I guess it's time to write. And, not by any mature reasoning, it's just my poker-faced last ditch effort to stay awake, and by any stretch of imagination--ABSOLUTELY AWAKE. Lot of numbers at stake aside, my own presence is threatened to be reduced to a dope bag. Why must a pencil pusher make so much effort? Now, now, let's not be queasy over someone's job. You have precious little anyway these days of those 'job' kinds.

So, somehow, I have managed to engage myself for the last one minute writing this. An alarm-diary? You might call it that. The background story goes thus: I was at the doc's last evening, explaining her my bouts of facial allergy over the last some weeks. She recommended a drug for 10 days, every morning, post breakfast. Now, you know. You don't yet actually. It's an anti-allergic drug, for all of you who haven't yet been pricked or tickled by all wrong measures.

To cut a long itch short, I am just trying to beat the sedative. I tried reading Michael Lewis, who helps me laugh sometimes, now that I am a..oh, but OH! I was happily interrupted by a SMS from a friend that goes like this : (had me AWAKE just the way I wanted! :)

Victoria's Secret has launched a new bra called Holland: "A lot of support but no cup" :P :P

Happy Wednesday, people!