Tuesday, October 14, 2008
MMMM....
So, this feast of cold cuts, oysters, pate, cheeses, asparagus and other exotic veggies and crunchy desserts, served as a buffet along with your choice of main course and unlimited alcohol is worth every penny, Rs 1,800, exclusive of taxes, to be precise. Tiger white wine is my poison.
Monday, October 13, 2008
STRANGER
BRUNCH was awesome this week, mostly because I attended a rhythmic breathing-improv dance-yoga class before heading to the venue. The strategy paid off. The tone of my voice was rich and vibrant. I felt energetic and confident, and it seemed to emanate from a happy place, within me.
We had a substitute drummer this week, a cute chap with the most sincere smile and puppy dog eyes. He seemed more evolved than the rest of the band members and his presence lent a certain positive vibe to the experience. However, I noticed that though he was friendly, he was also detached, and my hunch turned out to be true.
The lead guitarist who plays a leadership role in the scheme of things suggested that I get a lift back home with the drummer. So, he agreed. On the way home, he got a call from his wife and he had a 10-minute conversation, post which he seemed very shook. And then he spilled the beans to me, a complete stranger, ‘ because I came across as a ‘nice person’.
His wife was possessive and his dad was a complete pain in the ass. And they all co-habitated under the same room, along with this two girls. And the friction coupled with the constant shortage of funds makes my life seem like a dream. Sigh.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
YOUNG GUN
Last Sunday, we had a young politico in our midst, a guy who has been celebrated a wee bit too prematurely, I fear. A little birdie mentioned that this young gun hangs frequents the place, a lot, mostly because most quests are affluent, rich or snooty (sometimes all three), to really hobnob, ask for autographs, et al.
He wore a pair of jeans, T-shirt with collar and casual shoes, and though he does posses quintessential good looks as deemed by Indian standards (fair, not fat), he does not have a presence or a charisma that hits you, as did his father, as did John F Kennedy, as we does Senator Mcallister of Brothers & Sisters.
A staff member candidly told me that presence of any high-profile politico is a double-edged sword. On one hand it's a good thing. On the other what if there's dynamite inside that pretty bouquet pf orchids, which are coming the politico's way?
He made no effort to mingle and he did not wax eloquent. He entered, ate, responded politely to those who spoke to him and then left. On the other hand, the security personnel, who we discovered is a colonel, was impressive with his poised countenance and swift movements, ensuring that the political party proceeded without a hitch.
Post his exit, one of the quests, this chap who sports a diamond in his ear and speaks pristine English, broke into a gig, with one of the girls in the gang. There was lots of jiving, and suddenly they were joined by another member of their party, this quaint-looking fellow who sports a white suit and brown leather boots and his quite a funky vision, as he scrunching his facial features, whilst doing a vigourous jitterbug-eqse dance. He's agile and swoops all over the place, which leads one to believe that he must be the kinky type, in the sack.
The ABBA song, which seems made to lift sagging spirits, is Dancing Queen. Men or women, straight or queer, pre-pubescent or crochety, all dig the dancing queen.
He wore a pair of jeans, T-shirt with collar and casual shoes, and though he does posses quintessential good looks as deemed by Indian standards (fair, not fat), he does not have a presence or a charisma that hits you, as did his father, as did John F Kennedy, as we does Senator Mcallister of Brothers & Sisters.
A staff member candidly told me that presence of any high-profile politico is a double-edged sword. On one hand it's a good thing. On the other what if there's dynamite inside that pretty bouquet pf orchids, which are coming the politico's way?
He made no effort to mingle and he did not wax eloquent. He entered, ate, responded politely to those who spoke to him and then left. On the other hand, the security personnel, who we discovered is a colonel, was impressive with his poised countenance and swift movements, ensuring that the political party proceeded without a hitch.
Post his exit, one of the quests, this chap who sports a diamond in his ear and speaks pristine English, broke into a gig, with one of the girls in the gang. There was lots of jiving, and suddenly they were joined by another member of their party, this quaint-looking fellow who sports a white suit and brown leather boots and his quite a funky vision, as he scrunching his facial features, whilst doing a vigourous jitterbug-eqse dance. He's agile and swoops all over the place, which leads one to believe that he must be the kinky type, in the sack.
The ABBA song, which seems made to lift sagging spirits, is Dancing Queen. Men or women, straight or queer, pre-pubescent or crochety, all dig the dancing queen.
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