Prose before hos

Tues 2:09 am

Him : Waddup?

Today 12:05 am

Me : My classmate had a baby
Me : and I'm still trying to figure out who to take my plus one for another friend's wedding

Him : HAHAHAHAHA

Me : her kid will learn alphabets sooner than I will find a plus one

Him : Yup and then She'll be sendng him off to college
when you get married
And that's when she'll regret everything
coz you waited

Me : I hope so. it's not waiting as much as not finding any one

Apparently another one of my classmate had a child. I found out in a group text today, which I promptly scrolled through twice without noticing the word "mother"/"child".

The girl who's recently become a mother once told me about her first pizza experience. She was on a pilgrimage with her parents, must have been about 7-8 years old around then (yeah). At Vaishno Devi, the trip's "hip" leg, she spotted a board that read "Pizza" and her elder sister (story for another day about how her first marriage alliance was broken and how she was left after the engagement for another time) wanted to try some. Both the girls went to their father and asked him what a pizza is.

Father, who had no idea about a pizza took the girls, aged between 7-10 with him to the pizza parlour and proceeded to have the first pizza of his life with his family during that trip. Why yes, god is real. Pizza made it's way into their family. She told me about this, long long ago when we were at a school picnic. I doubt if the fake Burberry wearing girl now would recall this/resonate with the facts here but somethings never leave you. My first memory of pizza comes from what most of my 'hip' recollection comes from. Grandparents and father having lived in Italy for a solid part of their life were saturated with pizza and how homemade pizza triumphs Domino's pizza at any time.

We had Domino's pizzas for dinner tonight. This acquaintance who works at that particular outlet is on his notice period out to join another notable family favourite food group. All you need to do is order your pizza and let him take the charge to make it. It'd be loaded with three times the cheese you'd order + double toppings- all at the base price.

After finding out that the girl has become a mother, and having an overdose of pizza for dinner later, I've come to the conclusion, pizza is overrated. 

Earlier this month, a friend met someone she's been talking about for the last quarter or so. During our meeting prior to the last, we bet on the fact whether they'd end up sleeping together or not. I bet in favour of the act and she, against. Either way, she was going to be winning some so it wasn't a bad deal in any way.

Turns out I won the money, as I discovered over a text message couple of days ago. After collecting the bet money (which was graciously given, because their rendezvous was worth it and my poor friend, unknowingly is smitten by the mongrel) I set out wondering what I'd do with my abilities. In a complete Karen Smith talent reprisal, my talents too are extremely restricted and on fleek.

In a complete spur decision, I spent the bet money buying a bottle of Bhut Jholakia sauce from the local bakery in my college. I was surprised to find the brand and the timing to digest that my ultimate earning in life is coming from betting on whether someone is going to get some or not.

Going to be making panko crusted fish with some Bhut Jholakia soon.