Morticia Morgendorffer

  If you’ve been a regular reader of this godforsaken blog, you might’ve read the fictional stories [Part 1: Girl meets boy & Part 2: The Lost Dog]. It might be a great time to tell you that those fictional characters were [very] loosely based on my friends in college.  Friends in college can be a whole ass experience because the morons you hang out with can either make or break you. Literally. They’re like skunks who imprint on your spiritually and leave you with personality traits that last you a lifetime.  There’s a reason that The Breakfast Club is a cult classic. There’s a reason why every one of you cried like a bitch when Tony Stark died. There’s a reason why we all sing along to the Barden Bellas, or love to see three friends outrun bulls and waste tomatoes in Spain and a reason that when Farhan and Raju go looking for their friend Rancho, we want to go along with them - because as human beings, we all deserve and need people who get us, who make life sim...

  I’ve changed three houses in 4 years. If you know me, you know I’m an easily adjustable person to live with. I keep to myself, don’t make unnecessary fusses, and am too uninterested and barely have the time to poke my nose where it doesn’t belong. But about 4 months ago, when I first realised I have to shift houses, I began to question whether it, in fact, is me who might be the problem. Full disclosure - I had to vacate the first house because the owner wanted to sell it so it wasn’t entirely up to me. The second house, on the face of it, offered a smaller room but ample storage. What it lacked in space, it made up for in furnishings. New furniture, quaint society, and the location well-connected to most hotspots in the city, I never really thought I’d ever feel the lack of anything here. Except I did. I should’ve known there was something wrong with my flatmate very early on, but maybe I just wasn’t invested enough to care. Our ‘initial bonding’ began with us sharing a smoke an...

 P.S. This is a shitty exercise where I write shitty reviews of the shit I watch so I write more. You're welcome to fuck off. But if you're looking to pass your time reading something that doesn't weigh on your featherweight brain, please go ahead because in this blog, we count down Swisstea's best to least favourite episodes of the newest season of Black Mirror. #1 Loch Henry In many ways, Loch Henry is like watching Gordon Ramsey prepare a personal dish for you. He loves the meal he’s making and he’s going to start by demonstrating it to you like introducing a loved one. He goes, step by step, adding the flavours, asking you to take a whiff every once in a while, so much so, by the end of it, you can’t wait to dive into it. Sorry. I think I’m hungry. But that’s how this episode feels to me too. Hate to say this, but the crime fiction fanatic in me savoured the meal the screenplay of this episode was.[notice how I say ‘crime fiction’ and not ‘true crime’ because my rom...

  In an episode of Ted Lasso I watched yesterday, the two main characters of a story share their deepest, sincerest feelings about their dads. Ted, after a panic attack, reveals to his therapist that his dad killed himself when Ted was 16 - an occurrence that made Ted hate his dad for quitting on him and his mom. Rebecca, after an angry outburst at her dad’s funeral, reveals to her mom how years ago, she had caught her dad cheating on her mom, earning him Rebecca’s lifelong hatred. Ted eventually goes on to recount a good memory of his dad, where his dad sat up the entire night to read a book that Ted had to read for a test and how on his way to dropping him to school the next day, narrated the entire book to Ted who scores an A. A few months ago, listening to Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers, I lost control a bunch of times. As in, breaking down in tears because of how goddamn hard some of the words hit home. In the ending verse of ‘Father Time’, Mr Lamar implores those who gre...

  It's that time of the year again. I've never really gotten to celebrate Halloween but I like the idea of it. What's not to like about people dressing up, entertaining their morbid fantasies, going out asking for candies, enjoying the chill in the air and trying to summon nasty entities from beyond? Do I believe in ghosts? No. But for the longest time, I did have a question about how when matter can neither be created nor destroyed, what happens to our energy when we go to our graves? These ideas have come and made a home in many who came before me - who shaped their thoughts and created beautiful mystic pieces of art from their fears of the unknown. You may or may not know Guillermo del Toro but I remember him primarily because of the profound effect The Shape of Water and Pan's Labyrinth had upon me Upon further reading, however, I got to know he's been scaring kids for almost 3 decades now. And he's back with another eight-episode treat for twisted toots thi...

  Curly comes over to my house for the night. We're going to watch Sex Education on Netflix. It's super late at night but I actually enjoy spending time with him so I don't mind wrecking my sleep schedule for a day. We talk, snack on waffles, and watch the show. Sometime around 3, we kiss for the first time. It is then that we both realize that we're both worn out and incredibly sleepy. He leaves. The thing is, Curly & I have always been friends. He’s never given me the hint that he wants to be more. We have tons of things in common - the love for beer and black coffee being the things I love doing most with him. He's taken me to fancy new coffee places I'd never bother to explore on my own and I love that about our dynamic. Every time we go out for food, we split the bill like sane people.  But here’s a sad and disturbing truth I just found. Curly has a nose-picking problem. My brain is squiggling just thinking about it. One moment his forefinger is tuckin...