The Chase

This is something Muggle Muffin and I wrote together a long time ago. Now she's gone to France to hang out with her own Mr. Hot Corner Dude/ husband and this is left incomplete. Maybe I'll continue it someday, if by some miracle, I find a muse.

This is for you Bee.

The Chase:

She stretched mournfully and let out a long, tediously forced sigh. No reaction. Zilch. Nada. Nothing at all. He was in the exact same spot as two minutes ago, crouched over his MacBook, confused about Holy Hell knows what. She looked over at him, at the far end of the cafeteria. So, basically, none of her supposed 'sexy' histrionics had resulted in even a murmur of attention. Shaarya was getting tired of this hide-and-seek. Why couldn't he give her even the tiniest of reactions? Just munch quietly into his cookie and look at her and smile? She would die a happy camper. She remembered him from her dream the earlier night; as the rain pounded on the window-shutter; and their conversations grew into a building crescendo of energy. She'd woken up with a tickle in her brain and a pattering in her heart. A 'Ten with a brain', as someone had once described this particular sub-species of Male, and what she wouldn't do to get on the inside with this hottie. The boy of her dreams, literally, with not even an ounce of interest in her. Yet. No wonder she was confused about faith and the whole God business. She thought back on what her Philosophy professor from college had once said. "God is the figment of a weak man's imagination." Or was that Freud? Well, pish-tosh, figment or not, this proverbial 'God' seemed not to like her very much, what with him letting her scourge her every heartbeat on Mr.Hot Corner Dude. And she didn't even know his name, she realised with a tiny jolt. But then again, she would try again tomorrow. Faint heart never won fair lady, and the tables were certain to turn in her favour some day. After all, feminism wasn't just for Sister Orgasm's classes! Till then, she would chase. Because the chase was pretty damn good for now, the thin red line between dreams and reality fast blurring into nothingness. She wondered when she would wake up.

Chapter 2
Morning people are an anomaly. Sure it’s a new day, possibly even a beautiful day. But waking up to find out that that phenomenally sizzling kiss was only a dream is just infuriating! Mr. Hot Corner Dude was still on her mind. He had built a mansion in her brain and refused to share the space with a single other thought. She spent a few minutes lying in bed, wishing she could turn dreams into reality or reality into dreams. Whichever works!
As usual, she was running late. She had to make a presentation for her Photojournalism class. The white satchel kept slipping off her shoulder, while she tried to arrange the papers in her hands and to make things even more difficult the angry breeze blew her hair all over her face. The levels of frustration were rising rapidly. “I hate you Morning!” she muttered, while almost running towards her class. Suddenly, BAM, she collided into something and was falling backwards, the papers flying all around her. It was all in slow motion, just like in the movies. She felt warm hands grabbing both her forearms and pulling her back to her feet. She found her bearings in no time and looked up to see the owner of those warm, strong hands. MR. HOT CORNER DUDE. Shit! Shit, shit! She was a mess, she was embarrassed, she was blushing, and she was LATE. This morning couldn’t possible get worse. Could it?
“Are you okay?” he said. His voice made her legs jelly and the butterflies were like enemy soldiers causing utter havoc in her belly. She stared at him, her eyes concentrated on his lips, remembering the sizzling kiss that never happened. He was speaking to her again, looking concerned now. After a few more seconds she came out of her first daydream of the day to answer him. “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks!” He helped her gather the fallen papers and after handing them to her he smiled, turned around and walked away.
That’s it?! He just walks away. No conversation. Nothing. Ugh! Men are exasperating. Feeling dejected she walked towards her class. The professor berated her for being late and then asked her to give her presentation. She had worked so hard on this presentation but Mr. Kiss me in my Dreams totally ruined her mood and enthusiasm. She doesn’t even know this guy and yet he has this power over her, she mused. She was pretty confident that no man could ever have such intense power over her. And no man ever had. Until now! Until last evening in the cafeteria! It took him all of one day to house himself in her brain and her heart. Every fibre of her being was on fire when she saw him yesterday. How is that possible? Who is he? The whole ordeal was beginning to upset her. She wasn’t used to being so out of control of her emotions.
She finally ended the raging battle in her head and concentrated on her presentation. She had chosen Robert Capa and her presentation was a slideshow of his most captivating photographs with Wilfred Owen’s poetry recited in the background. She was quite proud of it and even got praise from the professor as well as a thundering applause. She had no idea that a pair of eyes was watching her in admiration and those kissable lips she had dreamed of were smiling. Back in her seat, her thoughts drifted away from the class and she turned to look out the window. The sun was still high up in the sky and it was still morning. Not bad, she thought. “Mornings!” she chuckled.
Considering she hadn’t had a morsel to eat since she woke up she headed straight to the cafeteria. After purchasing a plate of pancakes she sat down on her table. She always sat at that table, it had become her corner, where she pondered over things and found solace. Somehow it was always available when she came to the cafeteria. A happy sigh escaped her after she took her first bite of the pancake. Pancakes with chocolate always did that to her. That was the thing about food…it never disappoints. It always makes you happy and satisfied. It can’t reject you or ignore you. And it’s always ‘available’, almost always. This train of thought obviously traveled to the mystery man who made her insides squirm in delight. She munched furiously and stabbed her pancake as anger at her unusual behavior escalated. Where was he even from? She had never seen him before yesterday and she had been here for a month. Ugh! Just stop thinking about him. Stop it. Now.
The more you want to stop thinking about something or someone, the more your mind concentrates on that thing. It’s like when you’re meditating and you have to wipe every thought out of your mind, but you just can’t. You try to look at that flickering candle flame in your mind, but the candle flame quickly transforms into the face of someone you were thinking about or food you feel like eating or the book you just read. That’s the mind. Constantly in motion, drifting from one thought to the other, candle flame all but forgotten. So when she looked up from her tortured pancake, the first thing her eyes landed on were him. This cannot be happening to me, she silently yelled. But then something happened that made her heart stop and her abdomen pained with the flurry of butterflies. He had just smiled at her. And before she could react she saw him get out of his chair and walk towards her.

