Romantic-comedies is a genre in films that deserves to die in hell while sitting on a chair made of gold.
They are annoying, yet heart-warming. They make you believe in the universe’s ways of finding your soulmate while leaving you in a snotty, sniffling mess. They trick you into buying high-end designer clothes, while you continue live in your shoebox of an apartment. They teach you about the empowerment of having a vagina, while you’re still stuck on ‘why he didn’t call? Why doesn’t he like me?’. Continue reading “5 Lessons To Learn from Rom-Coms”
Hello, my name is Shitika and I’m an Astrology-oholic.
It happened five years ago, when my best friend and I were trying to justify the adversity of our sleep-deprived lives and blame it onto an external force. Quite literally. It was pouring with rain at the time and we were on our third soy cappuccinos for the day (that I secretly hoped had alcohol in it to help me survive the rest of the week). Continue reading “Written In The Stars”
First published on Birdee.
I met a boy. A boy who made me smile uncontrollably, my heart leap, and my stomach clench, for no apparent reason.
This feeling, as alien to me as those creatures in Independence Day, is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Just as Bob Marley would melodiously wonder, “Is this love that I’m feeling?” Surely not. I haven’t even been on a traditional date with this boy – you know the one: dinner, cheeky hand-holding and a goodnight kiss. But there have been many moments and conversations where we’ve been on intellectual and sexual fire, which is probably why I’ve come to the realisation that this isn’t lust anymore, and I’m in serious trouble.
For the past 24 years of my life – or at least since the day I figured out that boys made my nether region tingle – I’ve protected my heart in its cocoon. I was that girl in high school who intimidated the boys in her class with a very Destiny’s Child approach to life. Sing it with me: “I buy my own diamonds and I buy my own rings!” Continue reading “Feelings, WTF?”
Someone very sexy once told me, ‘Journalism is a sexy profession’.
Indeed, it is.
We interview good looking people, we drink expensive champagne, we get to stay ‘two nights and three days’ in luxurious island resorts and we get it all for free. Sexy (and smug) on all grounds, damn straight!
While it’s bursting off its seams with sexiness, there’s also a very dangerous side to journalism that very few are aware of. Well, apart from all the sleepless nights from unforgiving deadlines that make them crazy delirious, there’s another alarming factor.
There are many reasons why journalists make the best partner one can ever have; but there are also reasons why they can be your absolute nightmare. Taking optimism by its balls, I’m here to talk you through – and warn you – of the latter. Continue reading “8 Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Date A Journalist”
London Underground, where you are destined to either lose your wallet, your sanity or a heartbeat.
Millions of Londoners use this mode of public transport on a daily basis; while its day job is to help people commute, this fast, well-connected and foul-smelling service also plays cupid ever so often.
She sprinted towards the closing doors at a torturous pre-dawn hour. Continue reading “Rush Hour Crush”