Bon(n) Appetit!

Well, well, well. Look who the carousel threw up. 🙂


Today was the Rosenmontag Karneval in Bonn. Although Karneval is celebrated madly in Germany as a whole (like any legally delineated time frame for public debauchery, drunkenness, dressing up in mad outfits, and drowning yourself in sugary treats would/should be), the North Rhine area takes a special fondness to being as certifiably loony as they can be, this time of the year. And naturally, there I was.

A friend of mine lives directly in the path of the Karneval parade. Since I’d missed it last year (and heard it being mentioned as an event of somewhat mythical proportions all year long), I put on my green sequinned hat (think a North Korean general on RuPaul’s drag race) and got myself an overpriced matching bag to boot. Then we parked ourselves on her window ledge, and spent four hours bellowing KAMELLE! at the floats going past.

And what floats there were! Admittedly, they aren’t anything to the scale of the NYC parade monstrosities, but there is a certain class and charm to things here. Marching band after marching went by in admirably matching outfits, loudly clanging brass bands and baton and flag twirlers, ever so often. Every ear-splitting scream aimed in their direction was answered by fistfuls of candy thrown in our direction. There was one extreeeemely retro moment, too, when an elderly ‘officer’ left the main stream and crossed over to where our friend, a dashing, beautiful pirate with a dashing, beautiful pirate duck strapped onto her head, was waving her plasterboard scimitar around. He dropped three bags of candy on her, and tapped his cheek for a kiss in return. She planted one on him, and dumped the booty in our pirate chest/crate (that we filled to the brim at least thrice. And also spilled stray beer over. At least thrice. Eh.)

The afternoon vanished in a rush of faces and floats. Ships went by, trucks went by. Tractors lugged massive wagons behind them, as did absolutely gorgeous Clydesdale horses, looking far more magnificent as they did, naturally. The booty consisted vastly of candy, candy, candy, but there were also gummy animals of every species, cookies, soft cakes, notepads and magnets, rubber ducks shaped with Beethoven’s head on them, stress balls, rubber balls, little pouches, a tulip float that handed out tulips (oo la laaa), and a singularly impressive procession of witches and vampires, that tossed out monster eye marshmallows from a gigantic cauldron.

During this entire time, I succumbed willingly to my Kryptonite- lollipops. The first wave had tossed a few in the window, and I decided to let myself a go a little. It led to an interesting moment later, when a man float going by yelled at me to take the lollipop out. I was completely sure I’d misheard the bizarre request, so I took it out and shouted back at him, ‘Why??’ To which I received a packet of soft cakes thrown at me, before the float went out of sight. Go figure.

Things were pretty wild west in there, though. Some people handed things to you, others slung in your direction with throws that would do Clayton Kershaw proud. Bees handed out honey-flavored chews, a field of sunflowers on legs went by and threw us sunflower seeds (little seed packets, with flowers painted on them!) and every manner of glucose fueled goodies, till my afternoon halted abruptly- I took a candy bar to the eye.

And that. shit. HURT. I was waving at someone to my right when a bar flew in from the left somewhere and caught me smack bang in my wide open left eye. I had a few moments of blinding pain and my eye felt like it was going to explode out of my head. I spent a  good 2-3 minutes doubled over completely shell-shocked and clutching my eye, going ‘my eye, my eye’ repeatedly. Then I hurried to the kitchen and my friend handed me a cold beer to hold against it. And let me tell you, alcohol *does* numb the pain.

A little while later, we headed out through the body of the parade. The only clear way out was to walk between the successive floats, and it was glorious. People were dancing on the sidewalks and occasionally spilling out onto the street. I saw a group of ballerinas hanging out a second-storey window, with MacGyvered upside down Umbrella candy catchers. 4-5 girls dancing in a circle dressed up as milk cartons, which I could not stop laughing about, and a severely impressive Renley Baratheon and company, who I deeply regret not taking pictures with.

Anyhoo, two days of sleeping off the alcohol poisoning from later that night and a bruised eye later, the Karneval has come to a close. I finally had the chance to witness a nationwide descent into madness, and added my own humble, licorice-flavored vodka insult to the liver contribution at the end. And although the binge cost me a day spent recovering in bed, I would not have missed it for the world. Dressed as a black cat and elbow deep in gummy bear treats (with a kick) is the only socially acceptable way to say goodbye and good riddance to the Karneval. So naturally, that’s what I did. When in Germany, do as the Germans do. 😉<p><a href=””>via GIPHY</a></p>

Satan’s Spittoon (And Other Things Rant-worthy)

See, on your day off, you want to do the opposite of things. You want to do NOT things.




Things include parties. Parties are fun when they’re gatherings of like minded people, together for laughing and joking and sometimes, for showing off the new furniture- sometimes. Parties are not fun when you have to endure them for any reason. Which is why I  flopped down on the ground in front of my mom and threw a loud, wailing tantrum about how I don’t want to go to my stupid cousin’s stupid house and be nice to stupid people.



But, as expected, I wore stinking pretty clothes and went. At least there would be cake, I consoled myself.

There was no cake.

Five hours of talking about clothes, husbands, and the weather later, I have survived, and I am home.

There is a special place in Hell for cousins who hand you their squalling toddlers and run away, leaving you to wrestle a baby you haven’t seen since his intrauterine life.

Satan will bathe in the contents of his spittoon the women who chase you around parties asking why you haven’t gotten married yet.

I’m going to put my pjs on, then I’m going to go sterilise my face because someone’s kid BIT MY FACE. While the mother watched. And then she told me how precious it is that he learnt to that, while the kid hopped off my lap and chewed her toe. My dogs are literally more well behaved than that.




Parties like these are why I have a bottle of whiskey hidden under my bed. I need a damned stiff drink.


