Dear Embarassment,

There is only so much embarassment you can go through in a day, and still come out of it with your smile intact. Embarassing situations and I, we're buddies! We've crossed paths so often that now all I can do is laugh. I remember this one time in school; this school had a no uniform policy, so we could wear whatever the hell we felt like, and obviously that didn't work out. So, one day I decided to wear a shirt that had a zipper instead of buttons on it, (to imagine, an aunt actually gifted that shirt to me-what was she thinking, seriously?!) and that dreadful decision would lead me to embarassment of titanic proportions. During lunch break, I'm just hanging out with my girls and suddenly a rather naughty friend of mine decides to have some fun at my expense. She pretends to play with the zipper and before I know it, she's totally unzipped it. My dignity literally flew away like a little canary escaping a crocodile's mouth. It took me a while to register what had just happened, actually it was more like a few seconds and a few aghast looks, sounds of snickering and some shameless laughter. My hands flew to the sides of my now open shirt and I brought it together, got the other girls to cover me and I put my zip up, pretending as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. I do remember laughing about it too. Simply because, if given the chance I would've done the same to someone else. That was just one example of my humiliation. And there have been many.

It seems like I invite this embarassment to myself. Since my brain doesn't function normally, my mouth clearly has no stopper, my hands randomly grope things, my bum starts to do the hippy shake at odd times; and off late I've found that I do that typical Bollywood breast-thrust at the most inappropriate times. Seriously, what is wrong with me? The upside of this, though, is that it does make people laugh, even fits of laughter commence from my rather obscene behaviour.

Today, I was at a friend's mehendi/sangeet and the most hilarious thing happened. I think wedding photographers have the best job in the world. The fact that they can manipulate someone like my friend- who could be rather stubborn and who would've said years ago that she would never pose a certain way during her wedding- to pose for such horrendous, cringe-worthy, laughable photos. This guy gets my friend to pose against a wall, her palms flat on the wall and her leg slightly up the length of the wall. From my standpoint it looked like she was humping the wall. To make things worse, the photographer calls the groom and asks him to stand behind my friend-the-bride, with his hands on her shoulder and it seriously looked like he was doing to her what she was doing to the wall. It was hillarious. And of course, since my brain or vocal chords have no filter, my joke was doing the rounds soon enough. It's safe to say it kept us entertained all night. Another instance of embarassment of comical proportions. I can only thank Merlin that it wasn't me this time!

But I didn't have to wait long. Merlin got back with a vengeance.

The first embarassment of the day was rather humiliating and a story I would rather not write about, only because it didn't have any humour in it. But the second one was entertaining. Knowing very well that I have severe stage fright, I still signed up for the dance at the sangeet. Three practice sessions later, I was still copying every move the friend-bride made, including the steps that were ONLY for her. Luckily though, I got to share this embarassment with another friend. We both ended up making a whole bunch of mistakes and burst out laughing in the middle of the dance. To top that off, our friends were sitting on the side watching us and laughing their fannies off. Every now and then, we would glance in their direction and watching them laugh would make us break into giggles. It was mental! I was red in the face, all flushed with the routine and the laughing, and the embarassment of having messed up and laughed on the stage in front of a room full of people. But, it was the most fun I had in quite sometime and I even kind of lost a bit of that stage fright. I was dhan tana-ing away the rest of the night.

So if I've learned anything from embarassing situations, it is this- Embarassing situations exist because they definitely attract this funny little thing called Laughter. And what would we do without laughter in our lives eh?! So, Embarassment, you're welcome for a cup of tea, anytime! Looking forward to seeing you soon. Ciao!

The Headlines Today

Saucy sees dear friend off to the gallows!

I spent yesterday morning at the courthouse in Bandra, watching a friend sign away her future. And I thought to myself, there you go...Another one bites the dust!!!

