned of checking it out myself Today. Apparently, my sub conscious mind likes to delve into stuff like shopping et al, with the slightest bit of provocation. &lt;br /&gt;  So anyway, I am walking in the mall with bags full, and that is when I meet this old friend from 5th standard. Now the last time I saw this friend of mine was the day the results for 5th were announced. After that he sort of just fucked off to Jaipur. We are in touch though. And he was right there, of ALL the people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him- ‘Dude what the hell are you still doing here? Everyone is waiting for you!’&lt;br /&gt;Me- ‘I know, there was such a rat race in that store, it was the last day of the sale today, everybody had lost their marbles (?). Let me just get &lt;strong&gt;my Jeep &lt;/strong&gt;(??) and then we can leave right ahead.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get out of Oberoi mall only to find ourselves in the parking lot of Inorbit mall. I should have known it there; I should have just opened my eyes. But anyway... I press the unlock button on my car keys and my jeep comes tearing through the parking lot, &lt;strong&gt;all by itself&lt;/strong&gt;. And no, I did not even watch &lt;em&gt;Herbie Fully Loaded&lt;/em&gt; yesterday! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we get on to the road and suddenly there are people flagging us off. (???). We drive in a very &lt;em&gt;Quantum of Solace &lt;/em&gt;style and next thing we know, we are heading towards a crash landing. We jump out of the car and the car goes &lt;strong&gt;in the AIR&lt;/strong&gt;. And then there was this crazy chick running on the road screaming, ‘OH MY GOSH! OH MY GOSH! We cheated death, we are all going to die in weird manners!! Huh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We catch a rickshaw (Never mind the fact that we had just scraped through something that could have had us killed) and head to our destination. The rickshawala is playing this Bhojpuri song called – ‘Labalab lollypop lage re’ which Neha played all the time for a week when she got back from Bihar, mid last year. (????)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I ask him to stop the song and he denies, I punch him and he starts to cry. Next thing we know, &lt;strong&gt;I am driving the rickshaw while my friend is trying to comfort the rickshawala on the backseat.&lt;/strong&gt; (?????!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get down to the backstage of an event and run towards it, I, towards the stage and my friend towards the audience. I get up on the stage only to face a huge audience, Nigel Lythgoe and Mary Murphy. (Judges of So you think you can dance) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just as the music starts to play, I scream, ‘Oh crap!!! I have got a cramp in my leg!’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that’s when I wake up, and yes, with a cramped leg. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crazy son of a bitch of dreams. &lt;br /&gt;:/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-6038175422612950426?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/6038175422612950426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=6038175422612950426&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/6038175422612950426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/6038175422612950426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-woke-up-to-craziest-dream-with.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-710093875615747359</id><published>2009-12-13T23:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T00:27:27.887-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Like, why!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Of three things I am absolutely unsure. I try, but I fail to understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A. Why does anybody have to lie? And specially to the people close to you? Aren't they supposed to be the ones whom you can be completely honest with. You lie, either because you live truly pathetic lives or because you don't have the courage to take responsibility of your actions. &lt;br /&gt;In any case, you need to get some balls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B. Why do people act smart with the ones that put them in high respect. I have never seen anyone getting lame with ones they know, don't care about them. Then why on Earth would you act smart with the blokes who care about you. It's very annoying, really. &lt;br /&gt;Set your priorities straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C. Why do people live their lives as per the actions of others? Seriously, what's the point in sulking about something that did not work out. Get up, get going. Having a crush is cool, with the whole, blood running into your cheeks, friends jumping around, getting dressed, blah blah. That's the fun part right? That seems cool. But I just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cannot&lt;/span&gt; understand the crying in dark corners behind a love forgone, getting all depressed and going emo. Dude and Dudettes, like WHAT! Does it mean that your life is so hollow that the presence or absence of an external factor will determine the way you live it?&lt;br /&gt;If things don't work out, let go. People make a big deal about it. I don't see what's the fuss all about. Shouldn't you be the one deciding how to spend your life?&lt;br /&gt;Get strong, get a hold on yourself. Get a life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-710093875615747359?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/710093875615747359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=710093875615747359&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/710093875615747359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/710093875615747359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/12/of-three-things-i-am-absolutely-unsure.html' title='Like, why!'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-5723855741746395861</id><published>2009-12-07T21:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T00:26:40.821-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I like to play around in the rain like no ones watching,&lt;br /&gt;But that does not mean that I am stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to believe that I can trust my friends,&lt;br /&gt;But that does not mean that I am naive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to meet new people and have a complete fun day out with them,&lt;br /&gt;But that does not mean that I am slutty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to let go easily when I see something as redundant,&lt;br /&gt;But that does not mean that I am heartless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to keep my secrets to myself,&lt;br /&gt;But that does not mean that I am self absorbed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to be opinionated over things that matter,&lt;br /&gt;But that does not mean that I am a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to end a discussion with a 'screw it, cut it out',&lt;br /&gt;But that does not mean that I am a pushover.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to wish things go well with me,&lt;br /&gt;But that does not mean that I am selfish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to believe that there are more impotant things than love in the world,&lt;br /&gt;But that does not mean that I am pragmatic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might not be the most romantic person on the planet,&lt;br /&gt;But that does not mean that I am cold-hearted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to Not give a shit to what people who don't matter have to say, &lt;br /&gt;But that does not mean that I am a narcissistic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to belive that inspite of the world falling apart, I will still get through, &lt;br /&gt;you think I must be crazy, I'd say I agree. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, will you survive, if you are not a little crazy?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-5723855741746395861?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/5723855741746395861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=5723855741746395861&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5723855741746395861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5723855741746395861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-like-to-play-around-in-rain-like-no.html' title='I am.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8089277406308102345</id><published>2009-11-25T02:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T23:25:12.613-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Got this in the mail today. Makes up for one hell of a reading. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 Minute Management Course:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Lesson 1:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man is getting into the shower just as his wife is finishing up her shower, when the doorbell rings.&lt;br /&gt;The wife quickly wraps herself in a towel and runs downstairs.