Jassi Jaisi koi nahin

It's a bright yellow Sunday morning, I'm so giggly, you'll think I'm in one of those Juhi Chawla- Ravina Tandon type movies and a very hairy Sunny Deol/ Anil Kapoor has climbed up my window with love note in one hand and shady red roses in the other. 

But the truth is, Anil Kapoor or no Anil Kapoor, life must go on. Other replacements have been found. And I spend my days showering my affection upon them.

Apparently, sugar can do to me, what alcohol cannot. While most people are ready to take their clothes off after a few shots, I look at them wide eyed, feeling more sane and sober than I ever did, wondering what the hell my body is made of. On the other hand, when I'm high on sugar, the above mentioned giggly-ness happens. Jokes that are otherwise too sidey to be cracked in public are suddenly out in the open. The random urge to break into song and dance takes over. The urge to sing must be resisted as it is hazardous to the mental and physical health of those around. Dance however, can happen in public. In any case, when it is inappropriate to dance in public, I just go to the Ladies room. I actually used to do that in my previous workplace when I was brimming with giggly-ness. Pinky promise. And whatever you do, don't tell this anyone.

So back to my story. Affection is currently being showered upon five grain biscuits. They make my morning coffee so awesome, that I'm on sugar rush all day.

Coming back to tacky movie scenes, I'm having one heck of a movie marathon next weekend with Nautanki, Cow and other such losers. Be jealous ya'll! While you sit in the company of your tables and chairs watching Rajnikant and Govinda movies, I have friends who came out to me about their love for such nonsense. Now that we have formed a tacky movie club, we will never be alone in our endeavors.

I am also going for a play today. I bought these very awesome hippie pants the other day, straight fit with a  bandhini print. While my mum believes that it looks like I have wrapped my legs in a gift wrapping paper, I am convinced these are one of the coolest pants I have ever had. So cool that they have inspired me to go for the play. Today I'm going to wear my glasses, carry a jhola, sip chai, throw fancy words around and discuss the play like I'm some psuedo intellectual. Split personality I have no?

Glasses remind me, the other day I was walking down the street, and these two idiots start poking each others ribs and giggling. Then one of the says 'Jassi jaisi koi nahin'. Such a dirty look I gave him, I swear to god, he peed in his pants.

Then yesterday, I was standing at the bus stop and suddenly it decided to rain. You know it could have waited another five minutes. I would have reached home by then. But no! Since I'm usually too lazy to carry an umbrella, I pulled a newspaper out and kept it on top of my head. Firstly it prevented my hair from getting wet, secondly it made me look all smart and intellectual.

Apparently, a girl with a newspaper on her head is even more amusing than a girl with very huge glasses. All these shady people would stop in front of me for a second, stare with their eyes wide open and try not to giggle. How to live in a city with idiots like these?

Good news is, super awesome cat-eye glasses have found their way into my life. *burst into a very awesome dance routine* Apparently, my mum seems to agree with those who believe in these glasses are absolutely weird and is convinced her daughter will have to resort to shaadi.com if she continues to walk around like that. So while most people hide their lovers/ diaries/ stash of 'pron' from their mothers, I have been hiding my superawesome glasses, lest she gets a heart attack and loses hope even on shaadi.com.

That's all for today sexy people!

I'm going to go fix myself some equally sugary lunch.

Hugs and flying kisses for y'all!

Betty, I have superpowers.

Being with a bunch of insane people has it’s advantages. In my case, it opens parts of my brain that have been unused for so long that even fungi is ashamed to grow on it.

Anyway, I’m walking down the bridge with S and N, intently discussing shady movie scenes from c-grade films when I accidentally step into a puddle. It actually took me back to the time I was about six or seven. If there is a substance my brain is made of, I’m sure it’s called element random!

Anyway, so back then I used to stay over at my aunt’s place every other weekend. Majestic ground floor apartment it was, with a huge compound that led to the beach. During the monsoons, it looked much nicer than it actually was. It’s a hardly a surprise that I wanted to spend all of my time there.

So one of those rainy days, I put on a nice pink skirt and blouse and stepped out looking all happy and pretty in order to jump in and out of the puddle. Reason? Well I wanted to pretend like I was being shot for a Kodak commercial. Every now and then I would stop and repeat, ‘Kodak moments-jeevan ke haseen palon ke liye’. Yes I had a tag line and all for my advertisement. I was such a cool kid. It’s not even funny.

