Luurrve Is In The Air

I am truly not ashamed when i say this. I have now garnered an unusually drastic interest in novels that have a theme that is predominantly romantic. Yes, i, Shar have begun to like romantic novels. *whiny tone* They're fun to read yaaaa. Especially when i have nothing to do and want to have the right to say "I finished two books yesterday!"(each about sixty pages)
But on a more serious note, I READ ROMANTIC NOVELS! hahaha...so shoot me. The ones i read have a little more brains. And more importantly a plot.
Now here are a few pointers for people who haven't read any romantic novels and also for those sneaky underhanded freaks who have most definitely read at least one romantic novel but feign amnesia in front of the ever judging eyes of society. Well I'm not afraid, i say! *quivers under blanky while raising a righteous finger * Here goes.

1. The protagonists are so hot that its a wonder they haven't been scooped up by some American or European equivalent of Prasad Bidappa and stuck in front of a camera post haste.
2. The Girl pretends to be domineering and completely immmune to anybody else's advances but is actually a very kind, soft hearted person who loves puppies and can't get enough of moonlit walks and candle lit dinners. She is emotionally scarred from a previous relationship. (Thats obvious you dumb tart)
3. The Guy is rugged, tough and has biceps that can rival King Kong's but he has a soft side to him that will make you feel nauseous and then some. He has had a million women, possibly from and on different continents but the Girl just makes him wanna rip her clothes off. (Don't ask me how that makes her different from the other girls.)
4. Guy and Girl get off to a not-so-good start. They have a small spat in the beginning that is smoothed over when they find that their inimitable attraction to each other makes magnets seem foolish and really not that great a phenomenon of nature. (Screw the North and South poles)
5. Very important event that occurs within the first one-fourth of the novel is The Kiss (believe me it requires the capitals). Preliminary Salivatory Exchange (A phenomenon i like to call PSE or spit-swap) has them knowing in the back of their empty heads (and yours) that they are made for each other. (But who in tarnation likes making things easy?)
6. The rest of the novel is spent in flirting, fighting and spit swapping alternately while the two grow closer and closer (like yucky fungi) and then the clincher is The Misunderstanding (again, well awarded capitols) that makes each of the two dunderheads think one of the other is actually not in love with them and that they actually like wasting their time and breath on loser idiots who don't interest them in the first place.*takes deep breath*
7. But then, The Misunderstanding is given a beating and the two, Guy and Girl, come together to make wild passionate love and live happily ever after for the rest of their lives, in their beautiful six bedroom house. (complete with garden and fountain and back yard)

Stick a needle in me, i think i got diabetes.

Yet Another List

Ok, i have seriously taken to writing these lists. They're fun (for me) and i can let my imagination run wild. Not that i hold back otherwise..

THINGS TO DO IN THE LOO (and it rhymes too..im just pure genius.)

1. Spike your hair with shampoo and/or soap and sing Gareth Gates songs. (The dude has serious hair issues)
2. Steam up the mirror and write "I'm sure i saw what you did last summer but it so doesn't compare to what you did the summer before that."
3. See if 'bouncing off the walls' really is possible. (Avoid this step in small bathrooms)
4. Dance around naked singing "I'm a slave for you" complete with Britney steps.
5. Leave the door open.

List it

I have taken inspiration from another blog and i have made a list of things to do..i am painfully aware of the fact that this idea isn't mine so don't remind me if you care for your life. Anyway...here goes!

THINGS TO DO WHEN YOU'RE JUST DARN BORED

1. Look for hidden fee receipt that can make or break your second year in college.
2. Try to draw from memory the emblem of the your college.
3. Add insane posts to your blog that don't even make sense.
4. Twiddle your thumbs.
5. Watch T.V.
6. Twiddle your thumbs while watching T.V
7. Setup a meeting with a friend and then at the restaurant sit at another table and ignore them completely. Everytime they try and talk to you say politely "Excuse me. I'm expecting someone."
8. Burp loudly and then, when you can see someone within earshot, say "Oh My God! I ate that days ago!"
9. Cough like a mad person and when someone pats you on the back kindly, turn on them and shout in their face "Can't you see I'm BUSY?"
10. Convince someone that going for a five act mono act by an eighty year old man will be fun. Buy them tickets. Say you'll mee them there. Don't turn up.
11. Make a list.

Birthday blog

I had written a post at twelve at night on June 7. Small problem. I forgot to post it. So here it is!

Its myyy birrthhhdaayy!
And this midnight post is dedicated to.....ahem.....none other than......ME!
*wipes tear from corner of eye* "This means SO much to me! Its such an honour and having this honour is so honourable that it honours the ass out of other honourable things that people have ever honoured me with. Sigh."
Now away with the insanity and to more sane one sided conversation.
Birthdays are just the funnest things! People can't scream at you. They can't yell, gesticulate, make hand gestures, speak rudely or argue with you. They just have to put up with all the...ahem..."attributes" that define you as a person. Now, all my birthdays have pretty much been days of fun, frolic and otherworldly displays of affection (don't ask). So this year, I've decided to out down some things as guidelines for all things birthday related, not necessarily applicable to me. (Hell yea!)

1. The GOLDEN RULE is that however insufferable the person is (my friends will be nodding their heads here) you just GOTTA suck it up and be nice to em! Come hell or high handed five player poker.

