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Lunch time fiction

Tuesday, September 23, 2008. The two of us met on friday nights. Usually on the terrace of our dilapidated apartment building. After the last unsightly fragment of clothing had been taken off the washing lines that criss crossed around us. When the stars came out and it was dark enough for the week's leftovers to look like a feast. I brought a board game. And a bottle of tomato ketchup. He brought pen and paper. He liked to keep score. And the last bottle of water from the fridge. I nodded, breathlessly.

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Lunch time fiction | lunchtimefiction.blogspot.com Reviews

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Tuesday, September 23, 2008. The two of us met on friday nights. Usually on the terrace of our dilapidated apartment building. After the last unsightly fragment of clothing had been taken off the washing lines that criss crossed around us. When the stars came out and it was dark enough for the week's leftovers to look like a feast. I brought a board game. And a bottle of tomato ketchup. He brought pen and paper. He liked to keep score. And the last bottle of water from the fridge. I nodded, breathlessly.

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Lunch time fiction | lunchtimefiction.blogspot.com Reviews

https://lunchtimefiction.blogspot.com

Tuesday, September 23, 2008. The two of us met on friday nights. Usually on the terrace of our dilapidated apartment building. After the last unsightly fragment of clothing had been taken off the washing lines that criss crossed around us. When the stars came out and it was dark enough for the week's leftovers to look like a feast. I brought a board game. And a bottle of tomato ketchup. He brought pen and paper. He liked to keep score. And the last bottle of water from the fridge. I nodded, breathlessly.

INTERNAL PAGES

lunchtimefiction.blogspot.com

1

Lunch time fiction: September 2008

http://www.lunchtimefiction.blogspot.com/2008_09_01_archive.html

Tuesday, September 23, 2008. The two of us met on friday nights. Usually on the terrace of our dilapidated apartment building. After the last unsightly fragment of clothing had been taken off the washing lines that criss crossed around us. When the stars came out and it was dark enough for the week's leftovers to look like a feast. I brought a board game. And a bottle of tomato ketchup. He brought pen and paper. He liked to keep score. And the last bottle of water from the fridge. I nodded, breathlessly.

2

Lunch time fiction: Love story

http://www.lunchtimefiction.blogspot.com/2008/09/love-story.html

Thursday, September 11, 2008. It was not lunch. Not like the peanut butter sandwiches or store bought pasta that some of us revelled in. Not even like the 9 course south Indian jamboree that made our jaws drop and kept a few of us in perfect portly contour. Y’s lunch was, in one word, ….love. All the same, when lunch was done for the day, we floated back to our work stations, unsatisfied. Images of the Tupperware container flashed in our eyes, long after it had been stowed appropriately in Y’s ...And so ...

3

Lunch time fiction: Murder

http://www.lunchtimefiction.blogspot.com/2008/09/murder.html

Tuesday, September 23, 2008. The two of us met on friday nights. Usually on the terrace of our dilapidated apartment building. After the last unsightly fragment of clothing had been taken off the washing lines that criss crossed around us. When the stars came out and it was dark enough for the week's leftovers to look like a feast. I brought a board game. And a bottle of tomato ketchup. He brought pen and paper. He liked to keep score. And the last bottle of water from the fridge. I nodded, breathlessly.

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my daily cup of poison: October 2007

http://mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com/2007_10_01_archive.html

My daily cup of poison. A smorgasbord of chai, coffee, snacks and snippets. Enter your email address:. Something about, well. nothing! Posted by alok yepuri. Charles S. Peirce, "Logic of Events" (1898). You can read more about this 'Jack of all trades, master of all. Tuesday, October 23, 2007. Om from an atheist. Posted by alok yepuri. According to him, and put into loose form by some research from my side, this is what I managed to conclude. THE HISTORY OF OM:. The sound "Om" can be produced without any...

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my daily cup of poison: February 2009

http://mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html

My daily cup of poison. A smorgasbord of chai, coffee, snacks and snippets. Enter your email address:. Posted by alok yepuri. Love hurts, but sometimes it's a good hurt.". Brandon Boyd (the vocalist of Incubus) couldn't have sung anything truer in 'Love Hurts'. Love really hurts - not just your heart (bad! But your whole dang body as well (worse! So what's this tirade all about anyway? If you must know. Love pushed me to the gym. And the cause of this epitome of my pain? And when did this start? I'm 24, ...

