Blogging in the Rain - another joint post

After the overwhelming response they got from their beloved fans, Pan and TPF have decided to grace you all with another gem from your favourite teenage bloggers.

In the past few days they have been busy shopping.

Yes, that's right, folks. TPF has never been to India before and instead of sightseeing, she has been keeping herself busy by trying to buy away half the city. Pan, who on the other hand was born in Bombay, is buying the other half.

Today, Pan and TPF bought 12 pairs of earrings, not to mention a ring, for less than 6 Euros. The street vendor thought that he was ripping Pan and TPF off but in reality, what the poor street vendor doesn't know is that Pan and TPF were the ones who had the upper hand in the transaction. They're evil and they love it! [Also, they love exploiting cheap labour]

TPF ruined Pan's morning the other day because she randomly pretended to be sick. The reason for this is that she is an attention-seeking brat. To this day, the reasons for her random 'condition' remain one of the biggest mysteries of mankind. Suffice it to say that once Pan forcibly dragged her to a shopping mall, TPF immediately got better.

[This is all Pan's fabrication. TPF was truly feeling unwell.]

Well, we all know who just typed that out!

The monsoon has officially arrived in Bombay. This was testified to by the copious wading through ankle-deep water under a flimsy, Milanese and shared chatri* that Pan and TPF engaged in this evening.

This of course was nothing compared to the walking around barefoot in a damp-floored temple that TPF had to endure for the sake of cultural awareness. Yes, friends, our darling TPF was seen BAREFOOT in a damp, fungus-ridden public space. Behold the flying pigs.

Pan and TPF cooked. Together. It was ugly. It was bitter. It was war!

Enough said on that.

Throughout all this, Pan and TPF have fallen victim to the infamous leer. The characteristics of this leer include:

1) bared teeth
2) perverted sneer
3) traces of drool
4) dirty mumblings in Marathi
5) touching of private areas, including but not limited to 'the tool' or the 'the wand', as it is known in the wizarding world

Of course, Pan and TPF are hardly blameless in this situation, being the uber-hot chicks that they are. Also, TPF happens to be rather pale compared to the average Mumbaite, and Pan favours clothing that enhances her naturally prominent assets.

Wait till Eris joins them. She's bald, for God's sake.

So for now, TPF and Pan once again leave the blogosphere and hope that you will all survive for a couple of days without their riveting posts, although from the astounding amount of comments they have received on their last entry, it seems as if you shall all live.


*umbrella

Bombay Blogging - a joint post

Hello, imaginary following. Today, Pan and TPF shall be joining their already immense wits to create one fun-fest of a post! Buckle up!

We are in Bombay, as you can tell by the title, and we're posting together, as you can also tell by the title (and by the fact that the same post is in both our blogs). We are also fighting over the keyboard, an activity which is definitely in line with our usual bickering and childish banter.

No, we are not married. But thanks for asking.

Moving on.

We have already taken some funny photos which shall be posted as soon as we get back to Italy. Meanwhile, we shall tell you what's been going on for the last two days.

The flight was mostly uneventful, except for Pan's mispronounciation of German (we were flying Austrian Air). You see, she kept pronouncing 'flug' as if it rhymed with 'plug', when the 'u' is actually supposed to be pronounced as something like the the double 'o'in 'book'. Also, TPF mocked Pan for her sentimentalism, which was very very mean of her. Pan sulked and TPF apologized and everything was fine again. We watched a Hindi movie with subtitles - Bluff Master on the plane and marvelled at the uber-cool headphones, which the plane people were kind enough to supply. We also had a Britney Spears marathon on our iPod which was rather cool.

At the airport, Pan got paranoid about our luggage not coming thorugh. Luckily, TPF was there to save the day and make sure Pan didn't hyperventilate. Pan's friends came all the way to the airport to say hi to her, which made her feel like a horrible friend (which she is).

We eventually got home and survived thanks to the aid of ceiling fans. It's pretty hot and humid here, kind of like Turkish summers, which makes TPF feel at home and Pan feel sticky with perspiration. Because women don't sweat, they perspire.

Yesterday, we went out for a walk with a friend of Pan's. Apparently, Pan sucks at road crossing. TPF saved her life numerous times (you can probably tell by now that TPF's writing most of this post whilst Pan is busy twirling her thumbs and talking to her aunt). By the way, did you know that Pan is an auntie? Her cousin has a two and a half year old son called Gops (well, not really. It's a nickname). Gops loves his auntie Pan, but not his auntie Pan's friend, TPF (he can join the bloody club). In fact, Gops thinks TPF is auntie Pan's mummy. Which is very flattering to TPF. Really.