&lt;br /&gt;When she opens the door, there stands Bob, the next-door neighbor.&lt;br /&gt;Before she says a word, Bob says, 'I'll give you $800 to drop that towel.'&lt;br /&gt;After thinking for a moment, the woman drops her towel and stands naked in front of Bob, after a few seconds, Bob hands her $800 and leaves.&lt;br /&gt;The woman wraps back up in the towel and goes back upstairs.&lt;br /&gt;When she gets to the bathroom, her husband asks, 'Who was that?'&lt;br /&gt;'It was Bob the next door neighbour,' she replies.&lt;br /&gt;'Great,' the husband says, 'did he say anything about the $800 he owes me?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;If you share critical information pertaining to credit and risk with your shareholders in time, you may be in a position to prevent avoidable exposure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Lesson 2:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A priest offered a Nun a lift..&lt;br /&gt;She got in and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to reveal a leg.&lt;br /&gt;The priest nearly had an accident.&lt;br /&gt;After controlling the car, he stealthily slid his hand up her leg.&lt;br /&gt;The nun said, 'Father, remember Psalm 129?'&lt;br /&gt;The priest removed his hand But, changing gears, he let his hand slide up her leg again.&lt;br /&gt;The nun once again said, 'Father, remember Psalm 129?'&lt;br /&gt;The priest apologized 'Sorry sister but the flesh is weak.'&lt;br /&gt;Arriving at the convent, the nun sighed heavily and went on her way.&lt;br /&gt;On his arrival at the church, the priest rushed to look up Psalm 129. It said, 'Go forth and seek, further up, you will find glory.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;If you are not well informed in your job, you might miss a great opportunity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson 3:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sales rep, an administration clerk, and the manager are walking to lunch when they find an antique oil lamp.&lt;br /&gt;They rub it and a Genie comes out.&lt;br /&gt;The Genie says, 'I'll give each of you just one wish.'&lt;br /&gt;'Me first! Me first!' says the admin clerk. 'I want to be in the Bahamas , driving a speedboat, without a care in the world.'&lt;br /&gt;Puff! She's gone.&lt;br /&gt;'Me next! Me next!' says the sales rep. 'I want to be in Hawaii , relaxing on the beach with my personal masseuse, an endless supply of Pina Coladas and the love of my life.'&lt;br /&gt;Puff! He's gone.&lt;br /&gt;'OK, you're up,' the Genie says to the manager..&lt;br /&gt;The manager says, 'I want those two back in the office after lunch.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always let your boss have the first say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Lesson 4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An eagle was sitting on a tree resting, doing nothing.&lt;br /&gt;A small rabbit saw the eagle and asked him, 'Can I also sit like you and do nothing?'&lt;br /&gt;The eagle answered: 'Sure, why not..'&lt;br /&gt;So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the eagle and rested. All of a sudden, a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Lesson 5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A turkey was chatting with a bull.&lt;br /&gt;'I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree' sighed the turkey, 'but I haven't got the energy..'&lt;br /&gt;'Well, why don't you nibble on some of my droppings?' replied the bull. They're packed with nutrients.'&lt;br /&gt;The turkey pecked at a lump of dung, and found it actually gave him enough strength to reach the lowest branch of the tree.&lt;br /&gt;The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch.&lt;br /&gt;Finally after a fourth night, the turkey was proudly perched at the top of the tree.&lt;br /&gt;He was promptly spotted by a farmer, who shot him out of the tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bull Shit might get you to the top, but it won't keep you there..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Lesson 6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little bird was flying south for the winter. It was so cold the bird froze and fell to the ground into a large field.&lt;br /&gt;While he was lying there, a cow came by and dropped some dung on him.&lt;br /&gt;As the frozen bird lay there in the pile of cow dung, he began to realize how warm he was.&lt;br /&gt;The dung was actually thawing him out!&lt;br /&gt;He lay there all warm and happy, and soon began to sing for joy.&lt;br /&gt;A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate.&lt;br /&gt;Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung, and promptly dug him out and ate him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morals of the story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(1) Not everyone who shits on you is your enemy.&lt;br /&gt;(2) Not everyone who gets you out of shit is your friend.&lt;br /&gt;(3) And when you're in deep shit, it's best to keep your mouth shut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THUS ENDS THE FIVE MINUTE MANAGEMENT COURSE&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8089277406308102345?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8089277406308102345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8089277406308102345&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8089277406308102345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8089277406308102345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/11/got-this-in-mail-today.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-2169154146686784330</id><published>2009-11-18T08:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T23:38:06.907-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have decided to quit my job by the end of this month, officially. I love everyone in the team, but This is just not where I belong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Missed fractions and accounts. Got to get back to where I belong. &lt;br /&gt;But honestly, I couldn't have been happier about taking the job up in the first place. I know a lot of places where I lack, AND I realised, I am quite a 'keeping to myself when not in my age group' person. I used to find it really funny when all the sun sign theories would say that Virgos are shy by nature, I understand why, now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also realised that I like it when I am left to mind my own business and when I don't have to interact with team mates much. Not that I don't like them, but just because I don't like it if any one gets in my business. Like seriously, That totally pisses me off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also realised that we Do make friends at work. And the ones that stay around. I will miss catching up with Ismail and Sumit after work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will also miss all the lunch table discussions. I will miss Britannia. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will miss the watchman uncle, the watchman guy and the pantry guys. They are all rockstars!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, nothing over powers the fact that I will see the faces of my friends after a long while, have Saturdays off And maybe even study a while. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not mature enough to be working in media, not politically correct enough, not diplomatic enough, but heck, I don't even wish to be. Because then, that will not be me. It will simply be 'the girl who changed when she grew up and got a job'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Change is nice, but I am not ready for it yet. I like being a kid, and I like it when it's okay to make a mistake and I like it when Neha and Kushi scream '&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kya hoga be tera!&lt;/span&gt;' and when Anurag slams the phone down in frustration (and then calls back :) ), and I like it when Ismail says, dude you are weird, obtuse and annoying, please don't&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt; Ever&lt;/span&gt; change, or I will kill you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-2169154146686784330?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/2169154146686784330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=2169154146686784330&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2169154146686784330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2169154146686784330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-have-decided-to-quit-my-job-by-end-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-5178575647012578498</id><published>2009-11-03T00:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T00:57:04.082-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Life's screw ups are so much harder to take when you don't know too many swear words..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-5178575647012578498?