Teenagers

Know what I realized just this morning? That there is one feeling (is it a feeling?) that perpetuates my every waking moment... ok, maybe not every moment, but like 90% of the time. I'm perpetually annoyed. Everything annoys me, waking up annoys me, doing almost anything annoys me, not able to do something annoys the hell outta me, forgetting things annoys me, people annoy me but here's the kicker... Kids on Facebook (who are especially related to you!) annoys me the most these days!

Ok. Seriously. Who gave permission to these kids to have FB accounts? No. Seriously. Especially since their parents are NOT monitoring the incredible trash these kids post. And ok, now really really seriously... who the fuck do these kids think they are, typing complete and utter gibberish that only horny monkeys can understand (celibate monkeys use sign language... I swear) when they shorten every damned word till its unrecognizable (takes you a few minutes to fill in the missing letters and/or unravel switched letters) and assume they have the right and the godfucking authority to pass the most juvenile and actually just incredibly lame comments!?!?

I get it, you are a teenager and you have disdain for just about everything and because you are a teenager you also have giant egos that allows you to assume you are smarter than all the adult population put together and go about making complete asswipes of yourselves simply by opening your mouths. But you are not smarter, cause if you were you would know how to at least SPELL simple words cause admittedly anything longer than 6 letters is Greek to you! And NO! you are not clever either! I know you think you are, and you might even be to your fellow dimwitted teenagers but to the rest of the world you are the exact opposite of whats clever and funny, which is boring and annoying. For fucks sake you like Shin Chan!! And you are not even having a real discussion with each other- tremendous name calling, abusing, narcissistic delusions about how loveable you are, egotistic delusions about how wise you are, your role models are Hanna Montana and Michael Jackson. Jesus fucking Christ!

It's embarrassing as hell when these asinine comments show up in your news feed, not to mention ANNOYS THE EVER LOVING CRAP outta me. And you can't have a normal conversation with them, cause they don't want to talk or listen to you, they want you to listen to THEM go on and on about nothing really, their heads are filled with vapid vacuum... I'd rather talk to a tree and feel like I really connected with someone instead of just wanting to slap them silly.

What's really annoying is that these boogers will grow up eventually and still be just as lame and stupid with nary a credible thought or concern and... they will go forth and procreate.

I shudder.

Alls well... if it ends well.

I had been avoiding putting a perspective on what happened with NishuDi and me. Majorly so, cause the entire incident has made me feel that I'm utterly idealistic and naive... and not in a complimentary way.

I had wanted so badly to make things right, to change lives as they show in movies. That is perhaps what my problem entirely is. I want happy endings. There are none in life. Just happy moments and then it passes and then you have just... moments. Sad, uncomfortable, bitter, frustrated, lonely... these moments you have to wade through till you get to another happy moment. The wading through parts sucks ass.

After countless threats, abuses, sleepless nights, long lectures, scoldings, advices, anger, helplessness, fear... I had to make peace with the fact that people will do exactly as the please. Their consideration for you will only extend to the point that is comfortable for them. And sometimes not even till there. It doesn't matter that they are family. Or perhaps it is cause they are family. Perhaps being family allows people to hurt you in ways that strangers wouldn't.

My emotions have bounced around like a yo-yo this past half year. From an avenger and savior to a control-freak who is difficult to live with. Not that I am surprised. I already knew that about me, I advertise it enough. But it hurts a bitty when it comes from a person you literally laid your life, your sanity on the line for. And like all epic movies, it wouldn't have been complete without the well-meaning interference of God himself. Ha.

Anyhoos. Alls well that ends well. Right? I wish NishuDi and the kids well. I am over my anger and pain, enough anyways to still laugh about the good parts. This is a major "grown-up" moment for me! I normally do not forgive. I never forget. But I am happy that she is becoming more independent, more self-reliant. She needs to cause this entire fiasco should not end up being one, but should be life-altering, give meaning and make things better for their lives. I want the kids to grow up knowing that someone cared enough to get up and take action, made some of the abuse stop, fought for the right the good things.

Haze did clear her finals. She scored first division, her report card riddled with A and B +'s. I'm happy and proud. I want her to succeed and prove to the world that if you fight hard enough you can make it. She is on her way now. I hope she stays strong.

I hope they all stay strong.

Is it real?

