Mast ekdum

Ok ok back. Home sweet home. "Crazy" is suddenely my favourite word - it's quite dull, but I find myself saying it a lot. It's hot in Cal. I didn't need the fan at a very high speed when I left, but now I do.
NOW, it's back to serious work. *sigh*. But I'm kinda sorta glad. I'm going to squeeze literature for all its worth - because I don't know when I'll get to study it again. But that's another story.
Bombay trip was a lot of fun - truly. I was with people I really liked, being myself, having fun. The fact that I was at my fattest best in three years didn't bother me much. Which is saying a lot.
I have discovered two new personalities within myself. The Punjabi Aunty ("arre chaddo yaar, kuch beer-sheer peete hai *guffaw guffaw guffaw*") and the Goan- Mrs. Billimoria ("What men, Albert, stop drinking so much men, or else I'll bugger you men"). They are both obnoxious, loud, fat, alcoholics, with extremely weird clothes-sense. I semi-love them, semi-hate them. They're fun to be around, if you like that kind of loud ha-ha-hee-heeing. God help them, they are not smart. I was mostly these two throughout my Bombay trip. In Pune I was more reserved and Bong. But chaddo yaar, men.
I was also a part hippie called London, but clean and sexually inactive.
I also really like Edward Scissor Hands (which means, I'm not entirely devoid of being hormonal)...(wait, I think I am entirely hormonal)....(well anyway).
I'm a little disappointed about not travelling by local train though. I did all of it - and everywhere - but not the locals. Fick.
Anyway - it was mast ekdum. Being with Dee, meeting Chamki and His Highness, fulfilling the fat-joint fantasy, being close to family (S and mine), vada pao, chaats, jhari mara, little-wittle shopping, laughing, beaches, beer - crazy. Or should I say, 'killer'?