Tick tock, tick tock.

B is due any day now, and we're waiting with baited breath. And yes, that is a 'Yay!' moment for her, and for all of us, though 'Yay!' has not been my predominant thought all these months, because, from the moment she declared she was pregnant, she told me in the same breath that I was on duty. Baby-naming duty, that is. I will have you know, that I'd much rather be on jury duty. It would be infinitely easier. Either 'Set him free!' or 'Off with his head!', depending on what kind of a mood I am in that day. But baby names? 

10 guys I wouldn't date (especially if they were real)

1) Capt. Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean

Because no matter how well he works the grungy pirate-chic look, I still prefer a man who's acquainted with toothpaste. And soap.

6 things I did in June

1) Planted flowers

Well, like I said in an earlier post, I really didn’t think I was a person who could actually manage to keep plants alive. Flowers wilt, which is the most natural thing in the world. They fall off the stalk when they die, a fact that used to make me burst into tears and go running to bed in a nosedive with a book, fleeing the scene of the crime, ignoring them even more, till they finally all just withered away and disappeared FOREVER. If I were ever given a Native American name, it would translate into ‘She Who Kills Flowers'. But this time, I persevered, like Robert the Bruce, and voila! Living, breathing plants!

2) Watched 'The Kids are All Right'

 Well, I watched a whole lot of movies, but this kind of stood out. Apart from the fact that it stars the amazing Annette Bening (she was nominated for an Academy Award for this role) and the equally awesome Julianne Moore, it also gives us a glimpse into the lives of a lesbian couple and their kids. The reason why this movie lingered on in my mind for longer than any other I watched in June was because it got me thinking about family. 

Family has ceased being the father-mother-kids structure that we grew up believing it was. The definition of marriage has also changed. New York recently became the sixth, and largest state in the U.S. to legalise gay marriages, which you can read about here. There are those who think, 'Those Americans are too permissive and that country's on a speedboat to hell anyway.' But being gay is not choice, like deciding 'Hmmm...I think I'll be a vegan from now on...' and Indian parents are slowly coming to terms with the fact that their kids are gay, and accepting them, though still  with a ‘what will the neighbors think?’ trepidation. I’ll be getting off my soapbox in just a moment, but  all I really want to say about this is that everyone, irrespective of caste, creed, colour, religion, or sexual orientation, has a right to live exactly how they please without being judged by the rest of us.

So, getting back to the film, and without giving too much away, the couple has two kids by the same sperm donor.Their family life is disrupted when the kids bring him home (Mark Ruffalo, oooooooh!) and try to integrate him into their lives. The movie plays out just like any other would, with family issues, teenage rebellion and an extra-marital affair, which was the most interesting part of the movie for me, because it made it very apparent that when an undeniably gay woman has an affair with a very heterosexual man, it is not about sex. It is about attention.It is about validation. Definitely worth a watch.

3) Went on a picnic

To Lavasa! I'd been hearing about it quite a bit, and since I live pretty close but had never really been there, I decided to go. The drive there was pretty enjoyable, and the road full of hairpin bends. Just before I reached there, suddenly, out of nowhere, loomed the Temgarh dam, which took me so much by surprise, that I totally forgot to take a picture of it. Ahem! 

Once I was up there, however, it was pretty neat. I was actually up in the clouds, and since it was the monsoon, there were a number of little waterfalls with signs in front of them that said 'Caution' and something to the effect of 'This is pretty dangerous so don't come close unless you want a couple of rocks falling on your head and knocking you out cold.' Well, no, that's not what it said, but that's the gist. But in our attempt as Indians, to prove that we are absolutely fearless (or supremely stupid), and do the exact opposite of what we've been told specifically not to do, everyone who wanted a picture stood, where else, but under the waterfalls.

I liked the architecture (charming)--- 

 And the colourful buildings (like a gaudy cake, begging to be eaten)

 

This made me hungry, so I headed over to the All American Diner, which was an attempt to create the look of, well, an American diner, and almost succeeded, but not quite. 

Though the pictures on the walls of Lucy and vintage cars do give it a quaint air, there is a feeling of having tried a bit too hard. 

The food, though, was overpriced. Since I'm not a BIG eater, I ordered a chicken hoagie, which is this--

But there's a choice of a few more restaurants, and you can try The Oriental Octopus, or the pub, Past Times, all highly overpriced too, I'll wager. 