Well, no matter how appealing this marriage (gallows) humor is, I shall refrain from it. I am truly happy for her and for the others who call me at 2 in the morning to inform me of their upcoming nuptials. I'm sure it's an exciting time in their life. They're in love, they've found someone they can tolerate on a 'forever' basis, and hopefully (more like, Better be!) the sex is good enough. Aren't those the 3 basic essentials for a good marriage anyway? Though when I think about it...the being- married-to-one-person-for-the-rest-of-your-life thing is both daunting and appealing. Appealing, because it definitely is a romantic notion. To have found the one person you can actually see beside you at the rather difficult age of 85, building a life and a family with this one person, sharing 'your' life and dreams with this person, and most appealing is the fact that this damn person is YOURS as much as you are theirs. It's the sweetest possession. And don't we all love that feeling?! Marriage, a more 'legal' form of a relationship, is appealing because you know you will not be lonely for a very very long time to come; whether it's love galore or daily arguments, you're not alone.

On the other hand, marriage is daunting as hell. Promising to love and cherish ONE person for the rest of your life...come on! If that's not daunting, what is?! The only people you can happily and relentlessly love, are your parents and siblings, and that is more or less a natural phenomenon. Once you're married, you have to consider this other person's opinion before you make most of your decisions. You can hardly take care of your shit, now you have to start taking care of theirs. You've, pretty much, spent your entire life getting what you want, when you want; but now you have to do the most annoying thing ever...Compromise! When you fight your own battles, you only think- Strategy and survival. Now with this extra person in the fray, you have to think Strategy, Survival and making sure this other person doesn't pop it(ie. Saving if required). Because their popping it, would hinder your survival...because you now depend on this person. There goes your independence, down the drain! And honestly, we all do love and lust after independence. As a friend rightly put it,"Well, marriage is damn scary, because I love my independence!" But she is willing to admit that if she found a man who she could get along with, without wanting to kill him, then maybe she would give it a THOUGHT.

To add to all that, the parental units, aunts and uncles, grandpas and grandmas are like eager little puppies impatiently waiting for us to tie the proverbial knot. The dreadful 'arranged marriage' comes into play here. It would be best to leave that argument for another day. It's endearing how parents are always so concerned about your well being, but marriage seems to be a rather sore point between parents and offsprings. Specially for us girls; parents seem to think that the older we get, the chances of us finding a suitable partner, become lesser. And once again my friend Priyanka defiantly proclaimed to her Mum, "I don't need the institution of marriage to validate my existence and worth". You go girl! But I guess we should keep in mind that most of our parents insist on marriage because they don't want us to end up as lonely old cat ladies. At least that's what they believe. And thus, the age old argument between parents and their offsprings will continue.

As most of you know, I'm a die hard romantic and I would happily jump on to the marriage-ship provided I found that silly bloke who would make my heart flutter, make me laugh till I peed my pants and gave me butterflies in the stomach even when we're old and gray. I'm obviously optimistic enough to believe that that is even possible. I guess for me, marriage is like a quest. I can see it...me and the silly bloke on a rickety little boat, in the middle of the ocean, battling sea creatures, manuevering through rough tides, enjoying a little sunshine on the horizon and making sweet love under the protective blanket of stars. Wishful thinking? Perhaps! But we here at the Lair of the Saucy Minx, encourage lots and lots of day dreaming.

So I guess, the consensus is: Marriage is scary, but it's exhilirating. It's ideal, but not necessary or compulsory. It's romantic, but the romance is almost always temporary. It's the next step, but by no means a determination of love. It's an institution (thus man-made), not a law of nature. That is the other 'M'...mating. And we've never needed marriage for mating, have we?!

DISCLAIMER: These are the (obviously) confused ramblings of a bored and jobless 25 year old.

Saucy and the Condom Factory

Some of the most awkward moments take place at the Chemist. Like when you go to buy the monthly supply of Whisper Ultra, the guy refuses to look into your eyes when he's handing the package over to you. And why do they feel the need to wrap it in a newspaper or brown paper bag? What are they so embarassed about anyway? It's as natural as pooping for heaven's sake, yet they never feel awkward when they're giving you Isaab gol or other laxatives!

Condoms are the other thing that have maximum embarassment potential.

I've bought condoms a couple of times, but always for friends (I feel the need to make that clear for some reason). It's always been a funny experience, which is probably why I agree to go buy it in the first place. I think it's the only time the chemist actually wonders what kind of a person you are. Probably even wonders when you're going to put those condoms to use, or with whom. If I were a chemist, I would have a whole story flowing in my head while selling the condoms. I enjoy this; I enjoy the fact that this man is trying to figure out who I am, and why I'm buying the condoms when it's usually the guy's job. Which is why, my most recent condom buying experience has now become one of my many, most unforgettable moments.

