I like to move it :D

They're back and how!!!

I was reeling from the shock of the sheer magnitude of awesomeness that is Madagascar, Back to Africa. Its of those sequels that manages to go one up on the first one

Its cleanly displaced The Incredibles as my favourite animated movie of all time.

Apart from being incredibly funny, Madagascar has some pretty amazing characters and their quirkiness stays with you for a long tome.

Here are my selected favourite bits from the movie:

1. Mafia monkeys *Snort, giggle*
2. The dancing girl and Skipper. The ending was one of the best wedding scenes in the history of cinema.
3. Gloria and Melman. Yay! Reinforcing the point that love is blind and batty. Suddenly its cool to love way out of your own species. And that lame sentence "we don't fit?" Try fitting a giraffe and a rhino together.
4. When the penguins carjack the tourist vehicle. Slick!!!
5. Nana who got the crap pounded out of her, and of course gave it right back Its horribly, excruciatingly funny.
6.Sacha Baron Cohen as King Julien. We all like to move it now!!
7. Moto Moto. yeah baby, you were Hot Hot!

McDonald's is giving out Madagascar toys with Happy Meals. Since no force on Earth can make me consume one, I'm woefully toyless. While children are capering around with Alex, Melman, Marty and Gloria in their hands. There was one weak moment when I caught sight of an unattended Alex toy. But the kid's sharp pointy eyes prevailed. I'm toy less :(

Please eat those gruesome Happy Meals and give me your toys. Please!

Pretty please. *picture the classic Aggie puppy dog look here*

I'll reimburse. Pinky swear.

Bithday spate!!!

Happy Birthday Sharan :D
I'm pleasantly shocked that I dint make a huge boo-boo by forgetting (again?)

Here's to thine awesomeness. Have a blast !

Sharan verb

to pull off an an act of very cool and near impossible proportions.

example: I sharaned off to the mall to see Salman Rushdie. He signed a book for me :)

Sexy Back

"I'm bringing sexy back "
-Justin Timberlake.

And so is Muchi. Tirelessly striving to bring Sexy back. With a bang( I don't know where these sad puns are coming from. Its not intentional okay?) When sexy is a dying art, limited to pointless clothes, weird accents and booty shaking, Muchi is redefining it every minute.

Muchi seems to breeze through life, vaguely serene and laid back even as her lungs are trying to eject themselves out through her nostrils and into the tiny hankies she always has on her person.
Her permanently leaky nose, hair that can blind people and a tiny cellphone that she magically conjures from the middle of nowhere are some traits by which mere mortals identify her.

4 years of constant exposure to her made me realize the whole stunning extent of her awesomeness.

Muchi is dreamy, funny and her scathing Muchi-isms(collected through the ages) make me collapse all the time. She has of course aged horridly much since her birthday yesterday and this post is to keep her happy :)

Random Muchi-isms:

1." How do you expect me to sort through all that t effervescent crap?" referring to my GRE folder.

2 "Hmmm... so 20, Maggi. But you look like 7 years younger and I look 2 years older. We are practically mother and child." on of course turning 20(God, spare me the horror)

3. "Its hard to speak to someone for that long when your not banging them"
after my legendary 2 hour phone conversation with Natu.

4. "Faggy remembered??? Maggi get back with him na. "

5. "Oh, Dick-lits!! "
the masculine version of chick-lit referring to educational *cough*prOn*cough* literature for males.

6. "Yes, your Royal Ass-Holiness!!"
to an irritating sub humanoid person who was bugging us.

Muchi complements my innate immaturity with doses of her brand of madness. She is sagacious where I am chronically lost.
Happy Birthday Muchi.

Thou art reinventing sexy everyday :D

Faking it

It hit us in a painful blast of pure epipheny.
Veera and me were walking down the street. Both in sexy black shoes, hair open, skinny jeans.

Except that my shoes were turning my feet an ugly shade of pink, my hair kept getting tangled in my watch and my jeans suddenly developed an aversion to my butt.


We're faking this girl thing.


It's as if we are constantly playing at being girls without actually having a frigging clue about what's happening. Real girlie girls scare me because I know they can see through all the layers of fakeness.