But I didn't really care, because I was in a good mood, since the promenade gave me enough photo-ops-

Pretty, no? And for the die-hard shopaholics, you have a couple of shops that you can pop into too!

4) Turned a year older

That is an undisclosed age, but those who know me well know what it is, and should never divulge it, because I know where you live, y'all. But each year is like a check-point, when I believe that I should stop and take stock. And I should be able to answer, with some sense of clarity, and entirely truthfully - what do I really believe in, and what do I stand for, because answers to these questions are really the answer to the much greater question-Who am I? A few of the lessons I've learnt over the past few years is that ---

• Pretty smart people do pretty dumb things. 
• Some things can't be undone.
• That I am angry at the people who taught me that God is an infinitely wise, albeit bad-tempered being, waiting to exact revenge on anyone who dares to cross him, loving some people and punishing others. Behaving like a human being. That is not God. That cannot be. And if it is, I do not want to believe in such a God.
• I also believe that some people are just not good for you. That some people emotionally use you, they drain you of all your positive energy. They are leeches. Just being around certain people is akin to the sensation of scraping your fingernails on a blackboard. I've learnt that it's okay to not be around such people, and it's okay to not be liked by everyone.
• But I have also learnt that despite it all, 'everything's gonna be alright, rockabye'!

5) Learnt 26 new words.

 Well, I actually meant to learn one word for each letter of the alphabet, but then I just went haywire and learnt them randomly. And, the words that I learnt were (drumroll!)-anneal, bivouac, confute, cater-cousin, ersatz, eisegesis, fugacious, goster, heliotrope, irenic, irascible, justitia, kerf, lucubrate, orison, oppugn, prolix, pusillanimous, quiesce, simpatico, splenetic, truckle, unctuous, vociferate, xenogenic, yarely. And this is courtesy of www.dictionary.com, that pops a word into my inbox everyday and dares me to not open it. It seems to taunt me, in an evil Voldemort-like whisper, 'Go on, check it out. You don't know this word. Go on! You know you want to!'

6)  Fell in love with Bruno Mars

When I was a teenager, one of my hobbies was to write the lyrics of songs I liked in a songbook. It was a pretty book, covered with green velvet paper, and with pictures of pop stars that I had cut out of old copies of magazines that my cousin had given me.On every page of the songbook, I wrote the lyrics painstakingly, in my best handwriting, song by song, stuck relevant pictures in the spaces, and created a work of art! How I loved that book! And every time I fell in love with a particular song (or pop star), I would take that book out and sing along to the song that was playing. That was when I was in love with George Michael (and which girl wasn't, truthfully?) and poof! (no pun intended) one day, he goes and proclaims that he's gay! I was all like, somebody rip my heart out and leave me here to bleed! Teenage drama. Nothing quite like it. And the next person who ever came close to the dishiness of George Michael was the fabulous Ricky Martin with his wild pelvic thrusts. And whaddya know! There he went too! Which is why, after a while, I was afraid to even think of Enrique Iglesias, in case he...you know... 'cause I'm telling ya, that will just be cruel, cruel, cruel! But I digress (as I often do). 

There were songs like Ben and I wanna hold your hand. And then came Guns N' Roses with lyrics like 'Welcome to the jungle! You're gonna diiieeeeeee!', and Shaggy with 'Saw me b****** on the sofa, it wasn't me'. Not exactly lyrics that you want to rush and write down in a songbook. And when Eminem took over with 'If she ever tries to f****** leave I'm gonna tie her to the bed and set this house on fire!', I located that songbook and tore its yellow pages out and burned it. The end of an era.

And then I heard Bruno Mars singing Just the way you are, and I missed that old songbook. So I learnt the lyrics by heart, and I sing along every time it plays, and it just makes me feel like that happy kid all over again.

Sunday afternoon with the 'mantal bwoyz'

Sunday is the most crucial day of my week. I try to keep myself entertained and in good spirits, because that usually sets the tone for the rest of the week. Towards this aim, I try and expose my fickle mind to neutral or feel-good 'content'. So no Bollywood sob-fests for me, (where a character invariably named Raj) dies, or loses his vision, or worse, one of his limbs. And definitely no movies where the guy doesn't get the girl. Getting The Girl is very important. On any other day of the week, I can deal with it if that doesn't happen, but not on Sunday. My mind goes all like, 'What? I have to go to work tomorrow and the guy's not getting the girl today???'

