Oh my God I have no idea how the weekend just whizzed past me like that. I have to say I am feeling mighty cheerful today. Actually, screw that. I am feeling might mighty today!
You know you’ve had a good weekend if you can’t remember what you did on Friday night. I can’t for the life of me …oh wait I remember now! Whew. I had dinner with friends!
Saturday was sooo funnnn. Zip had a major potluck at her place and we had a buttload of dishes. I made stuffed capsicums- they were so beautiful if I may say so myself. Gloriously basted with butter and baked to perfection. Ooh la la.*Muax* The good thing about potlucks is that guys generally bring loads of alcohol and in this case, icecream. I ate so much ice cream. SO MUCH. Mango sorbet and clotted cream and Mars (MARS RULES!) and chocolate and I don’t know what else. And then we played dumb charades for like the whole day. It was awesome and vulgar and too much fun.
I spent the evening watching The Painted Veil which stars none other than the tower of hotness that is Edward Norton. I absolutely loved the movie! Edward Norton rules.
Of course, we’re still on Saturday and the night was, in fact, young. I had plans with Princess and some of her buddies. Said buddies turned out to be, in fact, totally boring. Luckily for us, boring people tend to favour early nights. So at 2 in the morning, we were minus 3 and down to 3- Princess, Ed and me. Ed is charming and quite the looker- with beautiful grey eyes. (Seriously, they’re too beautiful- I don’t like it if guys have prettier features than me..pfffft)
That’s not the point. The point is he had to leave because he was coming down with something. At this point, it feels like one of those ships that has sprung a leak and we’re desperately tossing pianos and cannons overboard to lighten it. We are officially zero deadweight now. BRING IT!
And so it comes to pass that the very millisecond that the two of us are on our own, ten billion idiotic desi men start crawling out of the woodwork and make worthless attempts to charm our pants off. Heights of previously bitched-about desiness are reached.
Stage right- enter skinhead.
Skinhead: Are you from SPJ?
Me: Huh? (Is this the best opening line he can come up with?)
Skinhead: Are you from SP Jain?
Skinhead: Oh, then?
Me: Then what? (geez, is he going anywhere with this?)
Skinhead: Where are you studying?
Me: I’m not a student. (This whole shit about being mistaken for an underage person has got to stop, it’s happening way too often and I’d stopped carrying ID for a while thinking hey I’m not 19 anymore!)
Skinhead makes several attempts to buy me a drink and I keep refusing and buying my own. He also asks a thousand other questions about which village my ancestors are from, what bloodgroup I am and other such questions that are usually found on organ donor forms. He and his useless friends (who are marginally less ugly) are still following me around the club while Princess and I make failed attempts to change co-ordinates. It’s embarassing.
Later that night…
Skinhead: What’s your last name?
Me: I’m not telling you my last name! (What is WRONG with this guy!?)
Skinhead: Are you on orkut?
(oh no…this is bad)
Me (to his friend): Umm.. your friend says he wants to stalk me on orkut.
His friend: If you’re on orkut, then I want to stalk you.
(Oh no…that is the last time I’m giving out my real name)
Well, nothing else is of importance here except that I was denied entry to another club later that night/dawn because I didn’t have ID. Motherfuckers. I tried showing them my credit cards (because usually that works, they don’t expect 18 year olds to carry platinum credit cards) but it didn’t work. Mostly because the bouncer was an asshole. I mean come on, you can allow flabby, saggy, over-the-hill hookers but you can’t allow a decent little sweetheart like me? Well fuck em. A curse on their club, I say. A pox on their club!! Ooga booga waka laka ayyyyy!
I had breakfast at McDs with Princess and another guy we befriended. (He knew about Chanel’s Black Satin nail enamel.) I went to bed at 6.30 and woke up at 4 in the afternoon the next day. Then I watched Zoolander. Guffaw..it’s such a funny movie.
We were both mighty jobless so Casa and I got dressed and went shopping at 9 pm. Within the next 45 minutes, I managed to spend two hundred dollars on two lovely pairs of shoes, one dress and one dress shirt. The shirt is the purple scarf print Pucci-esque one I was raving about some time back, remember? And the dress is a low-waist mini dress that makes me look super-curvaceous. I know it’s cliched but…I have it and I certainly can’t hide it, so I might as well flaunt it!
I don’t care what you think, retail therapy works. Those smiling attendants at shoe stores are the best shrinks ever. We were happity-happy. I bought pumps with tartan print and silver bejewelled gladiator sandals (aka EXTREME BLING). There’s a very Bling silver dress at zara that I am coveting. Ermm.. very impractical and blindingly bling, but…
There’s more. Dinner was absolutely fantabulous at you’ll never guess where. Superdog!
They have this delicious chickendog with fried onions and fried capsicums and cheese.. so.frikkin.tasty! And fries and lemonade…
And that is how this weekend whooshed past. I didn’t even have time to sleep. Well not nearly enough anyway.
Oh and those blithering morons did find me on Orkut. Woe is me.
P.S. Sounds like someone doesn’t have a bad case of the Mondays!
P.P.S. I forgot to tell you that my beautiful British shirts arrived two weeks back and they look absolutely lovely.Did you know that James Bond and the Royal Family also shop at Jermyn Street?