Obese Infidel bloglet...

...dedicated to the night of hedonism just passed.

Firstly, one question for bars and pubs all over India? Why do you ask whether I need ice with my Scotch? Whether it's a cheap TSF in Delhi or a club like Insomnia or a pretence like Library Bar, why do you need to include ice? It turns me off no end.

However, that is still better than serving me whisky and cold water in a tall glass. I don't want the appearance of a cool drink in my hand. Neither do I want so much water as to overpower the whisky. I think the tall glass is a waste and looks like an accessory for Tej Sapru-type villains. Seriously, I need my whisky in a tumbler. A nicely cut glass would do even better, thank you.

However, while the inane questions and the shape and size of the glass can be turn-offs, this is still not blasphemy. That is committed when they pour some warm water into my glass the moment I say no ice. See, I understand water at room temperature is the advice given by true connoisseurs. I also know that all of them live around the glens in Scotland. Not in an Indian pub where the water has been warmed by the outside temperature, the lights, smoke and the often inadequate HVAC systems.

Please put a small bottle in the freezer for me. And never, I mean never ever, put a piece of ice to cool the water. Next time I want something that chilled, I would go for a beer, thank you.

However, yesterday was better. The bartender actually recognised me from two weeks ago and mixed my water and ice in a martini shaker. Which was nice. Plus, he got a tumbler. Thanks.

Secondly, what happens if two old friends accuse you of possible infidelity and obesity in quick succession?

So, I was discussing quizzing and other things with a girl yesterday (Now you know why I don't have as exciting a life as you do, you reader). The conversation was flowing. We were on a sofa. From the dance-floor, as I later heard, it looked like I was conversing with a girl while sitting on a sofa. Which wasn't very surprising.

Two friends came to check who the girl was, since they felt responsible for me. Or the Girl.

So, I can see them standing about twelve feet away to my left, trying to nonchalantly look at me, trying to have a conversation which doesn't make them squint at me through the smoke and the darkness, trying to peer closely through the corner of their eyes, trying to do anything but attract attention and ending up doing nothing, but just that. Then in a while this friend walks past me to the imaginary object placed two feet away on my right. Keep in mind, that all this while we are talking.

Today when I caught up with one of my two friends about this trifle, she said, "No, we weren't sure who it was so we came up. Then we saw 'her'. We couldn't believe that you were talking to 'her' (insert raised eyebrows here). That's why Jumbo walked across and confirmed."
"So did you see Mambo in between?"
Mambo was sitting in between us. It was a three-way conversation.
"Yes, but only after Jumbo walked across.... You both (Mambo and I) were wearing the same grey T-shirt. I thought that you were sitting right next to her. Then I saw that it was two people."

So, first I get accused of infidelity and then obesity. All in one conversation.

Thirdly, okay. I am done with personal posts for the week. Tomorrow there's a theme party which has asked us to come dressed as pirates. Unfortunately, the hostess says that she doesn't like Johnny Depp. I am in two minds. Or not. Plus, for those who have read till here, here's a link for Old USSR Posters. And here is a link to something called pipecleaner dance. Go play.