So it was with much trepidation that I headed out to see 'Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara' or, ZNMD, as we shall refer to it from this moment onwards, in current Bollywood fashion. Now, considering it's starring Hrithik Roshan, who does that thing with his dirty-beer eyes, I was hoping I wouldn't have to rush out and gulp down a strip of Disprin to stop the inevitable headache that would ensue after watching his hamming that people are willing accept as acting due to his looks and dancing abilities and of course, his fab bod. D-uh!

Imagine a mash-up of Dil Chahta Hai, Due Date (without the gross bits) and any American road trip movie, without the mandatory busload of buxom blondes and crate-loads of beer. Instead, we have three very-well behaved boys who go on a very civilized bachelor road trip, and indulge in some harmless, albeit juvenile pranks. Not so much as a single dirty joke. Which is how I like it, actually. I hate it when movie characters go all American-Pie on me. The Akhtar siblings do seems to have a thing for trios of friends, (as in DCH, Rock On and now this). Co-incidence? Maybe. Or probably because two friends sitting around talking is boring, like in those snotty French movies, but add a third, and you have the potential for a play-off of personalities to make it more interesting.

Now if you're sick of KJ's San Francisco-New York-London locales, then Espana is a welcome change. Breath-taking, heart-stopping beauty in every frame. The cinematography by Carlos Catalan left me speechless. The La Tomatina festival and The Running of the Bulls (which to most of us are the most familiar things about Spain, thanks to TLC & NGC) is woven into the plot, so that we don't feel like virtual strangers in a strange land.

We have the uptight, money-minded stockbroker, a free-spirited and sometimes immature copy-writer, and a goody-two-shoes who go on a bachelor road trip. On the way, they discover love and adventure, face up to their fears, indulge in some pop psychology, and in the bargain, realise some truths about themselves. The characters are all very likeable (except Hrithik's in the beginning), but once you realise where his insecurities arise from, you start to like him a bit better as well. Very conveniently, he also speaks Spanish, which I imagine is a language he learned while filming a certain 'Kites' with a certain Ms. Mori. Ahem, ahem. They sing (I read somewhere it's actually their vocals in 'Senorita', and you can actually tell when Abhay Deol's singing because it's not a pretty sound).They dance (they attempt the flamenco, no less). And though this is considered heresy, I'm going to say it--I actually prefer Farhan Akhtar's dance moves to Hrithik's. He is more graceful when compared to Hrithik dancing with wild (and I mean wild) abandon. No, I haven't lost my mind. This is a democratic country, where people can speak their minds freely. Liberty and justice for all, and all that. Wait, that's America, isn't it? But my point really is, Abhay Deol should not dance either. Really. It's probably a Deol thing, but you know, there are some things you can get away with, and some that you simply cannot. But boy, can that boy act!

Lilting music by Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy, amazing poetry by Javed Akhtar, and the beauteous Katrina Kaif, who is like a cool summer breeze here, mouthing infinitely more tolerable lines here like "Mujhe afsos karna nahin aata" instead of screaming the jarring "You dirty dog!" in 'Tees Maar Khan'. Her character reminds me of Kirsten Dunst's character Claire in Elizabethtown, (one of my all-time favourite movies), only less nauseatingly sweet. I love the chemistry that the friends share, and I appreciate the fact that the writers don't put them into typically Bollywood-esque dilemmas, where they need to prove their undying loyalty and devotion to each other. They're just regular guys looking out for each other, getting into brawls and telling each other off, much like friends do in real life.

Naseeruddin Shah makes a brief but powerful appearance as Salman, Farhan Akhtar's character Imran's real father (spoiler alert! spoiler alert!). He tells Imran very matter-of-factly that even though he abandoned him, he thought about him many times, but didn't contact him because he just thought it was better that way. Just like that. Just like it is in real life, instead of in reel-life, where the father is overcome by remorse and blubbers and begs for his son's forgiveness, and they are then forever reunited in a deafening swell of music. I believe that when you have a progressive woman director, you also have more believable female characters. Which is why Katrina follows the car in which Hrithik is travelling to kiss him goodbye properly, instead of playing the bashful damsel pining away for what could have been. The only glitch for me was the ending, that I wish had been handled a little differently. Other than that, no headache, no regret. Win, win.

So go, without very high expectations, and you might be pleasantly surprised. And even if you're not, big deal. It's only three hours of the zindagi that you won’t get to live dobara.

