Friday, October 31, 2008

McCain and Pitt

Look at John McCain really closely. Then take a gander at Brad Pitt. Correct me if I'm wrong. but give or take a few (well okay, more than a few) wrinkles, and omigod, they look like two peas in a pod. Hmm, so this is what Pitt will look like some years from now. Which is why I don't find Pitt hot . Not even tepid. Oh no, I've seen the future and it don't look so good!
As for Obama, at first I badly wanted him to win because of Iraq. Now I want him to win even more because of Sarah Appalin!
Can't wait for the results next week. The tension is KILLING me!

Oral gratification of the non-sexual kind

After one month of being bed-ridden I can just about squeeze myself into my jeans. Can't even drastically work off the 2 and a half kgs I've recently acquired - Doctor's orders to go slow on the exercise or else another month of bed rest may follow, ew. So I virtuously had a bowl of soup for dinner. And then I thought maybe just a handful of sour cream and onion chips, as a reward for being good. And before I knew it, I'd not only finished the entire bloody bag of chips but all the chowder (chips powder) too, damn! Drowning in guilt, but even so, am seriously considering whipping up a spot of easy-peasy chocolate-coffee sauce. I've got all the ingredients at home: butter, bitter cocoa, coffee power and sugar. Double damn. See, that's why I'm an atheist. If God really existed, yummy things would be good for you! Imagine if cough syrup made your skin glow, if booze purified your blood, if cigarettes made your lungs powerful with all that puffing, if grass was brain food. Oooh, I'm so in the mood to contribute another goosebumpy verse to Lennon's Imagine!

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Vacant positions- unemployed Maharashtrian youth please apply

Two fantastic job opportunities are open for Maharashtra's unemployed youth: the post of Chief Minister and Deputy Chief Minister. It's evident that Vilasrao Deshmukh and RR Patil aren't doing justice to their jobs, in fact they're not doing justice to anything at all. Apart, of course, from shielding Raj Thackeray behind their extraordinarily volumnious skirts. Pinched from jobless bar-dancers, I assume. See, now I know why RR Patil banned bar dancers- the selfish man wanted all those glittering ghagra-cholis for himself!
And what's with the media these days? One day I see a pix of Raj Thackeray with his Great Dane (hello, why doesn't he have a local street dog?), the next day they show us a pix of Raj Thackeray with a German sausage. Are they trying to portray him as a cuddly person or are they subtly implying that he's gone to the dogs? Oddly enough the accompanying caption did not attempt a take off on Gerald Durrel's best book: Raj Thackeray and Other Animals.
Now for a small quiz:
Q. What's the difference between Vilasrao Deshmukh, RR Patil and Raj Thackeray?
A. Nothing! Absobloominglutely nothing! For shame!

Sunday, October 26, 2008

The Western Ghats and the Law of Diminishing Returns

Ha! So off I went to Pune on work last Thursday morning. Started off with a grumble: Why oh why do I have to wake up so bloody early, damn this, blast that, the usual. Was mollified by the sight of the ghats: some barren ones with sparse tufts of grass (bootiful), others so thickly wooded that they looked as though they were clothed in emerald velvet, sigh. If I wasn't so sleepy I'd have been inspired to dash off a Wordsworthian sort of poem. On the journey back, however, the ghats failed to move me. My heart leapt up with joy only when we drove into the outskirts of Mumbai and saw ugly buildings. If I hadn't been so exhausted, I may well have been inspired to write a gritty piece of graffiti. Yup, the Law of Diminishing Returns at work!
And while on the word 'diminished', I'm reminded of that awful, awful early 2000 music video, Kaanta Laage. WHY was the song called Kaanta Laage? I strongly suspect it's because the chick in the video was wearing G-strings. See, Rash, granny panties should NEVER be knocked!

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

The Jail Bird Saga

Yawn, so apun ka Raj was arrested again (yawn, yawn) and this time he had to spend one night in jail, the poor dear. My 5-year old nephew dislikes him with a passion because his much-looked forward-to outing was cancelled yesterday. He's started playing a new game in which he's the Verminator and he's out to get nasty nutters who hurt other people and make their friends burn taxis and buses. Well, looks like there's one unemployed youth in Maharashtra at least who's not particularly fond of Raj- yay!!! There's hope yet!

Thursday, October 16, 2008

On low life forms like me

Okay so I'm not the nicest person on earth, no big deal. What I like about myself is that I don't need Blahniks or need to go blah blah blah about bloody expensive fermented grape juice to feel good about myself. The fact that wannabe wine connoisseurs first take a critical sip and then delicately spit it out is enough to put me off that crap. Spitting, ew. No wonder so many Indians love wine!

What I love is comfort and grunge, and old friends who are as comfortable as circa 1999 torn granny panties (they're airier, see?) with weak elastic. They don't cling, they don't constantly remind you that they're around, which is why you never feel the urge to pitch them into a bin.

You're supposed to grow out of school friends, but two of mine have remained my best friends ever. We loved the same music when we were in school, laughed irreverently at the same things, and nothing has changed. Oddly enough, our views on politics are astonishingly identical. Here's an article on the Hindutva brigade by one of them:

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Hotel California- Kerala ishtyle!