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/5178575647012578498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=5178575647012578498&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5178575647012578498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5178575647012578498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/11/lifes-screw-ups-are-so-much-harder-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-3328313649842647628</id><published>2009-10-31T04:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T21:01:14.245-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bleh..</title><content type='html'>Now this is what having a job does to you. &lt;br /&gt;I was in the train, on my way to work, when this girl from my school got in. And it took me a while to realise she was there which was when I was sitting right opposite her. Now, I am a 100% sure she was my junior at school and it's been good 5 years since I last saw of her. There could have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;SO&lt;/span&gt; much to talk about. But then it hit me, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;there could be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; much to talk about.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was at this time that I realised, that I already have too much to say and listen for the rest of the day to want to have any more. Random voices started screaming in my head. &lt;br /&gt;"Why the hell is my system hanging up!"&lt;br /&gt;"Who has the edited pages? We don't have them! Call XXXXX!"&lt;br /&gt;"Where have you saved the text file for this story!"&lt;br /&gt;"Is the transcription done?"&lt;br /&gt;"Arrey, when are you going to finish correcting the pictures!?"&lt;br /&gt;"Has the page lay out been made?"&lt;br /&gt;"Arrey what are you guys waiting for!"&lt;br /&gt;"She's a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;COW&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;"We don't have a good picture for this story.." *panic attack* Getty? nope, Startraks? Nope, Snapper!!? No.  "Go through the CDs!! We can't put this picture up, she looks like a fucking &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;retard&lt;/span&gt; in here"&lt;br /&gt;"FUCK A DUCK! WHAT &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;IS &lt;/span&gt;WRONG WITH MY SYSTEM!!"&lt;br /&gt;"This is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ridiculous&lt;/span&gt;.."&lt;br /&gt;"Arrey, but who &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; this women?"&lt;br /&gt;"Who has got the XXX page open!!"&lt;br /&gt;"Where is the magazine gone!?"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ARREY NO-ONES HUNGRY OR WHAT!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;*phone rings* "Babe, you will totally have to call me back later"&lt;br /&gt;"Somebody please get XXXXX on the line!"&lt;br /&gt;"AC ka temperature kam karo koi! It's fucking freezing in here!!!"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SAAAAAAGAAAAAR!!!!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;"Listen, can you please bajao.."&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What are we doing&lt;/span&gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;"We are &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;screwed"&lt;br /&gt;"This guy is a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;fucking moron&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;*bang!!* OWWW !!!! "Avanika!!! Don't pull an Avanika!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;"Arrey laddo.. come here"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK !!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;"MY SYSTEM IS TOTALLY DEAD NOW!! CALL XXXXXX!! NOW!!!!&lt;br /&gt;"I WILL &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BREAK&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; THAT BLOODY A/C IF YOU DON'T FIX THE TEMPERATURE!!"&lt;br /&gt;"I am so screwed.." "tch.. bechari.." "XXXXX don't you irritate me!!!" "Don't yell.. this is office.." "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;XXXXX!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was when I realised.. I had two choices:&lt;br /&gt;a. I can have a good long conversation, long enough for the time it will take me to reach my destination station.&lt;br /&gt;b. I can take in the serenity and prepare myself for the holocaust that is about to dawn upon me. &lt;br /&gt;I chose the latter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I love my office. And I love every single body in my team. It's not everywhere you get to scream "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I AM SO FUCKED DAMN IT!!!!&lt;/span&gt;" to your chief.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, if I ever catch up with this person from school (when I am not on my way to work), I am &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; speaking to her. She seems to have grown into a nice cool girl. &lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-3328313649842647628?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/3328313649842647628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=3328313649842647628&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3328313649842647628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/3328313649842647628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/10/bleh.html' title='Bleh..'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-2437605366535702098</id><published>2009-10-18T07:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T07:36:51.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Here are a couple of Hindi movies that should have been BIG hits. It's rather unfortunate they didn't do well at the box office. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Socha Na Tha&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;- This is Imtiaz Ali's ( of &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Jab We Met&lt;/span&gt;)directorial debut. The movie is so nicely put, it makes you smile at the simplicity. But, alas! Both Ayesha Takia and Abhay Deol were infants for the film industry assuring nobody knew them and in turn went to the theaters to sneak peak. &lt;br /&gt;Make sure you catch up with it the next time it comes on TV, or hell, get a CD.&lt;br /&gt;Best Scene - Gaah! The movie is full of them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TOTALLY RECOMMENDED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Swades&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;- I really can't get over the fact that this movie was not the kind of hit that it should have been. The scene with the guy selling the glass of water for 25 paise, and the one where Mohan Bhargav (SRK) goes to meet the farmer for lease made me cry. (And no, I don't cry at movies, last time I cried in a movie was while watching Titanic, and NOT when Jack dies, but where the mother is trying to put her babies to sleep when she knows perfectly well that they are all about to die)&lt;br /&gt;This movie, I believe is by far the best work of Ashutosh Govariker AND Shahrukh Khan. MUST WATCH FOR ALL INDIANS.&lt;br /&gt;Best scene - Scene with the glass of water, the other one mentioned above, the one where the elder folks mock him for being a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;brahmin&lt;/span&gt; and yet interacting with the folks of other castes whom they believe to be beneath them. I am a brahmin myself, and believe me you, we still have folks who think they are above and beyond everyone else for just one that reason. I think it's &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;RIDICULOUS&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. All my friends going to the US of A next year, WATCH IT. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Aamir&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; - Although I was never really a fan of, what's his name, yes! Rajiv Khandelwal, I have got to admit, I had a new found respect for his acting when I saw this movie. It gave me shivers(and not in a good way!). &lt;br /&gt;Best scene - The closing scene, where Aamir(RK) is smiling to himself despite the fact that he knows he is about to get blown away but, he is saving a lot of lives by giving up his own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Aloo Chaat&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;- I just saw this movie today. Although it's nothing extra ordinary, but I loved the way the story goes. Fun to watch and leaves you with a smile. Isn't that the purpose of entertainment?&lt;br /&gt;Best Scene - The one where the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;firang&lt;/span&gt; is sun-bathing on the terrace and guys from the entire &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;mohalla&lt;/span&gt; stand on their respective terraces and sigh. (lol, typical north indian mentality!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next take - Hit movies that make you wonder, like.. how!?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-2437605366535702098?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/2437605366535702098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=2437605366535702098&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2437605366535702098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2437605366535702098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/10/here-are-couple-of-hindi-movies-that.