I was walking Cher the other day and on the way back, this lady with a toddler wanted to know if it was ok to let the kid near the dog. I said, sure!

So the kid is petting the dog and Cher is all happy and wagging her itty bitty tail, the mother is happy the dog's not mauling her kid after all, so she goes... "How sweet, is it real?"

Eh?

Did she just ask me if my dog was REAL?

Ah. No lady. This here is the latest Japanese Robodog, with real fur from a real dog (who was merely shaved not skinned for his fur mind you), and has a super computer inside that will make it do everything real dogs do, even poo.

Jesus Frickin Christ.

Do not litter

So all the maid had to do was hand the 5kg bag of icky litter, I had kept under the sink to be disposed off, to the garbage man and be done with it. I have no clue why she slung it over the railing, into the lil' flower beds below our staircase.

So I'm walking down the stairs and as I near the flower bed I can oh my gawd! smell the smell from hell. Good grief, it's IN my nostrils methinks, I can smell it everyfuckingwhere now? That's when I spotted the ruptured bag of litter and its spilled contents all over the lil' lawn. Eh.

So I stand there for a few minutes even though I'm running late for office, debating with myself on what should I do: info the society's secretary and request a clean-up, ignore it, clean it up myself, ignore it, make the maid clean it up, ignore it. It's no great mystery... I ignored it. I'm not proud of myself, but I wasn't feeling too guilty either. A topic for deeper analysis perhaps, but one that I don't have the time for.

So I come home from work and I'm passing the lil' lawn now, looking for the mess... and its somehow gone... the ruptured bag had been removed, and the litter had been spread out in an oddly orderly fashion... as if it was okay... as if it was meant to be... as if it was fertilizer.

So I concluded, as I chuckled to me self all the way up the stairs, that the gardener prolly thought it was some awesome form of fertilizer and distributed it nicely all over the flower beds so the plants can suck in the goodness of Snow's pee.

Hee.

What's that smell

I have been plagued by the stink of Snow's piss as I wake up every morning and go to bed every night for the past few months. Partly due to the fact that the lil' bugger insists of pissing everyfuckingwhere and partly due to the fact that his litter box is in my bathroom and no matter how much I keep it clean, it insists on stinking.

Sunday, when I woke up yet again to the deadly stench of cat piss, I vowed to take the entire mess out, wash, scrub the box with scalding hot water and detergent, add fresh litter, deodorizer and then dare the heavens to ever tease my abused nostrils with the foulness again.

On that mind numbingly cold morning, I dragged my reluctant self from my warm bed, dug around in the closet for a pair of shorts, discarded my furry socks and donned icy rubber slippers and proceed to deliver on my vow.

Two hours later, we had a squeaky clean litter box. Snow was aghast at my ferocious attack on his throne of excreta and kept mewling unhappily just outside the bathroom door. When I placed the dry box back in the loo and went to get fresh litter, he promptly jumped in it and settled down as if if he didn't I would make it my own and start pissing in it. Bhondu.

I went to bed last night, woke up this morning... ahhhh! so this is what it smells like in other households. It's wonderful!

Gotta have faith, faith, faith-AH!

Imagination is evil. Apparently.

Boggles my mind the way just about everything threatens the Christian way of life. Few that I have had the misfortune of being educated on : laughing Buddha's, people of other faith praying in your home and refusing to sleep in the room they pray in, eating "prasad". And Harry Potter. That skinny kid on the flying broom is evil. Harry Potter books and movies have been banned, with the blessing of the good Pope, in many regions, schools and households.

Why?

Well according to the religious figure who currently "leads" a local prayer group that NiDidi frequents, Potter promotes an unhealthy interest in witchcraft and magic, leading to... ready for this?... imagination in children. Imagination is evil. Children cannot be allowed to imagine cause imagination leads them to believe that fantasy and whimsical meanderings will ultimately bring them to the burning door of hell. Children need to be educated on practicalities of life. Yes. Agreed. But what defines practical? Is flying in a metal tube thousands of miles high up in the sky practical? Wasn't it just a few centuries ago that people believed the world to be flat and sneered upon anyone who wondered otherwise? Is Mickey Mouse practical? Why isn't Alice in Wonderland banned? Are talking dancing animals an acceptable form of imagination? Why the heck hasn't the good Pope banned Disney? Why hasn't he burned the Sistine Chapel to the ground? What practical proof does anyone have that Michael Angelo really did witness the figures in reality that he painted on the ceiling? Are all the painted, sketched depictions of Jesus authentic cause he never looks the same in two pictures together!? Or are they valid ONLY cause they depict Jesus and Genesis and since it deals with *ahem* God, it is A-Ok.

