Dreamy monday

I had an ultra dreamy Monday.
Like I never really wake up properly.
That kinda Monday.

The moment I got up, showered and got out of the house, instead of feeling more awake, I slipped into a deeper state of my that dreamy-like realm.

The entire day went by, like a dream.
Really.
People around me were talking, talking and talking.
And my mind was unbelievably switched off. I was so detached from the world around me.
I hardly bothered.
I scarcely entertained.
I gave one-liner answers, and forcefully laughed when I was supposed to.
And grunted when a reply was required.

The only time I seemed to have fared slightly better, and snapped out of my dreamy-like state momentarily, was when LBB called.
The moment the line went dead, I slipped back.

I think I woke up only when I was on the way home.
Then it was too late.
I started wondering where my day went.

I guess I am just not a Monday person.
Every little thing that usually won't piss me off would on a Monday.
And I just have no idea why.
Like slow turtles strolling in front of me in CBD.
Stupid asses.
Don't you all know it is a crime to stroll in CBD?
If it's your virgin visit to the CBD, I'd understand.
But I can't when you are dressed like an old bird of the CBD, and yet you stroll like a granny.
Speed walk speed walk.
Trip on your own feet if you must.
Ok, tripping on your own feet is a feat that only I can perform.


Perhaps the fact that Friday seemed really far away, and LBB is scheduling to work his weekends away is not cheering me up at all.
Then again, perhaps its time to start meeting up with my friends and catching up with them.
I am wayy too detached from the rest of the world.


He does the simplest of things to make me smile.
Sometimes its not the extravagance of the actions that touches your heart.
Instead, the simplest of it.
The times when he bothers to pause and check out what I am busying myself with when he is chatting with his friends.
Or when he rings me up to ask me what I am doing, and hangs up in less than a minute.
Giving me a hug when I least expect it.
It makes me smile just thinking about it.

Maybe, just maybe.
I should stop abusing him.
Or brandishing my form of discipline.
He is afterall somewhat sweet when he wants to.
Then again, maybe he is the way he is now because of my discipline.
I should write a book.

Tame your man in 10 days.

I'd sign autographs for you if you promise to slap your man in front of me.

Did I just say Monday was like a dream?
Somebody slap me awake please.

I swear I will explode at the next time I see the words dear dear and hear the words my boyyyfriendd (coupled with a girlish giggle).

I think I have morphed into a monster.
For I puke at the words dear dear and I go into fits when I hear the words my boyfrieeennnddd.
Can somebody just ban those few words for the time being.
Or at least refrain from it.
I am getting an overdose from this colleague of mine.
Who never fails to entertain us with her not-so-entertaining stories of her dear dear very fondly known to her as my boyfrieeeeennnnddd.
I mean seriously, who the fuck cares if your boyfriend changed the bed into a queen sized one?
Who the fuck cares if you were kept awake the whole night by the noisy fan in your boyfrrriieeenddd's room.
Who the fuck cares if your boyfffrrrieeeennddd didn't give 2 hoots about your inability to sleep.
Who the fuck cares if your booooyyyyyyfrriiiennnnd's family eat alot, and that is stressing you out.
Who the fuck cares if your booyfrrriiiennnddd is doing what, or likes to play what sports.

I mean if its something interesting.
And I am tickled by it.
Fine.
But if I give you a forced smile and bored face.
Don't assume its because I am suffering from the Monday blues.
Ok, maybe I am.
But you are not making it any better by boring me with shit like your boyffrrrieeennndd.
I mean, you don't hear me telling you boring shit like my boyfriend wears his underwear on the outside right? Or that I nearly bit his thumb off, and he slapped me so hard on my head?

Please, don't force feed me with more boring shit about your boyfrrriennnd.
Because really, on a Monday, I am not the least bit interested.
Tell me that again on a Friday, and I promise you I'd laugh more heartily.
Then again.
Please, don't tell me anymore.
Enough is enough is enough.