The Evolution of Blah

When a kid is born, at some point, it starts to show its talents. Some draw, some paint, some cry, some have a big penis.. So on and so forth.

In my case, however, for as long as ANYONE can remember… I simply couldn’t shut the fuck up!!!

This would have been fine, except, as so often seen in bollywood movies, there was a ‘kahaani mein twist’…

Now, I was raised by a man, who, although was never part of the military, was as close as a civilian to get to being one.

How do I describe my old man.. Hmmm..

Let’s start by saying, Im pretty certain when I was born, I wasn’t picked up. Instead, my old man might have expected a salute and we probably shook hands or something.

I probably had a timer to take a leak, and a board in the nursery that read, ‘Any leaks taken out of turn shall not be attended to’.

Lights out at 9. No amount of crying was going to change that.

We never hugged in my household. We got patted on the back, and got handed 'In recognition of' certificates.

Ahh.. the good old days..

Ok.. Fine.. Maybe I exaggerated a teeny weeny bit there. Point is dad was thoda khadoos type ka.

So back to me not being able to shut the fuck up.

Legend says, I was like Jesus, that we both started speaking almost right away.

Course he went onto become Jesus Christ, the savior of humanity.

Me.. Well.. Not so much.

Flashback.

I can actually picture my parents goin, ‘Say Mama.. Say Dada.. Agoo goo goo’, and then into facepalm mode right afters.. Coz once up and running, I was like the fuckin Energizer bunny.. Just kept goin n goin n goin n goin n goin…

The worst part was getting onto a flight. There I was, Babil Junior, in all my vexatious glory, talking away, non-stop, for the seemingly billion hours between take off and landing, to some poor random, soul, my menacingly tiny brain had targetted. N he didnt have any place to go. As the Gollum would say, 'Stuck with me he was. My Precious'.

Then there were long drives. The ‘donkey’ from Shrek was probably less annoying.

Parties.. Oh God.. Parties.. Nightmares.

It’s no wonder that the old man still sneaks in a ‘I should have used a condom’ look at me, now n then.

Story of my life.

Anyhoo.. Here we are.. A few decades later..

I can proudly say that things have not really changed.

Persistent little prick aren’t I?

But I have evolved. Nowadays my word vomit is more situational based.

I can go through an entire day at the office without saying a word. Ironic, considering my job actually includes talking to people. Guessing, that I hate my job, doesn’t help.

When the volcano does explode, though, it’s a stampede of words. Does all of it make sense? Not really. It just needs to get out. Almost like President Bush giving a speech. U hear the words, but no one, not even he, knows what the fuck it is actually being said.

In my case, however, my fiancé mostly bears the grunt of it. The poor thing.

Yes, I have a fiancé now. Someone finally agreed to marry me. I know. LOL!!!

So, all those 17500 words that an average person uses in a day, plus another 5000 for good measure, she gets to listen to in a matter of hours.

Im almost certain that at some point she just puts the phone on mute, goes, watches two episodes of Friends, comes back n goes, ‘Ahan.. ok..’

I don’t care. I love her.

Anyhoo. Im bored now. Gonna stop writing now n get back to pretending to work.

P.S. Sorry Mom, Dad... N thanks for not abandoning me, when u actually had a chance.