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8085187215387134720</id><published>2009-10-16T02:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T02:40:14.757-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Misha Barton's Believe it or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/Stg-igDqjMI/AAAAAAAAAAU/l25kidM53U4/s1600-h/mischa+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 210px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/Stg-igDqjMI/AAAAAAAAAAU/l25kidM53U4/s320/mischa+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393129316217949378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/Stg-iMk0EdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/zbV06uVu0JE/s1600-h/mischa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 204px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/Stg-iMk0EdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/zbV06uVu0JE/s320/mischa.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393129310988276178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's the &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt; moment for quite sometime now. &lt;br /&gt;:O&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8085187215387134720?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8085187215387134720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8085187215387134720&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8085187215387134720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8085187215387134720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/10/misha-bartons-believe-it-or-not.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4bvWqV3Bb0I/Stg-igDqjMI/AAAAAAAAAAU/l25kidM53U4/s72-c/mischa+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-1069459229085819714</id><published>2009-10-11T00:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T07:40:31.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I realised, that no matter how many new people I meet, no matter how many new friends I have made; Neha, Kushi, Ashish, Alkash, Nimish, Sudarshan and Nupur are still the people that I can talk about for hours without having to recollect anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like, every single moment of my life spent with these folks is etched into my memory. &lt;br /&gt;I guess that's what they mean, when they say, some people are friends for life. And no matter how far the distances be, or no matter how different situations are, they will ALWAYS be remembered in the heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥♥!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-1069459229085819714?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/1069459229085819714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=1069459229085819714&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1069459229085819714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1069459229085819714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-realised-that-no-matter-how-many-new.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8077535125049822101</id><published>2009-10-09T01:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T07:51:32.204-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There are so many thoughts running in my head right now. Like, it is crazy the way my head is spinning. And NONE of them are related to each other. &lt;br /&gt;To begin with I had a very strange dream. It was like all the people I have come across in my life were put in a mixer and the mixer was running on full capacity. &lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I also saw the promo of the new movie 2012, what I can not seem to understand is:&lt;br /&gt;a. Why is everybody so scared about it already. And I will get back to this topic later.&lt;br /&gt;b. Even if the world was to come to an end, why don't people just enjoy the time that they have in hand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to watch &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Up &lt;/span&gt;. There is too much that I have heard about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is the weather so unpredictable. It's a burning day today, it might just be pouring tomorrow. I don't mind the rains, but the idea of global warming scares the living shit out of me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Murphy's law is true genius. It is the single most genuine law of all the laws that we have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;September was by far the most horrifying month of my life, officially. October seems nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do men believe they are superior to women? It's &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;ridiculous&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't seen a single episode of &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Big Boss &lt;/span&gt; but from what I hear, it's crazy hilarious! Curse my job, there is never a day I step foot in my house before 9. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is this cat that sits right outside my office, my colleagues call it fat-cat. They all love it (they are all animal lovers, talk about being a misfit). I want to put my foot under its belly, raise her above the ground and then kick her upwards in the air. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie together? I hear a different news everyday. I liked Jennifer way more than I can ever like Angelina. Brad Pitt is a complete idiot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girls are dying for Robert Pattinson. I think he needs to &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;take a bath&lt;/span&gt;. I mean honestly, what's the fuss all about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh, I read all the twilight books now, and I believe Edward is &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;gay&lt;/span&gt;. Jacob was cool till book three, and then he turns gay &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;too&lt;/span&gt;. And their daughter Renesmee,(who by the way kills Bella on her way out, and oh, Edward rips her uterus &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;with his teeth&lt;/span&gt; to bring her out) is a &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;freak&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't people turn the taps off when they are not making use of it. It is very ignorant honestly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I think I was a little rude to Sagar unintentionally yesterday, I have to look after that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh, it was my buddy Abhi's birthday yesterday. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disclaimer: All the thoughts have been put down the way they appeared in my head, if you have a problem with that, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;I cannot help it&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;That's about it for now. Got to get back to work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8077535125049822101?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8077535125049822101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8077535125049822101&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8077535125049822101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8077535125049822101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/10/there-are-so-many-thoughts-running-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-6984345701235884753</id><published>2009-10-04T02:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T02:29:22.317-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There is nothing I like better than the fact that there are so many people around and that all of them have so many tales to tell. I really don't care whether what they are talking about is interesting or not. But at times, just the look that they have on their faces when they believe that people are enjoying their story is worth the effort. &lt;br /&gt;And honestly, for me, it has never been much of an effort to like what one has to say. Whether it is Arzaan Khambatta's father in law, who is the sweetest Parsi old man ever by the way or Madhab, who is Aki Narula's assistant, and he was a complete sweetheart, and mind you, he was very very efficient, the uncle who run the 'Energy' stall at Churchgate, the gatekeeper uncle in my office (who is absolutely adorable), or even the guy who cut my hair at the salon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean i seriously did not know much about the story of how Parsi's fled from Persia, only to come to Gujrat and make this country their home. They are not even allowed to marry outside their community which I think is crazy, and there are only 70,000 of them around the world. Or how the Energy uncle (as I refer to him jokingly), came all the way from this small town in Kashmir and how that place is like heaven..! I can practically picture the entire Kashmir with his eyes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a story attached with everybody, it's just that nobody has the patience to stop and listen. And then we talk about how nobody has any time for any body. It's no big deal to listen to what someone has to say while you sip a soft drink, or how a cab driver gets some of the most annoying customers who give him a Rs 500 note early in the morning. How the hell will he have a change for that at the start of the day! People, please carry change while you travel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I absolutely adore the owner of this joint called, Britannia in town, which has the most scrumptious food that has ever gone down my food pipe. He must be more than 75 and he still take the orders himself. And he has a joke and small poem for everything! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of my friends tell me that it's absolutely lame of me to start talking and being nice to strangers and they find it really immature, and that is putting it nicely. (Stop acting like a dumb-fuck is what one of them says, man I hate that word, if anybody has guessed who am I talking about, please pass along the message). Honestly, I couldn't care less. I don't GIVE a fuck to what someone has to say. I love talking to these folks. There is so much to know, I mean I never knew the guy at L'Oreal can cut hair in three minutes time, until he told me about it, about 20 times, repeatedly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, that is one reason why I hate to travel with any one, people are too judgmental, and they are too scared or rather ashamed of being stupid. What they don't realise is that there is no fun in life, unless you are a little crazy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is much easier when you have some one to talk about something that you don't know already than to quiz over the issues of your life, or to listen to what your friends or family has got to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me crazy, but there is no way I will ever tell Energy uncle to shut up, or my gatekeeper uncle to not tell me, 'it's pouring real bad, better carry an umbrella' when I can make that sense on my own, or the little kids who sell stuff on trains to stop talking, or the rickshaw uncle I once had a conversation with while I was waiting for a friend. (Who was a good forty minutes late)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's things like this, that life is made up of after all. Isn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-6984345701235884753?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/6984345701235884753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=6984345701235884753&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/6984345701235884753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/6984345701235884753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/10/there-is-nothing-i-like-better-than.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-1727626587246488041</id><published>2009-09-14T04:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T04:52:00.551-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, here's the deal. I m sitting in my office and I am out of work (only for this little moment though - believe me you!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to the topic. Here's one myth I -so- want to be busted and I will do it myself. Just because a girl has black nail polish on, it does not mean she is satanic, goth, emo or agnostic. She has it on, because she likes it. Simple. I don't understand what is so hard to not understand in that. Tch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, i was practically struggling to decide which nail paint to put on. Since my nails are chopped and eaten up (gross, I know. Gaah.) anything that I put on was sure to look insanely hideous. I do it anyway. I m pro at insane by now.&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I start looking for the colours that I can apply. All the shades in pink and lilacs are straight out because they just don't work for me.&lt;br /&gt;Bright colours are in at the moment so I decide to put something bright as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I skip the green because I have long thin fingers, so green would make my hands look like a newly shed tree with five branches and one leaf each.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even look at silver or grey (Grey is my favorite colour, apart from black and white) since i did not want to end up looking like 'Lady deathstrike' from X- Men 2.&lt;br /&gt;for those who don't know about her. There.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://sitemaker.umich.edu/psy457_tizzle/files/1.jpg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See what i mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, green is out, and so is Grey, yellow looks like the loose motion shit (I will oblige by not giving a pictorial representation)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Black is way too common, and I hate having anything in common. (Call me a snobby bitch, I couldn't care less)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;White, hmm.. I somehow felt like an elf when i applied white. There is no intelligent explanation to why I felt that way, I just did. So that's out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally zeroed down to blue, just because that was the only one left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I HATE APPLYING NAIL POLISH ON THE RIGHT HAND!-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, after having fought a battle for the application, I was finally happy with the way it looked. Yaay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh, today in train, i forgot to carry my headphones, so i chipped all of it off for passing my time. Blah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-1727626587246488041?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/1727626587246488041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=1727626587246488041&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1727626587246488041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/1727626587246488041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/09/okay-heres-deal.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-7923625633734804274</id><published>2009-08-18T00:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T00:49:06.833-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We all have friends.</title><content type='html'>We all have friends, and friends come in all sizes, shapes, nature and maturity levels. The difficult part is how do tackle the certain issues that our friends may have. After all, at the end of the day, nobody is perfect. So what do we do with the girlfriend who can’t stop to gossip, or the friend that has to do everything we do, or the one that can be extremely critical and cold?&lt;br /&gt;Here are some kinds of people that we come across everyday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The Gas-bag:&lt;br /&gt;They are the ones who know what everyone is doing, where, how and with whom. In opposition to the common assumption, the truth is that guys can gossip way more than girls. So if we have a friend who loves to gossip what do we do? Guilty as we maybe, but we cannot deny the fact that its always fun to hear a piece of gossip about someone (anyone!) to pass your time. But when the object of discussion is you, it can be very stingy. The best thing to do is to NOT let this friend of yours share a piece of gossip with you as well. Tell them it’s not very kind to invade people’s privacy because what goes around comes around. And remember, you might also want to keep some of your secrets to yourself even though they are your best friends because you always run the risk of having the world know about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The parents:&lt;br /&gt;They are not your actual biological parents. They belong to the same age group as you but have a deep rooted desire of parenthood, which is not bad though, which they want to fulfill with you. They have all the solutions to your problems, the problem here: it seems like you are talking to your mom. It always gets a little difficult to actually open up with them no matter how close they are to you, considering the fact that they think on a level beyond yours and tend to get preachy. Now, if you have a problem where you would want to take advice from someone mature, they are the perfect folks to reach out to. However, you’d rather bury your face in sand than seek their advice for a childish or teenage everyday problem. For e.g., ask them whether or not you should go out on a date with that music guy, and watch them flip out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. The ‘Too close for comfort’ friends:&lt;br /&gt;This is a very common problem. Now, we must understand that people who have been friends for ages will be curious about what is going on in the lives of each other. They will be best friends with your mates and the hosts of all your parties.  