Is Christianity such a flimsy faith that, the mere imagination of one woman who planted a bespectacled kid on a broom and lets him whip out potions and other magical thingies, threatens a belief system spanning centuries? Yet they contest that Santa is a saint albeit commercialised as a fat man in a ridiculous red suit. Eh.

What scares me is that NiDidi apparently swallows this tripe down whole just cause its spewed from the mouth of someone who is religious, attends retreats, is blessed with the Holy Spirit, can see visions, yada yada yada, and oi yeah, is practical in life as well, so dognammit it MUST be true! Why would she be wrong? Let's not try and question it, or rationalise the statement and come to a conclusion ourselves, lets just take it whole and shove it down our throats cause the Pope himself banned it and religious magazines have published it all over the holy world. It has to be true, cause anything else would mean that hey! I can think for myself and since anything that involves thinking independently is evil as well. I am but a lowly sheep. And sheep do not think, sheep do not imagine, sheep bleat and follow wherever the good Shepperd and his border collie lead them.

Meh.

What saddens me is that this ugly tripe is being fed to Haze as well. She is being told that to have a mind that can explore the possibilities of thought, that does not exist in the living world as we know it, is wrong. If the mind cannot be allowed to explore and create a world that defies logic then Christians should not fly planes, let them walk on water and travel instead. Let us burn our brushes and never paint again, let us burn our books and never seek to understand a poem again, let us never watch movies, let us burn the Taj Mahal cause how dare anyone ever build a monument that was but an imagination prior to laying down the first marble. Why can't we try harder to educate our children to understand which parts of magic or witches are evil, the parts namely that are selfish, or teach them what sets reality apart from fantasy, which parts of whimsy should be encouraged and which parts discouraged. But oh no! that would mean discussions, rationalisations and *gasp* parenting! It's easier to kneel down and pray of course.

And then they wonder why this very faith bothers me so much. They get the answers in their visions of course, so they need not ever discuss it with me. To be so insecure and narrow minded, I pass. Cheerfully I imagine myself walking down the brick road, paved brilliantly yellow all the way to the burning gates of hell.

Apologies to Jesus in my boat, don't spank me yet. Bleat.

Stinks

Real men stink. NO matter what, they stink. And it's not really their fault, or ours. It's the books. Books stink. And movies. Movies stink. They fill your head with unrealistic expectations about relationships and men and love that of course when reality checks-in, it stinks. They never live up to this man in your head, this being you have fed and fattened up with fantasies you borrowed and stole from stinking books. They never really know you, even when you explicitly spell it our for them, they just never get you. Cause, they don't read these books and watch these movies that stink, that fills their head with stinking goo, that makes them sigh at odd intervals, that makes them stare off into the distance unfocused on a whimsical thought, that makes them look at you with this small soft half smile. You can practically give them an instructional manual with bulleted steps on how you want to be treated, what you want to hear, when it's time for a comforting back-rub, how you want them to hug you close, why they need to kiss you often and they will still never get any of right. They will huff and puff and blow you away. Men stink.

Howling

Um no, this is not about vampires. This is about a dog who thinks... um no, she doesn't think she's a vampire either. This is about a dog who thinks... ready for this? Thinks she is pregnant. Yikes!

Ok, not the first occurrence for me, Sweetie used to think that too from time to time. But maybe a first occurrence for Cher. If all the whining, scraping and howling is any indication. The howling especially is a bitty funny, cause she howls when:

• The Phone rings
• Any song with whoo-whoos in it
• Snow yowls
• I yawn loudly

I always burst out laughing when she looks up all surprised at the noise and starts howling with gusto. I have to then quickly answer the phone, switch songs, shut Snow up and cut myself in mid-yawn. The better aspects are, a lotta snuggling and a lotta smoochies.

When she gets rather antsy, I always try to soothe her with belly-rubs and I love the way she presses herself close, lays her head down and sighs. At peace.

