Oh fer Pete's sake

The strange thing about being done with finals is that one is besieged with conflicting emotions. On one hand, we're pleased we don't have to study anymore. On the other hand, we're bored out of our minds. Yes, I know it's only been a few days but I can't just sit around with nothing to do.

Wednesday evening celebrations started at Cornwalls (where else), moved on to An Tua Nua with some very bad singing on the karaoke and then back to Cornwalls (where else). I should have bought stock in that place. Didn't drink much since was still a bit hungover from the day before (which would explain the C I get on that final) and pottered on home at 10:30. Did brunch at the diner with Khan on Thursday, bummed around, drank some more. Went for a whisky tasting at the Lenox with Peter and a few others. That was fun. I was ushered into the room by a screamingly gay waiter in pink underwear under his requisition blacks prancing around with a giant white feather. A Chivas Ginger was thrust into my hand, a crab cake into my face and the party was on. Glitter bikini-clad women with giant feathers on their heads popped up and jiggled around much to the delight of all the sad suits and the cabana boys obliged the other sad suits. Can I just say, there's nothing sadder than a 35-yr old investment banker who desperately wants to get laid. Man or woman. I did learn a little bit about whisky and a few very bad Scottish jokes (Why do Scotsmen chop their toes off? To get closer to the bar) and got to sample some 18-yr old Scotch. Very nice. Then Peter and I couldn't take the man in the skirt yelling at DJ Certified Bananas to "pump up the volume, you slimy bastard" anymore and we pottered off to the Hong Kong at Fanueil Hall. On the way out we bumped into Mr. and Mrs. Shaw, freshly arrived from Scotland, a lovely 70-ish year old couple, all wrinkly and kind looking who Peter promptly told to go to Newport, RI and leave the wife at home. After this piece of shocking behaviour we giggled our way to Government Center where at the Hong Kong, more booze was consumed while Pete and Aaron (who runs a belly-dancing supplies shop, how exciting) told me stories of floating down rivers in inner tubes of tractor tires carting about 800 cases of beer. These stories proved too much for me at one point and I insisted we play bar-side games and so we spent a massive fortune in quarters at the nekkid wimmen version of Where's Waldo with self always getting the bits about the chick's hair at which point Aaron deemed me unworthy (since I couldn't spot a boob) and shoved me into a taxicab with a teriyaki on a stick. All in all, a good time was had by all.

Did brunch at the diner with Khan on Friday, scorned the drink, bummed around at Harvard Ave Cafe and finally started reading Jews, God and History (Max Dimont), purchased August 2006 at Denver airport but never had time to open. Interesting book. Very complicated. Khan, bless him, ordered a Vanilla Soy Matte which turned out to be the worst piece of crap I've ever tasted that has been served in a cup with foam. If you are ever faced with it, decline. Do so expeditiously and be not lured by curiosity. It's a horrible drink. Dre had her birthday party here last night and while the upside is that the apartment looks very pretty, cosy and clean, the downside is that people decided that they wanted to pop crackers at 3:30 am INSIDE the apartment. This is because they were stupidly drunk and had to be shepherded outside onto the street where they promptly became Someone Else's problem. Didn't sleep very well last night. Had strange dreams. Lay about, reading, mostly. Still is nice to be in bed swiping one's leg against soft cool sheets, know wot I mean? Khan was mumbling something about how marbles are the fifth dimension but he was in a food coma after having visited that den of vice, India Dhaba, so we forgave him. I did watch Anita and Me yesterday on brilliant NetFlix. Good movie. Nicely done.

I couldn't lie in bed anymore so I've moved to the couch. It's gotten windy, cloudy and 59 degrees suddenly. My wind chime by the window has orchestral aspirations and the curtains billow more often than they did yesterday. I shall sit here now, in my jammies, and read my email and watch Saturday morning cartoons with my cuppa sulaimani. Only two things on the official agenda - Swimming and Giselle at the Boston Ballet. That is if I can get tickets. Although considering the rate at which funds are being depleted from underneath my mattress, I prolly should lay low and cheap until Vegas. Oo, that sounded dirty.

Need more tea.

Josh naal pau bhangra

So on Friday last we (Dixon, D'va, Rani and meself) went to Basant Mela 2007, a grand production put together by the Paki Students of BU at Metcalf Hall. The acoustics in that place are horrible by the way. Lots of pretty little (and I do mean little) undergrad desi girls running around in impossibly high heels and mesmerizing salwar kameezes. Lady in the pink hypnotizing number, can I just say this one thing, WEAR A BRA! You're not 10 and this is not the playground, when you walk, you jiggle, and not in a good way either. After an entire hour of sound checks (the show started 90 minutes late), the BU Bhangra team came up and strutted their stuff. I have to say they were pretty damn good. All those youngsters leaping about with zest and vim. Even the one Chinese chick. Made my heart warm up to the snot-nosed freaks. Good job BU Bhangra. I'd dance with you any day.

Then Josh came on. That was nice. They sang a few songs. There were some technical difficulties (yes, even after the one hour sound check) but they were nice about it. All in all, a good time was had.

Then Rani, in a fit of utter madness, decided to accost the DJ backstage to invite the Josh boys out for a drink. Crazy idea, you say. Won't ever happen, you say. They're not going to go out for drinks with you, you say. Well, next thing I knew we were in a cab speeding over to Rumor to get our pretty lil' fannies into the VIP area to party it up with the Josh boys. Yes, that's right. You heard me. We partied with Josh. Resh, I can almost hear your groaning.


So anyway, the evening wasn't as magical as we thought it would be - and not because of the gorgeous bouncers (yo, Jimmy-boy, call me sometime) or the very nice Boston Police Officer we had the good fortune to meet (Kevin, how's it goin', where can I get a hat like that?!). It started with Josh (Rup, Q and DJ Pavan) having trouble getting into the club. They were standing in line. It was funny. Rani and I had to get them into the place. Then apparently their promoter was too busy doing the lambada with some chickie-poos so their champagne was not sorted so Rani (bless her) fought her way to the bar to get us drinks. She was pretty pipped about buying Josh drinks. An hour of pretty insipid conversation later (Pavan was spastic, Q was snotty but Rup was such a darling) and its closing time. So we troop our sassy asses out onto the street and yours truly spends the next 40 minutes hailing cabs and letting them go. One after the other. I would hail them because Pavan would decided to leave. Then I had to let them go because Pavan would decide not to leave. It was so VERY annoying. Rani finally got fed up and went home. I was told to hang around and then promptly ignored at which point, I went home. But before I got into that cab, Rup came up to me and gave me a very nice hug. That made it all better.

Here's the kicker - DJ P decides to message me at 3:30 am wanting to know where the party was at. Correct me if I'm mistaken, boy, but aren't YOU supposed to be the party?

Lame. Very lame.

Thank you Rani for a wonderfully groupie evening. I did have fun. You rock, babe. So do you, Rup. I'd farh kay your baah anytime ;)

Sade naal pau bhangra.. nach le o mitra..