However, some friends might forget to draw the line. They are the over enthusiastic friends who want to know everything that goes on in your life. Right from what you wore on your date, to where you went, what you had and whether or not you kissed. There is no other way out for that situation. You have to take a firm stand and tell them to take a step back because you would like some privacy, but make sure that you say it nicely, because remember they question because they care. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The critics:&lt;br /&gt;These are the friends that will show no mercy if they see you do something wrong. They can be very judgmental and critical. They are the ones who are so straightforward that it actually hurts and always manage to see the errors a machine can skip. They are the ones who will tell you not to fool around with that moron, rather coldly, because they do not see anything good coming out of it. They are the ones who will ask you to stop missing on to college and work because you can not get enough of your enjoyment. They are your well-wishers, but they can annoy every nerve of your body. The best way to deal with them is to probably not argue with them, because frustrating as it maybe, they are usually right. You can ask them to be a little less critical, as chances are that they may not even realize they are being mean. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. The copy-cats:&lt;br /&gt;They are the ones who will do everything you do. You like that top, they like it too; you take those classes, they take it too; you do something and they want to do the exact same thing. Although it might be flattering initially, it is never fun to watch your identity and individuality being taken away almost literally right under your nose. It is very difficult to deal with them because there is no easy way to ask them to stop being your Xerox copy without sounding rude. The best thing to do in this case is simply to make sure you don’t talk much about your plans with them, just in case they mend theirs too. Help them discover what they like, what they want to do and give them a lot of space and freedom even if they are your BFFs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. The private ones:&lt;br /&gt;They are the exact opposite of the ones who are too close for comfort. They could be the best friend you can ever get, yet they seem to be aloof at most times. What you have to understand is that they have hearts warmer than you think and emotions that are very tightly controlled. Give them the right outlet, and they can make a really fun company. Take them to movies, take them to places with a lot of expression that will help them open up. You know that friend of yours who will never talk about the problem to you but rather sulk, or the friend who is all happy go lucky but can be totally out of scene on some days, or the one who seems like something is always worrying her, chances are that something really is. Give them time, don’t be pushy. They probably don’t like to discuss their problems so there is nothing to feel bad about if they say they don’t want to talk about it. They value what you have to say but are generally afraid of what they might have to hear.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is almost impossible to find a friend who fit in to all your expectations. And come to think of it, not having any single one of these can be pretty annoying too, or else, who will you ask about what to wear on that date of yours, what assignments you need to do, if the guy or girl you like is single, whether you should take that class up or not and what to get your parents for their anniversary. As they say, we all have friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-7923625633734804274?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/7923625633734804274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=7923625633734804274&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7923625633734804274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7923625633734804274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/08/we-all-have-friends.html' title='We all have friends.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-7134898859911505828</id><published>2009-07-05T08:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T08:53:46.402-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Here's a list of things that i want to do before i die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Bungee jump from a plane, or helicopter.&lt;br /&gt;2. Cliff diving, from the rock into the ocean. no ropes, nothing to hold on to.&lt;br /&gt;3. Exploring a forbidden cave, and no, not with torches or lanterns, but with a burning log of wood.&lt;br /&gt;4. Exploring a long forgotten place, some place where you wont find people going.&lt;br /&gt;5. Riding a classic old rickety bike on a thin road, amongst trees, in the rain. :)&lt;br /&gt;6. Being in a shack in Scotland, with fire burning in the fireplace, hills and rains outside the window, coffee in my hand.&lt;br /&gt;7. Doing the same thing as above, on the icy peek of a mountain, with a bonfire.&lt;br /&gt;8. Riding a bike right through the sea.&lt;br /&gt;9. Visiting at least 10 different countries, meeting their folks, eating their specialties.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-7134898859911505828?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/7134898859911505828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=7134898859911505828&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7134898859911505828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7134898859911505828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/07/heres-list-of-things-that-i-want-to-do.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8809568392545130549</id><published>2009-07-05T08:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T08:43:41.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Homosexuality is legal in India. FINALLY!&lt;br /&gt;Although there are still fellowmen who think its dampening our culture to let something like homosexuality be legalized. These blokes should just be asked to mind their own businesses. Seriously. And then there was this interview by Baba Ramdev where he was talking about how we should try to turn homosexuals into heterosexuals by trying to push them towards the people of the opposite sex. This man, with all due respect, should stick to yoga. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all those who did not know about it, according to article 377, homosexuality was a crime and the person in charge could be, as much as sentenced to 10 years of jail. All hail to the rules of the largest democracy in the world. Hypocrisy at its best eh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it must be a good news for all the people in concern. Congratulations you guys. And for the government, thank you for finally understanding the meaning of democracy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for all the people who have a problem with it, mind your own business will you. I don't reckon anybody whether gay OR straight would even want to hit on you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8809568392545130549?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8809568392545130549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8809568392545130549&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8809568392545130549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8809568392545130549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/07/homosexuality-is-legal-in-india.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-4485219375231089013</id><published>2009-07-02T01:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T01:22:20.615-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Break-ups are a part of every freaking teenager alive. Yep we have all been there, done that. Its more like, we eat, we drink, we sleep, we hook up, and we break up.&lt;br /&gt;So how do you know what to do once you have broken up with your guy? Well, it totally depends on the type of break up you had.&lt;br /&gt;# 1 – The mutual break up:&lt;br /&gt;Well let’s just face it, this type SUCKS. You are left with no reason to dislike the guy if you still are not over him. The biggest mistake girls tend to make in this category of break up is to TRY to be strong and cool about it. But to be honest that is just not happening. You feel suddenly single, directionless and lonely. I guess this is where the human anatomy did wonders by creating this thing called a ‘shoulder’. So go ahead grab a girlfriend and there you are. Cry it out. Don’t try to befriend you ex the next day itself and take your time out. Since its mutual, getting back as friends is the easiest as nobody feels duped.&lt;br /&gt;Songs you can listen to: Coldplay- Fix you.