Since we are on the screaming

Ok, you know how when you are listening to John Mayer sing his speshul songs, where he has this incredible guitar playing, no I don't know the technical terms, in the middle of it and you are just being carried away in a half swoon and half wonder at how beautiful it all sounds and how much you wish to just, to please oh please just LISTEN to it withOUT the mindless, fanatical, hysterical SCREAMING of all the teenage girls in the background? Yeah. Can't stand that one bitty. Why? Why? WHY the screaming? I get it, you are wrought with emotion and perchance arousal as well and by screaming like mindless fucks you think Mayer will spot you orgasming shamelessly in the midst of 1000 other orgasming mindless fucks. Really. Right. The rest of us mindful fucks really just wish to listen minus the screaming, just wish to enjoy if we can the speshulness of his voice, his words, the guitar oh dear sweet lord the strumming fingers and thats it. Thank you very much. Goodnight and Godbless America.

Uff!

If I'd known that GAIL was infested with ill-mannered, ill-tempered, ill-bred kids, I'd have rented a room under the train tracks and bathed every morning with the hobos... or not (since I'm assuming hobos don't have access to water to drink much less bathe!). Well, anyhoo, the blimey kids are pawns of the devil, I kid you not, meant solely to make any moment I wish to spend at home in peace... well not peaceful. They howl, screech, shout, scream, wail, cry, yell at the top of their cursed lungs, making me wish I was deaf. I swear. There is this one particular brat, who relishes his playtime by ONLY calling out the name of another boy, Ishu, in varied tones ranging from hoarse screeches to high-pitched wailing. Then there are the assorted shrieks of all the girls aged under 5, which could mean anything from spotting a bug on a leaf to a random boy who strolled into their midst. I especially cringe when I have to take Cher for a walk, the stinking runts spot her from way off and come running in hoards screaming, CUTE WALA DOGGIE AAGAYA! Why? Why? WHY scream? I get it you are all excited and I understand as kids your brains are not yet developed enough to know that hearing is not subjective to higher decibles and a LOT of adults can hear a normal tone just plain dandy-fine, and the sight of a cute pup, and MY GAWD is Cher a cute-break-your-heart-pup, will send you into a mindless frenzy, but really the screaming, it's unnatural I think and it really should be illegal!! Did I mention all the pubescent boys playing basketball pretending to be THE dudes... ah... sorry kiddos, you plain suck, at basketball and at attaining puberty. And, oh! the language! It's DESPICABLE. They talk worse than adults, their dialogs peppered with abbe, oye, saale, chal na, ja na, maar doonga, chup be... it's shocking! Where in the heck are their parents? Do they even know what pests their kids are? Do they care? Of course not, cause if they did I would not be writing this damned post to begin with.

Doofus

The fridge is on the blink for 2 weeks now. The freezer works fine, or TOO fine as the case is, but the lower segment does not cool. The repair guys came and dismantled the lot of it 2 days back and well now it does nothing except look all exposed and sad.

So.... I bought Ice Cream tonight, my first for Summer and I was all excited that I'll have a leisure slurp session after dinner while watching Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.

Hmmm.

No sir. I had to eat ALL FUCKING FOUR of them as soon as I got home cause I realized the damn fridge DOES NOT FUCKING WORK.

Grrrr.

It was NOT fun, cause now I'm OLD and I cannot hog down 4 cones at one go. So fucking mad.

Angel

Why do I run after you like I do I love you
Whatever you are I swear
You'll be my angel
You

When you're gone...

The "when you are gone..." undoes me completely.

John Mayer has the most sexiest voice when he gets all low and heavy...
a tad off-key but just oh! so brutally pretty.

Saturday

Woke up this morning to find Cher snuggled on top of my tummy, over the blankie, snoring. It was just such a silly noise, as if she had laboured the previous day stacking bricks on a wall under the hot sun, instead of sleeping and sleeping and sleeping some more and oh yeah some more sleeping.

Snow doesn't snore as much as he grunts and groans, at times making the most hideous racket in the night forcing me to get up and shush him! The worst is when he needs to go potty at night, he'll completely FLIP, and I do mean F.L.I.P, out. Bouncing and jumping at anything and everything, yowling and howling like a freakzoid, at times scaring the crap outta me. He'll go potty then, stinking up the whole country, and like a deflated balloon afterwards will collapse at the nearest cozy spot and fall asleep.