I'd just like to take a minute to pat myself on the back

The God of Green-thumbery has finally decided to cut me some slack. I woke up yesterday, and voila! Flowers! And more flowers! On my tiny terrace garden! Behold!

 

 

 

I'd started to believe that the only way I could have a green thumb was if I belonged to Shrek's family. And now after this, I'm all like, Hey, Martha Stewart, eat your heart out!

Those schoolgirl days (of telling tales and biting nails are gone...)

I was in the 9th grade, I think, when puberty really kicked in and everyone went haywire. The girls wanted to be noticed, so they tried to get away with the shortest skirts and the smallest socks to give the illusion of the longest legs. I knew this guy who actually tied a small mirror to his shoelaces to try and look up girls' skirts. I can tell you, THAT did not go down very well. But my point is, at least boys and girls were just being themselves and doing what their hormones dictated. The thrill was in trying to see what you could get away with. And nowadays, well, things are different, to say the least. This is a billboard I see on my way to work everyday -

It seems to just scream, 'Send your daughters to us and we'll turn them into just what you've always dreamed of for them--Deepal Shaw wannabes.'

All I know is that if I'd worn a short skirt and stockings to school, the principal would've probably ordered me to be hanged until death, with my own stockings, from the school's clock-tower.
I can just picture the mothers of teenage boys lining up to get their sons into this school. Yeah.

Just like Bo

A while back, a girlfriend's status update read as 'I like it on the corner of the dining table', and another one followed with, 'I like it on the smooth marble floor in my living room.' I have to say, that the the first time I read something like that, I was pretty shocked. I'd like to think that I'm as open-minded as the next person, but that status update was from a girl who actually bakes brownies, and sings in the church choir, you know?

And then I thought, 'Hmmm...that's pretty progressive, isn't it? If these girls are being so open and forthright, why an I being such a prude?' So I thought about it for a while. Hmmm...how about...no, too much information. What about...ew, no! So I wrote-- 'I like it in the shower.'

B, bless her soul, was online at that moment, and popped up in the chat window-'Why would you want to put your handbag in the shower?' I was, like, huh? And then she sent me a message that proves beyond all doubt that on the imbecility scale of 1 to 10, I am a perfect 10. I am the Bo Derek of the imbeciles. She said, 'The original question that every woman needs to answer as her status update, is where is your favourite place to keep your handbag? And you like to keep yours in the shower??' And even though I was turning a deep shade of red and hyperventilating in embarrassment at that moment, and though I couldn't actually see it, I know that last sentence definitely involved an eye-roll.

Then, as an afterthought, she added, 'Babe, I do love you, but you're an idiot sometimes.'

P.S-For the record, I'd like to state that I like to keep my handbag on the non-kinky sidetable next to my bed. Just so you know.

How Google got me the day off

So I'm sitting at my desk at work, all furrowed of brow and foul of mood, and I suddenly burst out laughing. My co-workers scamper to my side and peer at my screen to read what they assume is the joke that someone has forwarded me, but they see me cracking up at...the Google homepage?

They back out of my workspace slowly, keeping an eye on me the whole time, and hurry towards my boss's cabin to ask him if maybe, just maybe, he can make me take a forced vacation, because I'm finally falling off the deep end.

Google really cracks me up sometimes. Especially in the middle of a crappy day, when I need to find an important bit of information, I would naturally turn to trusty ol' Google, right? And barely do I type in 'How to' and I get the following screen---

How to get pregnant? Hmmm...yes, yes. I really need Google to teach me how. You'd think that I'd have figured it out by now, living in a country with a population of 1.21 billion. And kids today would much read about how to kiss on Google, rather than fumble through the saliva-fest that is their first kiss, behind the school auditorium. I also want Google to teach me---get this, get this, to GAIN weight, because it's not enough, I suspect, that I have a metabolism that helps my body to ingest fat particles straight out of the air that I breathe and deposits them on my hips. And an invaluable skill that every person must possess is TO KNOW HOW TO HACK A FACEBOOK ACCOUNT. In case you get so psyched that somebody's actually looking up how to do that right at this very moment as you're reading this, and you no longer want to even be on facebook anymore because of all the crazies out there, then there's HOW TO DELETE A FACEBOOK ACCOUNT right below that. How very convenient.

The funniest thing that happened, though, was that my boss came in and peeped in over my shoulder while I was chuckling to myself and then called me into his cabin and gave me 4 days off next week to 'regroup' , which when translated into Crazyspeak means 'to regain your grip on reality, woman!'