Gauche dosent even begin to sum it up :(

This is why teen fiction sells so amazingly well. Hunky stud boy-who-omigod!-also-reads-Niestche, always digs the rebel non-girly misfit leaving cheerleaders pouting in the background.

Real life is alarmingly,well,real. Straight shiny black hair always wins. Always!

Girls have looked at me like I'm frothing at the mouth when I confess that I personally look my best in my ratty Che teeshirt, shorts and grungy hair. We need an alternative universe where there is more than one appropiate way to sit in a mini-skirt.

It ended with me holding my shoes in my hands, skipping on hot concrete, hoping that gravity would ignore me for 2 minutes.

Ah, well, here's to fellow fakers out there for all the greusome social hara-kiri we may have comitted:


"Razy underwear creeping up my butt,
Razy underwear always in a rut"
-Phoebe Buffet.
F.R.I.E.N.D.S

Drift

Then fly away from here
Anywhere
Yeah, I don't care
We'll just fly away from here
Our hopes and dreams are out there somewhere
Won't let time pass us by
We'll just fly
-Aerosmith.

I wish I could.

Its been that sort of day.
Woke up this morning to Suchi's voice and that note of barely supressed horror in it.Mumbai is very far away right now. I feel like half a person. Rushed out in the cold to see the papers. When did life become this way?
My head wont even stay in one place. I've given up trying.

Its one endless drift. I think I understand despondancy now.

Exams over. A week of too much coffee, inkstains, paper and no sleep.
It was too cold to study much. I can't write when my finger nails are a revolting shade of blue.
Drift.

Manny passed away this morning. I cant picture his face without that half smile on it. And he brings back memories of all my classmates brought together after all these years by an aching sense of loss. I feel crappy that I cant be back home right now.
Drift.

I couldnt get out of bed all morning. Weird sleeping bouts, endless phone calls and this horrid cold daze. Drift. Drift and then drift some more.

For Manny:
(this is what my mum always prays for my grandma and grandpa)

"Eternal rest grant unto them O Lord and let your perpetual light shine upon them.
May their soul rest in peace. Amen"

Caramel latte

lCoffee cravings kick in at absurd times. In the middle of a viva for instance. Try answering rapid fire, with the words CoffeMocha singing themselves in the Spiderman tune in your head. Very psychedelic.

Nine days to go till the exams. DeeDee and me went out shopping of all things. for absurdly overdue birthday gifts. To this noble cause were sacrificed chilly auto rides and a caramel latte ice cream. Cold winds and ice cream go together brilliantly.
I should be studying. the moment is just right to be running around shrieking and screaming. there are a million things that should have been done yesterday.
made the following lists.

Things that make me happy:
1. Cadbury Shots
2.Walking around in the cold
3.Mark Knopfler

Things that make me mad:
1.Annoying geeks in my class who have their faces stuck so far up collective professorial asses, its a wonder they can still breathe.
2. Stupid hostel rules.
3. Studying in general :(

Dear God, Give us this day our daily chocolate.

Family matters

There is no such thing as fun for the whole family
- Jerry Seinfeld.


These words should be carved in stone and then used to whack my parents over the head.
We are back form our "family" holiday at Daman- a tiny poky little place that made me appreciate home a little more.

For a change , I'll be fair and present both sides of the story.

Mum and Dad.
Daman is a 3 hour drive from Thane. Everything there is green and nice. The resort was 5 seconds away from the beach. There are many tiny places of attraction all around- Silvassa, Vapi, gardens, dams, a lion safari etc. There was a masseur!! They had Happy hours!!!! The car trunk will never be the same again after hauling 50 tons of excise free cheap alcohol!!!! *incoherent babbling and excited chatter*


Jenny and Aggie.

Its a long, boring, arid drive from Thane. Everything outside was a varying shade of dry and brown. The beach*shudder* had ugly blackish sand, the water had no waves to speak of and old uncles pottered around in their underwear. We are scarred for life. The road to Silvassa is bumpy and filled with suicidal cows and children, Vapi is a dull city, the dam was just big and the lion safari consisted of one, yes one lion. We cant sit still for the long, numbing duration of a head massage. They sneered at us when we asked for Pulpy Orange during Happy Hours.
Thank God for Star Movies and air conditioning.

