there’s a gorgeous,dishy kinda guy who i just found out about y’day. i really need to watch the telly more often.
he’s this hunka-hunka burning lurve god called matthew goode.
spent quite a bitta time weaving dreams about him…mike are you listening?
was mooning over someone else and then boom! gayab,gone,choley gechhey!!!
took a break after a long long time (read- jan this year) and it was fun…on the way to b’lore,the Good Samaritan (pbuh) alternately slept like a log (i mean a LOG) or he laffed showing white teeth in the dark or gappa-marofyed with me and then said abruptly,”ok,sleep time. bye bye”.
on reaching b’lore another scene unfolded. nostalgia arose from the street corners,from the colleges where the chiknas i used to look askance at studied,from the inevitable squabble with the autoguy down to the oh-so-senti places of the not-so-misspent youth.
b’lore always been a place i could get back to, to recharge myself. made the best friends in life there,met the most memorable (read-namoonas also) there,spent blissful,often clandestine hours at nooks&crannies and also had those revelations about moi and what propels moi to do those typically moi-things.
the weekend was a typical gals’ weekend where my friend very conveniently forgot she was married and had a hubby waiting at home and we went on bitching about the “kids” at ccd….we were them once! about the chiknas,the goras, the bikewalas( who always lose out before their machines in terms of their own looks) and the late nite wino session which ended with tauba-tauba fotos and hangovers the morning after.
poor pal’s hubby was banished from the boudoir and had to make do with the guest room ‘s not so comfy mattress but the prospect of someone else tackling his mehebooba’s looniness for a weekend dint go amiss with him either.
have always been getting heavy rains the moment i’m to leave b’lore. last nite the lights went off too and the cab guy refused to come also leading me to wade out into the dark and hoping that the only creepy crawlies i’d meet would be those hobos in the park…
finally made it to the bus with the miyaa-biwi discoursing (read it for what i’m not saying)about the best routes to take and why the autowala are pukka a*******, you know the usual loving banter a newly-married couple engages in.
they got me in the bus,waved bye byes and left me to the mercy of a travelling partner who pulled her blanket over her head the moment she got on the bus,sniffled over the fone to some guy with a NICE deep voice and cried in a manner that was supposed to rouse the undead but since she was whispering,i guess it was O-K!
got home to the loving family only to have my pater wax on eloquently on how quiet and clean the house was all weekend and how he’d have to burn another hole in his pocket to get some alone time with his missus coz i wudnt be leaving the house that regularly…get a room!!! sheesh!