We shall do another one of these joint posts very soon to keep you all in touch with your uber-cool teenaged bloggers. You are advised to leave comments on both blogs, otherwise you may cause discontent and more bickering and we already do enough of that without your help.

Thank you and goodbye!

Condi's Playlist

Have you ever asked yourself what a typical Condoleeza Rice iPod playlist looks like?

Neither have I.

Luckily, Bono has. Now I don't like Bono much (I don't like him at all, actually) but I'll give him credit for asking the important questions. Good job, Bono. These are the things I'd really like to ask if I came face to face with Condi.

It seems that Condi is fond of classical music. But look at that number two.

I almost dropped off my chair when I read that. No, really. Cream? That's just... that's... cool. You wouldn't expect Condi to be cool, would you? Maybe she is, I mean, I don't know her or anything, but she doesn't look very cool. She doesn't look like the kind of person who'd listen to Cream. Now Tony Head as Ripper listening to 'Tales of Brave Ulysses' is totally believable, but that's Tony Head. This is Condoleeza Rice we're talking about.

Can you see her bopping to the inspired 'Sunshine of Your Love' lyrics?

Neither can I.

By the way, you can totally tell that she wanted to put Cream at number one but she had to maintain some sort of composure, so she was forced to pretend to like Mozart more. Which is impossible. I mean, how can you possibly like Mozart more than Cream?

This article threw me into a fit of self-doubt, I must say. Who knew Condi was a kindred spirit? Seriously, she likes Cream! Am I supposed to like her now?

Well, I do.

ROCK ON, CONDI! YOU HAVE MY VOTE!

Even though I'm Turkish and I can't vote for your election. Pity, that.

Another thing that jumps to my attention is the beautifully vague number 7.

Condi: Hmm. Bono. Who's Bono again? You too? Oh, U2. Like the spy planes? We send those around. Sometimes they get shot down and summits collapse. Oh, you meant the band? There's a band called U2? Silly name. What, they're famous? Pah! Brahms is better. What's that? The Bono guy is editing this issue of The Independent? Oh my. I cannot possible forget to include one of his songs in my playlist. Trouble is, I don't know any of his songs. Maybe George knows some. I'll ask him. George, I need to put a U2 song in this list but I don't know any. What can I do?

George: Just be vague and say what they want to hear. That's always worked for me.

Condi: Well, actually...

George: Silence!

Condi: OK. People are stupid anyway. They'll believe it.

And so we have Condi pretending to be a U2 fan for the sake of appearances.

Condi, you are my hero. I love you even more now.

The Da Vinci Crap. Code. I meant Code.

It's not that bad, actually. The movie, I mean. I haven't read the book. I will never read the book. I wouldn't touch the book with a ten foot pole. I don't know why ten feet and not twelve, or thirty-eight for that matter. But ten it is.

But I did see the movie.

Alas, your last bulwark against the onslaught of mass media hype, your remaining fortress of anti-bestsellerism, the final frontier of the war against so-called literature, in other words this blog, has fallen.

I have succumbed to the pressure. I have seen The Da Vinci Code. With a capital D. I was probably amongst the first few people in Milan to do so, in fact, as I watched the 2 o'clock showing. We even got cheap tickets. We being Pan and I. Yes, Pan was there too. Had you any doubt?

What, you think I am shamelessly procrastinating the moment in which I will have to reveal what I actually thought of the movie? Well spotted.

I liked it.

It wasn't that bad.

From here on, there shall be spoilers. Proceed at your own risk.

The first half was good. Reasonably paced, reasonably mysterious, reasonably reasonable. The self-flagellating albino monk was successfully creepy. Overblown music served to highlight moments of astounding revelation. Tom Hanks was kind of endearing in a slightly bloated, 'I used to be this great star when I made quality movies and movies with Meg Ryan but then I sort of, uh, wasn't anymore,' way. Audrey Tautou ruled, even though from Amelie to The Da Vinci Code is as big a cinematic quality drop as they make them. And the whole trasure hunt thing that worked so well in National Treasure worked well in this movie too.


Tom Hanks: A clue! Let us follow it!

Evil monk: KILL! KIIIIILLLLL! Flagellate.

Tom Hanks: ANOTHER CLUE! Let us follow it more!

Random characters: We are good! We are helping the heroes!

Tom Hanks: Great! [gets hit in the head numerous times]

Random characters: HA! GOTCHA!