Excuse me, can you bring me the Reality Check please?

Last month, when I read the last post of Derek Miller, the waterworks turned themselves on. That's the thing with me. My heart is an ocean, and I can never really accurately predict who will get to swim in it. And what is it about dying that really fills me up? And what is it about dying too soon, before one's time, with so much left to do, and no time to do it? What is it about being full of dreams and plans, and the will and desire to grab life by the collar and shake it up and say,"I'm here for a short while, and we've got a load of stuff to do, so let's get started, and make it count!" but sometimes not having the opportunity to do it all?

And cancer-it's so insidious. You wouldn't even know that you had it, while you're putting things off for later, for when you're older, or richer, or have more time, or when you presume you'll be happier, it's quietly eating you up inside. I can only imagine the rage, the bitterness, and the sense of betrayal, the unfairness of it all. I have known a strong, wonderful woman, who loved her family and her life fiercely, and battled this bravely. I have seen her struggle up close.The struggle to stand and face it with grace and dignity, while her hair fell out, while she lost her appetite.While she turned weak and emaciated, and her skin turned like paper, and she looked like a ghost of her former self. In the end, the cancer won. Derek Miller talks about how he had to start wearing adult diapers, and sign his own DNR (Do Not Resuscitate form) and how he actually wished he could choose which season to die in.

So when I'm feeling all 'woe-is-me' and not having a particularly good day, and I'm griping and moaning about how rough I've got it, I go back to Derek Miller's page where he writes...

A wondrous place

The world, indeed the whole universe, is a beautiful, astonishing, wondrous place. There is always more to find out. I don't look back and regret anything, and I hope my family can find a way to do the same.

What is true is that I loved them. Lauren and Marina(his daughters), as you mature and become yourselves over the years, know that I loved you and did my best to be a good father.

Airdrie (his wife), you were my best friend and my closest connection. I don't know what we'd have been like without each other, but I think the world would be a poorer place. I loved you deeply, I loved you, I loved you, I loved you.

And in my heart I know that there are people who love me deeply too. They love me, love me, love me. Then I look into the mirror and need to say to myself, "Perspective, Baby. Get some."

Ramble, ramble...

I can't make up my mind about Dexter. Not whether I like or dislike him, because I'm quite sure I don't. And not even because he's a serial killer, mind you. For reasons that probably make sense to no-one else but me. Because his lips look white and chapped. Because he's a redhead. Because he looks like one of those freckled misfits that you'd imagine hanging around looking at people strangely and smiling a fake smile, and then going home and indulging in some weird fetish. The kind of person, the cops discover later, is a serial killer. Which is exactly what he is! He just has that look in his eye, you know? Then why can't anyone tell? Especially since his sister's a cop. And then, there are all those people missing. And nobody ever, ever, found a clue. Really? But I guess all this shall come to pass in future seasons on Indian TV, which are actually past seasons everywhere else.

It's March, and I should be thinking about other things, such as my impending audits, and all the impending financial year-end bullcrap-ery that marks March, but instead, I am thinking about Dexter. And the Walking Dead. Now that's a show I'd much rather watch. Just honest-to-goodness zombies, with just thing on their  agenda-to chew you to pieces. I mean, can it get any simpler? You walk around aimlessly grunting and looking fierce, and the moment you see a human, you chomp. Ah, that's the life (or un-life, or whatever), unless you get shot or thwacked in the head with a pick-axe (OW!). That's a bummer, no doubt, but what do you care, because you were dead to begin with anyway. Win-win. Though the plot is uncannily similar to Zombieland, and watching that movie also answered a nagging doubt-why don't I ever recall seeing Jesse Eisenberg in a movie before? Till I saw Zombieland and went - ah, that's what he used to do before The Social Network! Apart from standing on a tree stump in The Village.

Which brings my rambling brain to another question-what the hell happened to TV anyway? There used to be a time when I was perfectly content to just watch Spiderman, or The Wonder Years, or M*A*S*H, or some such other innocuous show, where people didn't even say 'Damn'. And now, it's all "You beep beep. Get outta my beep way before I blow your beep head off. You beep beep beep. I should've shot you when I had the beep chance." It's traumatic, really. At the end of the day, I want to relax, unwind, and watch something calming or funny (and not just another re-run of Friends, that I believe will air till the end of time), and all I get is this. Traumatic TV. So don't you judge me when you catch me watching 'Bee Movie'. IT BEEPING CALMS ME DOWN, OKAY??!!

