Complete Frasier Transcripts!!!

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I miss the good old days when all I did online was check my gmail account and occasionally post on Facebook. I felt smug that I was savvy enough, but then I went and changed it all. I started chatting on apps, subscribed to Youtube channels and joined Instagram. This past year, I've been at my peak. And I think it might be driving me insane. Let's go.

So, I saw this Youtube video. The guy in it said that we must always, ALWAYS bathe in cold water. He went on to list all the benefits; the heart, the blood, the blah, blah. These days it doesn't take much to convince me of anything. So I decided to go along. The first day, as that cold water hit me, I was transported to another time in my life.

It was the year 2000 and I was on a trek in  the Himalayas. This was back when my hips, knees, ankles co-operated with each other.  As thrilling as it was to walk along the edge of the cliffs, the only time I screamed like a little girl, was in the camp bathing stalls. It was like some sadist repeatedly plunged me into a hole in the ice on a frozen lake. Going oooooooooo and aaaaaaaaa over and over again, I sounded like an ambulance stuck in traffic. At one point, I remember scolding someone in the adjoining stall for bathing quietly. It just wasn't fair. "Have you no nerve endings, bitch?"

Anyway, coming back to social media, cold baths are just the tip of the iceberg. (hehe!) It's like I can't look away. I listen to everything. I watch it all. In short, I'm a sucker. 

If there's a Youtube video with the caption, "Know this secret and you will ...." then I must know that bloody secret. Even if I scroll past it in a pathetic attempt to be cool, in a few seconds, I'll frantically dig at my mouse, go up and click on it. It's terrible.

Do you know that I slap my armpits 49 times each? Why do I do this? Because a Chinese acupuncturist lady on Insta said that it detoxifies the liver. Why do I want to detoxify my liver, you ask? Because a spiritual guru on Youtube said that the liver is the seat of anger and the Lord knows that I am an angry person. How do I know the Lord knows everything, hmm? Because that Islamic intellectual preacher on Facebook said that He does. 

One day, one of you will visit me. And then you'll come back and put this post on Facebook- "I went to see Poorni today. She's comfortable, which is a blessing. The people in the psych ward take good care of her. Don't pity her for what she could have been, celebrate her for what she was."

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have seven hundred and twenty three saved videos I need to go watch. B'bye!

What's the prognosis?

 At the age of 39.5, I think I'm starting to show signs of adulthood. I'm not sure, and I hope I can nip the condition in the bud, but there's no denying the symptoms are there. Let's analyze:

1. Less is really more?

No, this isn't a life lesson. It has to do with ... Tang. I love Tang. Like really, really love it. For decades, I have terrorized people with it. If some unsuspecting innocent says yes to my offer of tang, it's a medical risk. Fill half the glass with the powder, fill the rest with water and, to add insult to injury, add a pinch of salt to heighten the sweetness. That's my death formula and I loved it. One sip, and people would usually choke, cough and then, as the sugar reached the vital organs, their eyes would roll back in their heads.

But now, I find myself putting in one measly teaspoon of Tang in the glass. I have even, at times, painfully transferred some of it back into the packet. No more salt. It's...worrying. Why has this happened to me?

2. I want...

A life partner. 'To share my joys and sorrows with?' you may ask. No. 'For those cold, lonely nights?', you say? No. I'm just thrilled with all that as it is, thank you. No. I have discovered the absolute back-breaking labor that goes into a particular chore. I just hate it. It's called 're-filling'. Refilling the various hand wash dispensers around the house, the oil dispensers, the soap box, and stuff like that. Does that happen to you? Every time you turn around, the damn hand wash dispenser is empty? Yeah, for me too. 

That's when the war begins. I fill it with a bit of water. That buys me a few more days. I pump it till it spits out air and cries out in agony. Then I try a bit more water. There are hardly any bubbles, but that's life. Then for a day or two, I avoid that sink. I will walk across the length of my house to the other sink. One day, that one will give out too. I'll use my aloe vera face wash once or twice to wash my hands and feel guilty about it.

Eventually, I realize that the breaking point has been reached. The war is lost. Out come the refill packet (which was a stone's throw away from the sink the whole time) and I go around the house re-filling. 

Throughout this journey, these days, I find myself muttering, "If I had one of those damn husband things, I would make it him do this." So there. You see, another symptom. 

3. Grey areas

This does not refer to my hair, although it would be accurate. I mean that the grey areas of life have expanded and encroached on all the black and white. I'm finding it a tad bit more difficult to be judgmental. That's troubling. If one cannot sit back and enjoy one's righteous anger, what else is there to life (apart from good food), I ask! 

I'm afraid that I will end up all nice and accepting one day in the distant future. That is a dangerous thing because it it encourages more people into your life. More People. Ugh. We can't have that, can we? My very reputation as a grouchy recluse is at stake!

     So you see, people, I have these symptoms and maybe a few more I haven't discovered yet. If any of you have discovered a cure for this, please get in touch. I will reward you handsomely, with as many glasses of Tang as you please. No salt.