Knock, knock

Picked up the nameplate for my apartment from this squat old man who sits near my office at Fort. He has a tiny detachable-retractable stall, and it's clustered with NO TRESSPASSING, Dr Shyam Ahuja, MBBS; Flat 207 KHANDELWALS, and DO NOT DISTURBs screaming out in the busy road. I knew what I wanted: something simple in brass or copper, simple sheen, with my name and my flatmate's in nice big capital letters.

Of course my poor mother, who's already quite flabbergasted at me 'living with a woman', as she puts it, will be quite stunned, shocked, horrified, morified, terrified when she sees the sign this December. *groan*

Chick-lit Fan

Books on my shelf again, two which seemed kind-a familiar. Read DevilWearsPrada first, after seeing the movie. Was with Rajat, trying to shop for a birthday for his nephew, and instead I picked up Weisberger's matinee hit work. The book was loads different from the movie though - Andrea was much more whiny - not a change which you appreciate at first, when you start reading the book after having seen the movie, but then the book drawns you in, nonetheless. Has its own charm.

And then there's Diary of a Married Call Girl. Thought I'd identify with it *grin*, thought I'd laugh with it - but not really my kind of book. I'm a mushy-sappy creature at heart - and this book... just isn't. It prioritises the Job over all else. And I don't get that. So, even though I finished the book, and was glad that the call girl was not getting divorced in the end (at least for some time), I was glad it was over and I could pack it right back in the shelf.

Makes for a pretty picture, though. :)

Cafe By the Sea

This was a pic that was a mistake. Sharon fumbling with the digicam, trying to take a self-snap, and then her fingers got in the way when she clicked on the shutter button. Instant Coffee Karma pic, is what I call this one.

That was the day I met Sharon for coffee, the last time before she left for Delhi. Not exactly the Lower Parel Barista, where we've spent sooooooooo much time, but what the heck, she still managed to look pretty, bat eyelashes and flirt with the waiter. :) I almost did the same. So, while she accused me of losing my knack of taking the best photographs of her (all through the Delhi and Chennai years), I took this one down there.

And of course, she returned the favour, and there was one of me, twiddling my thumbs.

Frand-sip

I love my friends. OK, so that's a moronic line to actually say, let alone write down. But they get me through a lot. I get through a lot with the help of my friends. There was a song like that, right? I get by with a li'l help from my friends...


Now if only they would look a little less outraged... *grin*

Hard Rock Hotel

I've been a fan of Madge ever since I can remember. I used to have the cassettes of her very first albums, straight from the 'Holiday' days, graduating to 'True Blue' and 'Like a Virgin' and then 'Like a Prayer' and I even did a 'Bedtime Story'. I was reduced to opera-like tears when I heard her rendition of Don't Cry For Me Argentina... and I was giggling in bubblegum glee when she went all Material Girl. Madge is the Indisputable Queen of Pop - I am sooooooo Hung Up on her! :)

This was then the (very blurry) Hall of Fame at the Hard Rock Cafe, of which Madge is a part - together with Bono and who I think is a very young Billy Idol up there. The occassion was the birthday party of a dear little boy, so the rest of us dear little boys decided to go and drink ourselves silly in a way that our dear little mothers would surely have disapproved. And I was also taking dear little drunken photographs of the gigantic arty-farty chandelier that was hanging from the reeeeeaaalllly high ceiling - a bit of artful photoshop strokes and filters and here you have a suitably arty-farty blemished representation of the same -


And then of course, there was the very surreal snap of the Alice Cooper outfit - note to self: must wear a tuz over leather pants and vest at next basement S&M party. Nothing else will do.


Hard Rock Review:
The place is completely fantastic - great music that keeps you jiving at the bar for hours with your drink, even though the seating area may be full. Little chance of that happening though - the place is huge, situated as it is in an absolutely cavernous erstwhile mill in Worli - and chances are, you'll be telling the head steward to postpone your table reservation for just a feeeewwww minutes more while you keep on rocking at the bar. The decor is very TGIF - but bigger and better, with loads of rock and pop memorabilia strung around The prices are on the higher side (just like TGIF) but seems worth it. And if you're a sap for old world goofiness, you have the entire band of waiters getting up on the bar space and dancing to Y-M-C-A. A rip-roaring time!

Her Highness

So yes, after the pushy bitch decided to barge in, I decided to call her Piggy (pronounced: pi-jee). There she sits all day long, and thankfully, none of my clothes have been soiled yet. Friend of mine at work suggested I name her Penny, but that's more of a magpie name, isn't it? So, she remains: Piggy the Pigeon.

Kumbhakarni

My flat mate sleeps. Sleeps. Most of the day. And on the one-off chance that she's awake, she's glued in front of her laptop, downloading/reading/watching movies yadayadayada. Actually, she's up most nights doing this - that explains her comatose state in the morning.

I hate that nightdress!

Jhanda

Seen in the picture:
1. miniature flag - stolen from office of job no. 2, after the cheapskates refused to give a holiday for Independence Day.
2. Bausch & Lomb contact lens solution for my eyes.
3. framed print of some famous picture, obtained free of cost from an art auction press conference during the journo days. It was a Neville Tuli event, and the prices were simply staggering.
4. books: Jamie O'Neill's At Swim, Two Boys and Suketu Mehta's Maximum City. Read and loved Suketu - yet to start on O'Neill.
5. plug from my standing mashaal/garden lamp, which I've put up in a corner of my bedroom.
6. birthday card I received from brother darling, earlier this year. Yes, it's mushy.

Chinese Glass

China Gate at the new Atria Mall here in Bombay has these beautiful rectangular glass columns, extending all the way from the ceiling to the floor. They're meant to serve as a foil for the lights at the base - the net effect is brilliant.

Sunday afternoon lunch with the brother, and I coaxed him to order honey chicken - which he hates! In retaliation, he ordered the Schezuan fried rice - which was H O T. Didn't mind too much, since we cooled down afterwards with gelato. :)

Through the Looking Glass

This blog starts here. So that's the cutomary Self Photo Through the Looking Glass. Of course, courtesy the 10 second timer button, I'm capable of much cuter self snaps, but what-the-hell, felt that the first post deserved something cheesy like this.