&lt;br /&gt;Oasis- Stop crying your heart out. :D&lt;br /&gt;Led Zeppelin- The Rain Song&lt;br /&gt;death cab for cutie- lack of colour&lt;br /&gt;# 2 – He cheated on you break-up:&lt;br /&gt;OK. Let’s get the facts straight. This guy is a LOSER. He does not deserve you in the first place and you should be rather glad he out of your life. And if the girl he is going out with knew about it she deserves him. The biggest mistake that girls make in here is crying for a spastic moron who is totally not worth it. You can have two possible reactions to this, if you are the sweet girlie girl- ignorance is bliss, but if you want to get back to him (which in every way you should) make his life hell I say. Dress up to kill and let the loser know what he missed on to. Stalk him if you have to and make sure the bi*ch does not have a good time ever again. Flirt around and get the life you lost while you were dating him back. Don’t miss on the fun. Let the devil in you rise to power. ;)&lt;br /&gt;Songs you can listen to: Kelly Clarkson- Never again&lt;br /&gt;Kelly Clarkson- Since you have been gone&lt;br /&gt;Beyonce- Irreplaceable&lt;br /&gt;Hillary duff- Stranger&lt;br /&gt;Rihanna- Take a bow&lt;br /&gt;Simple plan- Your love is a lie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# 3 – He is just not into you:&lt;br /&gt;This can be one of the harshest break-up for the girls. Even though we appreciate the honesty of the guy when he says that he just does not feel the same way anymore or that he is not into you its still sucks. The biggest mistake that girls do in this break-up is to put the blame on them. How many of us have felt that there is something wrong with us and that is the reason why it ended the way it did. In reality, that’s so not the case. You should just understand that you were not symmetrical at a level and it was the best to break it up than to drag it around. So cry as much as you want but don’t loathe yourself for it. Try not to see his face for a million years and take your sweet time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Songs you can listen to: Audioslave- I m the highway&lt;br /&gt;Take that patience&lt;br /&gt;Good charlotte- Hold on&lt;br /&gt;Linkin park- Numb (teehee.. no I m just kidding)&lt;br /&gt;Death cab for the cutie- Lack of color&lt;br /&gt;Switchfoot- You.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# 4- You dumped him.&lt;br /&gt;Alright so you couldn’t take the relationship and ended it by yourself. You don’t have to feel like a bitch coz it was in your best interest. And just so that you know that’s one of the toughest thing to do and requires a lot of courage so just breathe. There is only one thing you can do and that is try not to be around him for some while. And flirting with other guys in front of him is an absolute no-no unless you want your ex lover wanting to shred you to pieces or maybe feel like a loser. Remember how you felt when you were dumped by your guy. So show some respect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Songs you can listen to: Not that you need any but yet following make a good option:&lt;br /&gt;The OC soundtrack- Honey and the moon&lt;br /&gt;Anna Nalick- Breathe&lt;br /&gt;The Fray- How to save a life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you had a strange break up which doesn’t fall into any of the above category please let us know about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-4485219375231089013?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/4485219375231089013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=4485219375231089013&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/4485219375231089013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/4485219375231089013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/07/break-ups-are-part-of-every-freaking.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-7793028623317769843</id><published>2009-07-02T01:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T01:20:27.352-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Here is a list of questions that always makes you wonder why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Why is it that the pretty chicks always date ugly guys?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Why is it that the smart chicks always end up liking taciturn loser type of guys?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Why is it that the smart hot guys always end up with stupid girls? The kind that if, they get there skulls x-ray-ed they will find a peanut inside it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Why is it that all the profs that walk out of the class saying that they will never teach us again come back shamelessly the next day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Why is it that when we are totally pissed things just find a way to screw up further?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Why is it that every time we are watching TV something ..well.. lame pops up the moment our parents enter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Why is it that a girl dating an elder guy is cool but a guy dating an elder girl gets raised eyebrows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Why is it that we can manage to lose only 10 grams after weeks of work outs and gain 1 kg with an extra little meal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Why do we always promise to ourselves on the first day of the sem to make notes and study from day one but always end up studying exactly 10 hours before the exam?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Why do we always trip, fall or embarrass ourselves in any way possible only when our crush is around?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-7793028623317769843?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/7793028623317769843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=7793028623317769843&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7793028623317769843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7793028623317769843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/07/here-is-list-of-questions-that-always.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-88998457608993900</id><published>2009-06-25T11:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T11:28:53.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i luuurrrvvveee J. K. Rowling.&lt;br /&gt;true genius, that lady.&lt;br /&gt;talk about creativity and guts. nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. zombies are lame, banshees are hot!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-88998457608993900?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/88998457608993900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=88998457608993900&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/88998457608993900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/88998457608993900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-luuurrrvvveee-j.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-7528619428808309875</id><published>2009-06-25T11:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T23:09:12.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Bangalore City.&lt;br /&gt;I absolutely love this place. For all the people who are a little weird and to themselves, Bangalore is THE place for you.  People in Bangalore don’t care a ruddy darn rat’s poop to what the others are up to. Most of them are foreigners and good ones at that. The place is a paradise for shopoholics like me, given that all the brands are available inhere. You name it, they have it. The composition of the crowd goes like this- 50% of the people are folks from the other asian countires, rest must be an equal mix of foreigners and Indians. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best things about Bangalore:&lt;br /&gt;1. Nobody will stare at you (precisely your legs) if you are wearing shorts or hot pants. (well, apart from some paanwalas)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. This is one place where people can actually walk and sit around casually with a beer pint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. People are friendly. either they will not bother you at all or they might as well want to give you company. So if you are sitting at a coffee shop or by the lake (in my case), people won’t just sit and stare, but they will actually have the guts to approach. (moulisha, sid, spandit and ranveer-:) )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Pub culture is fun yet, most of them are a little reserved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. The weather is awesome, cold in the morning, warm in the day time, breezy and windy by  the evening and cold at night. Perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best place – Brigade road.&lt;br /&gt;I m gonna miss being in the city. And I m gonna miss the friends I got there. (Wow, I don’t think I even deserve you guys in the first place, really.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, by the way, the rikshawalas suck. They charge any crap for moving an ant hole. Buggers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-7528619428808309875?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/7528619428808309875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=7528619428808309875&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7528619428808309875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/7528619428808309875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/06/bangalore-city.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-8678576999404611337</id><published>2009-05-30T02:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T02:14:53.