Meanie Mommy recommends pretending to be seriously and totally grossed out when your offspring threatens to pour slime on your ankles and legs.
The child will pour and rub like a zealous slime-pourer and rubber and you will get a lovely little massage from those soft little hands. Accompanied by wicked cackles from a munchkin of course!
It’s no secret am a foodie. It’s also no secret Red thinks I can and do eat pretty much everything under the sun.
We go to the gym on different days and whoever is home makes the protein shake for the other individual to save time etc. Now Red gets creative every now and then and comes up with secret ingredients which I have to guess at. His concoctions usually turn out palatable but the way in which they are presented to me especially, is anything but!
Before we proceed further a little backstory is required. See I eat limes and lemons down to the rind. Occasionally chew on the rind as well. More so if I’ve done some tequila shots as well but for the most part, I strip the lemon bare and it’s mostly cringe-worthy for people sitting around me. They end up puckering their faces while I suck on the lemon so often there’s a bunch of people making kissy faces at me (as it may look to an outsider); while I sit blissfully unaware of anything of the sort!
Anyhoo, apart from the bizarre lemon eating (their words not mine) I also occasionally eat the watermelon seeds instead of spitting them out. So in the last 10 years I’ve become either goatish or bovine in Red’s estimation.
Jog back to circa 2017 and present day. Red kept my protein shake ready and it was slightly tangy and quite nice when suddenly I munched on something I thought was a shrivelled up goji berry and this bitter flavor spread in my mouth. I fished out a half chewed up orange seed and Red, feigning complete innocence, asks me, “You eat seeds, don’t you?”.
If I only had a grapefruit handy to lob at his face at that moment…
Apparently you eat one tiny watermelon seed once and you’re tagged as a garbage disposal forever!
Sighhh.
A good part of my life is nostalgia-ridden or driven.
I am quite in touch with the present and look into the future (aided by booze at times) but the past is quite bright and vivid for me overall.
When aspects, however minute, crop up from my childhood; it makes me quite cheery and I’m happy to trip back to school days and regale (not!) the Lord and Master aka Red about my experiences. He, in turn, is equally happy to tune me out and is careful to insert, ” Uh huh”, “Ohs” and “Really?” into the gaps in the near-monologue-y conversation that ensues.
A month or so ago, MLM got a Ring Pop in a goody bag and I was thrilled because when I was slightly older than he is now, I’ve pestered my mom for quarters to buy them from the gumball machine. And here was my kid about to go down the same road of experiencing an edible jewelry! My favorite is the grape flavor in case anyone was wondering. No? Onwards…
One of my crushes gave me a Ring Pop to show me he liked me and that the first ring given to me by any guy and also the only delicious one!
Another one of the things that I somehow liked playing with, and grossing my mother out at the same time, was Slime.
It was oozy, gooey and so much fun! So when I found some tiny barrel of slime in a toy store, I didn’t think twice and bought it for MLM and another one of his friends. Needless to say, the slime was a hit! It was fought over. It made its way onto some upholstery, a certain grandfather’s shirt and grossed out every sensible adult in the room.
I was telling Red this morning that of all the things I thought would endure over three decades, pop rocks, bubble tape, bubblegum lollipops and play slime didn’t even make the top 10. But it’s nice to see these things once in a while. They’re silly, fun and an unforgettable part of being a carefree kid.
The brat has two pals he mainly hangs out with. He’s closer to one of them and with the other, he’s not feeling the love much of late.
Yesterday while waiting for one of the favorite aunties to come down with the kite and string, the threesome were having this serious conversation:
G: Hey! Where’s your mom K? I want to fly my kite. My mumma said to wait for her.
K: I don’t know where Diana Aunty is. She probably got lost.
S: She not got lost K. She must be getting ready to come to the park.
G: K, why do you call your mumma Diana Aunty?
K: cycling fast..I call my mother Diana Aunty because that’s her name. I call your mother Rikati Aunty.
G: My mother’s name is RITIKA…not Rikati!
K: RIKATI RIKATI RIKATI!! *goes whizzing by on his cycle again*
S: MY mother’s name is Ayanti, my father’s name is Prashant. I call my mother Ayu. I call my father Prash.
G: You’re not supposed to call your mumma and papa by their name! Say mumma and papa! *with a serious look on his face*
K: RIKATI RIKATI RIKATI!!
S: AYU! PRASH! AYU! PRASH!
Me: Ok boys, enough. Let’s go fly the kites.
Boys: Ok..let’s go! With promises of how high the kites are going to fly buzzing in the background.
S: in a stage whisper to me” Ayu I want to tell you something…I gonna call you Ayu and Prash as Prash ok?”
I nod and wink in compliance while a little boy keeps cycling away singing RIKATI RIKATI and another runs after him saying stop that! She’s RI-TI-KAA!!
Ah..the things which vex us when we’re still kids:)
Yup, that’s right. Welcome Back should have at rider attached to it- DON’T!