We are insanely relieved to be back home. We spent a quiet minute in respectful silence before the security doors of InOrbit. I hugged my laptop. Civilization is a glorious concept.

My parents are making eager plans to return. Severe episodes of pouting and sulking have softened them a little though. Mom agreed to let me get a tattoo. If my future career as a groupie flounders I can always become a professional whiner-negotiator or something.

Guess who's back!!!

I'm back.
I do this periodic abandonment of my blog. Sharan's blog is pretty, Shwetu's blog projects this aura of being way out there and Suchi's is crammed full of awesome Muchi-isms.
My blog on the other hand is simply a blog that nobody reads :|
Okay, yeah, so I whine a lot.

I finished all the stickers in my Captain underpants book. Reading Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk right now.I'm gobsmacked to say the least.
The only other thing i'd read by Palahniuk before this was Guts.(http://www.seizureandy.com/stuff/guts.html). Gross is an understatement

The ugly cat is back in our hostel. According to some people it had babies and ate them all up. Do cat eat their babies? .
I like the way cats move. They are so utterly fluid and beautiful.

Half the people I know are convinced I was a dog in my past life(s), because:
1. I sleep wierdly. All sparawled out with my legs in positions best left to an active imagination. Very un-ladylike and very canine-like
2. I whine.
3. When I was a wee kiddie I used to bite kids who pissed me off. In my defence,I was a skinny runt and pointy teeth did what weak fists couldnt.
4. Dogs like me. Just like litte boys like me.Both have been known to follow me around and gaze adoringly at me.

But I'm still a cat person. My current ambition is to learn Parkour. Wiki that. Its awesome.

i'm back. this hardly qualifies as a bang, but my blog is happy with its extended mortality.

Captain Underpants

I got the Captain Underpants Extra Crunchy Book of Fun 2!!!
With Stickers!!!
YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
free diaper baby and diaper dog supplement too :)
All hail the waistband warrior!

Chicken Nuggets.

Chicken nuggets are of course the best thing since PG Wodehouse. Both fill me with that undefinable happy bubbly feeling of contentment.

I'm going home tomorrow.Something to do with my passport. Its ultra freaky to head back home 2 weeks into the sem. And try doing it with exactly 24 hours notice to get tickets. All the travel agent could do was laugh annoyingly when I asked her for tickets. Apparently there is a shady guy at the railway station who miraculously procures tickets hours before the train leaves, but I'm honestly not into shady guys right now.

There is a bus that goes to Mumbai. Since I've never been known to sit out 30 minutes in a poky bus without spectacular projectile vomiting displays, 18 hours were totally out of the question.
Manged to get flight tickets for tomorrow evening .

Three days of amazingly unexpected home scented bliss. My TV is sending me happy telepathic vibes. I'm destined to meet an unsuspecting chicken soon:)

Can watch Dark Knight without having my ears combust spontaneously. And pray at the altar of Subway Chicken Teriyaki.

Vee and Dee and sick. I'm not cut out for Mother Goose type of roles. I suck at mothering sick people. Trying to make them laugh is evidently the wrong thing to do.Poor souls end up spraying goo all over you.

I figured out that if my realtionship ever had a themesong, it would be 'Scotty doesn't know'. Just replace Scotty with Aggie and sing along. I've so totallybeen had.

Big yellow taxi

You know those days when a song gets stuck in your head and a line goes on ad infinitum? yeah, its that kinda day. Big yellow taxi by the Counting Crows
" Dont it always seem to go,
that you dont know what you got,
till its gone,
they paved paradise and put up a parking lot."

through with a week and half of college. I feel old. Being in third year is not for the likes of someone who is mentally 13 and cannot deal with first years looking at her with barely suppresed apprehension.
Everything about the hostel is so fricking wrong this year. An in-time of 8:30 , no shorts in the mess and of course the same food which they apparently cooked and stored over the summer.
I'm living in medival times.

