The KFC Night Sleepover

Had a sleepover at Madz' place. It was KFC Night. And before I go on, thanks to Moolah (from 3 pretty girls) for acting like a KFC salesman on a certain Yahoo Messenger window.

I was entrusted with the crucial task of safely carrying the 20 chicken pieces from Park Street to Jadavpur. As usual I left ten minutes later than I should have. Then I got into the slowest cab possible who took all the wrong turns and then took ages to double the amount on the meter and give me my 2 bucks back. KFC was no better as the guy at the counter took 5 seconds before every finger movement. He wasted at least 12 minutes in just giving me the bill, the change, and the chicken buckets. Yes. Kolkata is still as slow as ever before. Not a bad thing unless you are in a hurry. And in a hurry I was!

Things got better thereafter. I got a nice cabbie (who drove fast) to get me to Park Circus. I figured there would be less traffic on that road… and I was right! (Yippee!!) I then got on to a bus where I got a window seat. Now all was well. I'd be only 15 minutes late. What a relief!

However, there was one small problem, which I discovered the moment the cab stopped at a signal. The chicken was smelling to the high heavens. I tried to tie the packet and keep the emanating smell from going too far. But KFC buckets have minds and wills of their own. The smell kept on wafting through the air for the duration of my cab and bus journeys. I was quite convinced that someone would snatch it from my hands and ruin KFC Night for us. However, Poojo the Knightress (feminine of knight?) reached Jadavpur safe and sound where the high priest Madz was awaiting my arrival. Thereafter, our chariot (an Indica?) steered by Roushni Boush arrived and we reached the sleepover site safe and sound.

Madz pounced on the chicken the moment we got through the door. Roush Boush and I struggled to keep her away from the bucket till she had put on the movie for us. "Love Actually" and Hot n Crispy Chicken Wings ensured that we spoke not a word... until the DVD player stopped and put a spoke in the wheel of chewing and silence.

It was time for lots of semi-screechy girl talk. We considered getting high but were too full of chicken to gulp down more than a glass each of rum and cola. What followed was gossip, laughter, ex-bf bashing (one of the guys discussed being an ex-bf of 2 of the 3 of us), bitching about ex- and current gfs of ex-bfs, hounding me to date someone (coz the other two have bfs at the moment), and kidding Madz about her WEIRD date-remembering qualities. She even remembers the dates when she went for haircuts LAST year.

We talked talked talked talked talked. Fought sleep. Talked talked talked talked talked more. Finally fell off to sleep at 4 a.m. Woke up to the smell of still more KFC. Finished that. Took ourselves home. And yet another sleepover came to a close.

From an Eccentric Bookworm

This past week I've been a lot of things that I'm usually not. I've been rude and mean (but only subliminally so). I've felt jealous at a friend's happening new job which pays her way more than me. (I was happy for her but the green-eyed monster stole my peace of mind for a couple of hours.) Oh... and I did avoid a couple of phone calls as well. I think I'm turning into an eccentric something-or-the-other.

"Eccentric Pooja" -- I don't think I mind that too much. I have this dream of becoming a super-famous author, going to a seven star restaurant, putting my legs up on the chair, Laloo-style, and slurping pasta from my fingers. Sigh... Maybe someday.

Spent a thousand bucks on books today. I'm normally the stingiest girl alive. Even great-looking clothes do nothing to make me spend unless I actually have no clothes to wear. But I can never help myself in a bookstore. I don't even try. The theory is that a book can last forever... Or at least for my lifetime. 300 bucks for a good book is quite a steal that way. Especially when you compare it to the kinds of clothes you could buy, and the number of months that they'd last.

These books are going to have to wait for awhile though. Am currently reading this book by Stendhal which deals with Italians and their court intrigues in the Napoleonic era. I know that sounds kinda yuck... But it is written real well, and it is exciting stuff.
Swashbuckling soldiers.
Running from jealous elder brothers.
Falling in love with your own aunt.
Meeting a priest that loves astrology.
If I had to go back in time, I think I'd like to be one of those children of the good old French Revolution. There was a purpose to live. Ideals to die for. Emperors to look up to.

These days, we have a silly-looking, silly-talking Prez. And our only purpose in life is to get a job that pays some more. And our vehicles? Eco-unfriendly cars and buses.

By the way, while at the bookstore, I also ended up reading two Roald Dahl kid stories. One was about how this man (Mr. Hoppy) wooed the love of his life by keeping on increasing the weight of her pet turtle Alfie. It's an interesting story... and maybe I'll relate it on some other day (too sleepy now). The other story was about how this boy fed a special medicine to his witch grandmother and made her disappear. Yeah... it sounds pretty horrible, but then she was a wicked witch. The poor kid had no other choice. (The old lady especially loved having lettuce with worms and slugs on them. She said it was quite delicious.)

Speaking of "delicious"... Going for Chinese breakfast tomorrow morning! Meatball soup -- here I come!!

Clumsiness and Miscellany

This morning at breakfast, my toast fell onto the floor. Yes, it fell buttered side down. I picked it up and ate it anyway. I did try to look for visible dog/cat fur and dust particles, but found nothing to worry about. If there were some microscopic impurities, oh well, a visit to the doc shall beckon.

