Sick. But dubloo-tee-eff right? Everything feels like that now. WTF. A little unhinged. But wtf.

I am like this only

My life is a half-eaten apple. Stupid, right? But it's funny how I can come up with 10,000 different reasons to support it. Do check out my teeth marks. I think they look pretty cool.

Gloriously drunk. Ok was. Now not so much. Had 2 beers, 2 large glasses of red wine and Tia Maria. And very goot foot. Ok food. I am happy. I'd be pretty cool with dying right now and everything. Haffy Vudday to Sudu again! *hic*!

I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm suddenly missing school so much! And it is weird, 'cause I had a pretty lousy school life. Only now that I think about it, it wasn't so bad. Infact, it was pretty darn good! Or maybe it's just nostalgia....
And I'm not thinking friends. I'm thinking classes, classrooms, getting ready for school in the morning, Bishwanath da's bus, Ammai dropping me of, Mondol and me in Sukdeb da's car, Ma picking me up, History classes with Mrs. Philip, English classes with Mrs. Mukherjee, oh even those godawful Eco classes with R. Bhatacharya and MATHS with Sood. Jeez. I miss it all right now. Right down to the winter uniform and ice cream wala. That school-school smell. Sports day preparations. Band practise. *sigh*.
College re-opens tomorrow. At long last. Good only.

I don't know what to do.

Ooh. Nice no? Ma and I got really excited about this floating candle thingie.Happy Kali Pujo, Diwali, Birthday everything. Today was a nice day. Lots of wishes, lots of good food, eating out, being aunty and mother of three and a half(they have names now). Birthday gifts for Bids was a teriffic success and he's all happy happy. I know too many 21st October born people now. Now I can see fireworks outside my window, and it's kind of cool, because of late I'm not into bursting crackers and the like (can't stand the pollution or the noise), but it's always nice to see everything from a distance.


This was taken from my window in nightmode. Unphotoshopped I swear. Now someone is singing Julieeee and Neeleneele amber much too loudly outside.

Men, so what about 'em?

This post is heavily inspired by last night's conversation with Dee (ok, make that all conversations) and Sudu's pretty boy post.
Dee and I were essentially discussing types. And the kinds we like. And I was quite surprised at what I really really like. For our convenience, we divided men into two categories. Fuckable, and non-fuckable. And not that it'll go anywhere, but it's a simple, easy-to-get category, so.
Let's start with the non-fuckable types. They are, not necessarily fuck-wittage, but y'know, they're just not do-able or off-limits. They would contain,

1. Bhai types - I mean, they're really sweet and everything, but when it comes to hormone shattering chemistry...naah...it just doesn't work
2. Friend's boyfriends - umm, yes, I think so, definitely
3. Jethu-types - the kind who offers to buy you drinks at SPE... will not go into details, just to be nice
4. Dough-boys - I mean they're okay for a hug, but hey, men were never nice to fat girls, so why should women be nice to fat boys? But my category of dough boys are just not fat men, they are like my neighbour Sanjay. They breathe heavily, sweat a lot, have breasts, eat slobbily and you get the picture. Sanjay watches TV in his underwear and keeps the front door open while he's at it. If you are lucky, you might even see him in a transparent gamcha. *shudder*.
5. Databases/bokbokers - Shut up and get a life. I hate to be rude, but I hate useless trivia, especially if people are seriously expecting you to listen. And I don't care about your latest Motorazor or whatever and I don't care if you know about Bertol Brecht. Congratulations and all, I would talk, but there are men to screw.
6. Shtuuuud types - They really do exist. Not just in American teen flicks, but here. I swear, I've seen them, they're here as well. Eeks. I mean, what IS with shades in the ondhokar? Go do some porashuno or something.
7. Jerks - You maybe hot, but if you kick the rastar kukur or shout at waiters or pick on smaller people, you can go screw yourself.

Ok...it's a longer list, but I'll keep it at that. Let's look at some Posssitivityyy.

