I went to Bangalore. And there’s nothing even remotely banging about the damn city. In any aspect or meaning of Bang whatsoever. It’s boring as hell. Mumbai is delicious. Fuck yes. And I’m never leaving, that’s it. NOW I’ve said it. Screw you all.
I’ve started to notice how some words just sound so sexy. And they’re all rational non-dirty words. Just, sound so sexy. Even out of the context. Like Felicity. Say it, you’ll see. Like Velvet. Or say Froth. See what I mean? Anymore you guys can think of?
Apart from an obscene sense of humour, vulgarity and an unreasonable amount of curiosity in hindi swear words, I now also have a full time job. Which is great, but I hate the travel. Cause really, there’s only so much of strangers’ sweat you can take in a day.
Thanksgiving just went by and just cause I didn’t mention it does not at all mean that I’m an ungrateful bitch (although in the past few weeks there have been some meaningful directed not-so-subtle suggestions made to me to just get bitch tattooed instead of my really gay butterfly, huh) So yeah, there are plenty of things I’m thankful for. First off, I’m thankful to God for being so non-interfering. I like that sort of a system. It makes you all mysterious and brings in so much glamour. Like about your forms, if God is beautiful or just mom-look-alike? I am thankful to all the people in the world for trying out different cuisines and all sort of food, so we may sample it here in India, of course with a dash of tadka. That’s right, we have Indian Tadka in everything from Nachos to Risotto to Peri-Peri. I’m very very thankful for being given this body, and also eleventy thousand times more thankful for the sort of shit you can do with it. I’m thankful for Jet’s very hot cabin crew to make travel easier. I’m thankful to Vijay Mallya to make Kingfisher so readily available everywhere, you’re doing my country proud honey. I’m very thankful to my roomies for midnight laughs and always having leftover food in our fridge. I’m thankful for guilt free fantasies. I’m thankful to all open minded people for invigorating and extensively liberating conversations. To Melange, for making low-cost cotton kurtas. To W, for making Indian wear so ghetto. To Toto’s, for being there. Stay. For true affection. For short fleeting stares strangers give followed by a smile. To playful winking. To soundproofing. And to my salary, thanks for being there and on time Amen. Awomen.
PS: Oh about the title, Lychee Martini is a great waste. But it’s just so awesome to hold a Martini glass. Also, in this same Martini sampling party there was Yash Birla and of course my gossipy drunk mouth had to tell all my friends “look! Yash Birla, do you know he’s probably one of the richest guys in India?” and they were all like, he’s way too ugly for so much money. Hehe. True that.
PPS: Anticipate a big big post on my sacrosanct undying theories on IIT and IIT men ( there are only men in IIT). Since my recent close (and ongoing)encounter with IIT, I have come up with some totally bril ideas on "how to make IITians less of a loser in life?" and it will include a full scale course with workshops on "How not to speak of Hertz as a subject of omni-interest on dinner tables" and "How to stop assuming and start talking (in commonly intelligible people's language, and avoiding fight, machana and chamkana) Whew!", oh and certainly "How not all women are like porn stars! Anywhere on their bodies."
PPPS: If you thought just reading this post was sexy, you are a true IITian. Congratulations. Now, shut up, and join my workshops (and get a life).
Mwah Mwah XOXO
