20 Dec 2009

Why Baileys is better than Milk

File:Baileys ad.jpg

Since you can’t get straighter than I have with the title let’s just move on. Full steam ahead !(hope you didn’t have a heavy breakfast)

1) It’s sweet. Adding sugar/chocolate/caramel to milk doesn’t have quite the same effect.

2) After a dinner of chicken in fancy sauces, 3 kinds of wine and Peking duck you’d be glad to round it off with a nice little bout of Bailey’s. Milk, not so much.

3) If taken in adequate quantities can take you to a happy place. Milk will only make you thank god for coffee beans.

4) Makes for some damn good coffee. There’s just so much you can say for milk.

5)Karen* puts it in her cereal. ‘nuff said!

*ref- Will & Grace’s very own friendly neighbourhood “high”-flying  socialite

p.s.- I do realise the above is painfully obvious, but I harbour a deep love for Baileys. And Milk Karen.

29 Nov 2009

You say tomato, I say to-mah-to

While looking for pictorial representations of my feelings in regard to previous posts I came across some really sexist ketchup ads. Not really sexist, but then if you want to be a bra-burning feminist, i say let’s get this party started! (i’ll participate if you let me burn the cheap stuff, you’re not touching my nice knickers!)

oh anyway, here it goes

by the size of those pupils and that look on her face I’m assuming her pills don’t come packed in ketchup bottles *likes her lip and nail color, must remember for friday night skank*

oh and here’s another,

It just makes my heart happy that women still want to cook for men. Or this ad is from the 50’s. Either way I like Heinz (so thick!) and I could really use a good sandwich right about now.

I like the lil birdie in this picture. So ‘early Archies’ Betty and Veronica’ ^_^

28 Nov 2009

Musings- French Fry Ramblings

The greatest blow to the ego is being replaced by someone else or having someone else picked over you. This fundamental shift in importance causes us more anguish than anything else. Because that’s what failure is, isn’t it. Not being good enough. Or maybe just not being the best around.

What’s funny is that we seek this without. Why do we expect someone else to pin us on their priority list if we can’t be on the top of our own? It’s a little stupid to want someone to want us. Want yourself. Ya but why would i want myself when I know exactly just how many things are wrong with me(when i say me here, i’m talking about general audience member, not myself. I’m fantastic). So you want someone else, whose flaws you don’t know about yet, to want you more than anyone else in the world. It’s funny coz it’s sad…and true. However, it’s always going to be that way. Great.

p.s.- the title has no connexion to the post. enjoy! *where’s the old woman who has my ketchup?*

21 Oct 2009

Strange fits of passion have I known...

The above being the first line of the verses I intend on talking about, is what drew me to 'Lucy' in the very first place. Wordsworth has always been a poet after my own heart, seeing how he upheld emotion and nature as two of the most awe-inspiring subjects of life. At 11 when i first read The Solitary Reaper as part of my syllabus, it left a little something with me. I still remember the little sigh in my heart when I read the last few lines of the poem,

"I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;
I listened, motionless and still;
And as I mounted up the hill
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more"

I once spent a lazy afternoon thinking about how experiences are defined by their very memory. The incident itself passes in a haze and never affects you as much as the memory of it does. So in a way, Living is Remembering. This must suck for patients of amnesia, Alzheimer's and all those other little troubles that make your head feel like a blender with bits and pieces of thought floating about. Really makes you grateful, doesn't it?

So yes, back to Willy(can I call him Willy? No I do NOT want to call him Bill! I don't care if you think I'm perverse.) Yes, Willy was a fine chap who understood this years before I had my great epiphany. Willy also loved chiseled, pretty boys but we won't be getting into that. Willy was a magician with descriptors and a hypnotist with the lovesick. He doesn't intimidate with obvious loftiness nor does he serve "fickle fare". His work has a fluidity that plays a little tune in your head, which will disappear when the night light has been put out and the pages laid to rest. But hold them in your hand once again and your eyes will dance to a tune, I don't know if it's the same as before, I won't ever be able to tell. But then, this is not a game of recognition, nor a quest for the thinker. He poses no challenges, assumes no gravity. Willy is content to be what he is.

Back to Lucy. Lucy is what every man would want and every woman would want to be. Lucy is the quintessential young woman. Fragile, lovely. I shall stop here as no description of mine could match that of Wordsworth. In my mind, Lucy is that little girl in our heads, who awaits twilight not for the end of the day's shift, but for the magic of purple mist and sleeping blaze. Who flies with her exquisite tips brushing the sky, who knows she cannot fall, for in her world she decides. Her spirit soaring, flighty but not callous. Passion and dignity. Freedom and grace.
Lucy in the sky with diamonds.