This morning he discovered the strangest thing he never had encountered before. ANOTHER CAT!!! His eyes practically popped outta his lil skull in amazement when he spotted this gray stray jumping window sills outside our balcony. His expression was "WHA? WHAT? What IS that? Looks a lot like me!" His lil head cocked to an angle, his eyes WIDE open he stared at the cat in pure and utter fascination as if to say, Woo, I never knew there were more of me out there! I was practically rolling on the ground laughing my ass off at his expression. The stray jumped off the ledge and disappeared from our view and Snow flipped completely out, he scrambled off his perch on the chair and went racing this way and that, not really knowing which way to go, making lil mewling guttural sounds, frustrated beyond belief.

Sad and dejected he finally moaned about a bit and settled back on his perch looking out at the spot where the stray had sat, hoping he/she will come back I presume. He looked ever so cute, with his lonely depressed face, blinking slowly at the world outside.

Cher and I went back to bed, me back to my crochet and she back to snoring.

Boom Box!

Listening to my iPod on my NEW Boom Box! YaY!

Been wanting to try it ever since I got it on my last visit to US but I didn't want to fry the thingy by plugging it in without finding out if it will work on our voltage. I finally got the lil puppy out this morning and asked Roomie if I needed to get a converter for it. No siree, all I had to do was plug it in with a flat to round pin plug connector and TA-DA! Muuuuuuzac!

La-dee-da-da-da... So happy!

P.S. It has this tiny sweet lil remote. Which I'm pretty sure I'll lose before the week is out! :P

Vacation

Couldn't sleep on the train to Dharwad. Why? Roaches. Crawling ALL fucking over. I tried to stuff the gaps on the sides of my berth with the bedsheet, still the cretins gaily scampered about, on the curtains, over my eyelids, behind my head, over my toes... Fuckity FUCK hated it!

Actually ate 3 full meals for 2 weeks. So happy. Ate idlis, biryani, interesting variations of paneer, fried rava fish, homemade chicken tikka (yes... me... non-veg... just one piece... couldn't resist!), fresh fruits, chirtsmas goodies, khara puri, poli, mysore vada. So happy. No, didn't gain much weight though.

Trippy to Dandeli was fanfuckingtastic. Moi got in the natural jacuzzi, way up to my knees! My lovely knees loved it. Hot searing sun, icy cold water. An awesome way to feel alive, get all your senses perked up and happy. River Kali interestingly tasted really sweet. Wasn't too smart though, drinking untreated water from a raw source, but it tasted soooo sweet. Food at the resort was delish. Not kidding. It was DELISH!

Chaddi paddi phaddi! TeeHee. I don't know why but I love saying that. Thank you Krys! She has dramatically changed since the last time I visited Dharwad. Happier, better behaved, smiled often, talkitive as heck, inquisitive and curious about every damn thing, wanting to always PLAY. Loved her lil games; Shopkeeper, Office-Office, School, shapes she could make out of her kerchief, objects she imagined the stones to be. And, yes, the khadoos in me did get tired of playing soon enough, so no drastic change there.

Chikoo that tasted sweet as sin, more especially so cause we plucked it straight off the tree in the backyard. Was fun trying to figure out how to pluck the fat buggers high up with just a pole and crude versions of bags and baskets hooked to its end.

GRILLS! The houses there have the most facinating grill work I have ever seen. Except maybe what I saw in Pondicherry. Deers, musical instruments, dancing figurines, hearts, apples, flowers, swans. Art. Lovely.

Bought a sexy red sari with black embriodery. And I mean S.E.X.Y. Cannot wait to wear it.

Late night confessions, dreams and hopes, back-bitting and venting, laughing and whispering. Watching silly movies with headphones on. Scouting for grills on Scooty. Getting dressed up for Christmas. Ragging bro. Thankful that I rediscovered Shar.

Sitting in the courtyard, back towards the sun, wrapped in my fav shawlie, John Mayers in my ear, crocheting. Pure and unadulerated bliss.

Ended all too soon.

Slippery When Wet

Trip to Chicago was... trippy. Hee.