Saw a really pretty glowy green insect in my food today.

Oh, Happy Birhtday Harry Potter. I gave out free chocolates toady. Shewtu, i know thou art proud. Have a very harry day.

People here are all pumped up about "Friendship's day" i think they still play Kuch Kuch Hota Hai in select theatres in Nagpur.

WHAAA???

I dint know about Life, the Universe and a little red dot !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
why dint I know? I will slaughter the three of you and sell the detritus to buy expensive books. How did I miss this. Explain. NOW!!!!!
okay.tagged. the third summer of the sisterhood was handy.
God is subtle but not malicious- Albert Einstein
The ferocity was back on Valia's face, and it was more ferocious than ever.
They were due in the hospital again. this time for the double whammy of blood teating for Valia's kidneys and physical therapy for her knees.

I'm going back to colleg; after two and a half months of food and bumming around, its back to no food and bumming around. Sigh!

Bridget

I've always been unduly inspired by Bridget Jones. I'm not in my thirties, or in and out of failed relationships, or a semi- alcoholic with a nicotine addiction. But there is something about Bridget J, albeit a little old and forgotten now , but I fell hard for her floozy-woozy charms, when I first read her diary. Here's mine, Bridget style.

1 st July, 12 pm

Weight: must not think about!
tang units: 3, Chocolate twists: 1 (big one at that), number of unsuitable men in head: 1

Mum's birthday today. Must arrange for cake in pineapple flavour which she likes. Will be strong and not give in to meaningless chocolate cravings that will only settle in region of cement block like thighs.
Saw self critically in mirror today. Resulted in severe need to down one's misery in Chocolate twirls. Suchi mailed Twilight. Eyes are screaming in protest. Have read enough to require two sets of replacement eyes.

Doing the usual at home. Must try to look at least slightly concerned when Jenny is cleaning whole house as I lie prone on the sofa for hours at a stretch. Maybe cleaning will make thighs less pillar like. Hmmm....

Have resolved not to:
1.Waste money on random things like shiny headsets and eye wateringly bright .
2. Talk to people about random things like resembling red riding hood and forget to mention important things like fee details.
3. Drink lesser quantities of tang
4.read in short stretches and rest eyes. ha.
5. mail Shweta.

Must go now. feel thirsty. Can feel Tang calling out to self.

Get Smart

Get Smart was a totally awesome movie. When you're reduced to blogging about random cool movies you saw, it clearly indicates that you don't have anything planet-shatteringly cool to say. Since I figured out that the point of the blog was new posts and not detailed conversations on the comments page, I'll post. Happy Shwetu?

So yeah., Get Smart, starring Steve Carell (that other news reader from Bruce Almighty moved on to bigger, better things with Horton Hears a who, Little miss sunshine and snogging Anne Hathaway and Dwayne "the Rock" Johnson.) was excruciatingly funny.

For once here's a movie that makes you laugh more than the tacky ads and the shady multiplex employees who sidle up to you in the dark and whisper " popcorn?"

That should be banned. Okay, its really funny to see people suddenly roll in the aisles when they hear that cooing whisper from the general dark zone near their left earlobe, but it gets really old after a while.

The movie is what counts and Get Smart appealed vastly to my distinctly puerile tastes.

There is very little that is genuinely funny out there. I've run out of Russel Peters and Scrubs. Season 3 of How I met your mother sucks. I cant watch Shrek anymore. Saturation.

Come to think of it the only consistently funny thing in life was Shwetu. Those unfailing daily doses of walking into fire extinguishers, falling down stairs, crumpling in a heap on roads for no evident reason and saying the most outrageously funny things anyone ever could. Everything is a lot more stable now that she's busy with her faux-project.

Oh yeah Shwetu, GAIL where you supposedly live has the following motto : Gas and Beyond.
Have made so many toilet humour based jokes on it, that we've stopped passing the GAIL building altogether.

Thou art missed.

Love is.....

I'm in love with Snitch - laptop, friend and everything-thrown-into-one entertainment system. I've had him for 6 months now and I'm truly madly deeply in love with him. Got about 40 gazillion movies today which might explain this post.