2 May 2009

Flashback Part II- Sexy, Sexy, Sexy mujhe log bole

For reasons best known to the God of all things driven(Automatix, is it?) I happen to miss this gorgeous piece of metal so effin' much! The affair, although brief, is one i shall never forget. This baby has seen some good times. New beginnings, nostalgic ends...
This Flashback is not one that goes too far back, just a couple of months actually, but it feels like I've lived lifetimes since I first met Sexy. Now she may have belonged to the spectral figure leaning on her in the picture but I know she loved me more(yes she did!). She was traded in sometime ago for "Sexier"(only a man could do this).
This post is dedicated to my love for Sexy and her irreplaceable status in my life. 
I miss my Sexy. *sigh*

29 Apr 2009

Flashback part I

This was the poster that continually caught my eye while watching Mere Apne the other day. This poster of the movie Anand would appear repeatedly in the background on increasingly dilapidated walls throughout the movie. The only reason that this held any significance was because Anand was the movie that preceded Mere Apne on my watchlist. 

Mere Apne was like a Moral Science lesson cum the travails of every youth in India. Anand, on the other hand, was  a movie I had avoided watching for the longest time because everyone kept asking me to give it a go. I always watch movies alone at home, and the treatment given to Anand was no different. I don't know what made me decide I was ready to watch the movie but I decided it was high time. The movie was perfect. A simple story of a simple emotion, Anand, happiness. Anand's character, played by Rajesh Khanna, was the first optimistic character of mainstream cinema who managed to not grate my nerves to breaking point. In fact I felt not a prick of annoyance. I'm not one who takes too kindly to people asking me to look at the glass as half full, and that's exactly why I fell in love with Anand. He knows he's dying, he's knows there' is no looking back but decides to be find joy in every moment than dread the passing of each one. There must be a whole lot of characters similar to Anand in the history of literature and films, the first of which I can recollect is Pollyanna. But none can hold a candle to Anand for the simple fact that he never comes across as preachy in the slightest bit. In fact, he takes joy in playing around with words and confusing the miserable into believing that they're happy. His chatter, although incessant is never inane. Although quite a ray of sunshine myself, I find constant, uncalled for chirpiness extremely put on and quite unbearable. However, with Anand it never felt that way. He breezed through the movie like the rain bearing winds of our country, bringing limitless unspoken joy to all without expecting any returns. 

Another reason that Anand will always be close to my heart is that the song, "kahin duur jab din dhal jaaye..." always reminds me, for some inexplicable reason, of my paternal grandfather. It reminds me of evenings spent with him and my sister, my senior by 6 years, when I was a little tyke of 3. The swings and slides of Shivaji Park, the vegetable sandwich from the roadside vendor with that spicy green chutney that was always too hot for me, raspberry and vanilla ice cream would follow or maybe a pepsi. The beach with it's thick familiar scent that will always say home to me, how much ever I may detest it sometimes. The sun, a large red fireball, 'going to sleep' in the blankets of the ocean. The feel of sand, dry and wet, as we would dig and dig endlessly, looking for unknown treasures or maybe just a pool. 

It was surprising to note that, the movie, Anand, has been dedicated to the city of Bombay and the people who live here. Everytime the song plays I conjure a mental image of dada, his face unclear, silhouetted against the evening light. These memories that convince me that despite all it's faults, Bombay will always be home. The city, however ravaged, will eternally hold my childhood. 

Lady Gag-me!! *puke*

ok now the title may not be the most imaginative of it's kind, and i may not usually write about celebrity shennanigans but i have decided to make an exception for the atrocity called Lady Gag-me GaGa
wait, no wait, i don't care if she can sing...i don't care if she can sing the frikkin opera...the woman is an eyesore and an attention-seeking plinket who looks up to Madonna blow up dolls and mime artistes...
Weird is not always a bad descriptor but not always a good one either...

Get a real job and a real wardrobe Lady Gangrene!!!

*has now given more attention to erstwhile stripper than required*
*pops the bubbles on the freak*

p.s.- I tried not jumping on the wife-beating bandwagon, but something in those thigh-high boots tapped a hidden rage in me...call it PMS, i think it's good taste ^_^