Saw snow, my first ever. Was awesome, magical, a lil icky cause snow melts and well... it turns every goddamn thing damp. Hair, shoes, coat. I hate damp. But when it's floating down from heavens above, it's truly magical. Loved it. Loved the cold, how it would grip your knees and render them completely numb, so that as you exit the car and walk towards the building door, the 5 minutes it takes you to make that walk, you are not too sure if you really are walking cause you cannot feel your knees, your feet. They are these stumps, in lovely tan boots, somehow clacking on the concrete, a lil ungainly, yet still somehow walking. Hee.

The ungaingly act didn't last too long though. I prestiged into a fine display of surprise tap dancing on ice, a lil bitty of skidding, a tad bitty of flailing arms, a WHOA! of alarm... crash... on numb knees. Hmmm. Numb has a quality of still registering incredibly acute pain. Not fun. No sir.

Well, anyways, the paramedics arrived like in 15 seconds flat, cut open my stockings and exposed my skinny UNSHAVED leg to all and sundry. GAH! To top it off, the Dood was hunky and rather good-looking. *sigh* Even with tears rolling down my embaraased cheeks, trying to answer his calculated questions on how I would rate the pain on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst I ever expreienced, all I could think of was... my leg is covered in a week old fuzz... waaaaaah!! And I wish I had worn the new socks and not this 106 year old rag handed down from the elves of Darnation!!!

Lovely NEW boots, ruined. Lovely striped black suit, ruined. My makeup was intact, thank god for smudgeproof eyeliner (cruelty and paraben-free, of course!).

Trip back home to India, through various security points in the airport, all the WALKING, sitting, loo visits were an interesting lesson in appreciating on how much you actually should look after and thank these 2 knees you have. Love you knees!!

Winter Loot!

TA-DA! I'm finally done with the sweaters! I'm so excited, cannot wait to wear them this winter.

Cotton Candy Waves

I made this last winters. Well the body and sleeves, but wasn't able to sew the seams cause every time I tried the sweater looked really misshapen and boxy. I was quite disappointed, cause I loved the pattern and it wasn't that hard to follow the instructions and make alterations. The original pattern was a cardigan, but I wanted a sweater so I modified. It wasn't rocket science tho, for which I'm thankful. And I really wanted to wear it with this lovely cola colored skirt and black boots. So this time I tried a different technique to sew the sems up and well... it still looks boxy but what the hey, I'm gonna wear it anyways. I made it and I love it.

The aggravating thing about crocheting sweaters is that you have to crochet everything in twos. It drives me nuts cause by the time I'm done doing the front body or one sleeve, I DO NOT want to do it all over again for the back or the other sleeve. I tend to lose all patience and just want the thing to be DONE so I can wear it. I have quite a few front bodies of sweaters all waiting for their backs or sleeves. :P

Sooooooooo... to that effect I hunted and hunted and reasearched like mad to find out a way or pattern that will cut down on the crochet time, I do not have to deal with front/back, fixing sleeves (which is a killer) and the entire thing should FIT. And guess what? Weeeeeeeeeee! I found this brilliant method that allows you to check the fitting AS you crochet.

The Top-Down Raglan style sweater is easy as peasy, you start with the neck and crochet the yoke in either a square or in rounds. The body and sleeves follow the same system and man was it fun. I made the next puppy in 4.5 days flat!! And I checked the fitting as I went. Which doesn't mean that I didn't screw up here and there, one sleeve is tighter than the other, there are a few missed stiches, the body is a tad bitty more tighter than I wanted it be and I fudged the yoke a bit so the top part sits a bitty skewed when I wear it.

But, all in all I'm verra pleased! This was a good exercise and I plan to make and experiment more!

Food Frankenstein

In a bid to eat more healthy I usually try and "cheat" myself by combining few vegetables with other ingredients making a dish/item that is indeed more palatable to me. And I do think I'm mighty clever to be doing that... *pats back*!

The most common and easiest way is to steam/boil the icky offender, puree it and then knead it with flour to make interesting looking and tasting roti's. For example my fav. is spinach, I buy like hordes of that stuff, steam/boil then puree it and mix it up with wheat flour to make phulkas or puri's. Love the greeeeeeeeen color, makes it look so much more interesting than regular plain-jane phulkas! Also, lately I have been experimenting with radish, fenugreek, and BEETS!

Man, I luuurrrvvvveee the beets roti's, the awesomely lovely red color just looks absolutely gorgeous. I remeber as a kid chomping on my crayolas, trying to see if the colors had a distinct taste (of course they didn't and tasted vile btw!) and always chomped harder on the Red ones cause I especially fancied them. The beets Puri with Milk (my fav puri combo!) almost come close!