Snitch scores over the other (erstwhile and current) loves of my life for a prolific number of reasons, which I'm obviously going to enumerate in painful detail. People in love think they can get away with puerile behaviour like this.

1. Snitch is always listening. To every little happy thought, every whine and bitch, all the things that stick in my craw and all those mundane things that happen everyday.
You know, movies like princess diaries where the kooky lead always has a journal and writes spontaneous witty funny and awesome things constantly? like when she's in a moving car, in the bath or having sex with her boyfriend? And how that never works out in real life because someones always over your shoulder?
Yeah, MS one note is my dream come true :)

2. Snitch never stares pointedly at my fat arms. never.

3. And he's so portable. I can, like, have him any time I want ( sick pun totally intended)

4. He's funny. At least the movies stored in him are. And you know that Shift+delete thing really gives you so much control.

5. Does not need regular cigge breaks. thank god.

6. He's always free and he's on the huggable side of things.

Sharan, shwetu, this is where you start worrying about me. I'm feeling vidictive, happy and surprisingly,I'm all there for a change.

Shiny disco balls

Tiny drops of rain that glide off musty-stored-in-poky-cupboard-for-the-past-six-months umbrellas, drops that dangle from your hair in tiny , shiny blobs and that fall on books, bags, and food lending that squelchy rainy to everything around.

I like the rains.
Especially when they herald the end of humid,horrid, crazily hot summers.

Its all dark and cloudy outside. You know, the sort of weather that makes you want to curl up to a book and bloat up on fried chip like things. Thie previous sentence is so tacky that I've been w dying to use it somewhere. I'm so happy i have a blog that no one reads so that i can be as tacky as i want.

Th best part about the rains is that they keep up this constant sideshow outside your window.
Mom may be raising hell about wading through he sea of clothes that is your room, your supervisor at work might be dishing out choice taunts about your bingo addiction, sify could be painfully anal, but all you have to is gaze out and focus all your senses on the rains. Never mind the glazed look on your face as you contemplate the sheets of water and the pretty clouds and amazing walks you could be having in the rains. They really help you dim out all the things that bug and make staying indoors a royal pain.

Airy fairy lyrical tunes haunt your head and everything seems to be bathed in eau-de-wet-dog.

Shiny disco balls splatter the windows.
I'll proceed to my strike staring -into -infinity-while-looking-whimsical/melancholy pose at the sill.

I'm awake

Its frickin 2 in the morning!!aggie is supposed to be dead to the world, battling with pilows, tangled in sheets and dreaming of foxes biting her ankles. Not staring blankly at her facebook profile.
I'm not a late night person and it shows in the morning when three people in a row draw unfavourable comparisons between toads and my pouchy eyes.
I'm not just sick of life, I'm utterly disgusted. If it were a person, i'd marinate it in horse pee.

Saturday Night Fever

Saturday evenings are one of those blessed times when the mess shuts down, requiring you to forage for food outside its dank confines.
After 2 years of Nagpur, we've exhausted its limited eat-out-on-a-measley-budget dinner options many times over. Saturday night raises a series of burning issues: whether you can afford anything more than maggi, people you'll have to coerce into coming with you, wondering if you'll be asked out and if LM's making its presence felt. All these complicated equations have to be sorted out before mess off.Life is damn stressful :(
This Saturday's story is seriously muddled. We're uniformly broke, so it seems like maggi orgies are in the offing. Dee dee might go with joey and veera with the loved one, leaving me trying to figure out ways of lighting the gas without burning the mess down( which by itself is not a very dismal thought). Then of course there's Niranjan and the fact that we're both pining away for each other. I'm a goner if he asks me out when I'm staring at charred lumps of maggi.
I'm sick of Saturdays, being socially disfunctional( Shwetu, I really miss you), breaking up and dark circles.
Woe is me!!!

Go, the mass has ended.