I think today was a clumsy day. I dropped a five buck coin into the corner of the cushion of the cabbie's cab. It's disappeared into the folds of the cushion. Maybe it will turn up on some day when he needs five bucks. Besta luck Mr. CabMan!

Later, I also tripped on a manhole cover. No, it was shut. There was no reason for me to trip over it. Clumsiness doesn't need a reason. It just needs a moment. (Wow! That was deep!)

Got myself a graffiti tee recently. It says: "I don't believe in miracles. I rely on them." Now, that's one tee that fits me to the tee.

Oh… and the long-delayed Harry Potter review? Here it is:
It was okay. Expected a better climax. Didn't happen. Story of all the Harry Potter movies. Lands you with great expectations. Then happily underperforms.

Am sitting on the window in my room in my home after ages. This really is my favourite place in the whole world. Two of my three four-legged bitches are snoring on the bed. The vet came to give them a manicure this morning. How much drama they did!! We had to tie their snouts with a crepe bandage, and then I half sat on them to keep them still.

I wish I could own a pig. (Yeah, it's one of those days where I have these nutty wishes.) And I think I'll go buy a camera phone one of these days.

Life Back in Kol

I am trying to make a routine for myself. But I keep falling flat. I managed it one day. But staying at home has so many distractions. I have to run so many tiny errands, which, though small, distract me from my four-hour working stretches.

Of late I had forgotten how much I missed my dogs. Shugz is as YO as ever. Surprisingly, this dog is very cool. Despite her fur, and in spite of the Kolkata heat and humidity, cuddling up to this canine is not a sweaty affair at all.

Mini (short for Minimum) my cat is very happy now that there are more people in the house. She now has more plates of food to steal from. And if you thought that cats only like meat, think again. This female, but not-too-feminine feline adores bamboo shoots as well. Who would have thought that I would have to shoo away my cat from the vegetable bowl on the table.

(By the way, I recently read this news article about a goat that eats only meat. He refuses to eat grass, and he barges in to village weddings and eats meat and fish off the tables. A carnivorous goat! Imagine that!)

Bought guavas from the guava-seller downstairs. I could choose from among 1-Re, 1.50-Re., 2-Re., and 3-Re. ones. I chose the 2-rupee guavas. In Bengali we call it peyaara, and in Marathi it is paeru. And after two years of living in Maharashtra, I found myself calling guavas by their Marathi name. The seller told me to give him a report of the guavas on Monday. They were good, so he will get a favourable report.

Off to see Harry Potter tomorrow. I’m not really a fan of the books, and I hated the last movie. But I have a teenaged sister and a teenaged-minded mom, both of whom think Daniel Radcliff is super-cute. Plus, I never say no to movie tickets that I don’t have to pay for. Though I did pay for these ones. Review of the movie tomorrow.

Dogs and Drains

This entry belongs to last weekend, and has been lying around waiting to be posted for sometime now... So here it comes:

"I got mauled by a dog today. Okay, so it wasn’t as violent as that sounds, but I’m almost convinced that this dog was drunk. First, it had a crazily waggerly tail (Remember the song: “How much is that doggy in the window, / The one with the waggerly tail?”). Second, there was no need for it to come after me. I was walking quite happily, all in my own world, mentally whistling at the monsoon breeze, pleased by the clean green trees.

Despite my obvious nonchalance, he came after me, wagging his tail behind him. I returned the smile in his twinkling eyes. Of course that was not enough. He wanted to be petted. I did that too. But this was the give-him-an-inch-and-he-takes-a-mile kind of a dog. He now wanted to jump on me with his muddy paws and play his own version of ring-a-ring-a-roses. I had no pockets full of posies, but I held his paws and walked with him for three steps. My friendly neighbourhood canine however, wanted to play... whether I liked it or not.

Paws muddy with red mud jumped up and stained my denims (and I was planning to wear them another day before sending them for a wash). My arms and palms were already mucked up with my attempts at indulging ol’ four legs. The nearest haven was the movie rental store less than two minutes away.

Summoning up all my past experience of ignoring annoying guys who proclaimed so-called “unconditional love” for me, I walked on without looking at this over-friendly mutt. He nearly followed me into the shop, but the door was slammed politely on his snout. I took my movie (some crappy flick called The Covenant) and with my nose in the air, so that I would not make eye contact with him, I hurried home.

A car full of boys laughed at my state as I walked back. I did not care. I came home, washed out the mud, put the denims for a wash, and sat down to write about the dog that “mauled” me on the first day of the monsoons in Mumbai, 2007.

Manu has the encounter on video on her cell phone. And when the car full of boys laughed at us, she was seemingly taking a picture of the drain. However, she was actually trying to take a photograph of the brilliantly blue kingfisher that we saw flying by the drain.

The drain is actually like a moat around a castle, except that it is much narrower and shallower. I like to imagine that there are crocodiles in there waiting to eat the first hapless victim that falls in at night when the power goes off. Perhaps when the people of the buildings of Polaris and Princeton (not the university... and yes, even housing complexes in India like such names) have altercations, the losing party gets thrown to the crocodiles, like in the days of the long-nosed Cleopatra."
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