My aunt had a maid by the name Betty. She was as lost and day-dreamy as I am. I’d tell her the silliest things and not a word from her mouth. One evening the two of us were sitting in the compound, people we were stepping in and out of their cars. A wedding was taking place at the other end of the compound. I obviously wanted to sit there and stare at all the ladies, who were walking around with enough bling on them to put women in soap operas to shame. Betty, on the other hand, had better to things to do. I *had* to make her stay somehow, so I decided to engage her in a conversation.

Me: Betty I have superpowers.

B: Hmmm.

Me: I do Betty. A lot of us are born with them.

Then inhaled deeply and acted like I was channelling energy from the Universe, but I was really just trying to cook a story up.

Me: In my case, I can look at people and know what their names are.

Betty: Hmmm.

Me: Like that woman there, in the pink saree, her name is Laxmi. Can you see the woman in the green saree? She’s Sarita. Yes.

Betty: Hmmm

Me: The couple there, it’s a little hard. I think they know I’m trying to find out what their names are.

Betty: Hmmm

Me: Harish. Definitely. I think the lady is Chandra. No, no! Asha. Yes, she had me confused for a minute. (My attempt to sound more realistic)

While, I don’t know if Betty paid heed to a word I said, I thoroughly had fun making these stories up.

There is however one thing Betty loved more than spacing out. Kissan ketchup. True story. She was always waiting for us to get out of the house so she could get her hands on that bottle. One day when they left me alone with her, I decided to play god. I pretended like I was leaving as well. 

As soon as she stepped into the kitchen, I sneaked up on her. “Betty, I’m Jesus Christ. I know you’ve been finishing the ketchup in their house and you must know that I will punish you for your wrong doings.”

And just like that I ran out of the house, only to appear in half an hour. Well, you know if I came in right away, she would have known it’s me.

Anyway, the ketchup stealing never stopped. Either she knew it was me or she was just too dazed to pay any heed to the voices around her. But I’ve got to thank the Lady for making my life more colourful. She helped me acquire the art of cooking up nonsensical stories early in life.

Self help books and Shopping Lists.

Sexy Ladies log and garma-garam Gentlemen (Of course, I use this term very loosely),

Welcome to a very Polka -dotted Technicoloured Dreams, which as you know, will not be Technicoloured Dreams for a very long time. Let's say this ever so awesome blog needs a change. I'm done talking about the future. From this day onwards it's going to be about 'now'. You know like those pseudo-intellectuals who write self help books like 'the Power of Now' and all that. In case, you guys didn't know, I judge anybody and everybody standing ten feet around the self-help section in bookstores. As for those who write them, I think there's a special place reserved for them in 'Loserville'. Yeeeny-way, has it occured to you that irrelevant is my middle name?

Coming back to my blog name. I want something that sounds super-awesome, you know. And for the lovely person who does come up with a name for ze blog-ness, I will find you super-awesome husbaaand/ wifey for them. Weirdoooo Guy (my phace-book hus-band), if you're reading this, this does *not* apply to you. *Evil laughter*

Since irrelevant talks seems to be the order of the day, can I make a shopping list now? Pretty, pink please, with chocolate butter and cheese :D *Looks at people running away and decides to shut up*
Anyway here it goes,

• Sexy cotton kurtas. Is there a book on how to be a droolworthy journo? Well, if there was one, you know what would top the list :)
• Patialas. To go with kurtas ofcourse.
• Technicoloured dhoti pants. Because they are the love <3
• Tank tops in every colour. To go with the pants.
• Scarves/ dupattas. Because every journo must have them.
• Indian chappals. Well it would go with everything I mentioned here.
• Elephant earrings :D
• Oxidised silver jewellery *dances at the thought*

And now for my non-journo-ish Lust list :

• Brogues! I want them! I need them! I must have them! Or else I will die.
• Purple Mary janes!
• Silverish grey gladiators.
• And finally a purple one shoulder dress.
• Oh and one of those black french caps that Sonam is wearing in the Aisha promo. Actually, why not just have her entire closet, no? *grins from ear to ear*

Wow, my list is unusuaallly small, isn't it? I must be improving.  :O

Before I leave, I want to thank the lovely Me-era with the award she presented me with earlier today. It put me in super-eeeee mood and inspired me to get back to abondoned blog. And here I am, promising, no pinky promising that I'm going to back with more.

Until Abhay Deol continues to be the second ideal husband!

xoxo