This post is more than 13 years old and when I was apparently going through an e.e.cummings phase:
the last 2 days have been quite a lot of fun. reason? took my parents shopping. it went something like this- Me-ma why are you eyeing that suit ka kapda? you want it? Ma-na re. expensive and i dont really need it now( eyeing it summore) Me-mum! stop ogling it already and take it. Ma-noooo. i dont need it now…have enough suits. Me-but you dont have this color, oh lord! wait, i’ll get the drool bucket! Ma-beshi bokish na( zyaada mat bolo!) but the color does catch your eye doesnt it? Me-mammaaaaa, he’s about to make the bill, it’s a lovely color, you dont have it.BUY IT NOW OR FOREVER HOLD YOU PEACE! Ma-why do you have to dramatise everything to this extent.i dont want you to spend so much on a suit right now. i said no. Me-ok. calm down. i wont force it on you if you dont want it. Ma-dint i say i dint want it. Me-ok bhaiyya, we wont take it. baaki sab ka bill bana do. Sales guy-ok ma. amma you want the blue one? Me-no she doesnt, she said she doesnt want it. Ma-such a fuss.FINE! if you insist…bhaiyya, usko bhi bill mein jod do. (turning to me)-not a word out of you and DONT TELL YOU FATHER!!!!
Last nite with the pater- Me-this is for you! surprise!! you may thank me now. Baba-is this black? you KNOW i dont wear black! it’s got front to back embroidery. it’s too much! M-it’s not baba, you dont have something of this kind. Ma& i thought you’d look gooood in it. B-it’s BLACK! M-it’s not. take it out of the cover and see it in the light and you’ll find that it’s… B-ok it’s blue but what are all these triangles? M-it’s made from jute and the latest style. B-alright,alright. dont breathe down my neck. let’s go the shop and let me see if anything catches my eye. M-alright. exchange it. why bother that your only offspring went and bought it for you out of love and affection. B-uff! chup thaak ma. M-maaaaaaaaaa. baba’s being mean.
so off went the happy family to the dukaan. once inside- B-can you show me all the dull,no-jhango colors and designs you have?( that’s what he meant i know it!) Salesman- sir, yada yada yada. B-NOT THIS ONE! it’s black. it’ll make me look like a sabarimala pilgrim! M-how many of those ppl do you know that wear 1800 ka kurtas to the pilgrimage? B-chup! after many agonizing minutes later. B-i think i’ll keep the one you bought, the salesman said it’s the latest design and i really dont have anything of this type. and i think i’ll take the black one also. it kind of grows on you after a while. it has a certain class to it. AND DONT TELL YOUR MOTHER!!! M-of course not! once we got home- M-maaaaaaaaaaa! guess what baba did. you 2 deserve each other..fickle shoppers. god gimme strength!
Last Sunday TO had some of his friends over for a pizza lunch. It went just fine. All the complaints, tears, sulks, hurt feelings and booboos turned up bang on schedule at the 2 hour mark like they do with x number of kids under the same roof for a given amount of time.
One of the little ones was happily lazing at the dining table, with his feet up on the opposite chair and drawing out the cheese from his pizza slice and his friend was peppering him with questions, one after another, with nary a break. And then this happened:
“Child#1– Hey J…did you see..blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah??? Child#2– munch munch, chomp, chomp, chomp…No. Child#1– But it was blah blah blah blah blah blah. Child#2– chomp chomp, more pizza…munch munch. Ok. Child#1– It was so blah blah blah blah blahx10!! Child#2- Hey M..shut the f*** up! And there was a bit of silence for a bit. Only because the rest had their mouths stuffed with pizza.
Child#1 comes over to me and says (sadly and loudly),”You know J said shut the f*** to me!!” Before I can decide whether I should have my outraged, sad, stern or even my controlling-my-laugh face, Child#3 goes, “You should NEVER say F*** because it’s a BAD WORD!!” Child#4 chimes in-” I NEVER say F*** because it’s not a nice thing to say F*** and I’m not supposed to say it! Child#1– “But J said F*** to me RIGHT NOW (and pouts)!!” And my very own Bratosaurus leisurely finishes the pizza in his mouth, burps and says “Parton me (he says ‘parton’ instead of ‘pardon’) and adds, “We should all stop saying F*** because my mother is right here!”
The lesson here ladies and gents is this- alwaysget the pan pizza with the thick crusts. Opt for the crusts filled with cheese if need be. It takes a while for these little yappers to get their tireless jaws around the whole thing. They can effectively talk AND curse with the thin crust pizza and spew half-masticated pieces of food all around in the process.
We come across articles online or in the papers about the divaesque behavior of the celebs. But what about the diva that lives within us all? The one who is temperamental? Volatile even and turns away in a huff? The one who turns up their nose at some transgression-imagined or otherwise.
I am very closely associated with one such person. And another one makes a cameo appearance from time to time and then goes back to playing their usual full-time role.