Got this in an email, and could not resist sharing it. It's abso brill! The lyrics are below -fanfingtastic! Dunno how to attach the soundtrack though. Pity.
On the road to Trivandrum
Coconut oil in my hair
Warm smell of avial
Rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance
I saw a bright pink tube-light
My tummy rumbled, I felt weak and thin
I had to stop for a bite
There he stood in the doorway
Flicked his mundu in style
And I was thinking to mysel
fI don't like the look of his sinister smile
Then he lit up a petromax
Muttering 'No power today'
More Mallus down the corridor
I thought I heard them say
Welcome to the Hotel Kerala-fonia
Such a lousy place,Such a lousy place (background)
Such a sad disgrace,
Plenty of bugs at the Hotel Kerala-fonia
Any time of yearAny time of year (background
)It's infested here
It's infested here
His finger's stuck up his nostril
He's got a big, thick mustache
He makes an ugly, ugly noise But that's just his laugh
Buxom girls clad in pavada
Eating banana chips
Some roll their eyes, and
Some roll their hips
I said to the manager
My room's full of mice
He said,Don't worry, saar,
I sending youMeen karri, brandy and ice
And still those voices were crying from far away
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them pray
Save us from the Hotel Kerala-fonia
Such a lousy place,Such a lousy place (background
)Such a sad disgrace
Trying to live at the Hotel Kerala-fonia
It is no surpriseIt is no surprise (background)
That it swarms with flies
The blind man was pouring Stale sambar on rice
And he said
We are all just actors here
In Silk Smitha-disguise
And in the dining chamber
We gathered for the feast
We stab it with our steely knives
But we just can't cut that beef
Last thing I remember
I was writhing on the floor
That cockroach in my appam-stew was the culprit
,I am sure
Relax, said the watchman
This enema will make you well
And his friends laughed as they held me down
God's Own Country? Oh, Hell!

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Now, whose pix should I put on my dartboard?

Aha, I bet you thought I'd say Ramadoss! But there happen to be people who are infinitely more odious than him. Strange but true. Like the Christian-assaulting Bajrang Dal. Their logo is going up on my dartboard. And if the UPA doesn't squash them like cockroaches ASAP, I'm NOT going to vote for the Congress. Not going to vote for the mosque-destroying, rabble rousing BJP either, of course. Over my dead bod. Who knows, Mayawati may be our next PM (eek). But if we have no choice, what's left?

In a blue funk

Got a song stuck in my head since yesterday. Don't recall the name or lyrics, only the tune. And you can't very well google search a tune can you? I think it's a U2 song - or a solo by The Edge. Not sure. Damn. It's given me a bad case of the fidgets.
Went out for lunch yesterday and while waiting for my companion to arrive, promised self that I'd buy a rubix cube to keep me busy since I can't smoke in restaurants. Will not go out on the streets to exhale. Ironically enough, the first victim of Ramadoss's anti-smoking campaign was raped a few days before the ban was in place: a German who had stepped out of a non-smoking hotel in Jodhpur for a smoke. And not a seedy hotel- I think it was the Taj. Sadly, I can see more incidents like that happening in the future. See, that's the problem with Ramadoss's plan. It may not have had any adverse effects in Europe because female smokers on the streets are not regarded as vamps and sluts. It's different in India. Maybe I should write a letter to Renuka Chowdhury (union minister of women and child development ministry). Look, I may be able to hold back from smoking in the streets, but other women may not. And you can't expect us to always have a male escort. Please, we don't want to go back to those sorry old days when women couldn't venture out without a protective male do we? Oh dear, methinks Ramadoss is creating Taliban-like conditions here. Help!

Thursday, October 2, 2008

And Ramadoss huffed and he puffed and he blew us all down.

Sigh. It's D-day. So thanks to Ramadoss I may never die of cancer. But die of boredom I will. That's for sure. Ciggies helped kill time while waiting to be served at restaurants, when flights were delayed, when I was stuck in a traffic jam. Damn. Damn Damn. Pasting article I wrote for DNA on the ciggie ban below. Was published a month back, but I just had to re-read it today.
Here goes:
Contrary to what my friends believe, I’m not going to burn a tobacco-stuffed effigy of Union Health Minister Dr. A. Ramadoss on the 2nd of October. Hello, why should I waste good tobacco? Besides, I’m a reasonable person, and I think Ramadoss has given smokers a fairly decent deal. In a gracious Marie Antoinette manner he has proclaimed, ‘Let them have all the streets and parks in the country.’ So kind. Incidentally, I’m betting heavily on the possibility that he’ll be forced to throw in a few government issue ashtrays too- not to placate us, oh no, smokers don’t have feelings, if you cut us we don’t bleed either. It’s the robust morning walk, barefoot-in-the-park brigade who will complain acrimoniously about doing a modern day version of the Great Indian Walking-On-Live-Coals Act. But hey, that’s not my problem.
And as for those scary visuals that will dominate cigarette packs, ah come on. As my hero Alfred E. Neuman says, ‘What, me worry?’ Pictures of infected lungs don’t make me shriek in terror or wail for my mommy. Now, if Ramadoss had any insight, he’d have put pictures of cockroaches and slimy slugs instead. Ew-creepy. Those may not inspire me to kick the habit either, but they certainly will make me shudder convulsively. That’s a step in the right direction, innit?
It’s the streets that give me sleepless nights, though. Ever since he issued that diktat, I’ve been forlornly singing a post-Ramadoss version of REMs Losing my Religion in my head. It goes like this: ‘That’s me in the corner, that’s me under the street light, being checked out by shady people.’ I don’t know what you’re going to do about it, but I have a plan in place. I’m getting a dozen tees printed with the following message: ‘I’m a good girl I am, it’s Dr. Ramadoss who made me do it.’ That would help clear the air considerably when passersby shiftily mutter ‘How much?’ Rest assured I’ve sternly instructed the printer to ensure that the message is repeated in Hindi and Marathi too. Get real, I’m willing to pay a hefty fine for smoking, but I’m not particularly keen on being lynched by our local political worthies.

The end of the article. And the end of my life too. Never imagined that this day would come. Also never imagined that I would enjoy Justin Timberlake and ACTUALLY ADMIT IT IN PUBLIC, GASP! But, hey, I kind of love Sexy Back. It's a sexy song.