the paper heartlessly informs me that george clooney visited Sudan on a peace mission.
someone inform mr.clooney that Sudan is not the only place on the face of the earth with any noticeable lack of peace. he can look a little more eastwards. to be precise, right here. i lack peace right now. i can do with a visit from clooney.
why must all my love stories be so hopelessly one-sided?
a careful and objective look at my life so far tells me something fearful - it is a long saga of impossible romantic tangles. kindergarten playground up to a few weeks ago. either they love me and i don't or i love them and they don't. no double-coincidence of wants, here. salman khan (loving whom was tricky country, because a bosom buddy loved him too) and ricky martin (who i famously wrote a love poem to, and vowed to marry and who even more famously turned out to be gay) and now, clooney (who so cavalierly ignores my existance) cases in point.
the only love i have had satisfactorily returned is of the little worm-toothed bus parther, who faithfully keeps a seat for me, and everyday shares his biscuits with me.
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