I sometimes wonder how I get by life, considering I have a low tolerance for most things. May be I am just lucky to be surrounded by people who get me. Topping my list of unbearables are bimbettes. Now, I have done considerable research on this species and have come to realise that contrary to what I used to think, there is no correlation between bimbettehood and IQ. Quite a few of them get into ivy league schools, make policy decisions, write poetry, know gadgets, blogs, the stock market and a few things tangible. But in essence, bimbettehood is about the consistent ability to act helpless in a given situation (usually more of the same) mostly in the presence of a member of the opposite sex (who by the way have a huge tolerance bordering on awe of this species).
Here are a few classics:
“Could you text me the directions to Prithvi Theatre? I am coming from town, and don’t want to get lost..”
I feel like telling them that if they are not enterprising enough to find out where Prithvi is, may be they don’t want to go there bad enough. And in any case, you Facebooking twit, Google has maps and we are on it!
But I don’t, since bimbettes somehow stay away from me. May be they know.
They also know that the recipient of aforementioned sms, usually a non-suspecting bloke, will actually take the time to reply to such messages, after consultation with direction divas like me. He does.. and it goes on further..
“Will it be possible for you to draw a map, scan it and mail to me so I can read it on my iphone?”
I feel like telling them, how come you never have trouble finding the Charles and Keith, Aldo or Mango store to shop for your weekend outings? Or haven’t they heard of Meru cabs? But then, I never get the chance.
The sms link continues..
“Would you know of someone who is coming from town, so I can get a lift?”
Yes, honey, if I had my way, I would lift you straight off this planet, is what I would have said. But they never ask me!
The bloke tears his hair out trying to find a pickup in the meanwhile.
“Will that person also be able to drop me back?”
“Where exactly is Juhu? Is it near Andheri?”
That pretty much does it for me, and causes me to go into a rash, but then my inner circle makes sure such specimens never appear in my radius, so I am sorted.
Before the feminists leap at me, I am pleased to report that the male version of bimbettes, the himbette, if I may, has also been discovered, and reportedly has the same malfunctions, though a tad more aggravating. If I had a chance I would transport them all to an island and abandon them, so they can keep each other busy.
But I don’t, so I guess I will have to up the ante.