1. Sporty types - And I cannot stress this enough, they are absolutely on top of my fuckable list. I love men who play sports. And since the focus here is more on the physical, I'll tell you how I like them the best. Footie. Nothing beats footie. Unless it's shirtless footie. This dude I've known for two years in class, becomes so so so hot like in nano seconds because he takes off his shirt to play football. I mean, why the fuck did he wear a shirt all these days man! He's just so much more likeable without his shirt and in lazy boy shorts running after a dirty ball. He's essentially stupid, but *kachingggg*, play footie and score. Dough boys not counted, I hope you get. Lean, mean and focused.
2. Chandler Bing types - Ok, so humour is your self defence, but thank god for it. Men who are constantly making other people laugh are a little dented somewhere, and dents are good. Brings out the Florence in me.
3. Jughead types - You want him? Well you can't get him. It's nothing too personal, but he just doesn't like you much. Why not? Well, he just doesn't. But why? Oh just. No, but why? What did I do? Oh don't think about it. But I can't help it! Why doesn't he LIKE ME? What is it that he doesn't like? I'll make him like me. Just you wait, I'll MAKE him. Hehe. Laid back, disinterested types are essentially bastards, but shit, you havta know WHY.
4. Cassanovas - Only never admit it to anybody else. He's full of shit, but shit shit shit, tell me also no, all those nice nice things. Hee. And then I will bitch about you. But mindfuck you at the same time.
5. Men in Uniform - ok, not Kolkata Police, with all due respect, I'm sure you'll understand. Army, navy types. Hot na?

Well, thassit for now. I'm surprised that the Arty type never featured even once, in either list. But overdose. Let's not even talk about them.

Tada! Lautrec meets Maupassant. Moulin Rouge and everything gay. Well almost. Techie stuff courtesy Bids - Merci becoup!

Thought I'd give the blog a little revamp. House of Ruin is kinda depressing. And I feel pretty good right now, bopping my head to Mardy Bum. I love Arctic Monkeys. Love love love. Anyway, I'm too lazy to change the blog thing, because I have all these plans, but I dunno how to do it and all that and all that.
Maaaan, I wish I wish I wish I was going crazy somewhere in Jamaica or something right now. With a fat joint on a FedEx truck wearing those big hat thingies. Not a FedEx truck, you know those big truck things which aren't covered. No you don't get me. Any-way. I feel like jumping on the bed and flirting and eating malpuas. Anything fried, syrup-dripping-sweet actually. It's more possible than the Jamaica thing, but I dunno now, the song's over.
Ok, replayed. Hmm. Yeah, so, during the play I met this blogger whose blog I like checking out once in a while but never leave comments and stuff like that, because it feels like intruding, and Iamlikethatonly. But I love the way she writes, and I feel all nice and warm and domestic when I read her stuff. So when I revamp my blog I will link her and maybeeee leave a comment on one of the posts.
Right, now I will stop here, because I just want to.

Look below. As in scroll all the way down. Be nice.

Something I just had to do

Once upon a time when my video camera worked, and I lived in a little house that had windows, that looked out into a lovely little lane and a sunny lake surrounded by palm trees, I was happy. And one Christmas day, happy high on champagne I called up a friend and had a conversation I had pre-conceived and imagined an evening ago. I didn’t get the expected responses, which made it a little disappointing, and it was crummy ‘cause I said my dialogues exactly as they were, and not in tandem with what he was saying. But despite that and other dubious phone calls we were happy ol’ chums. And we did other things, like maya and stupid songs and stupid stories and danced upon the bed. Sometimes stuff got boring, or insulting, but it was okay really.
Then I packed my bags and moved out to a giant’s house with no lakes or lanes or sun and I suddenly became evil. And then my friend had other friends who were all nice and wonderful and I wasn’t because I was fat, boring, sometimes-stupid and easy to forget. My video camera stopped working, and my sunburn super sex god-kid stayed in leather for days and days and days. And I had no stories to tell, no pictures to show, no hidden treasures to reveal, I was spent and rubber, waiting to volley. So we both had friends but we never played again together. And then he wondered why.
Because all he says is words right now. A whole lot of air and bullshit. I loved the bullshit, once upon a time. Because it was so fresh and warm and full of spirit and wonder. Just bullshit, but that good. Because all I do is dig right now. Dig, dig, dig like a crazy crab and never bother to come out to watch rainbows against soap bubbles.
And now I look out of my evil priestess window and he looks out of the corner of an exclamation mark and we always miss each other while surveying this crazy, crazy world. Goodnight, good luck and goodbye, my little friend with shortcomings and other brilliant, noble things. May the funk always be with you. :)

And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world, I thought of Gatsby's wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy's dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms further... And one fine morning -
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

It's been a while since I've read Gatsby, but I was just thinking about it today, again. And these are my favourite lines from it. It reminded me of Faulkner's The Evening Sun, one of the nicest short stories I've ever read, although I don't think they are really connected. Not much anyway.
And...I have nothing more to say. I have a boring life. Back to my sociopath ways.

A confirmation of the previous post. I knit for pleasure these days.
Oh saw To Sir with Love today. Needless to say loved it and hopelessly in love with Sidney Poitier. Also, have been itching to see The Departed.