Greta Garbo always had an anecdote attributed to her, “I vant to be alone”
One of my peeps sometimes becomes Garboesque and goes into ‘I want to be alone’ mode and there will be the sound of a door closing somewhere for about half and hour. After that time has lapsed, slightly subdued but ostensibly normal person emerges. But the diva lurks within.
The other diva is full-blown and totally OTT! There are lamentations of happiness being denied, lives being ruined and expressions of angst and agony to rival the actors of the Silent Era of movies.
That is followed by a body being flung onto a bed in a fit of pique.
Doors occasionally slam as well. But there is a zero-tolerance on door slamming so the anger is demonstrated in other ways. Things get flung around at times but there being an embargo on breakages; that line isn’t crossed.
I like to follow a ‘you break it, you bought it’ policy except mine is ‘you break it, you clean it up PRONTO’!
These divas are cute for the most part and not always very high maintenance. I have to write that because if they start writing their memoirs some day, I shudder to think how I’ll be portrayed. Yikes!
Those were some fun decades…especially in the way movies were made.
This last week I watched some movies I had DVRd and utterly enjoyed the blast of nostalgia!
I started with Die Hard…a movie you can never go wrong with. Whether you’re burping a baby, fighting with a spouse, feeling angst or anything else this is an ‘Anytime Movie’.
Bruce Willis’ deadpan face gets stiff competition from the late Alan Rickman but as far as thrilling action movies are concerned, this one is right up there with the best.
Add to it the poofy 80s hair-dos made stiff with hairspray, the blazers and sweaters with their shoulder pads that made people look like linebackers. The ponytails tied high and one side, the white hightops everyone seemed to favor and the Frankie Goes To Hollywood track that most of the movies seem to integrate in their OSTs…Ah! Good stuff.
2nd on my list was Hard To Kill..an utterly, completely silly farce of a movie made by Steven Seagal and starring yet another person who shouldn’t ever have “acted” aka Kelly LeBrock.
While Under Siege is another of my Anytime Movies and made by Seagal, the flow of the movie in Hard to Kill is plainly hard to swallow and yet it escapes being so bad it’s actually good. Instead it’s just a movie that makes you guffaw if nothing else simply because it’s really that flat. Seagal also delivered gems like Out For Justice which was in a class by itself (insert big time eye roll).
But this isn’t a post about movies alone. It’s about a point in time. I was a child growing up in the 80s and 90s…and it was such an interesting time. Make-up was better louder, hair was better poofier a la Bon Jovi and his ilk and groups like Bell Biv Devoe were on the air.
And while I listen to Cheap Thrills on continuous loop (courtesy the offspring); harking back to the 80s and 90s doesn’t seem like a bad time at all.
My son can be a lazy lump. Anything that requires more effort than he’s prepared to put in; gets shoved under the rug (literally and figuratively) and often outsourced to us.
He’s starting to make some strides in reading now and today’s homework has words that distinguish the gender between people viz mother-father, brother-sister et al. That it doesn’t address the third gender type didn’t worry me much. He still mixes up his right and left shoe so am sure we have long walk ahead of us before we tackle that topic.
I was super happy when he wanted to add to the list by bringing in the animal kingdom. So we sat down and started writing out the animals names which have separate terms for their hes and shes. We did the usual ones..lion-lioness, tiger-tigress when my son started naming all sorts of weird “girl-animals”. In order to show him how not everything is called a girl-fox or a girl-whale I told him to look up what a female fox is called; because let’s admit it…if I say thing is white he won’t rest until half the world aka the internet has confirmed it as well.
Now comes the laziness part. He didn’t type it in but used OK Google instead.and got the answer- vixen. Yay for technology and all that jazz.
Then the lump decides to see how vixens look because he thought the girl animals will be different from boy animals (not sure if he was expecting big bows in the hair and whatnot) and told OK Google, “show me vixen” and that’s when a small child’s mouth dropped open because that particular command brought up all manner of busty, latex-clad women instead of the demure, orange-fur fox.
Thankfully he doesn’t have “boy” hormones yet and made a face and asked Google to show him the girl fox. Google apparently does have boy hormones because it showed him girl f****. And after a heated struggle between mother-child and an under-attack laptop I yelled out Jesus Christ!! GIRL FOX! That too was a bad call because Google turned up images of Jesus Christ of Fox…whatever that means; and studly men appeared in the search.
After that it was a toss-up who was going to be airborne- my BP or the laptop; out the window. And so I counted to 20 in my native tongue and found that it didn’t help a bit. In the meanwhile a small child was wondering why his already excitable mother was looking to strangle the laptop and he started tip-toe away. I hauled him back, opened up Google and asked him to type out ‘what is a female fox called’ with his stubby little fingers and LO and BEHOLD! Eureka and all the gang appeared and there were vixens and foxes raining like manna from the heavens. There were National Geographic picture quality ones, even some Disney ones thrown in for good measure and finally I could breathe again.
Until I heard him evoke Google again saying, “show me a girl whale”. I rushed back in time to see whales AND massive thongs and butt cracks appear on the screen.
Gods of Google: Please put in a disambiguate plug-in for the sake of my sanity.