2. The next rule is that a kiss and a hug does NOT, i repeat, does NOT, count as a birthday gift in this galxy or the next. If you're gettin someone (me) a card, get a gift to go with it for chrissake.

3. Next, if you have any inkling about how old the person is, even a vague flying clue about which decade they have entered, don't ask how old they are. Unless, that is, if you have a death wish or actually are that dumb.

4. My favourite! MY birthday without cake is like tweety without silvestor, just another talkin bird, full of herself. The cake numbs the talk ya see. (I'm in metaphor hell, so shoot me!)

5 You absolutely HAVE to address me with the prefix, Your Highness, at all times. It would only seem the right thing to do.

6. Read carefully ma darlins, none of the above matters if you reaaalllllyyyy lurrrvvvee me! MWA!
Ciao!

Aerosmith in India!

I went to the Aerosmith concert! Not only my first concert in Bangalore but my first EVER! It was real fun!
(Gettin there deserves another story altogether so i won't add that here)
It was quite a nice experience. I mean, who gets to stand in the middle of a stinking crowd(I dont mean that metaphorically, i mmean reaaallyy stinky and i shamelessly agree that after an hour we were adding to the stench) for two hours while waiting for the band ta grace us with their presence. There was wild cussing (most of it by our group) and there was crappy joke cracking(all of it by our group) and then there were people trying to squeeze past. Don't ask me where. We were packed like sardines! I mean, you dint have to make an effort to stand, you just had to stand! And wouldn't you believe it, i had the time of my life! That is, of course, untill the claustrophia and the furnace like heat was just unbareable. We left and took refuge near one of the huge speakers. And it was better there! We had the benefit of the two speakers and huge screens plus a view of the stage. We came out on top in the end.
Aerosmith was just the best. I could see how talented the guys were and how little effort they had to put in to entertain the masses. Their music was just fantastic. Tyler was just amzing and i couldn't believe that the guy is actually ancient! Bit cliche but the first song was Sweet Taste of India.
Perry seemed a bit obsessed with Vindaloo and incense but he changed his tune later and said that what he really loved India for was the Kama Sutra. How honoured we are.
Another thing that comes to mind is that foreigners come to India with such pre conceptions in their heads. Its disgusting. We're people too for heaven's sake! The other day me n Sangi were going somewhere on my bikey and we passed these two cops trying to usher two dumb looking cows off the road. (They had duh expressions on their face and were looking at the cops like they were aliens but never forgetting to chew cud at the same time.) Now thats surprising, seeing cows on mg road! So we laughed and we were just about to turn away when we saw these two foreigners lurking around a few feet away with their eyes wide open and (unfortunately) with a camera in their hands. They were clicking away like mad things and that just took the cake as the cows became confused and decided that they liked having their picture taken after all, adding further to the humiliation our country would face when the foregners would go home and show their children and grandchildren high quality photos of portly policeman ushering cows off the main road in a metropolitan Indian city.
"Where's that grandma?" says cute ten year old.
"Oh honey, thats Bangaloooree in Indiar. They have things like that happening all the time! Quite fascinating isn't it?" says ignorant grandma.
Methinks cameras should be banned but then, word of mouth is worse.

I went to a party. And not just any party (my utter lack of luck helped me here.)A page three party! dripping with sarcasm Yes I was thrilled, salivating, making strange practice-air-kisses and what not. “I get to meet ALL the airheads in Bangalore in one go!” was what I was thinking.
Anyway, I was yawning way before I got there thanks to a busy day at work and when I got there I yawned in the bouncer’s face while telling him what newspaper I was from. He didn’t appreciate it, I think. When I finally got my jaw back under my control, and told him the newspaper, he did a little sneer thing at me that made me want to hit his meaty face but then Om, my photographer, decided to step in and give the SOB a hug. “What are you doing?” I whispered ferociously at his traitorous act.
“I know him ya.” He said with a toothy smile.
I didn’t give a shit.
I glared at him while walking forward and tripped into the elevator. Luckily the doors closed before I could turn around.
I then had to follow him around like a little lost puppy dog as he went around hugging and high-fiving people at the party. (Big deal. I know people. Did you hear about the time I spoke to Arbaaz Khan? Ha!)
Om is actually very sweet. Anger wasn’t directed at him as such, just general.
I met a lot of people and at one point a girl came towards me while saying “Oh DAHHLING! There you are!” and then enveloped me in a bear hug. I smelled her and retched at her breast. I pulled away while smiling weakly at her. She saw my face and said “Oh” as if she just realized her lip gloss and smudged and not that she had hugged an absolute stranger. (terrified stranger as well)
Anyway, when Om was done with his rounds he told me to go to the bar. I thought this was his way of getting rid of my puppy dog expression with I’m-drunk-and-loving-it expression. That worked. NOT
I was still morose but managed to get the bar tender on my side. His name was Don and he was quite nice. But my respect for him plummeted when I asked for his ‘special’ and he gave me a vodka and sprite. Yuck…sissy drink.
I waited and waited and finally the thing happened….the unveiling of the three finalists for Get Gorgeous. PB was utterly gay. Who says things like “Call her bubbles darling! Everybody does!” Oh my God!! I felt like puking right there and then. But I contained myself and managed to smile dyspeptically and nod.
Then it was over, and I could breathe because the mass of ‘smelly’ people had dispersed and had gone to do whatever it is that they do at parties. Page three parties. Not for me.