The Duet

The rain outside my window, the guitar and trumpet making sweet music, and thoughts of the trips I have yet to make, take me to a place I call happiness. One of the reasons I love the rains (when I'm indoors) is because of the atmosphere it creates. It makes you want to curl into your blanket, put on some soul music, sip on some chai and just reflect on life. It could be disastrous, in case your life isn't at the best place but otherwise you journey to happy memories, and daydream to the sound of rain. It's that time of the year when I always decide to do the things I've always wanted to. To change things about myself I've wanted to change. To be that person I've wanted to be.

And in the spring I shed my skin

And it blows away with the changing wind.

But I'm afraid those are things that take place in my head and never really materialize. And that's when you realise that the person you want to be is already there...you're just too busy looking for her that you don't notice her presence. That might be a good thing though, because that's what keeps you alive and hungry...the journey to find yourself. It's the one thing we all do at some point in our lives. Go on a trip, meditate, go to a shrink, lose weight- all because we think we might find ourselves as a result.

Here I am, a rabbit hearted girl

Frozen in the headlights.

Sometimes I feel my real self is living her life in my dreams. My dreams are the most fantastic place to be. The things I've seen, the places I've been, the people I've met, the things I've done. It's that person that I recognize. Not the person in the here and now so much. It's Saucy that lives the life I want to live. Need to figure out asap how to unite Saucy minx and myself. I've done a fair share of things that Saucy would be proud of...but there's a lot more. And the good thing is, that there's a lot of time to do it all.

I must become a lion hearted girl

Ready for a fight.

There are 2 people in everyone! Saucy and I would like an Iker each.

The Return of Saucy

I haven't abandoned you. I've just been in an alternate universe called reality, where we actually work to make money. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about! I've missed writing here though. Thoroughly. So much has happened. And now it's all blurry. All that's left are thoughts, memories and indescribable feelings.

It's been more than a month since I've been working on a documentary on arranged marriages and the more I get into it...the more scary the idea of marriage seems. I've always wanted to be married and have a house full of snotty, annoying, adorable kids; but now I'm not sure if I'm ready for it. Have you noticed though, that every time you're unsure about something...that something is what you end up doing. It's that whole "things happen when you least expect them to" theory. Scary! But anyway, this whole documentary has been fun, considering I've been to a mass wedding where 11 couples got married on the same stage and the food for 7000 people was cooked under a shed in the most unhygienic way possible. And another mass wedding where 4 brothers got married and the wedding was shot like a super expensive TV serial with jimmy jibs swaying this way and that AND an online editing system. Seriously! I was flabbergasted! And then we shot at a Catholic wedding where the couple renewed their vows after 25 years. It was a fun party with lots of wine, cake and merriment.

