stayin on the wagon has not been easy.
little things get my goat: an inane message from a friend or a regular mail from my spouse makes me jump out of my skin, while the absence of anything new in my inbox for a sufficiently long period (say, two hours) leaves my temperature hovering near absolute zero. not being able to see my friends and relatives usually bugs me, especially on weekends. handling plenty of the center's cash but not carrying or using any of my own bothers me sometimes. but i can handle all that.
meaning, i'm your friendly neighborhood freak with all the trappings of an average nerd, but with an extra itch for the juice that i'm learning to give up by assiduously practicing humility, patience and tolerance.
so just what i do not need is the indian cricket team's coronary-inducing antics at any leading tournament. somehow, they always seem to be do the snake act: creeping and crawling to that nail biting stage in any tournament where their progress in the tournament is determined not by their own performance but by the outcome of some far away clash between two other obscure contestants in the fray; or their destiny is reduced to an embarrassing sideshow by a couple of gooks with faulty calculators aided by two worthies going by the forgettable nyms of duckworth and lewis! of course, all this if as the most fancied team, they have already suffered a "shock" defeat to an unfancied team rookie a la their very first outing in the world cup and finding their shameless way home.
the indian cricket team does it all to bring out all the wrong kind of juices in your system. (of course, for most of the players, there's no reason to crib: simply unavoidable stuff like walking ramps, taking part in beauty pageants and aiding and abetting the advertisement industry will continue unaffected and the glad tidings unabated. and then there's IPL).
they almost make me relapse.
of course, thanks to my anonymous club and my sober friends, i put it off for another day. i need to be sober for me, not kill self for msd and his team of heart-burn cream puffs, or anything else.
so here i am, shoving my expectations from the team into an empty pint bottle and flushing it down the drain... (hope the sewage system's not backed up again...)
little things get my goat: an inane message from a friend or a regular mail from my spouse makes me jump out of my skin, while the absence of anything new in my inbox for a sufficiently long period (say, two hours) leaves my temperature hovering near absolute zero. not being able to see my friends and relatives usually bugs me, especially on weekends. handling plenty of the center's cash but not carrying or using any of my own bothers me sometimes. but i can handle all that.
meaning, i'm your friendly neighborhood freak with all the trappings of an average nerd, but with an extra itch for the juice that i'm learning to give up by assiduously practicing humility, patience and tolerance.
so just what i do not need is the indian cricket team's coronary-inducing antics at any leading tournament. somehow, they always seem to be do the snake act: creeping and crawling to that nail biting stage in any tournament where their progress in the tournament is determined not by their own performance but by the outcome of some far away clash between two other obscure contestants in the fray; or their destiny is reduced to an embarrassing sideshow by a couple of gooks with faulty calculators aided by two worthies going by the forgettable nyms of duckworth and lewis! of course, all this if as the most fancied team, they have already suffered a "shock" defeat to an unfancied team rookie a la their very first outing in the world cup and finding their shameless way home.
the indian cricket team does it all to bring out all the wrong kind of juices in your system. (of course, for most of the players, there's no reason to crib: simply unavoidable stuff like walking ramps, taking part in beauty pageants and aiding and abetting the advertisement industry will continue unaffected and the glad tidings unabated. and then there's IPL).
they almost make me relapse.
of course, thanks to my anonymous club and my sober friends, i put it off for another day. i need to be sober for me, not kill self for msd and his team of heart-burn cream puffs, or anything else.
so here i am, shoving my expectations from the team into an empty pint bottle and flushing it down the drain... (hope the sewage system's not backed up again...)
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