The Devil Wears A Tattoo

Ever wanted to tell someone to go #$% off and couldn’t? Yeah, baby I know what that feels like. The words are stuck in my throat.

FFFFFFFFF…………………. uuuuurrrrrrgggggghhh……… gaaaah gaak gaak…. sputter sputter sputter… *COUGH*

Oh deyaam, whatever is the matter with moi? And to think all those years ago I trained myself to get over the sheer indignity of unfamiliar words.

Do you remember the first time you swore? Actually I don’t. But I can put a rough guess. From Ms.Goody Two shoes in the small, cosy (and bitchy) confines of school, I found myself catapulted into the big, bad world of college. Junior college it was as we call it in Mumbai but still we were rubbing shoulders with ‘those big people’….the stalwarts of adolescent admiration – the almost graduates. Of course everyone goes slightly mad in their teenage years. My madness was rather…umm…shall we say…delayed? I stood bewildered at the madness around me, it was like being carried along in a New Orleans Mardi Gras parade (or at least what I imagine that would be like). Seemingly safe acquaintances morphed into strange monstrosities, wearing weird clothes, spouting thick accents…and oh the language!

I tried the F-word tentatively..it sounded odd. Felt like alcohol on a teetotler’s tongue. You know like the whole world’s watching and waiting for you to either pass out or be wholly appreciative and all you can think is…that’s all?

I coped. I learnt. I found my own brand of insanity. In time I imbibed the cooler variations of the words

Fuggit!

Ferkorrff!

Foh-kkkkk!

Never quite developed a taste for it though. So I grew sarcasm and wise-cracking instead. The trouble with being Smart Alexis is that half the time people don’t get your jokes. It’s rather annoying when the object of your disdain doesn’t get that he’s being insulted. Then I learnt to enjoy it. I do it a lot now. Insult people without them realising it. Ah, the joys of sweet venom!

I wonder if I can learn to smirk. No, I think not. One of my pet peeves…no, actually it is a blessing…is that I think I don’t quite look my part. It would be grand to have a deep, booming voice and look all terrifying and intimidating. On the other hand, I think my orthodontically-enhanced pearls cue GRIN more than SMIRK. Then again, it’s quite tickling to see people’s faces when they expect a nice, friendly girl who comes up instead with an evil line. Sometimes I feel sorry for people though…..I do have a heart after all…even if it appears only briefly.

I’m thinking of this time in college and a ‘dude’ I was having a brief flirtation with. He ran with the ‘beautiful people’…you know the models, aspiring actors, dancers sort…toned bodies squeezed into body-fit lycra wear. As expected there wasn’t much ‘up there’. On the other hand, what was down there….umm, I mean….what a body! So Dude and I played along on this strange attraction of opposites. One day, he leaned over and in a practised, deep voice droned,

Idea, do you like bikes?

I looked at him, wide-eyed and with a dramatic pause said…

No, I prefer the guys on them.

He took a moment to digest this. Then,

Sorry? I didn’t hear that.

Patient but peeved, I re-iterated. Once again, a moment of blankness, not as I hoped, followed by a look of comprehension.

I’m afraid I don’t understand.

With a huge mental sigh, I patted his arm (which caused him to beam) and said,

Oh, nothing, I was just saying some random stuff. I like bikes. Yours too.

Suffice to say, I never got to sit on the aforementioned bike. What a pity though…and what a body! Okay, I’ll stop drooling now.

Lesson well learnt. Models are pretty things, to be looked at, not spoken to. Sad but true. And yet I bash on regardless, for the cause of the Beautiful Brain. In another college episode, I was on stage, in a personality contest thingy. Oh shut up laughing, thou intellectual snobs…these things are fairly entertaining once you realise how brainless they are.

Compere: Ms.Idea, it takes 7 muscles to smile but 52 to frown. Would you say that frowning is better exercise then?

Me: Sure. But by the same token, I’d also say it’s fun to be be fat!

*Long silence*

Model-judge: *In long stretched out words* Could you repeat that please?

Me: Well…sure frowning’s more exercise but isn’t it more fun to be fat then?

Model-judge: Errr….*blank look*

Compere: Ms.Idea, could you…

Me: Never mind. Thank you very much.

Suffice to say that I did not make it to the next round. Personality does not include making incomprehensible jokes or looking at judge like they are from another species. The devil can be too smart for her own good sometimes.