Live and let live, Kepe-Mama and some other shit

Whenever I am pressed for time and all that shit, I feel like stopping everything else and start blogging. Give me nothing to do for days and you won't see a tiny dandruff-flake sized post. To which simile I say Ew.

I was up since god-awful 6.30 because my throat and ears hurt like I had tried to swallow the shards of someone's broken dreams. I have simply no idea what to do with myself before its at least 8 and less when I am up after discovering cacti growing inside my ears. The thing is I detest paying visits to the doc unless I am absolutely on the death bed and there is no other alternative. I mean, NONE. The simple sermon that is engraved in my headboard is something like this:

Go see a doc coz the docs have a right to live.
Get those pills coz the chemists also have a right to live.
Throw those pills away, hold yourself and rock gently on your bed coz you have a right to live.

Well, that's a lie. I don't have headboard. And even if I had, they would probably hang me for vandalism. But, seriously. If I ever have a tattoo, I am going to have that thing tattooed in indelible golden letters pretty much in the same part of anatomy where a certain favorite professor of mine (Uncle Kepe for the initiated) supposedly have a tattoo of The Envelope Theorem. Or, was it Differentiate? I forgot which. May be both.

So apart from the minor detail that I still don't have any insurance for a few more days even if I lugged myself to downtown today to get hopefully the final paper-pushing done, this is pretty much THE reason why I haven't been to the docs to save their lives. But it's nothing that Ramdev and I can't handle if we tried together. And, finally talking of Ramdev, if you Google "Ramdev Fun Facts", out pops the page where he claims that yoga cures "the gay disease". I am touched to see that Google has such a sense of humor.