I Want to Be Her When I Grow Up

Lindy Hop!!!!

Digression

Pussycat Dolls is in drafts stage, but first: I Want To Go Here

www.outlooktraveller.com/aspscripts/mag_art.asp?magid=529&page=1

And while I'm there, I want to do this activity so well put by My Friend Dave, as AA calls him:

Lets go, drive till, the morning comes.
And watch the sunrise, and fill our souls up.
We'll drink some, wine till, we get drunk
yeeeeeeeeeeeeeah...

Rainy weather is DMB weather!!!!!!!

Coming up: Punky muzic muzings Part II: The PussyCat Dolls. Heh.

Okay! Okay! I'm updating!

(*Panting*) He is here! He is here! Little bundle of joy that has been making half a dozen adults tizzy with all the running around him. Maasi (!) has just found time to take breather and prop chin on palm to smilingly stare at her very tiny, very pink, very sleepy nephew. Mmmmmmm.
Presenting (flourish...) the one-day-old Pabda/Krishna/Laddoo/Monkey/ Gaapu. My sisty's baby:



And here it is, my baby! Thamma to all.

Did teeshee anyway

Pre-script: Okay, regular readers of this blog (countable on fingers of half a hand), yes yes, I'm cheating. I'm using my personal time machine and rewinding to last Monday. Watchya gonna do about it? Huh? Huh?

So we did teeshee anyway. Was in denial about my superior abilities to NOT drink/smoke over antibiotics, and it didn't take more than one pop of the wine bottle cork at AA's place to maro a good pochaa over all the fuzzy bits in my head. I had wine, then some more, then a zillion sips from everyone's various beers at teeshee. And many many smokes, coz they were Pink Dreams - pink, with gold filters, tasted like cowdung, bought by a very grinny AA from the Ju Es - but were too pretty to be not smoked amidst the casual hipness of the godforsaken dungeon (besides, we were out of normal cigs anyways). And very discreetly popped my last dose of medicine in there, lest I be accused of mixing my drinking and doping.
But first, I had to watch a football match. Well the usual deal is something like this: Talk to me about sports, and you get my stellar blank look or my 'hmmm' PR smile. I really don't know what the shit is about, and am unabashedly (often unfashionably) ignorant and girlie about it (My football-crazy Bong dad has tried at many points during our 25-year-old association, to educate me about the game, and has inwardly mourned for producing the two X chromosomes I am). If at any point during this FIFA madness, you went to a pub in Delhi and saw ONE person in the entire arena sitting with her back towards the flat screen that everybody was glued to and slowly, unknowingly inching towards - there! You've had my darshan. Get the picture? Okay. So we go to teeshee and there's no music, no chatter, only a lot of people staring at three screens because Portugal plays England. So I stand and count the seconds for the last 20 mins. 'Cept the friggin' idiots can't shoot any goals and the game is extended by 30 mins! (What's wrong with a nice and friendly draw, like in knots and crosses? Do it again some other day when I'm not doing teeshee, for all I care).
So, 30 mins is too long a time to be unfashionably uninterested in a crowd full of people who are facing one direction and standing in such rapt attention pose, you'd think the national anthem was gonna start any minute now. So some fellow tried to shoot a goal, and missed, and thankfully much noise was made, and I breathed with relief (singing the national anthem in the 'Attention! pose always makes me wanna pee with tension and exhilaration). Now, I had to choose sides ASAP, lest I be branded as fencesitter-in-a-football-match and burnt at the stake (so what if neither of the two countries are ones I, or any of the people I know, belong to...but hey, that's mum logic). So I chose Portugal (Ya know, The Underdog and all that. Psstt...England colonised us! Don't care! History rules! Even on the football field!). And hollered 'The English are Siss-ieees' with AA just to piss off the Brit behind me who kept screaming 'Oh c'mon! C'mon!' and 'Wellplayedwellplayed!' as if he were standing right next to the field's boundary line (is that what it's called in football too?). And lo! Portugal won! One day I decide to root for a country (any country) during a football match and they win! *Sigh* I'm just too good to be true.