Where the first movie wasn’t a shoo-in for the comedy of the year award, it was still entertaining and doesn’t fail to elicit chuckles on reruns on tv. But the sequel has a couple of things which make it one of the main contenders for MOST LUDICROUS MOVIE OF THE YEAR. And here they are in no particular order:
1) Shruti Haasan– can’t speak Hindi. Sounds like she’s majorly distressed when she does. Very limited range of emotions. She was more believable in her AC ads. A pretty prop. Period.
2) John Abraham– should stick to promoting Mens’ grooming products. From Jism to Saaya to this movie, he has progressively gotten more wooden, unintentionally deadpan and extremely unfunny. That the man has also got more ripped and has a fantastic “V” should have zero bearing on his acting abilities. His screen presence is mainly felt once he takes his clothes off. The stunt where he ran on the backs of the camels was kinda sad. One felt for the camels. Really.
3) Dimple Kapadia– Finding Fanny, Dil Chahata Hai were roles she could do something with and she did. This movie showcased amply and repeatedly that she cannot emote the light hearted stuff and her comic timing is non-existent.
4) Naseeruddin Shah– Now this was the major head scratcher. I know Bollywood pays more than art house movies and theater but one would think that after decades in the business NS would be able to pick and choose his roles rather than be in a dead end movie which tickles you into laughing rather than evoking it.
5) Ankita Shrivastava- Oh Lord. Slut central. Nothing great to look at. Exposed everything that she had to and still couldn’t get anywhere. Has a great career playing a bar dancer or one of those skimpily-clad dancers who jiggle their booties at the drop of a pin. Emoting? What emoting? Incidentally this young lady’s Wikipedia page lists her as the “most promising Indian actress” yada yada yada. Boy are we in trouble if that load of tripe is even marginally true.
6) The OST. Lord. Boring. Boring. Boring. Barring the Tutti Bole Wedding Di track, none are foot-tappers let alone a good time for the ears. If anything, one wished to fast forward through the songs and the dance routines.
Shiney Ahuja and the people like Rajpal Yadav are wasted. The former because he has no career and pretty much might have to do anything that comes his way (despite being good looking and being able to actually act) even act like a “charsi launda”. And Rajpal Yadav because he is capable of so much more than being “bajaoed like a ghanta” while playing the fool.
This is the kind of movie that forcibly makes you laugh with its predictable punchlines and the antics of Parel Rawal, Nana Patekar and Anil Kapoor. The latter not so much as before.
I wanted a movie that was a no brainer and I got it. Just goes to show, be careful what you wish for. One just wishes that none of the case survived the last scene (in the movie world and not the real one) and nip all thoughts of another sequel in the bud!
The scene at the graveyard was just mind-boggling. I mean it just made one wonder why Aneez Bazmee would direct a movie that had an Antakshari match between a so-called ghost and two mobsters. And one had to wonder at Shruti Haasan and her endless parade of hiiigh heels.
There are moments though, Anil Kapoor grumbling about having to dig a hole in a graveyard in Dubai whereas in India there would have been open ditches galore for dumping a body!
I will say this though, get stoned and maybe, just maybe this movie might be a laugh riot. If not, welcome to stale dialogues, lavish sets and loads of money spent on Humvees, Lamborghinis and massive chandeliers and the mother of all dust storms of all things. I mean, welcome back!
Gather around…this will not be repeated for the fear of an epidemic of husbands dumping more work on frazzled wives and especially the SAHMs.
I’m going to share the secrets of the sisterhood with you but hush now and come closer and read quickly because this post will self-destruct in 1 minute!
We like doing laundry. Especially when we add in that luscious, thick, summery liquid fabric softener that makes the clothes smell “soft”.
We like polishing our tables too. Why do you think Lemon-scented Pledge is all you see in the supermarkets. We love to polish till the gloss of the table starts reflecting the giant mountains of unfolded clothes lying on the couch.
And I shouldn’t tell you this but we like folding clothes too! Yesssssssssss….the way folded clothes makes the room seem larger suddenly and allows the light rays to bounce off from chair to chair like a natural pin ball makes us feel a warm, buttery glow that usually accompanies good brandy or an exceptional single malt.
The stack of ironed clothes, ironed till the sweat from our brow springs forth, makes us feel a glory that has little to do with clothes per se but has more to do with seeing shirt after shirt, crisply folded and looking new.
A clean kitchen counter is bliss! Wiping off the last bit of grease from the stove tops feels like having run through an obstacle course and not having tripped over a single hurdle.
The gleaming tiles, the newly made beds..oh…bliss! bliss! bliss!
That is the secret life of housewives no one knows about. Shhhh
P.S: the author takes no responsibility for the material above seeing how it was written in a state of caffeine deficit and her immense joy at taking a break from house work and travelling for a few days.
Cheers All…may the bleach be with you.
