I wake up. No big deal.
I get dressed. No big deal.
I take bus to work. No big deal.
I get off the bus. No big deal.
I see Hrithik Roshan across the street. *screeching car brakes on flow of thought*
Ayyyyyyy! Its Hrithik! And he is smouldering. He is the hotness. He is tan like fuckin mocha. He has long hair like frikkin Steven Tyler! He is infra-red. He is causing global warming, people! Save the polar bears!
Well, Im not the biggest Hrithik fan, I would never cheat on SRK like that. But anyone who has anything to do with dancing ought to respect Hrithik for his deligence and his talent. His guy can kick anyone’s ass in dancing! And so, I respect him…(I also respect the fact that his shirt was open to the fourth button, but focus okay?)
I need his autograph, no pen dammnit!
I wanna speak to him, no balls damnnit!
Just look, Jups, don’t touch. And move on with your sorry life.
Didn’t wanna repeat the whole Stephen Gately episode where I mumbled some gibberish and all he could do was smile graciously. “I I I I…..you.. uhhh.. I..lyrics..I..you..*sheepish giggle* “
Its not neccessarily an attraction to the opposite sex…I guess celebrities have that charisma, the x-factor that mere mortals have nothing on. They shine and preen in a sea of befuddled uggos. Sigh.
Going shopping tonight to cool off…Shopping’s a great way to forget about the gaping hole in your soul, don’t you think?
Now please excuse me while I blot the puddle of saliva on my keyboard.