Friday at midnight, we find ourselves in a Toyota Innova , returning from a party. Thumbelino, his mummy- Blue Shadow, The Warrior Princess, and I are inebriated and sleepy. Thumbelino and the Warrior Princess were in dire need of condoms that night, and had mentioned it to me at the party. Now if you know Saucy Minx well enough, you should know that I am a very helpful friend, and therefore I decided I would make it my mission to get these kids their condoms. I instructed the driver to stop at the next All Night Chemist. Surprisingly there were none between Altamount road and Mahim, where we finally stopped. The Chemist was situated just in front of the Mahim Masjid. It already felt so wrong. I told Blue Shadow that I had to buy medicines for my diarrhoea and asked Thumbelino to accompany me. The two of us got out of the car and began to giggle uncontrolably. We cross the road and land at the Chemist counter. The guy at the counter is busy scribbling in his records, least concerned about what we want. In the meanwhile, Thumbelino and I are glancing at each other bashfully, not knowing what to do. Finally I say to Thumbelino, "Dude this is your thing, you do it!!" I hardly got all that out of my mouth, and Thumbelino blurts out, "CONDOM".

Now let me go a few seconds back in time... When we arrived at the chemist counter, we were surrounded by all these dutiful Muslim men in their skullcaps, who didn't even notice us. It's close to 12.30 am and yet this place is quite busy. The Chemist is writing in his records, probably wondering when this day would end. He's bored out of his mind, his wife's being a bitch, and bringing children up is no joke. This day could only get worse, he thinks to himself. He can feel our presence but is in no mood to acknowledge us.

Back to the present, Thumbelino just blurted out "Condom". The bored Chemist literally jumps in his place and his head pops up to meet ours. And that's not all...the entire place has got silent and everyone is staring in our direction- the chubby girl in a flowing black skirt and the white boy in a waistcoat. The Chemist has this all knowing smile on his face; which no matter what he did, he could not wipe off. The three of us stare at each other for a few seconds; the chemist still smiling. Finally he nods and goes in the back to get the condoms. Thumbelino and I burst out laughing, seriously embarassed. All of them are probably imagining Thumbelino and me at it, like bunnies. They're also perhaps amazed that the both of us came to buy condoms, together! Who does that?! And to top it off, when the Chemist returned with the condoms; IN A BROWN PAPER BAG, Thumbelino removes his wallet and discovers he has only a 50 rupee note! So, I end up paying the other 50. We're all about the sharing and caring!

For some reason I decide to ask the guy what brand he's selling us. Another smile and a reply, "Durex. Six for 100". Right, so durex it is and 6! (The image of 6 used up condoms, lying beside a messed up bed, pops into my dirty, filthy mind) I boldly remove it from the brown paper bag and hand it over to Thumbelino, "Stuff it in your pocket. I can't possibly hand over the bag to you in front of Mother Blue Shadow". He manages to stuff it in his pocket and we turn around towards the car. We break into another bout of giggles while crossing the road. I tell Thumbelino, "Dude we're so going to be laughing about this when we're 80 and toothless!" We get into the car, still giggling, but Mother Blue Shadow is sleepier and possibly even more inebriated to notice something is amiss. The night is soon over, the memory making me laugh myself to sleep.

The next day, the Warrior Princess informs me on how well Thumbelino and the durex performed. I was pleased. My embarassment, the loss of my 50 rupees and my virginal reputation were all worth it.

------------------

For all those interested, do check out this fabulous Levis commercial, shot by Michel Gondry. Kinda reminds me of my situation.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uj6G1C6c0uw

Money Money, how you thrill me, ah-hah, Money Money, nearly kill me, ah-hah, Money Money

We wish for countless things every minute of every day. But there's one thing I've been wishing for, for a while. I wish...I wish Money was a whore, who would willingly go to anyone who needed 'some'. And boy do I need 'some'?!

Now, since darling money is a conceited bitch who only benefits a few hard working people and totally ignores us useless, limp dick whiners; we are left with no other choice but to get out there and put in the hours. Blech!

