Monday, October 03, 2005

Balloons, Streamers, and the Mafia

Nobody wants to lose a lesbian lover and a sole-reader-of-blog at the same time. This entry was written post-haste to win back the waning passion of my cross-dressing Mistress[ref:TagBoard~ "i veel not laabh oo" etc.] whose hairs are no more wires, following a 300-buck haircut- the cause for much controversy and pouting. I'm only human. Hence thus and therefore, I am back to blog. In full Sapphic intensity. [Here you go, Tele, u .. blackmailing ... vulture ... FEED].

So, I went to a budday party last evening. At a junior's place in faraway and remote Hastings. [Taxi fare: Rs.102 from Jadavpur University.] It was one of those propah parties with parents and polite chitchat. It's been ages since I'd been to one of those. No alcohol, no dope. Nobody throws up, nobody passes out. Quite honestly, we were all dreading it, initially. Imagine having to spend at least 4 hours without cigarettes! But we ended up having quite a bit of fun, actually! Better yet, we actually REMEMBERED what the fun was all about, nobody being hungover, for a change.
We played a game called Mafia - which is complicated but imaginative. Fun. I had gone through the trouble of explaining how it was played in great details, but the World Wide Web chewed up my earlier post even before I could save it. Just click on the link, and you'll have a fair enough idea, although our game was slightly modified. There were no cards, for instance - the Mafia and the Sheriff were being slapped on the head, instead.
The last round was especially fun. I got to be one of the Killers and I fooled everyone for quite a while, until the Sheriff GUESSED correctly who I was, and then insisted that I be voted out, because I had killed him. Die hard with a vengeance and awl that. The other Killer decided to kill herself - a Mafia suicide, and the townspeople were left wondering who Killer 2 was, oblivious to the fact that she was already dead. Everybody kept accusing each other and dying simultaneously, till it got very late and was time to go home, when the Moderator disclosed that he had turned Himself into Killer THREE! Clearly not part of the rules, but good stuff nonetheless.
I'm doing potty again. Three helpings of spicy garlic chicken is not the sort of thing you subject a person with irritable bowel syndrome to. What can I say, I was born on the year of the pig. :-[
Bought a purty kurti and australian grapes. Both frightfully expensive. That Gariahat Mall is brimming with mashimonis, crashing into racks, falling on heaps of clothes, mock-swooning over price tags, quarelling with hapless shop assistants, screeching to their Tumpas and Jhimlis, and their Tublus, Tuklus and Tokais. The entrance to fitting rooms seems to be their favourite haunt, glaring at me as I try to edge past an obese Pompa to make a beeline for an empty changing room their favourite pastime. Long Live Kuti Mashi and Mishti Pishi. Without you, Kolkata just wouldn't be the same. :-]

p.s.: For the record, Rainbeau_Peep is merrily heterosexual in reality and Teleute, last heard, was having an affair with her computer.
p.p.s.:- Rainbeau_Peep will accept discreet, non-sexual advances from vehicle-owning gentlemen, especially during Pujo week, now that she has shunned buses, having realised that only sweaty boudis who want to use her as refreshing tissue and smelly perverts who mistake her for the pie in American Pie, use aforementioned mode of transportation. Taxis have become impossible, the meter starts at Rs.20, which is equivalent to the cost of EIGHT silk cuts.
Interested candidates must be willing to spend Pujo week with a bevy of R_P's good-looking, gossipy, occasionally intolerable, and often wasted,friends [including Males]. Incentives *as if there weren't enough awready!*: Fun times [non-sexual, non-violent] and a treat at Barista.
Interested candidates must be willing to shove off after Pujo week. Unless they're wildly witty, knowledgeable and humourous. Or unless one of said friends of R_P falls in love with them [including Males].
It should be kept in mind that chosen candidate will NOT be expected to spend ANY money on R_P or friends. He shall only pay for himself and his gas. uhm.

Music of the moment: "Wishful thinking" by Duncan Sheik.


Bee said...

u cant kill yourself in mafia!!no,no,no!!the idea is abhorrent!(sorry bout the exclamation points)
but thrilled to see that mafia has become such a rage in cal.feel like the inventor of blue jeans must have.(levi,was it?)not that i invented mafia.but i do take partial credit for brnging it kolkata from delhi back in the day.february,i yjink.

Teleute said...

ooh! a post for me! yay!

and by the way, i love you ONLY in a Purely Platonic Manner.

rainbeau_peep said...

Cass- in OUR Mafia, anything and anybody can get killed, jump a ledge, be Jack the Ripper. anything goes. and if indeed 'twas u who gave us Mafia, then well .... uhm ... "Rishtey mein hum tumhare baap lagte hain, naam hai don corleone"? .... for lack of anything better to write. thanx for the game though, we had a blast. :-]

Tele- ONLY that? *sigh*

babelfish said...

Firstly, the post was worth the wait :D

Secondly I is not only hurted, my heeeart is hoirt-brokened :(

you be not having sole reader, you be having enthusiastic fishy reader who has paid you immense compliment of linking you in her mad/civilized blog but will remove link unless you acknowledge her...hurrumph...

Unjustified Insanity~~ said...


ahh that mafia suicide was genius......SHEER genius!
give whoever did that a congrats from me for sheer genius :)!

@telytoot -- :whaa am i hearing about you in this blog.
amazing xD

rainbeau_peep said...

bab'fy! - i'm so flattered, i'm touched and moved and displaced emotionally, and feeling frightfully fantastico right now!!!! mend thy broken heart forthwith, unless u want me to break into boyband song.

UI~~ Aei, u leave tele alone, i'm not gonna be accused of spreading ze calumny or ze scandal. [that girl looks small, but she can be fierce, sumthing tells me.]
also, potty haga potty haga?!?!?! r u describing ur life, or mine? [me, i carry DIABA at awl times]

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