Pampering myself

Another birthday approaches. The Vikster (One now refers to ones self in the third person. One is easily amused!) grows older. And wiser? Word on the street is...NOT! One insists that everything one has done this year has been good and no fault should be attached to one for all one's mishaps and bloopers. (One is already *so* over "one").

Meenu reminded me that the last time I had a birthday, I wallowed in self-pity for most of the day before meeting up for dinner at Gajalee (Hooray for my favourite restaurant in Bombay!) with her and 6 of my friends where I proceeded to demolish the heck out of this full ravas fry. Thanks to C. who bought me orchids that time..I had a fun time trying to explain to the bemused rickshawwalla what I was doing at 2 am walking around festooned with purple orchid blossoms (This as opposed to all the other times when I'm festooned with Jasmine blossoms. OK. Forgive me, I just found out I'm blogging a screening of Umrao Jaan and was just getting into the mood).

I haven't really celebrated my birthday since I turned 21. At 22 I was alone in a Virginia winter, ditto 23, at 24 I actually moved apartments from Arlington to Brookline that day so I remember a birthday meal of beer and pizza, at 25 I was huddled under a duvet boo-hooing that my life was over, at 26 I was shovelling snow from my yard (ALL Frikkin DAY!), at 27 I was mourning an ex...28 you just heard about.

And now I'm almost 29. Wow. Time flies! This means in that quaint auntie-uncle lingo, I'm "running" 30. Yikes! Major panic time approaching. Should I panic now, or just wait till I actually hit the big 3-0? Hey, "3-0" is also my score with boyfriends! Is this a sign from up above? Anyway, all I know is I'm doing it with a bang. Not "that" kind, though "it" would make for a thoughtful birthday present. (I just realized I now have 4 quotation marks in this para alone. I hate my "Valley-Girl" avatar already!) Meenu and me have sat down over a drink (or was it a joint? I forget) and talked about what I should do/how I should spend my birthday. Emphasis on the word "spend". That should give you some idea.

Retail therapy! That's the ticket to happiness. Having already spent 5 grand on books at last week's Strand Book Sale ("Elizabeth of Austria, Lucrezia Borgia, The Great Mughals, Dante's Inferno, Arthashatra" - and I wonder why I'm destined to be alone LOL!), I now have a budget thinner than my upper arm after a Ramzan fast. Infusions of my meagre savings have inflated it to a respectable 4 figures and now the thought of how I'm spending it is bringing joy to my heart (and saliva to my mouth..but we'll discount that as having something to do with the Andorra's roast chicken leg sitting on my table). So what do I do with my millions? For one: I'm buying a suit. Ever since US Airways lost my baggage one nightmarish Thanksgiving, I've not had something formal to wear. OK, so I have nowhere formal to wear it to. But my friend S. (who is getting married to my other firend S.) tells me I'll be invited to his wedding. So I'm gonna look hot for all the Gujju-Punju folks out there, scarfing down my pani-puri and butter-chicken while looking supremely cool in my Armani? Ungaro? Gabbana?....Chalo, Raymonds...

Also, I'm "spa-ing" it. Yep. This homo is going the metro way. I'm planning on getting shaved, plucked, waxed, ironed and blow dried for good measure. A steam, a massage and facial later, I'm hoping to be unrecognizable enough that I can ask the same people out again. (And begin the rejection phase with a new face. Somethings never change eh?).

Actually I'm only "spa-ing" it (Why can't I say "spa-ing" without the quotes?) so I can blog about it. Also cause my friend A. tells me she had this really hot guy there squeezing out her black/white heads (what's the difference?) I haven't had either head squeezed in a while now (I pause to re-read this sentence and check if it's going to offend anyone. Then I realize, I don't give a flying fuck. Hehehe. Flying fuck.)

And then fnally, go through my phone book and call up everyone I know (or haven't erased for some imaginary slight) and ask them to join me in drinks, dancing and bitching. And presents. Lots of them (Preferably 6'2, muscled and wearing a bow. "Only" the bow).

Current Music:
Messiah - Handel

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Halle-lu-jah! Haaaaa-hale-le-le-lu-jah!