Tom Hanks: You're evil? B-But...

Audience: Dude, you're the only one who bought it.

Tom Hanks: [mopes] But I fell in a well when I was little. So now I'm claustrophobic.

Audrey Tautou: A-HA! Let me heal you with my magical powers.

Audience: Um, is this a hint?

Audrey Tautou: No. By the way, my parents died when I was little.

Audience: Awwww.

Tom Hanks: No time for interesting backstory! I have discovered yet another clue! We must follow it at all costs and make sure to pointedly ignore the fact that an evil monk is after us and he's clearly better than us at various methods of violence, therefore it would make sense for us not to turn our backs on him, but you know what? What is an action movie without the action heroes doing exactly that?

Audience: Hear, hear!


Et cetera.

As you would expect, this got old after a while. Eventually, Ian McKellen, the quirky yet endearing cripple, came into the picture.


Ian McKellen: I am quirky yet endearing. Also, my connection to Tom Hanks is obscure. Oh, and I am a rich Englishman.

Tom Hanks: Hi. Help us. Also, we need someone to do the exposition.

Ian McKellen: Allow me to expose, then. The Holy Grail, yadda yadda yadda, Knights of the Templar, yadda yadda yadda, Mary Magdalene, yadda yadda yadda, in conclusion, Jesus was married and had children. This is the Church's uber-secret. Please try to ignore the fact that my explanation has been completely ineffectual in clearing up the question of who's after whom and why.

Audrey Tautou: But then it's not an explanation...

Tom Hanks: Whatever. Watch me as I pretend to disagree with Ian McKellen. Overlook the fact that my acting skills are less than convincing.

Audience: OK. But only because you used to make movies with Meg Ryan.


At this point, I gave up on understanding the plot. Mind you, it's probably just me. I'm not good at getting plots. Unless they're obvious.


Tom Hanks and Audrey Tautou: [after having numerous near-death experiences at the hands of the creepy monk and the police] Woah. We might have actually reached the end!

A clue: No you haven't!

Audrey Tautou: NO! NOT ANOTHER CLUE!

A clue: Geez, kidding.

Audience: OH THANK GOD!

Tom Hanks: Here we go, then-

Ian McKellen: A-HA! That's what you think!

Tom Hanks: Ian? What? You're supposed to be in mortal peril! More importantly, you're not supposed to be here!

Ian McKellen: WRONG! I AM EVIL! MUHAHAHHAUHA. And a pitiful excuse for a plot twist. Which is also evil.

Audrey Tautou: [sighs] This will never end, will it?

Audience: Sorry.


Eventually, the French police appeared out of nowhere and arrested Ian McKellen, which is a pity, because he was doing a great job acting slightly unhinged. Almost as cool as Magneto, in fact. And then, the big revelation.


Audrey Tautou: Uh, aside from displaying my lovely French accent and my above-average acting skills, what exactly was my purpose? Oh, right, I am related to the old chap who died at the beginning.

Tom Hanks: No you're not! You're related to JESUS!

Audrey Tautou: Well, you sure appear pretty calm for someone who's delivering momentous news. I don't believe you.

Tom Hanks: [tries harder] You are related to JESUS! You are the Holy Grail!

Ian McKellen: [from his prison cell] A-HA! You finally got it! But didn't you realise from the SUBTLE hints I threw in throughout the movie, such as but not limited to the famous saying 'We often don't see what's right in front of us' paired with a meaningful look towards Audrey? And her generosity towards a random heroin addict in a random park in Paris? And her magical healing powers? And the fact that she got way too much camera time for someone who was supposed to just help the hero?

Audience: Uh...

Tom Hanks: Oh my God, I am standing in the same room as Jesus' last living relative. Can't you see how shocked I am from my lack of expression? Oh my God, you are Jesus' descendant. Uh, wow?

Audience: How?

Ian McKellen: [from his prison cell] I AM EVIL! MUHAHAHHAUHA.

I still don't get why Ian McKellen was evil, though. It's not like he tried to kill anybody.

Anyway. Audrey Tautou is Jesus' great-great-great... something.

This was followed by moments of enlightenment on the beauty of faith, a chaste kiss on the forehead delivered by Tom Hanks to Audrey Tautou, and the random appearance of random people who are randomly assigned to protect Audrey Tautou because guess what? She's related to Jesus!

Why the outrage, I wonder? I'm sure the book made a decent thriller, bad writing aside. The movie made a decent thriller too, average acting aside. But two and a half hours of treasure hunting and inane plot twists sure aren't enough to destroy the Church. Especially as the movie takes so much care to be politically correct. I learned more about Opus Dei through an article on Time magazine than I did through the movie.

