Diwali Dinners and other such Tales of Horror.

First off..
A very Happy Diwali to all my friends out there.
For the people who're going 'Diwhat?'- in a nutshell its the Hindu festival of lights. It's also a damn good time to pig out and say "Whaat...it's religeous! Or something like that..ooh I haven't tried THAT sweet..Outtamaway!"


Secondly..Indians are nuts.

No..REALLY.
My mom's friend was holding this huge Diwali party with loadsa good food, snobby ladies, their bored husbands, spotty teenage girls who gossiped (mainly about me, naturally), guys my brothers age (who, lets face it, are always more fun to hang out with.) aaaaand me.

Every husband in that party looked like he'd been threatened at gun point to come for this party. Until I entered the room (of course.) Yowzaaa.
The ladies were having a ball..by 'ball' I mean 'verbal catfights' and by 'verbal catfights' I mean passing thinly disguised bitchy comments in a very 'la-dee-da' way.
"Muah muah dahhhling, oops! Got an inch of foundation off..sorrrreh dahling!"
"Ooh your hair looks lovely! I absolutely LUUURVE that shade of hair colour, it totttally covers up your grey!"
"Oh your curves are amazing! Now, now thats enough cake! Hee hee."
"Your salwaar is amazing, didn't you get it at that sale? No? Oh my mistake."

Meowrrr pussycats!

One such woman dared to go up against my mom. Too bad she didn't see me standing next to her.
"Oh P, everytime I call you, you're ALWAYS having a beauty nap or you're at the salon ..I see you were really preparing for tonight, huh. Hee hee."
My mom just looked at her like she wanted to say "Wtf, mate?"
I just didn't like her tone of voice.
"Oh aunty, Mom doesn't need the beauty sleep or the salon treatment. She's gorgeous. I can't say the same about some of the women here, hai na?" -Mahi raises an eyebrow, gives her a once over, gives a bitchy smile and never breaks eye contact with the overmade-up cow-
Cow makes some lame excuse and runs off.
Honey, two can play that game.


So after my crime-fighting spree I head to the table, load up my plate and join the guys and I Stop.
Oh shit. Cute guy. Can't stuff face now. Shit shit SHIT. Let him LEAVE.. GO GO GO.
Buuut they start the LOTR movie and I get engrossed in it and start pigging out.
So much for eating like a bird aaand so much for caring what cute guy thinks of me now.
Heh heh
*burp*
Ahh that was good *pats tummy*

Suddenly this Chinese lady, who was at the party bursts into the room and heads straight for me.
After my last conversation, you can't blame me for panicking slightly and hence looking like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Wahh you're so glam!"
"Err...thank you aunty.."
"Mark my words ah girl..you're going to be famous one day"
*blink*...*blink* *Mahi bleats out a nervous "heh-heh-heh"*
"No, no my predictions always come true!"
"Aunty if I do become famous, I assure you I'll find you and thank you for the heads up."
Ok, so she seems satisfied and she leaves.
Crazy woman deflected with my super crazy-woman-deflecting-power.
Ka-pow!
Wow. I'll do GREAT in the PR business.

My trauma doesn't end there, I wrestle my way through the crowd and FINALLY get to the desert table when my moms friend sidles up next to me and whispers "Godddd Mahi you look amazinggggggg."
*Panic alert up-and-running*
"Er..heh-heh-heh...thank you aunty.."
And then she proceeds to SMACK MY ASS. In front of everyone
Not a pat.
A LOUD RESOUNDING SMACK.

Everyone turns, I'm silently looking down, going red in the face, holding my cup of trifle pudding and thinking "Shit that hurt." and THEN thinking "WTF MATE?!"
And she's there looking mighty proud of herself and grinning like a goddamn crazy woman!
"Sorry I couldn't help myself"
"Heh-heh..its ok..I'd rather you do it than some creep at a club."

And then comes the saddest bit.
The men are suddenly glued to the T.V.
"There have been bomb blasts in Delhi!" Calls out one uncle.
"Oh dear! That's terrible! Dahling come and have some more Biryani." Trills out his wife.
.
.
.
.
Yea..I know.

These people are SO wrapped up in themselves.
It makes me want to smack them with a biryani dish and say "Uncleji's, Auntyji's, lend me your ears- You suck. Your sons are ignorant assholes, your daughters are gossipy 'hoes, Uncleji here is going have a heart attack at the rate he's going and you ma'am...all the plastic surgery in the world can't help you."


Do you know what they'll say to that?
"Ya. Her nailpolish is chipped. Ugh dahling, ugh!"