My first post from home....I still ate too much/not enough of my mom's cooking, she got mad at me for saying something anti-Christian, I haven't had a cigarette in 48 hours (to be remedied momentarily...but i think my dad is bribing me with something big to quit smoking which I promised to do anyway. I feel VERY guilty about this. My sister's friend came out for lunch with us, and I haven't seen her in a long time, and neither have my parents, but they were still asking her advice about me and whether she thinks I would be able to quit smoking. Very convoluted.)

Speaking of convoluted, we went to a Pakistani grocery store/movie rental place and my parents bought a Bollywood movie for us to watch later (cringe) and casava chips (painful that I can be bought off so easily). Like most of us, I revert back to childish behaviour when sleeping in my childish bed, so I stayed in my room after dinner for as along as I could to delay the watching of the movie (called Garam Masala in case want to netflix it) but eventually I found myself curled on my couch with my pajamas from 1998 on and my A Life Without Classics is for the Dogs (obviously a picture of Actaeon being ripped apart by hounds and Artemis on the front) tshirt bonding with my parents. I watched for about 15 minutes and then promptly fell asleep. Let me tell you how awful and boring yet complicated and filled with hijinks this movie was. The sidekick, John Abraham, is an absolute hottie of the David Beckham genus and species (and he's half Malayalee, see above). Which is why we had to watch it, so my parents could convince me that my big fat CPA Indian husband could look like John Abraham. And that's why we always watch M. Night Shyamalan's movies (full-blooded Malayalee) because then they could convince me that my big fat computer programmer Indian husband could be the next Hitchcock. Okay, I must confess, in my search for images, the first 15 were horrible pornstar/Fabio style grossnesses, and this one is actually quite tame and uncheesy...anyway, to sum up the movie was so boring that a cutie like this couldn't keep me awake. At 9:15.

Further descent into childish behaviour, I was sleeping on the couch while my parents are roaring with laughter at the hilarity of Garam Masala (the main character is a player who has 4-5 different girlfriends who are all air-hostesses (and yes, they are called that in Bollywood movies) and thus they're all in town at different times, and he has 4-5 different pictures that he has to keep switching out of a picture frame everytime a different girlfriend comes into town, he has a Shakespearean-style servant (comic relief) who always cooks the wrong favourite food for the wrong girlfriend and then the hottie sidekick who ends up with the girl) and I got mad at them for being so loud and interrupting my sleep. Then they went to bed and I watched The Jacket, which was also shite, don't get me wrong, but I guess it was guys-get-objectified night in our household because I only watched it for the lovely Adrien Brody. I think he looks a little bit Malayalee around the eyes, don't you? God, internet lightning will probably strike twice and he'll sue me for slander for saying that he looks Malayalee. Fine. I think you're cute, sue me, I think you're cute, sue me, I think The Pianist was a bad movie, sue me, but you look good in it, I loved you in Dummy and i'm even afraid of ventriloquist dolls but i'm truly scared of your new ripped King Kong physique, why bother working out and looking all healthy when your face is all heroin chic? it just looks weird and makes me not love you so much when you're fakely posing on a sailboat with your shirt open.


Average age regression per day spent at home: 4.7 years. I should be experimenting with heavy black eye makeup soon and fantasizing about marrying Bono tomorrow morning...