It's funny how I'm hardly home these days, and I find myself stealing time to read some fanfiction or watch my favourite shows. Shivani joked the other day about how I'm working later than she is...and that girl works like a mad woman. I don't recognize the life I've been living the past month and half. But I'm not complaining. I haven't had the time for a lot of things, and a lot of people, but there's this feeling of satisfaction and I don't feel incompetent any more. And the best part is...I work with two of the coolest women I know. They've been the best bosses so far.

Last weekend Muggle muffin and Thumbelino got married. It's been something I've been excited about from the start and to see them get married made me unbelievably happy. Their's, is a fairytale I'd like to see happening to me too. I hope to grow old and gray with them, and share more insane memories with them. They make me believe in love a little bit more now. Disclaimer- It could happen to you too :)

Then I had the post wedding blues. I went into that nasty little shell, where I started worrying about how I'd never find anyone and I'd be that lonely old cat lady with my worn out dildo, that I keep joking about. I was so blue that when I found this little diamond ring abandoned in my drawer, I picked it up, slipped it onto my ring finger and decided that I wanted to feel engaged. And then I laughed. Is this really ME? No way! It felt good though, in a weird way, wearing that ring and imagining being engaged to someone. But I realise now, it's not so much about being engaged or married. It's just about having that one person in your life that makes it a little extra special. I guess it's going to take me a long long long time to find that person, and I hope he'll be worth the wait. Till then I'll just watch FIFA and drool over the men.

FIFA always makes me happy. It's the only time I watch football, or any sport for that matter. I've watched pretty much every match...and by now I'm so confused that I don't know which player belongs to which team. It's been an interesting year for Fifa, considering all the top teams are playing like amateurs and all the underdogs are ruling the field. And the men...oh the men only get hotter every bloody time. I love watching the game with my Mum, simply because I think she checks out the men as much as I do.

Speaking of Fifa, I've missed about 20 minutes of the Spain-Chile game, since I've been here writing this. Must go. Villa just scored the most insane goal of the World Cup!!!!

I hope I'm back here soon with interesting things to tell. Au revoir!

A nasty thing called Love

Love is not patient, love is not kind. It does envy, it does boast, it is proud. It can be rude, it is self-seeking, it is very easily angered, it definitely keeps record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth but also likes to twist it. It always protects (too much perhaps- read: possessive), always trusts (not), always hopes, always perseveres (yeah, right!).

I'm not being cynical or anything. I am one of those hopeless romantics, in case you've forgotten. But this is what love is like. All the clichés prove it. For example, 'Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies'. Now just imagine that...that's a real pain in the ass. It's like sharing your room with your sibling; and we all know how annoying that can get. Perhaps that is the reason divorce rates skyrocket every year. Or, 'You only hurt the one you love'. Just peachy! You'd think, falling in love would solve a lot of your problems. But darlin', don't be naive! Love is the problem. Aerosmith said it best, "Falling in love is so hard on the knees." With all that falling, begging, proposing; the knees are bound to suffer, along with that poor, foolish heart.

History shows how destructive love can be. Paris' greedy "love" for Helen resulted in the destruction of Troy. Romeo and Juliet showed us how foolish and impatient love is. If Romeo had only waited a few minutes before stabbing himself oh-so-brutally with his knife, he would've had the pleasure of loving Juliet for the rest of his life. Silly, impatient love! Just today in fact, there's an article about a 53 year old man in Glasgow found guilty of killing his wife, whom he had married for the SECOND time, just seven months before he stabbed her cruelly. The reason: he was jealous of his wife's friendship with her former lover. Angry, unkind, envious, possessive and non trusting love! Hmph!

Love, my friends, is a battlefield. You can only come out broken, battered and bruised. You set yourself up for your own destruction. You open your heart to this stupid person, who enters your stupid life and sweeps you off your wobbly feet, with a kiss or some pretty words. Love is fickle; so beware, the itinerary is prone to changing. One minute you're soaking up the sun in Miami, and in the next you find yourself floating above the Bermuda triangle. Lost. There's no way around it. If you want to fall in love, you've got to go through the motions. C'est la fuckin vie!