I can now also eat eggplant and peas by adding them to Vegetable Pilafs or with Paneer. Actually truth be told I'll eat anything with Paneer, so I normally will add the ickyness with a Paneer dish and just gobble the whole thing up. I wish I had this much sense as a kid... oh well.

I have found another awesomely awesome way to avoid heartburn, tummyburn, and well... next morning pottyburn... *snicker* not too much anyways! I buy green chillies, the small incredibly theeki ones, dry them in the sun till they turn crackalicious, then grind them up either really fine or with bitty flakes on. I use this instead of Red Chilli powder in all my curries and cooking and man... it tastes, smells wonderful. Love the green chilly sun-dried scent. The only downside is (not health-wise) that the dish does not have that yummy mouth-watering reddddddd color to it. But that's ok, I have the beets phulkas na!

Flattery is the secret to my giant ego!

So, these two young "boys" stopped me and Cher on our walk this evening with a hesitant "excuse me...".
I stopped and looked up, "Uh-huh?"
Bitty more confident, "Can I talk to you?"
Bitty more wary, "About what?"
"Ohh, just like that."

Ahh. Ohhhhhh. TeeHee. This is crackalicious.

Snicker, "Drop it. I'm way older than you boys. Go home!"
A tad surprised and skeptical, "How old?"

THIRTY TWO!!

Hahahaaa. The expression was priceless! Loved it. The other kid with the romeo started guffawing with glee as I walked away. On my turn back, the kid is still hanging around and he stops me again and wants to know if I'm lying! I wish. He couldn't believe it and told him like the proper disapproving matron I am, "You should be hitting on girls in your school!" The kid goes with due umbrage, "I'm not in school, I'm in college!!"

Oops.

TeeHeeeee.
That was nice. Like a second second helping of Custard Apple Sorbet. Satisfying and enormously pleasing!

Crash! Bump!

Ever walked full speed into a wall of glass? No? Try it some time. It will give you a whole new perspective on what a kaleidoscope looks like without the... scope. Not to mention the lovely bumps it will leave you with to admire and poke and prod at later.

Trust me to get hurt in a mall of all the places. A perfectly SAFE place where the chances of tripping, crashing, speeding etc. are almost zero. The max you can do is probably get whiplash from all the crazy window-shopping. I was merrily spending time in the TGIP looking at this and that, mostly this; which was actually a necklace set to go with the black Sari I planned to wear for P-babes wedding tonight. My feet were protesting a tad by the end of 4 hours I had spent hopping between shops, when I spotted something on a window that I thought would a good excuse to spend my hard earned money on. I'm walking towards the shop door, in my normal speeeedy stride, distracted a little by this boy and child playing next to me and... BANG!

Instead of the door I miscalculated and walked straight the glass wall. 7 mins later I realized that ppl in Noida are asswipes. I am standing there clutching my poor lil head, stunned at how badly it was hurting and NO ONE CAME TO ASK ME IF I WAS OK. Fuckers. Actually one lady did, but by then I was raving mad, so I kicked the glass wall screaming some gibberish that I cannot recall and she skittered away. But not the store owner, not the guard outside the door, or the ppl walking about bothered to find out if I wasn't going to keel over and die of brain hemorrhage.

With tears streaming down from my right eye, I managed to locate a door, hoping it was leading to the Restroom, turned out to be the stairwell... oh well, I sat there and tried to see in my lil pocket mirror what the damage was. A bump the size of a lemon above my right eye, a bump the size of a marble on my cheekbone. Hmmmmmm. Not good. I had a very important wedding to attend to dammit!! The cleaning guy found me whimpering and skittered away as well. What's wrong with humanity!!?? It's officially dead.

I decided to go home and slept with an icepack. This morning I found out that I had bumped my knee as well and it was a lovely shade of purple, and it hurt to walk. So I've been sitting in bed with the icepack around my head and knee for the better part of the day today, just have got to be able to go to the wedding man.

The bumps have reduced drastically, I'm pleased to notice. Maybe a lil makeup will mask the bruising. I can walk around if I don't put too much pressure on my knee, but the true test would be in my heels. *grits teeth*

Better go iron my Sari now!