So one fine wednesday, I put on my best skirt, a striped top, 2 braids (apparently a very unprofessional way to do your hair) and my red Che bag, and went for an interview at a magazine publication. This publication is located in the South end of our beautiful fish smelling city. And those who know me, will figure out what the next few lines are going to be about. Traveling from Goregaon to South Bombay is NOT bloody funny. And the trains are for people who get turned on by molestation...or well, those who like to impersonate sardines in a can. Though one good thing about the ladies compartment on the train is that, you can totally remove all your pent up frustration on the lady next to you who just elbowed you in the ribs by mistake. But otherwise, even if I was penniless, I'd rather marry Borat (ughhghgh) than take the train everyday of my life. (Please Note: I have already, unconsciously, decided that I'm not going to take up the job) But, I did it, for the sake of the interview.

After the hellos and nice to meet yous, I'm given a test. I had to research images for an article on Thailand. I take about an hour to complete the test, simply because I'm already planning a trip to Thailand; my penniless state completely forgotten. After finishing the test I find out that the editor and art director, whom I'm supposed to meet, are busy in a meeting. So after informing the current photo researcher, I make my way down to have a little smoke break. Of course I ask my Cute Ass in Tight Pants friend; who also happens to work in the same building for another magazine, to give me some company. After a nice ten minutes, Cute Ass in Tight Pants and I return to the offices and we decide to get some coffee from the machine. Suddenly I see the scary Art Director glaring at me. Of course, I was chastised for going off for a smoke when the Editor was waiting for me. Well come on now, you were in a BLOODY MEETING!!! But I guess, anyone else really serious about a job would probably sit their ass down quietly and stay there till they got the damn job. No?! (Please Note once again: Not here for a job, just here to prove that I'm making an 'effort' to find a job)

The Editor finally met me. Almost laughed at me when I said I was looking to work here at least 6 months. That poor lady was under the impression that I would work there for 3 years (hahaha) or a year AT LEAST! But kudos to her, because she caught on pretty fast, when she pointed out at my C.V and said " Yeah I can see you're a short stint person. Three day workshop... HA HA HA". I was fuming. I wanted to say... "Yo Beeyatch, I CONDUCTED a 3 day workshop...NOT ATTENDED!" (snap a finger) Well in the end she said that I'm supposed to make up my mind and then get back to them. I guess my mind was made up when she said 3 years. If the scary Art Director wasn't blocking my way I would've fled from there right then and there.

After the disaster, Cute Ass in Tight Pants and I went for coffee to the Kala Ghoda cafe. He enlightened me- on how to dress for interviews, how to speak in interviews, how to praise your own arse wart confidently during interviews and most importantly how to make a C.V. Enlightening though it was, I'm afraid I didn't imbibe much of that because my attentions were wholly focussed on the delicious ham sandwich I was devouring at that moment. Though one thing I gathered, was that I definitely failed in all the above categories.

On my way home; once again on the train, I thought about my Euro trip in June plan that was slipping away further and further. I was beginning to get depressed. A list of eligible bachelors popped up in my head...HOLY CRAP Am I actually thinking of a marriage of convenience (an arranged marriage, in other words). But since my Saucy Minxie conscience runs this freak show, I snapped out of that terrifying line of thought pretty soon. The ipod starts to play 'Ocean breathes Salty' and my worries are carried away by that faithful fish smelling Bombay breeze.

As I lay in bed that night; just before I fell into my little dream world, I saw a life sized 1000 rupee bill wearing a tutu, wagging her finger at me and singing:

Well I guess you're a lazy fool

I could never be the right kind of girl for you

I could never be your woman.

I could never be your woman

I could never be your woman.

"Well, damn! Pricey Bitch!", I mumble sleepily....