But don't you worry...when Love rips you apart, your friends will stitch you up. "Friends are like condoms. They protect you when things get hard". And boy, do they get rock hard! They'll pacify you and remind you that there are plenty of fish in the sea (not that I've ever understood what fish have to do with my irreparably broken heart). They'll tell you that you're too good for the evil person who broke your heart (what a solid ego boost!). They'll hand out the tissues and bring out the beer. They'll make you laugh and convince you to never give up on love. Don't mind them. They haven't been where you've been. Or if they have, they're just as convinced as you are that Love will save them one day. But, when you have your friends, you'll never be alone. So if you insist on getting on the roller coaster called love, make sure you've got a friend riding along.

An Ode to the Penis Bearer

An Ode to the Penis Bearer.

Thou art a marvellous being,

Blessed with an endowment that sees only victory.

A whim or a fancy,

You receive what you please.

Respect, freely comes your way,

No need to earn it, no need to care.

Oh Penis bearer,

Your every wish is my command.

I'll lay naked at your behest,

Stripped of my will, my honour, my self-respect.

I am woman,

And I've been told,

That only a good blow would get me anywhere I chose.

Your existence is convenient.

No monthly bloodbath,

Or the pain of your vagina being torn apart.

You can stick that stick in as many as you please,

But if I do, I'm a whore.

Oh great Penis Bearer,

I bow to the power you hold.

Even the heavens are in your favour,

You ask and they will pour.

But beware,

I am woman, and I will avenge.

You might control my body,

You may even thrust and torture.

But you shall never control my heart, my mind, my soul.

Oh Penis Bearer,

I am woman, and I have given you plenty a chance,

To have and cherish my heart.

But you, you sir, have raped and pillaged it instead.

Worry not, I shall avenge.

I need no heaven, I need no god.

I am woman, you begin and you shall end,

By my hands.

Oh Penis Bearer,

Thou shalt never be worthy of a single tear

Or the precious heart I hold within.

Thou shalt never be my soul's bearer

Or receive my magical strength.

I shall use you,

To quench the thirst of my loins.

I shall seduce you,

With my supple lips and my buxom beauty.

I shall destroy you,

With my love.

Oh Penis Bearer,

I wish you were kinder.

I wish you understood.

I wish you didn't treat me like a fool.

My only hope is,

That I can find,

Even a single one of your Penis Bearer kind,

That could actually deserve Me, my heart, my soul and my mind.

Of buses, passports and men

To: Aarya

From: Shoa

Sent:10.01 am

29-04-2010

"My heart is bursting with joy n my loins are burning with lust. My hot bus boy is here! What are the chances man?! Could he be my one and only?"

The hunter in me has sniffed out new places to find the perfect prey. Who would've thought that Bombay's most eligible bachelors would travel by the AC bus?! And who would've thought that there would come a day when I'd be a happy little chirpy monkey at 8.30 in the morning!

It all began two weeks ago. At 8 am I was at the bus stop, grumpy and bleary eyed, waiting for the AS 4 to arrive. At 8.30 am, the most gorgeous Indian Male got into the bus. At 8.31 am, he gave the most heart racing, belly aching smile to...the conductor. At 8.32 am, I knew I was in love. The entire bus ride to the Passport office, I had my neck craned behind so that I could keep my eyes trained on him. It was an hour well spent. My day was looking bright and splendid, until I got off the bus. And then it went downhill pretty fast. The bastards at the Passport office told me to go home and register online. So my whole trip, if not for the 'most gorgeous Indian Male', would've been a total waste.

My appointment fell on the 29th of April, and I had to take the later bus, so I had no hopes of seeing my sexy bus boy. I entertained myself with some soul music and continued my dreaming from the previous night. The bus stopped and my eyes moved to the door and I held my breath. The 'most gorgeous Indian Male' had just stepped onto the bus!! There were fireworks in my mind. I was convinced this was fate, destiny, KISMET! I was smiling with glee and the woman seated next to me looked at me suspiciously. I continued to stare at him shamelessly while imagining our 'serendipity' style romance. I gave him a lascivious look before I got off the bus at the Passport office, hoping that we would cross paths again.

Once again, my day went downhill from there. The Passport Office is hell on earth. I braved five hours of mind torture, annoyance, sleep deprivation, anger, irritation, and hunger. The Devil's minions that run this office are sadistic pissers. They are condescending little shits that talk down to you and bask in your misery. They're dementors in human form that suck every little happy thought from your soul. They're downright EVIL! But thankfully, my work was done and I could escape by late afternoon.