Besides, the final revelation is kind of ludicrous.

Oh well. I suppose it counts as a plot twist.

Well, that's all, folks. TPF has voluntarily spent money on The Da Vinci Code. You can now proceed to mock her. But seriously, it wasn't that bad. And hey, you can thank me for putting myself through the torture in your stead. Or hate me for revealing the twists. Whatever tickles your fancy.

PS: Despite the movie's title, there was very little about Leonardo and altogether too much on unintelligible plot points. Movie script writers would do well to remember that quality, not quantity, makes a movie decent. Twenty minutes of exposition will do nothing unless the exposition makes sense. Yes, I'm still bitter about the whole not understanding the plot thing.

Natalie Portman in 'Dude, where's my hair?'

I'M BACK!

Ahem.

Exams are virtually over. I have the last two next week, but I don't really need to study. I mean, they're Italian exams and I kind of know Italian (that's what happens when you live in a country for 16 years) so studying won't really get me anywhere, but it will make me cranky and cut from my valuable bloghopping time! Which is why I'm not studying until Sunday evening. And that's that.

Moving on.

I read this a while on Overheard in New York and, well, how hot is Natalie Portman? No, seriously. Does she even fit on a scale of 1 to 10? And not only that, she's smart too. And rich. And she got to make out with Hayden Christensen! And she can act (she pulls off the British accent in V for Vendetta better than James Marsters, and that's saying something)!

As if that wasn't enough to prove the existence of a cosmic force of unfairness that governs our lives, Natalie Portman is also one of the select few people in the world who look good without hair.

A before/after to make the message clearer:

before:










after:


How is this fair, I ask you? if I shaved my head, I'd probably look like some kind of animal/vegetable. But if Natalie Portman shaves her head, she looks like a goddess! More so than she did before!

WHY? WHYYYY????? WHY HER AND NOT ME???

Um, apparently because the shape of her face is right. Go figure.

Other people who look good with overly short hair: David Beckham (who looks good in any hairdo, because he is a demi-god on earth, after all, and there's no denying that), Daniel Day-Lewis, Brad Pitt (need I explain?)...

None of them females.

Damn you, Natalie Portman, for managing to pull off the 'short-hair-for-movie' thing better than Demi Moore!

The movie is, of course, V for Vendetta which I watched a few weeks ago (a time I like to call 'ante-IB') at Pan's and since I knew that, at a certain point, Natalie Portman's hair was just going to go, I spent half the movie nagging Pan (who'd seen it before).

'Are they going to cut it now? Oh God, Pan, when are they going to cut it? Oh no, tell me it's not the next scene! How much till they cut her hair? Oh dear, it's going to be terrible, isn't it? Oh God, Pan, I'm scared! They can't cut her hair! That's... that's ebil!'

That's what I get for watching trailers. Half a movie ruined by the expectation of the hair-cutting.

This kind of reminds me of Along Came Polly. Trailers ruined that movie for me because all the funny stuff was in there (also, the movie was rather bad. That also ruined it). But then, some trailers don't make much of a difference, do they? I mean, I knew the ship was going to sink before I watched Titanic, but that didn't ruin the movie at all.

Yes, I admit it, I'm one of those lame-ass softies who cried during Titanic. Twice, in fact. Once, when the orchestra kept playing despite the imminent death by drowning. The second time when the old Kate Winslet chucked the necklace into the sea.

But apart from the movie-ruining tense anticipation of the awful moment when they were going to cut Natalie Portman's hair, I actually enjoyed V for Vendetta. Pan and I had to fight not to squee at the obvious 1984 references, and I had to fight tears (because I'm a romantic at heart) when she kissed V.

'He doesn't even feel it, you dolt. She's kissing the bloody mask!' said Pan.

'B-B-but... don't you see? He is the mask! He is the idea, and the man behind the idea! And she doesn't care that she's kissing plastic [but maybe it's porcelain] because she loves him! And I bet he totally feels the kiss anyway because she loves him, and he loves her, and they love each other and WHY DOESN'T ANYONE LOVE ME?'

'Oh, TPF, I'm sure your mother loves you.'

'HA! Yeah, right! She totally gave my broken foot the big brush-off!'

My foot is loads better, by the way.

In conclusion: V for Vendetta is a good movie. And Natalie Portman is hot.

Click on this link for a hilarious recap, but beware spoilers.