Fashion, Sushi and A high state of mind

Woke up Friday morning. Have to go for the Lakme Fashion Week. What on earth do I wear? My cupboard resembles a war zone. I finally decide that Indian would do best. Who is going to bother competing with all that Gucci, Prada and Yves Saint Laurent! I spray my Nina Ricci and I'm out of the house. As usual running late. Half way to the Hyatt the damn rickshaw breaks down. My luck amuses me. I run; can feel my bottom jiggle, jump into another rickshaw and am on my way again. I'm already feeling like Ugly Betty. Surprisingly I reach only 5 minutes late. Rush into Chanthara's arm and the both of us, arms linked, walk to the 3rd show of the 1st day of the Lakme Fashion Week. We walk through hordes of women carrying Louis Vuitton, donning Versace and Gucci eyewear. A Jimmy Choo goes tik-tok-ing away. I do a double take. I feel like I'm in a zoo. So many things to look at. Oh and let's admit, I was quite intimidated too.

The show finally begins. I'm watching the models walk the ramp and suddenly I have another image in my head; that of people walking at Churchgate Station. I kid you not, it's the same look. The "I'm so bloody bored...Work sucks the life out of me...I didn't get any last night...another day of sucking up...what time is the next train?!" look. My hands are itching, wishing I had my camera with me. I think I'd really like to be up on that media podium someday. Show is over in 15 minutes. We walk out hoping we can get some booze off our passes. We don't find the damn effing lounge; so crankily we decide to take a walk around the hotel and then we come by a magnificent sight. KABIR fuckin BEDI is standing right by the elevators with a group of people including his daughter Pooja. Oh and is he a sight! I stopped right there and gawked at him like a 4 year old child who has just seen her first lollipop (no pun intended)!! I'd marry him in a second. That's all it would take. Sigh! Waited till he left the hotel and then followed him out. Gawking continues until a freaky huge white Yeti bumps into me and I almost let out a bloodcurdling scream, but instead I jumped back and my foot smashed into a nice pair of heels. Oh lord please forgive me...I might've just maimed a Manolo or a Choo. I apologised profusely and skedaddled away from there. Phew!

The evening was spent on Aarya's roof. Nic and Aarya watched the satellites while I flew. Armadillos were the topic of discussion. I felt like I was sitting in space, and there was this voice (the Nic drone) spouting off Did You Knows. It was amusing, interesting and well, I felt a little smarter in the end. Though I highly doubt I remember any of it now.

Saturday night dinner at Global Fusion. My first experience with Sushi and it was fabulous. I absolutely loved it. That divineness was followed by another flying session, on Nic's roof this time. Conversation flowed, the moon rose, we laughed, we inhaled, mosquitoes attacked, the moon rose some more, discussion turned to sex and I apparently pointed out how even picking my nose could be a sexual gesture to someone out there! Huh?!

Sunday afternoon, I find myself standing on a road in Dahisar. Everytime a car, truck, bus, bike pass by, I'm covered with an inch of dust. The bus that will deliver me to my doorstep refuses to show up, so I finally take a rickshaw home. Feels like I'm in another city. I thought Goregaon was far...try Dahisar! ( VVS...It's a trip you must take)

At six pm, I'm on a train, heading to Bandra; late again. The man to my left keeps squishing closer. My hands are literally all over my chest, protecting my bosoms from being pinched. Thankfully the seat opposite me is vacated and I plop my ass on it. I glance up at the 'squisher' and he actually looks disappointed. Haha! Take that dipshit! Madness descends as Bandra station comes into view. I'm getting off the train, but my hand is stuck between people. As I try to grab my hand away, I feel my beautiful Goa ring slip off my finger. My heart stops. I can feel tears pricking my eyes, feeling the loss of the ring that has seen me through so much. I wait for everyone to get off. Praying that it's not fallen on the tracks, I look into the train, and there it is...lying next to the pole. In seconds my hand reaches out and grabs 'my preciousssss' and I am happy again. Close call.

The rest of the evening was spent in dance practice for Chanthara's sangeet, a nice little gossip session with Ism and Sukhi, making next Sunday plans with Simzaa, and an auto ride with Nic and the Waarya. All in all, it was a weekend well spent. A break from lazying at home, reading fanfiction, pigging out and indulging in naughty fantasies.

Monday morning shall be spent, blurry eyed, watching the Oscars. A tradition that cannot be broken...which would've certainly been broken had Sukhi and Ism not reminded me. Sacrebleu!

The Fat Chronicles

Shivani: Shoaaaaaa

Make me thin

me: FUCK YOU

don't even talk about that with me!