The day started to look bright again when my beautiful curly haired angel, Aarya made me a nice cup of tea and fed me bread with blue cheese and the most delcious and juicy frozen mango. A few hours were spent lounging about, talking and laughing. Then came another disaster. As I was walking out of Bandra station I was stopped by the Ticket Checkers. For some reason, I knew I was doomed...and indeed I was. The ticket would've cost me Rs. 6, but I had forgotten to get a 1rupee coupon punched. I started to cry. It was pretty involuntary. I'm guessing it was the stress of the day, and the lack of sleep. But I cried...and how! Those idiot TCs asked me to move to the side and search my bag 'properly' for something I knew I wouldn't find. I cried harder. Every passer by would stop and stare at me. But I cried, blatantly, tears speeding down my cheeks. I looked to the right, tried to see if I could make a run for it. Then I figured, that a woman's tears can accomplish anything, so I went up to the TC and told him I couldn't find the ticket, hiccuping away. I really didn't want to waste Rs. 150 for a 1 rupee coupon. No way Jose! My finances are at their lowest low right now. I really couldn't bare it. That thought made me cry harder. The TC began to freak out...and in hushed tones, told me to go. I thanked him profusely, making sure I still had tears pooling in my eyes. I walked away, towards the rickshaw stand, and the minute I was far away, I started laughing, thunderously. I laughed and cried, and the hawkers nearby thought I was stark raving mad. I jumped into a rickshaw and made my way to Carter road. Finally my day was going back to normal. The thought of 'sexy bus boy' made me smile once again and I was on my way to getting my 'happy' back!

I'm actually hoping I have something else to do in south bombay this week so I can catch another morning bus and maybe this time I'll pass 'Sexy bus boy' a 10 rupee note with my name and number on it. So all you townies, you could totally take advantage of this situation.

And ladies, there are good looking men in Bombay, so don't give up hope yet. Just get your bootylicious selves into the next AC bus and you might just get lucky.

Reminiscing the Funny

For weeks now, I've been trying to come up with something to write about, so as to entertain my hardworking friends, who slave all day long, while I fart away happily into the same chair that is literally glued to the computer table. While I was browsing my brain for 'interesting' things to write about, I came across funny little memories and stories that have made me laugh everytime I stumble upon them. So, I decided to be an upstanding citizen and compiled a few of these stories that I hope would bring some much needed laughter in your lives.

Every summer in Hyderabad was filled with fun, laughter and moments that I cherish to this day. We would spend half the holidays with my paternal grandparents and the rest with the maternal side. Both households provided us with incredibly hilarious memories. During the stay at my paternal grandparents house, my brother and I would spend a lot of time in the house next door with our second cousins. My grandmother had (infact, she still does) this habit to wash the tap before she washed her hands and then once she washed her hands she would wash the tap again. OCD at it's funniest best. The thing was...she made us do it too. So everytime we went anyhere near the sink, she would pop out of nowhere and chant, "Haath dho, tooti dho, haath dho" (Wash your hands, wash the tap, wash your hands). It would make us laugh everytime, without fail. She'd be standing over our heads and we'd be snickering away. I remember how we used to open doors with our feet, because the moment our hands touched the door frame or knob, our grandmother would know and would make us wash our hands. It's a miracle that our hands aren't all wrinkly by now. So everytime we hung out with our cousins, the 6 or 7 of us would be running around the room chanting, with all the strength of our larynxes, "Haath dho, tooti dho, haath dho". We even came up with a little dance. I wonder if our grandmother, in the next house, ever heard us. Till this day, everytime the cousins get together, we laugh about it. And my grandmother is still at it, and we love her for it!

My maternal grandmother was a rockstar. She was an extraordinary mimic and parties were thrown just so everyone could get together to watch her mimicry. Those were the good times. And I have countless funny memories of my grandma. She reminds me of myself, a lot actually. She did things that really cracked people up. Dinner was a big affair at my grandparents' place. After dinner, all the cousins would sit around and chat away into the night. One night, as everyone was sprawled around after a delicious Hyderabadi meal, my grandma spotted, what she thought was a cardamom seed on the dinner table. She picks it up and says, "Aiyo, elaichi ka dana pada hai idhar"(Oh! There's a cardamom seed lying here), and she pops it into her mouth before anyone could stop her. Soon enough she realised that it wasn't a cardamom seed, but lizard shit. Of course there were peals of laughter, and stomachs hurt for days after the incident. She always knew how to make us laugh, even involuntarily.