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>here is a list of bizarre incidences that take place due to this certain phenomenon called love (or infatuation). And all these are true people. No kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. my super practical friend is now a coconut overflowing with the water of emotions. she now talks about love, bliss, serenity, blah! eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. my super romantic friend totally chickens out in front of guys and has difficulty in expressing herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;irony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. this one chick that i know has a spine of steel is the most fragile and delicate human being alive when shes with her guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  this guy i know, who had an abstinence from spending a single penny on waste earlier, has been winding money like crazy for indulging his girlfriend. eh? little does he know hes making an absolute fool of himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. the most egoistic people on the planet can take a lot of crap coming from the people they love. eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. a friend of mine who is very close to being barney from how i met your mother is the most devoted, caring boyfriend ( sure, he pretends to be, barney like i said.) and for worse - she falls for it. there's a competition for who's more bizarre in here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. doing things you hate for the person you love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. giving up things you love coz you know your guy/ girl hates them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  trying to be what your guy / girl wants you to be rather than being yourself. now people, if this really IS the case you need to clearly set your priorities straight and judge your relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. dressing up in the cloths that your partner likes you best dressed in. (hmm. sweet)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. my mom always tastes the food she serves to dad just to make sure he will like it the best even after years of marriage. (aww..)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its crazy what this thing make us do right. this love, infatuation, crush or whatever it is we have. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-8678576999404611337?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/8678576999404611337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=8678576999404611337&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8678576999404611337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/8678576999404611337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/05/here-is-list-of-bizarre-incidences-that.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-2319913413165817641</id><published>2009-05-30T01:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T01:06:32.664-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>'XOXO' is crazy stupid! no literally..!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why cant people just write love ya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;totally lame!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-2319913413165817641?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/2319913413165817641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=2319913413165817641&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2319913413165817641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/2319913413165817641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/05/xoxo-is-crazy-stupid-no-literally.html' title=''/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-5750538378116496133</id><published>2009-03-28T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-16T23:29:36.039-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The EMO culture.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Here's a little something I read about EMOs one day : A person described as "emo" (falling under certain behavior mannerisms and attire correlating with the subculture) will often be from a comfortable, middle-class background with understanding, pleasant parents. All of this is irrelevant to an emo who will consider themselves misunderstood and repressed regardless of reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The emo girls just want to get a new hairstyle and the guys, an excuse to behave like girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I personally believe that EMOs are nothing more than wannabe punk rock fans who have been unfortunately, given cell phones and love to take&amp;nbsp;their&amp;nbsp;pictures from different angles (My condolences to the respective necks), most popular location - their bathrooms with the view of the&amp;nbsp;commode&amp;nbsp;in the back, to put them up on&amp;nbsp;Facebook, Orkut,&amp;nbsp;Myspace&amp;nbsp;etc. Very lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of them pretend to have stemmed from goth culture but I personally hold the&amp;nbsp;opinion&amp;nbsp;that they have more in common with the next door bisexual guy having candy floss than goth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let us now look at the basic demeanor of EMOs:&lt;br /&gt;1. They all have dark eye make-up, more of an out of GRUDGE auditions look.&lt;br /&gt;2. They all seem to have an "one- eye haircut" which THEY think creates an illusion of them having only one eye. Maybe because they only want one side of their face showing.&lt;br /&gt;3. They tend to wear extremely tight clothes which makes it difficult to determine whether it's a male or a female from distance.&lt;br /&gt;4. Smiles are non existing and random hand gestures look plain stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These emos on a general day are absolutely normal people who will hang out with friends and have a good time. I think the absurd and bizzarre behavior sets in once they find a camera. Or you can find the hardcore emos in some lonely deserted corner of the street trying to get attention by putting on an 'I don't give a shit' (I see the irony, yes) expression since well, nobody seems to "understand them". They talk to&amp;nbsp;animals&amp;nbsp;and make them too sad to breathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;: |&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer me this, why?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-5750538378116496133?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/5750538378116496133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=5750538378116496133&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5750538378116496133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/5750538378116496133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/03/emo-culture.html' title='The EMO culture.'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4794604740803657957.post-224930982969692472</id><published>2009-03-22T04:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-16T23:16:52.754-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Toothpick Girls</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;There's this epidemic which is taking over the entire world. I think it's called 'I want to weigh as much as an ant' syndrome. No, seriously, what's with the girls these days? All of them are dying to be as thin as a toothpick, I mean being fit is one thing and going so lean that your jeans won't even make it past a Normal human being's palm is another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know girls who survive on salads and energy drinks so that they do not put on weight. I mean really?! REALLY? Don't you guys remember how mouth popping pizzas are and how having a burger with mayonnaise and a crisp leaf of lettuce is like Christmas in your mouth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And beat this. These girls still have the strength to buckle up in gym and work their ass off. Brave.. very brave..I wonder how they live. Oh wait, maybe they have super-powers, they just don't show them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next take - Guys dying to have 6 pack/ 8 pack/ 12 pack abs.&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Most of us girls don't really care about it. Gaah !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4794604740803657957-224930982969692472?l=avanikasden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/feeds/224930982969692472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4794604740803657957&amp;postID=224930982969692472&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/224930982969692472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4794604740803657957/posts/default/224930982969692472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://avanikasden.blogspot.com/2009/03/toothpick-chicks.html' title='Toothpick Girls'/><author><name>Avanika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14127393847439942202</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZ23H1MEgkU/TkYgUlwihEI/AAAAAAAAAHM/x6aVmud0vVg/s220/IMG-20110812-WA0001%2Bcopy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