Shivani: Hahahhahahaha

me: I've waited 10 yrs for someone to make ME thin

Where the fuck is that sodding Fat Fairy?! I find myself praying every night, not for peace or health or any of that dribble (since it never really works, anyway), but for waking up THIN. "Please let me wake up thin. Please! How hard is it to make someone thin overnight?! Oh come on...stop with the excuses! You aren't really doing much for the world anyway...You've literally left us to eat each other (and not even in a 'pleasurable' way, if I may note)...Then why can't you just MAKE ME THIN?!" Then I fall asleep. I dream of adventures with the Golden Trio and of having wild, passionate, angry sex with a Slytherin Sex God and then just when I'm in the middle of some exciting stuff... I'm woken, by my dear Mum; who is busy yelling about how it is two in the effing afternoon! I open my crusty, lusty eyes and look down at myself. And bugger me! I'm NOT BLOODY THIN!

Men think about sex every second minute of their lives, or so I've been told. And women, you ask?! Women think of losing those blasted kgs...sometimes even nonexistent kgs! I'd rather think about sex all the time, to tell you the truth. And come to think of it...I think I do...which is probably why I've got 2 bellies, an ass the size of Antartica and bazookas that I'm too afraid of flaunting...and who could forget the thundering thighs! Last night, a conversation with a cute little white boy (who I'm actually growing quite fond of...) informed me that some men like their women 'saftig' ...which actually means 'juicy'. That, is a slight relief! So Shivani; and my many other sweet darling women, would you rather be the fluffy Cotton candy or the size zero stick that holds the cotton candy?

I could say proudly that I'd be the Cotton candy, but I'd be joshing myself. Perhaps that would make me androgynous...since I'd be thinking about sex AND losing weight every second minute of my life. It's a wonder my brain still functions even half as normally as it does.

It's been 10 years in this body. We have had a wonderful journey. We've made great friends, and flirted with many unsuspecting young lads and even spanked their juicy- in most cases, toned- behinds. We've held our head high, we've never backed down from a fight. Even when disgusting Indian men from local trains have yelled "Moti" at us, while we pass them by, we've turned around proudly and flipped them off, and beautiful words like "Gaandu madarchod" have effortlessly left our luscious lips. But now...now the time has come to get down to some yoga and shed perhaps some of that juiciness. We'd like to be juicy strawberries instead of juicy watermelons, right?!

Fat fairies, like the tooth fairy and dear old Santa, do exist. They probably just don't visit India as much as we'd like. So I guess we'll have to fend for ourselves eh! And our Father who art in Heaven, is probably a tad bit busy creating all those vile little creatures who grow up to be Us... So I guess it's about time we gave the poor Almighty a break.

So bring on the yoga bitch...let's get some curves back into this body!!!

(Ism... thanks for the inspiration. You're a cutie!)

Tuesday Nonsense

It's a hot tuesday evening and here I am lounging in my jammies, which I've been in since last night. Spent my day sending out my resume; begging people to provide me with an income. Had inane conversations with several people online and played agony aunt to young Adhishree. I do miss the torturous years of adolescence with all it's drama and angsty poetry. Growing pains!

Well, as the evening went by, I picked up my Stephen Fry and fell into fits of laughter. Wonder what he's doing right now...probably "jacking into the mattress" in some part of London. Brit humour is something precious. Wonderfully crass. Filthy and funny. I wonder what it would be like to romance someone like Stephen Fry. Definitely, interesting!

Incubus plays on a loop on my itunes. I shut my eyes, and I can feel the ocean breeze on my face, the smell of the sea assaulting my nose, the wet sand squishing between my toes. Black velvet with little diamonds sparkling. Phantom arms around my waist, hot breath fanning the side of my face...

The world's a roller coaster
And I am not strapped in
Maybe I should hold with care
But my hands are busy in the air saying:

I wish you were here
I wish you were

Goa is calling. Must go. Soon.

Dinner awaits and the father yells. I miss the mummy. Things are so much nicer and calmer when she's around. Don't think I'll be encouraging any more of her 2-3 week trips.

Will probably end the day with some smutty fanfiction. Hmm...finally something to look forward to ;)