The year is over and I feel old. I have been home for nine days, and I leave in six more. Each day that I stare at the health faucet in my loo during my early morning commune with nature, I am tempted to rip it out of the wall and take it with me to college. Rip the health faucet, i.e., not the commune with nature. I am mixing up my phrases. It is a result of great emotion and (I think) indigestion. I believe I may have, at lunch today, erred on the side of fried baby potatoes, and not caution. I am perfectly willing to err on the side of caution the day caution comes eight pieces to a plate, fried golden, to exactly that brilliant crispness between 'almost brilliant' and 'burnt'.
I also went on holiday to Pondicherry, and no, I will not call it Puducheri. It could be my shameful Tamil, but does not Puducheri translate to 'new slum' in Tamil? No? Just checking.
I have watched Kurbaan, Paa, Rocket Singh - Salesman of the Year and Avatar. My observations are as follows -
1. Kurbaan has its points. However it also has Vivek Oberoi. Therefore it falls into the deep, dark, tragic abyss (transferred epithet, I'm right, shut up) of bad movies that are not bad enough to be AWESOME.
2. Which reminds me, who wants to watch Jaani Dushman with me? Bring a DVD. I'll buy it off you. Shopkeepers cock their heads thoughtfully at me when I ask for this movie, as though idly questioning my upbringing. I am tempted to invite them along for the watch-a-thon... truly, what is a life if it does not include the (very) occasional watching of Jaani Dushman. The epic love, the epic pathos, the EPIC cross-species coitus above a meditating sage...what's not to love?
3. In a burst of petulance, fate has denied me tickets for Three Idiots, which means I will sulk silently while my insensitive friends discuss plotlines and characterisations and draw parallels to that excrescence of a book. (Though I have to admit I thought that Ryan guy was hot. Wasn't he? Wasn't he? Wheeee)
4. Back on topic - it's been said a thousand times before, but it bears repetition: kids with progeria are NOT almost seven feet tall, and it's more than a little disconcerting to see a Shrek-lookalike Amitabh Bachchan acting out his little fantasy of being son to his son who is his father who doesn't want him but then wants him, interspersed with an interesting, if highly WTF message about how not using condoms sucks donkey balls when you find yourself with a little diseased, unwanted son, but later proves to be awesome because you've grown to love the son you didn't want but you had anyway because you DIDN'T USE A CONDOM, DUMBASS.
Also, here is some punctuation dedicated to Vidya Balan's unexpected pro-babies lecture - ?????!!!!!!
But little kid Amitabh manages to be truly endearing 80% of the time. And as though vindicating my faith in her as being the prettiest woman in mainstream Bollywood today, Vidya Balan GLOWS like a (classy, understated) bulb in a nice holder. Or whatever. But woman is pretty, God, she is. And importantly, shoutout to fabindia who (I presume) clothed her in the movie - I'd lost faith in you guys, but you are indeed tres hot. My apologies, and I am coming in right now to buy more clothes that I don't need.
Lastly, Abhishek Bachchan? A couple of things - i. Remember that crush I had on you during your Bluffmaster days? Consider it ended; ii. Stop pouting, you are jowly, and you are not Hannah Montana iii. Bring the face fungus back.
4. Avatar is a mediocre story in a mindblowingly cool package. Like Nirvana, but that is an argument for another time. (For clarity, the mindblowingly cool part is Kurt Cobain, so maybe I should have said 'mindblowingly cool and dead'; but seriously, have you seen those eyes? *swoon*)
5. Rocket Singh is excellent, if you excuse the questionable morals of the premise (maybe it's only me, but I was mentally shaking my head in disapproval of the undeniable illegality of the whole deal). But it moved quickly, didn't take itself too seriously, and (thank you God!) did not involve itself in an uninteresting love story. Also, it stars Prem Chopra as an absolutely edible grandfather, which shocked and delighted me, having only seen him so far in OBSERVE!-I-AM-EVIL-BWAHAHAHAHA roles. Y'know what I mean?
6. Also, I eat my words and Ranbir Kapoor is the next big (mainstream) thing.
Okay, everyone, please blog. I have six days left here and it feels like Death Row. :(
Before I forget - oh valorous commenters, be not deterred by the Word Verification thingie! I have been courted by spam kumar, spam kapoor, spam verghese and spam balakrishnan and WV is my shelter from their unseemly affections.