Which is why I think sometimes that I was just better off without TV, and then I was presented the proverbial apple in the form of a DTH connection. Whenever I resolve not to renew my subscription this time around, a little voice in my head says- "But all those episodes of Glee and Modern Family are not going to watch themselves, are they?" They're all just standing like little orphans in the rain looking up at me. I just need to know what happens next, don't I? TV hell. You can check out any time you like but you can never leave.

And despite all this, I'm still on track with my reading (6 down, 44 more to go), and I've completed Committed: A Skeptic makes Peace with Marriage, which was interesting, but got a little tedious at times, since Elizabeth Gilbert does tend to go on a bit, even though she does riddle by brain with fascinating little nuggets of information. But I'm a very impatient reader, which is why, as I mentioned earlier, Charles Dickens stands no chance with me. I also read He's Just Not That Into You. Yes, I know there's a movie and I could have just saved myself the time, but you could just say that this was a filler book, because I couldn't get in a fatter, juicier book at this point that requires actual, you know, concentration, and actual,you know, thought, and I did promise myself 50, people. And when I realise that I still need to read F-O-R-T-Y-F-O-U-R books, all I can do is squeak 'Help...' like the little voice in my head.

4, and counting...

I finally watched 'The Bucket List' a couple of weeks ago (yeah, I know, loser, right?) and quite predictably, decided to make a short bucket list myself. Short, because I want to test this out and see if it works for me, this Bucket List thing, because some people get it, and some people don't. For instance, she who must not be named (ref.my earlier post Addicted to the Drama) would recoil in horror and say, ''What? Plan my life? Make a list of things I want to do? Why? Aren't things just supposed to happen on their own?''

So, anyway, one of the things on my list is to read 50 books this year. You read that right, baby - 50! Some of you are thinking 'piece of cake', while some of you are probably thinking at this very instant, 'What? Have you lost your frickin' mind!!!? Yeah, right! This I gotta see!'

I only have the courage to actually mention this publicly because, as of now, I'm right on track, but since it has been only a month, I'm reserving my desire to gloat for later. So far, I have read 4 books in the month of February, and I use the term 'read' very loosely here, since I cheat with audiobooks. I don't see why they should be treated with any less respect than a printed book, though I do love the smell of the printed book, and have you ever heard of anyone cuddling up with an audiobook on a rainy day? Er, no, I think not. But the audiobook does give me the liberty to catch up on my reading while I do my fascinating chores, such as vacuuming and hanging the clothes out to dry.

I would also like to clarify that I am reading none of that high-brow literature that people who know me naturally assume I would. The objective is to actually get through the book, not get transported into a hypnagogic state everytime I start to read Charles Dickens describe every stone that ever paved the streets of dreary old London (oh, and I take a brief moment here to mention that I learnt the word 'hypnagogic' a couple of days ago, courtesy of http://www.dictionary.com/, which pops a word into my inbox everyday, and which I have vowed to read and remember, because sometimes it just feels like the last time I actually learnt any new words when I was in Class VI). No, indeed. My logic is very simple. Ideally, the book should be around 250 pages long, which divided by 7 days in the week, gives me an average of around 35 pages a day, which is pretty manageable, if I read even while watching 'Masterchef USA' (which, by the way, cannot hold a candle up to Masterchef Australia, but GO, WHITNEY! Whoo!!! and mentioning Masterchef India might just make me gag, so I won't do that here, unless you want to deal with my virtual vomit) and 'Walking Dead', which strangely, despite all its blood and gore, and hacking and head-severing, does not make me gag. I think the sight of the delectable Andrew Lincoln is what actually keeps the bile from rising up into my throat. I have loved him ever since I set eyes on him in 'Love, Actually' and nothing is ever going to change that. However, if you ever read or hear me say that I watch or like 'Burn Notice', please be merciful and shoot me, will ya?

So far, here are the books I have read with the link to Goodreads--

February 2011
Week 1--The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri
Week 2--Vernon God Little by DBC Pierre
Week 3--The Book of Tomorrow by Cecilia Ahern
Week 4--A Tiny Bit Marvellous by Dawn French

I'm currently reading 'Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage' and I'm looking forward to hearing from you with your suggestions for a few more good ones. Thanks! xoxoxox