Unnecessary day

I woke up with so much to achieve by the end of the day, full-stop. Sadly that sentence was to end there. I ended up having a very busy schedule of getting things NOT done. That is just plain sad. I feel today was completely unnecessary. Then it made me remember of a thought I once entertained. What if, out of the blue moon, you we're given a few extra hours for the day. Say three more hours. For those poor in Mathematics, that would add up to a twenty-seven hour day. What would you do with it. Ha! Trick question, think through it before you answer. I might have to add that, the answer to this question is a sort of prophesy for your life. Call me a magician. At least that's what the girl next door calls me [insert smile]. No really, call me a magician! Thanks. Ah stop it, its nothing really. I digress. This prophesy though, is not permanent in any sense, it might serve as a warning shot or encouragement. I am a strong believer that upon birth, each and every one has a few paths laid before him. The choices we make slowly lead us into those paths. They might end up splitting up into much smaller routes, they might end up joining up, heck, they might also end up forming one big-ass circle. I meant that last part as a joke but it strikes me with some sense of ambivalence. I refrain, I will hold onto that thought and come back at it later.

Things have gone through my life since I wrote Super Jack Rabbit. I am sure your life has also had its own piece of some action. I wouldn't mind hearing about it. Maybe we might learn something from each other. One of those events that featured heavily a.k.a break-up met me face to face, today. Three months down the line. Allow me to dramatize it, that way its less tiring,for my mind. 

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to tonight's duel. This promises to be the most riveting piece of entertainment since Adele tumbled down a flight of stairs. On the red corner weighing seventy-seven I love-you's, former single's champion, currently on an undefeated streak (which translates to mean his heart is still intact), give it up for...He. [boos are heard somewhere in one shady corner,probably some losers]. On the purple corner weighing two-or-three-I-am-not-sure-which I lorve you's, bla..bla..bla...moves like a butterfly, much alike Muhammad Ali(except the schizophrenia part), give it for Kay. 

I know what you are thinking. He is a desperate romantic. Well, I hate to break it down for you but you're plain wrong. That is as far from the truth as your arse hole is from your mouth. He is unknown. He even doesn't know his mere self. One very good thing about He is that, he always wins. His opposites also win, fair enough, but only its a Pyrrhic victory.

Funny thing happened on Tuesday. I am in for my usual rugby training. The flood lights are on, and a few ordinary people jogging around the pitch. Ordinary, because there was nothing that caught my attention. Aheem, apart from that fine lass who always draws the attention of the whole rugby team. I kid you not, she has the body of a vixen and a phoenix and and...she is perfect. Whenever she comes around, and jogs the whole team suddenly gets some adrenaline rush, for no apparent reason. They play much better trying to show they got IT. Normally the lads just engage into farting contests. Seriously, they do. But, when she jogs on the part of the pitch we are patched on, everybody stands astute, and moves their heads up and down rhythmically after her [your guess is as good as mine]. Except for me. I pretend she's not 'all that'. Inside, I was screaming.

I shifted positions. From a flanker, I am now a hooker. Please don't laugh. I don't despise the position, quite befitting, its a position of power and dominance in the game. Its just the name given to it. Just doesn't sound right. Now I guess my joke's on me, 'Rugby-the only game you enjoy the company of thirteen men and a hooker.' 

 I will sign off with my song of the week Cheers lads!