Oh moo god. These tiny little babies I grew up with are on orkut. And they are like kutti. Okay, I think the youngest is 15 (he has no right to be there!), so they aren't really babies...but jeez, he used to sit on my lap at some point of time! I'm friends with his MOM! OH SHIT, I feel old. No, no, no. First these kids take over CCD, which I get, I've moved on, there's T3 and stuff. Then they smoke (eeesh, don't do that!) and then they get boyfriends and girlfriends (okay, a lot of them do at 16, but shit, I wish they didn't), then they read books which they really shouldn't (okay, we all did that at 16) and god knows what else. Soon we'll be too old-fashioned and not be looked upto in a 'woah-they're-so-cool' kinda way, which kinda sorta sucks. Why can't they stick to Enid Blytons and be kids forever? Why are they on Orkut and have their "girlfriends" on their list as one of the 5 things they can't live without? They are gonna break up in 2 years (if they are lucky) anyway, don't they know? Damn. Leetle kids.

Hmm...just don't feel like blogging these days. Looking at older posts. They were so much more enthusiastic. It's all so blah now. I have no opinions, emotions, no great tales to tell. Even if my life was brimming with events I wouldn't want to blog them anymore. So whatsa point? But, but, but.
Just for old time's sake :
Had a nice day yesterday. Went for a movie with Preeta. Woh Lamhe, bolei dicchi. It was, well er... hmm... it had a watchable first half, I'll give it that. But the dialogue-baji during the second made us cringe every two seconds. I mean as much as I like Shiney Ahuja (like isn't the word...lust, rather lust-after..kay?) when he said "I laaavf you" green-eyes red and Kangana Krazy Hair Krazy everything orgasmed out some ridiculous lines, we were like, eh what it is? What it is that they are doing to this more or less potential-filled popcorn fare? And other than the two songs that they air all the time on the radio and TV (ok at this point I'll have to say I love Chal Chale, only I dunno which song it was ripped off from. I like it, really I do) the other stuff was pretty blah.
Then we went to Momo Plaza and had steamed momo and silk cuts and came back home. We had evening plans as well, Guds, Bids, Preeta and me. SPE, but Saturday night blues isn't quite our scene. Although, they were pretty good (Paddy was playing...I knew a band member yay!)... they shouldn't have done what they did to 'Me and my Bobby Mcgee' in more ways than one. Don't mess with Janissss yaa. But we had enough beer in our systems to let these things go (we've become such beer guzzlers these days. Even Preeta and Sudu, previously lukewarm to it, have succumbed to 'child bears' as the hoardings on highways would say). And then we had Kabab and Naan at Azaad Hind at 12 in the morn, and Guds bought me a red heart shaped balloon, which Preeta (3 beers down) is partly responsible for phataoing. Bitch. Hehe.
And then like SRKs (spoilt rich kids, for the ignorant) we drove back home, windows down blaring music (yeeeeesh. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it). But it was a nice ride anyway.

Okay. Thassit.

Damn it. Nobody blogs these days. The only fairly faithful one is the Compulsive Confessor I think. Her blog is verrray addictive. Very social soma types. But funnier and smarter. I feed off other people's fun lives. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. I think I'm going to be 13 forever.
I just deleted my imaginary Faaabulous Liiife of Loony Libberswick of Llapland. It was great. But later.

Went to Preeta's bari today. Preeta is a Mallick. Haha. As in, besh boro pujo in her bari and all that. It was fun seeing it all happen. It was like parar pujo only with barir people. And the thakur was one of the prettiest thakurs I've seen in a long time. Very kind and Ma-Ma.
Then I went to my old para and well, it was like going back home after a really long time - all the poribeshon, Baba's "bolo dugga mai ki joy", mondope boshe - stage-e boshe adda...the typical para stuff.
But it wasn't the same. Not with the dhak-dhol-Pujo-smell-and-sweetness. Nothing was the same. It was one of those rare Pujos where I felt no excitement, no great joy. It was all good, but it was like any good day I think. I guess it's because I miss Ammai, and well... so much has changed, so many have changed. I've grown up to look like a mother of three, friends are scattered all over, I have a new para (haha, yeah right), and we're all so much older and cynical. But I'm hoping it's just the weather and this year in general. I'm hoping all this Bangali pride we have over Durga Pujo isn't just a whole bunch of words and mindless expenditure devoid of true spirit. Because I could have sworn I felt it before, sitting on my Baba's shoulders and dangling my legs, singing, Asche bochor abar hobe, and Baba whistling and dancing...aaages ago. It does exist I know.