My mother has her moments too. She makes hillarious comments during movies that have us peeing our pants, and her storytelling technique is side-splitting. And I have a feeling it had something to do with an incident that happened when she was about 4 years old. My Uncle Jazz who was around 6 years old at the time had had enough of seeing the adults downing all the beer and not offering him any. When the parents went out for a lunch party, Uncle Jazz found some beer bottles and convinced my Mum to drink along with him. A couple of hours later, my grandparents returned to find Uncle Jazz and Mum, in their knickers, sprawled on the floor with empty bottles of beer all around them. I've often wished I was there to witness that.

This same Uncle would get super excited everytime he would hear the drums of a funeral procession. He would sprint out of the house and follow the procession. The people at the procession would throw coins and murmura (crispy puffed rice) over the dead body. And dear Uncle Jazz would pick up the coins and the murmura and fill his pockets up to the brim. Then he would swoop some more murmura in his hands and return home munching on it. His day was made, everytime some poor soul had an appointment with the Maker.

I'm beginning to understand now where all my stupidity and crazy behaviour might have come from. My dad's sister was probably the most notorious person in my entire family. The things she did put me to shame, but I've tried to follow in her footsteps the best I can. She hated studying and would do anything to avoid class tests. So one day she decided she simply had to get the damn test cancelled. She made her way to the chemistry lab and stole some hydrogen sulphide. Once she was in class, she threw it around and soon enough the class started smelling of rotten eggs. The test was cancelled, the kids were thrilled and my aunt was a success. Until Sister Anne (the class teacher) realised that only my aunt could've been behind the Rotten Egg incident. "There's a nasty spirit in the class", Sister Anne proclaims. My aunt looks up with a cheeky grin, knowing fully that she had just landed herself in big trouble. And even now, she relates the incident with a twinkle of pride in her eyes.

Schools and tests remind me of something my brother did once. The final exams were coming soon and my dad felt the need to have a little chat with my brother, "Talib, I want you to pass with flying colours". My brother nodded enthusiastically and then went into his room. A few minutes later he came out holding a bunch of sketch pens. Our attention is solely on him, waiting for him to say something. He throws the sketch pens in the air and turns to my dad, "There you go, your flying colours, now all I need to do is pass". I think that was perhaps my brother's only moment of ingeniousness.

My friend Nicolas was quite the naughty one growing up. And all his mischievousness was directed towards his little brother Damien. One fine morning he stripped Damien of all his clothes and pushed him out of the main door, naked as the day he was born. Poor Damien begs his brother to let him in, but Nic shows no mercy. Damien finds a potted plant and tries to cover himself from straying eyes. A while later, the postman shows up. The postman sees little Damien trying to cover his nakedness behind the plant and really wants to help the poor kid, but doesn't really want to have anything to do with a naked child. So there, on the porch of the Chevaillier home, stand the postman and bare-assed Damien. Nic watches the entire thing from inside his house, laughing mirthfully at his mischief. I think it's about time Damien got back! Watch out Nicky :)

Another story of nudity and laughter was relayed to me by my dear old friend, Vader. Vader was visiting his friends in Delhi during the summer break. Please remember, this is a bunch of pubescent boys and they could never be up to any good. Vader's friend tells him that he had recently spied a very hot, slightly older girl showering in the house next door. They decide to go on a little quest of sexual satisfaction. Under the cover of night, the boys climb ladders and roofs and finally find a good spot from where they could watch the sexy girl lather and wash herself. The boys shivering with anticipation, eyes shining with unadulterated lust, palms sweating with excitement, and weenies twitching with glee, wait for the luscious beauty to arrive. The door opens, the boys hold their breath. In walks, an old lady with a massive behind. There is an audible sigh, and it's a good thing the old are usually deaf. Vader and his boys hope that the old lady would do her job and leave soon, so that her more appealing grand-daughter could come in for her nightly shower. The horny little buggers had no idea what was in store for them. "Phhqqwaaashhhh", the sound of a big turd splashing echoed in the bathroom. Vader and his friends, wide-eyed and shocked beyond belief, scarred forever; covered their mouths and noses. The Granny farted some more, washed her ass and left; the bathroom was reeking of mojo killing scent. Vader and the boys fled from there, never to return, worried that this incident would kill their every uplifting moment. Damn the bathing beauty!

For me, these stories are the best way to remember people. I might have not been there, but the imagination is a powerful thing and to imagine these people that I love and adore, in these extremely hilarious situations, always brings a smile to my face. Unfortunately, I never remember the crazy shit I did back then...but others do, and that's how they seem to remember me.