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my daily cup of poison: July 2008

http://mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com/2008_07_01_archive.html

My daily cup of poison. A smorgasbord of chai, coffee, snacks and snippets. Enter your email address:. Pink - the new black. Posted by alok yepuri. He's walking down the road, biceps, triceps and forceps, red tabs hugging his waist, ID shoes, a pink shirt, ray bans. woah! From a man's perspective, it's a colour with a story, some morals (of sorts), and many shades of grey (or pink). And why is that? Well, it's because its shades can divide a man into two very distinct groups. Still not understanding?

mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com

my daily cup of poison: September 2009

http://mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com/2009_09_01_archive.html

My daily cup of poison. A smorgasbord of chai, coffee, snacks and snippets. Enter your email address:. From the eyes of a 20-something. Posted by alok yepuri. Comparing herself to a modern day Walt Whitman, is this 20-something woman with the unquenchable thirst to write poems (hate mail really) dedicated to me. Not surprisingly, it has highly-acclaimed critics raving about it. Here's what one has to say:. Lolzzz. I'm lovin' it! D Kudos to her! Ms N in action. Alok, I HATE you! Alok, you make me choke,.

mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com

my daily cup of poison: shit happens

http://mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com/2009/03/shit-happens.html

My daily cup of poison. A smorgasbord of chai, coffee, snacks and snippets. Enter your email address:. Posted by alok yepuri. This one's for the guys who came over for lunch yesterday:. Any oxymoronic feeling of having the runs while sitting down? Tummy) upset over a shitty experience? Or even, the lyrics of '(I've Had)The Time of my Life' from the (s)hit movie 'Dirty Crapping' or 'Can't fight this feeling' going through your mind? Then come, let's raise a stink about this together! Imagine you havin' th...

mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com

my daily cup of poison: unlucky by chance

http://mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com/2009/02/unlucky-by-chance.html

My daily cup of poison. A smorgasbord of chai, coffee, snacks and snippets. Enter your email address:. Posted by alok yepuri. Love hurts, but sometimes it's a good hurt.". Brandon Boyd (the vocalist of Incubus) couldn't have sung anything truer in 'Love Hurts'. Love really hurts - not just your heart (bad! But your whole dang body as well (worse! So what's this tirade all about anyway? If you must know. Love pushed me to the gym. And the cause of this epitome of my pain? And when did this start? I'm 24, ...

mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com

my daily cup of poison: April 2008

http://mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com/2008_04_01_archive.html

My daily cup of poison. A smorgasbord of chai, coffee, snacks and snippets. Enter your email address:. Saddi dilli - the 'crap'ital of india. Posted by alok yepuri. SOMEBODY'S in a mood to bitch today. So kindly bear with me. Agreed, incidents like the one you are going to read happen everywhere. But not at the frequency at which it happens here. A woman, whether she's 9 or 90 years old is under constant danger of getting raped at even 9 in the morning, for crying out loud! Wednesday, April 30, 2008.

mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com

my daily cup of poison: June 2008

http://mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com/2008_06_01_archive.html

My daily cup of poison. A smorgasbord of chai, coffee, snacks and snippets. Enter your email address:. Posted by alok yepuri. He is 26, and is running on 27, though he does not want to accept it. No, it's not because he doesn't want to acknowledge his years getting closer to 30, but because he hasn't understood its concept yet. So who is this 'him'? Here are a few examples of his heroisms; excerpts from the book:. Prolly how a Tamilian says vada pav? I will bundoo you! I will beat you! See this shot now!

mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com

my daily cup of poison: January 2009

http://mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com/2009_01_01_archive.html

My daily cup of poison. A smorgasbord of chai, coffee, snacks and snippets. Enter your email address:. Now this is a nice thought! Posted by alok yepuri. According to my office mom's ex CD (who might have heard it from someone):. Serendipity is like searching for a needle in the haystack, and finding the farmer's daughter! Sunday, January 25, 2009. The assumption song - it ALMOST got a parental rating :D. Posted by alok yepuri. I'm not saying anything. Just click here. And don't assume anything! The wick...

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my daily cup of poison: the drunk poem

http://mydailycupofpoison.blogspot.com/2008/12/drunk-poem.html

My daily cup of poison. A smorgasbord of chai, coffee, snacks and snippets. Enter your email address:. Posted by alok yepuri. Starkle, starkle, little twink,. Who the hell are you I think. I'm not under what you call. The alcofluence of incohol. I'm just a little slort of sheep,. I'm not drunk like thinkle peep. I don't know who is me yet,. But the drunker I stand here the longer I get. So just give me one more fink to drill my cup,. Cause I got all day sober to Sunday up. View my complete profile.

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Tuesday, September 23, 2008. The two of us met on friday nights. Usually on the terrace of our dilapidated apartment building. After the last unsightly fragment of clothing had been taken off the washing lines that criss crossed around us. When the stars came out and it was dark enough for the week's leftovers to look like a feast. I brought a board game. And a bottle of tomato ketchup. He brought pen and paper. He liked to keep score. And the last bottle of water from the fridge. I nodded, breathlessly.

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