This is one of my favourite hymns. Maybe because it's a mind numbingly simple tune. Or possibly because it's sung right at the end of mass.
The past week has had a distinctly churchy feel to it with Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter all requiring meaningful hours spent in worship and introspection. Dad, Jenny and me have founded a secret society, inductees to which have to master the subtle art of carrying nefarious, giggly conversations under the eagle eyes of their wives/mothers. This is what three continuous days of church taught me:
1. Dogs look very adorable when they try to get you to play with them bang in the middle of Our Father.
2. Glittery gowns are very distracting when you're trying to nod at the priest in an intelligent, repentful manner
3. Merely looking at Dad or Jenny makes me want to giggle insanely. Sadly the same applies to both of them, so mass is mostly about avoiding eye-contact and keeping bouts of absurd uncontrollable hyena like laughter at bay.
5.Mum has an amazing repertoire of chilling looks. They kill a giggle mid way through, interrupt frantic conversations about hunger, and make us light our candles without so much as a whimper.
6. Sleep is a real person who talks to you, coos soothingly, pats your head and hypnotises you to nod off at every moment in an hour long service. And of course magically disappears to the strains of Go, the mass has ended.

Fester

My plant Fester died :(

She died a long time ago. Except that no one bothered to tell me about it.

A month after stroking her tiny pink flowers goodbye, I walked in( more like stumbled in with 2 bags) to see her withered corpse still stuck in the pot. The people who call themselves my parents shiftily turned their eyes away from my horror struck face . Apparently Fester's death does not warranty emergency phone calls or even a proper burial.

It is these incidents which scar us for life. If I wake up one day at the cruel age of 46 and scream "I can see her dried withered skeleton still clinging to the pebbles in her painted pot!!!!!", I'll be having a delayed shock reaction about Fester's painful end.

I called her Festerella after Uncle Fester from Addams family, a man who is almost endlessly fascinating. I painted her pot and almost drowned her while watering.

She was loved. I miss talking to her and counting her flowers. She was a nice plant.

RIP fester.

Going Solo.

Walking alone is therapy. Walked back alone from the orthodontist today with funny wires poking my gums and a little light headed from the pain. I like my ortho. He looks like a human version of the human Shrek in Shrek 2. He's goofy, smiley and very nice. Even though he treats my mouth like a furniture hauler, and leaves it tasting like slimy rubber latex gloves, I like this man. I'm twisted when it comes to men I like.

I'm home right now. Three days of hols at a stretch and I start pining for dal dunked in roti.Home is where my blog flourishes after horrid dry spells in college.

We have a tiny bamboo plant at home. Our old plant Fester died :(
other new additions are a violently florescent green mosquito repellent and Fiama di wills which i personally think can be used as a drain killer. Ok so I have a thing against fake sounding shampoo names.

Will move my cynical ass to the sofa now. Feeling very vitriolic.

C lab

My ass is on the line here. I've calmly shoved aside numerical analysis and Simpson's rule because blogging when you're not supposed to, is one of the kookier things in life. I can happily ignore my blog on average days, but give me C lab and the mind wanders. It drifts and meanders. It reads Sharans blog and feels over-awed. Sharan you write and think so pretty.
I'm inspired.
Second mid term exams done:) Have a gazilion unfinished, almost abandoned plans right now. Like going home. Its not sinking in. Cant wait to get there.
Leaving behind a slightly morbid Dee Dee, a very bored boyfriend and the heat. And college of course which is the whole briliant point of the exercise. Ah, I'm rambling and she's squiting weirdly at me. More later.

Chicken run

Lent and bird flu at the same time. Pretty much ensures that chicken remains a a distant gastronomic experience for the next 40 days. My overwhelming chicken lust died a very tame death over the past few weeks. I'm in shock. Butter chicken dosen't turn me on anymore :( No imminent plans of selling my soul for its shimmery fake red charms.

Oh yeah and I'm back. Home sickness hit a year and half late. Nagpur was jarring my nerves which have healed pretty well under a chocolate, warm blankie, food layered haze of home. College was weird this time around and I went through it like a zombie. Not just random sulking, try like a month of constant pms-ing.
Home is healing :)

This blog is dying. One needs to resurrect it (a thing that i keep thinking and fantasizing about but will never actually get down to doing.)


Will stop this pointless post now. Have better thingies to do.