Is it just me, or does every family gathering turn into a competition to see who can casually mention how much their kid is earning or how successful their spouse is? Like, can we talk about how I just managed to finish my third pizza without judging myself for once? And who decided that asking "kyun shaadi nahi ki ab tak?" was an acceptable way to start a conversation? Maybe I’m just living my be...
I had a moment of clarity the other day while scrolling through my social media. We’ve all been there, right? You see those perfect influencer lives and you’re like, “Wow, I can barely keep my house plant alive!” Then I realized, if I posted all my food fails or my living room that looks like a laundry explosion, would anyone even follow me? Or would it just be a support group for fellow disaster ...
I have a love-hate relationship with cooking. One minute I’m feeling like a MasterChef, the next, I’m staring at a pot of burnt pasta that even my trash can refuses to accept. Like, is it too much to ask for one recipe to come out the way it looks on Instagram? And don't get me started on those cooking videos—how is everyone always so calm while I’m struggling to even chop an onion without crying? If Gordon Ramsay walked into my kitchen, he’d probably detox me from cooking altogether.
I have a love-hate relationship with cooking. One minute I’m feeling like a MasterChef, the next, I’m staring at a pot of burnt pasta that even my trash can refuses to accept. Like, is it too much to ask for one recipe to come out the way it looks on Instagram? And don't get me started on those cooking videos—how is everyone always so calm while I’m struggling to even chop an onion without crying? If Gordon Ramsay walked into my kitchen, he’d probably detox me from cooking altogether.
Why do we even bother with movie sequels? Like, we all know they’re just cash grabs. It’s basically Hollywood saying, “Hey, remember how you cried during the first one? Let’s ruin that feeling with a half-baked plot and characters we didn’t bother to develop.” Yet here I am, still watching every one like I'm hoping for a miracle. Why am I like this? Did I miss a memo saying I had to suffer for my ...