Groan!

Well, after being bitch-slapped by a whole bunch of regular blog readers after my last, automatically generated blog post (Some of you seriously thought I spent the weekend with Sarah and Britney's boyfriends..silly people! Sarah and Britney are lesbians!); Vikster has decided (to refer to himself in the third person?) to get back to his brand of nonsensical whining about a non-existent dating life and lack of bubble-butts in this here Urbs Prima in Indis.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa....(Who knew scrouging could be this arousing?)

Anyway, I'm uber-bloated today. For lunch, I used to get khana from the neighbouring restaurants till I decided a daily diet of Chicken Biryani and Kali Daal was B.O.R.I.N.G.
Now I get a dabba with ghar ka khana (that is; if your ghar is anywhere in the Ludhiana-Ropar belt) from a nice auntieji called Babita. She strikes me as what Meenu and me call one of the "Haalthy and Waalthy" Punjus. She booms when she talks on the phone, she guffaws when you complain about the rotis and she has a bosom that brings to mind one of my guilty pleasures (No. Not that. I meant the series "Twin Peaks". I love Kyle MacLachlan)

Ann-way (As Babitaji says), the home cooked food is making me bloat amazingly. To recap this afternoons meal, I had 2 rotis, rice, kaali dal, alu gobi and gobi manchurian (I'm sorry: the guy who invented Gobi Manchurian has to be lined up against a wall and shot in the back of his head. It's absolutely vile). Oh! And did I mention the glass of Mirinda, jalebis and ...gulp...pani puri I also had for lunch? Washed it all down with some Energee (Only 10 Rs still? Is it still milk at that price?).
So now, I'm about comatose, my belly looks like even the most hard-hearted of Bombay commuters would give up a seat for me ("Bhaisaab, is it twins?"), and I'm belching a vile taste up (mix of Pani Puri masala, soy sauce and milk). I just wanna pass out on a nice soft bed and die.

This; dear readers; has been happening EVERYDAY! For the last 2 months. Thanks to which, I can now fit into only 3 pairs of jeans and 1 pair of pants. OK, so that's an excuse to go shopping which is good...but as B. will tell you; I'm getting very self-concious about the fact that I no longer have a Two-Pack Belly (I called him Tupac..pyaar se). I swear, those two drunk girls at Seijo last night were TOTALLY laughing at my distended belly. Bitches. I hope someone slipped some rohypnol in their drink or something.

On the plus side Meenu let it slip at Crossword yesterday evening that my ass was totally rocking. Me = happy enough to go halves on Vikram Seth's new book and let her read it first. It's about his uncle Shanti and his German-Jewish wife Henny (who looks so drag-queenish; it's not even funny). I think I'll get it when I come back from outta town on Monday. Hooray! Anticipating a new read is so much fun! Also sad. In some ways. OK. In many ways.

I love how I'm channeling all my relationship angst into body issues. I *am* Oprah's next 10 shows. All I need is some destructive behaviour to complete the trifecta. Hmm. Perhaps I should tear up that crappy cross-stich wall hanging that is the bane of my life. When accused of the crime, I'll just weep incoherently.

I think I'm hallucinating now. That Gobi Manchurian was "special" I tell ya! And all this time I thought you could only use *it* in brownies...

Current Music:
Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd

Literally Numb. I don't think I can walk home from work now. *jots down plan for healthier diet and promises to exercise from tommorrow. HAHAHA! Who am I kidding!!*