I like kids, but if you’re raising brats, remember- they’re not ah-dawwrable to anyone except you.




On that note, I’m going to pass out. And if any of you haven’t read this yet, I highly recommend you do. The Oatmeal is always good for a laugh. 🙂






Cookie ❤

Duet Duel!

Me and Jaeger over at are having a duet duel! For this, we post on each other’s blogs till a winner is decided! I’m about to send him my first repartee, but before I do that, here is Jaeger’s opener!



I soft bellow sweet

In sunset so yellow teeth

Gone spent by

Like doubt

Running motifs dry

I soft bellow sweet

And open my rib cage

In a lot all neat

As alone as poem

I remove my heart

To go at the world smitten

With cool art

As telling or show it

A tiny poem written

By a timid poet

And I soft bellow sweet

A told response rest

To pass a good test

And work at living

Before my unwanted death





Be sure to check in for my response! The midweek madness begins! 😀




On the Rocks- V

On the Rocks- V

You don’t seem to love me
When our glasses are empty
And if you can’t love me, without alcohol
I guess
That means
You don’t love me at all


Hey y’all

I’d like to add a small note in here. Bear with me.

Oftentimes, when I write, I write from a dark place. But there are times when I can sit in the light and still write of the dark.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that just because my poems may seem like I’m in a bad place, doesn’t mean that I’m not in control of where and how I am. This particular set of poems caused a lot of confusion with an acquaintance of mine, since she assumed that I’m drinking nonstop and drinking on the job, and am even suicidal. And the fact that this blog, and my identity, must necessarily be anonymous, led her to believe that I was about to attempt suicide, and then to the other extreme- that I’m a troll. Like one of those middle aged men pretending to be teen girls or something. It got extremely accusatory on her side, and extremely confused on mine, before I could sort everything out. She still refused to believe that I wasn’t drinking while working, because of the difference in our time zones. My drinking time in the western hemisphere was her morning/ afternoon, so she assumed that I was also spending my lunch breaks at the hospital hiding and chugging from a flask, or something.

Pardon my French, y’all, but I know my shit. I know my responsibilities and I carry my ethics and my moral duties more precious than life. That applies not only to my patients, but to my friends, my acquaintances, and just about every thing and person in the universe around me. And I do get in bad places inside my head sometimes, but I defy anyone to find a moment whee I gave less than my all to someone who needed my attention, both professionally and personally. And I take it as an insult of the most personal form.

There’s probably not a soul luckier than me, to have found the most caring and loving corner of the Internet to flourish in. There are people here who’ve nurtured me, tempered me, schooled me and taught me- and loved me all the while. There have also been those who got carried away by some of my writing. With utmost humbleness, let me please remind you- poems are open to interpretation. If I’m writing of drowning myself in whiskey, I’m drinking, not actually drowning. If I’m writing of crying myself to sleep, I may be, I may be not- but that is no reason for you to hurt yourself. The Internet is a vast place. If I’m away for a day and there’s a delay in my response, it does not mean that I’m hanging from a ceiling fan somewhere. Please don’t take such drastic steps- I feel terribly and horribly guilty that I even left space for such interpretation, that caused someone pain.

I feel like an ass, pretty much.

I’m way too confused to make sense, even. So I’m winding this up here, with a bucket load of love and cuddles to all of y’all. I might be a depressed, dysfunction and drunkaholic cookie monstah, but I’m your loving cookie monstah nonetheless.

Always with love, and always with light,

Cookie ❤ ❤

On the Rocks- IV

On the Rocks-IV

You glow brighter than my bottle
More fiery than my glass
Fiercer than the fire I flick at,
Every time I light

No surprise that I can’t drink my fill
Of you, or my liquid gold
Better than falling asleep cold
and unloved
This is a better path to
My liver might not
thank me tomorrow, but
My heart will thank me tonight.


Hot Chocolate

Love is a beautiful glow to carry around inside of you.

It’s like this concoction of secret smiles inside your head that no one else needs to see, spreading warmth like a mug full of hot chocolate filling you up, and a reason to feel curiously satisfied, even in an otherwise complicated and wholly unsatisfying life.


The undeniable honesty underlying it all only makes it better. It feels right, your gut knows and heart affirms and your mind cannot argue with it it either. Sure, it makes some of our promises bittersweet, but they’re honest- and nothing’s more important than that. Let’s face it. Friendship, loyalty, honesty, these have become almost bookish concepts amidst the otherwise mask like interactions we make on a daily basis. To be able to take that mask off to someone, without fear or vulnerability of any ugliness you may feel… I can’t think of anything more valuable. And happiness is relative. It exists within those three parameters. And they all come together to make up that small, overused and undervalued four letter word.

I wonder how much of a sap it makes me, even by my own cynical and pragmatic definitions of life and togetherness. More significantly, I don’t care, somehow. We may have our oscillations, I may have my oscillations, but something as beautiful as this, happens only once in a lifetime- if at all, for some people. It doesn’t matter, how many places you look for it. You can look all you want but one day, when you gave up looking long ago, you realize that you simply weren’t looking– it’s been sitting there between the both of you. And then you sleep feeling loved and wake up knowing that you are loved.

Time and place and distance and circumstance, all become very inconsequential.

You love, therefore you are.

We love, therefore we are.

~Cookie ❤



The way I see it, it’s like
You hunger for the world, while
Having had enough of the world, I
Hunger for you instead

But it wouldn’t be right for me
To satisfy my greed, my gluttony
And just feed you my dreams
When you’re starving
Inside your head

So go, go on
Go and have your heart’s fill
Eat what you will
You have the right to an appetite to

I have enough morsels of memory
Hidden away, I can wait till you
return to me
I can live with hunger’s gnawing

(c) CM