...a moron and her oxymorons (....yep, real original)

~ Business Ethics
~ Microsoft Works
~Non-Stick Glue
~Diet Ice-Cream
~Rap Music
~Adult Male
~American Intelligence
~Peacekeeper Missile
~Silent Female

Buffy the Vampire Slayer : The Evil that Men Do

Word of Caution: Not recommended to be read as a meal-time accompaniment (believe me, I tried)

A hitherto popular Grade A student goes on a vicious killing spree. The town of Sunnydale deals with the shock by turning into a lynch mob; attacking each other, spreading havoc and letting their inner nastiness run rampant. Sadly, the slayer-brigade is not immune and their anger bursts forth in all it’s vitriolic glory.

Adding that essential degree of creepiness is the return of an ancient and extremely powerful vampire, Helen and her equally sadistic lover, Julian. Helen was known for her violent murders of slayers over the centuries and Buffy is next on her fang-list. The couple also intend raising the goddess of destruction, Meter and for the resurrection, the Slayer has a crucial (unbeknownst to her) role to play.

I am not big on blood and gore…creatures of the night…or Horror as a genre, per se. But with so many people salivating over the Twilight Series (which I personally feel would make any self-respecting vamp want to stake himself), I needed to revisit the magic of a truly wicked and original show: Buffy The Vampire Slayer.

The television series was truly iconic. Buffy’s perky-cheerleader-who-can-kick-dead-butt act; Xander’s sarcasm; Giles’ oddly comforting presence; Willow’s supreme Wiccan perfection and Angel’s brooding portrayal of a vampire-with-a-soul...all are permanently etched in popular culture.

While the book cannot effectively recreate the splendid action sequences, the author does a slick job with the dialogue-delivery, quips and lightening fast repartee. Nancy Holder has dutifully followed the series and recreated Sunnydale’s human ( and demonic) residents to perfection.

...I'll never be a Cleopatra

I love kohl…a swish of dark, sooty kohl and you’re transformed from the girl-next-door to an exotic, mysterious, alluring woman. Well.....that’s what happens to OTHER fortunate ladies. Me??? I wear kohl and look like any of the following:

#1: a panda that partied into the wee hours

#2: The Queen of The Night People

#3: Amitabh Bachchan in Agneepath

#4: Morticia Addams' baby-sister

Try as I might, my kohl never stays put…it wanders and meanders and wants to say Hello! to my cheekbones. It scares small children and innocent animals (Well okay, I exaggerate), but seriously….it’s kind of pathetic that I am still struggling with something so basic.

Maybe it’s a sign….something along the lines of “thou-shalt-continue-your-reign-as-Betty-Cooper”and as a footnote “thou-shalt-never-be-mistaken-for Egyptian-queen-who-bathed –in-asses'-milk".

...my new favourite show

MMK revisited...

“I learned three important
things in college – to use a library, to memorize quickly and visually, to drop
asleep at any time given a horizontal surface and fifteen minutes.”

~Agnes DeMille

College was golden…it encapsulated the best moments of my yen-ggg life. I was nervous, sparky, petrified, sarcastic and yet, surprisingly sane with all these emotions running riot within me. Reason: I had a great group of friends…we bonded...we cracked dreadful PJs...we fought…we sulked…we made up…we had crushes…we mooned…our hearts broke at regular intervals..and we swore we would never love again. But come Monday, and history would repeat itself.

And why am I waxing lyrical about college?........Yesterday, a fraction of the ol’college crowd met up….we travelled back-in-time, revisited our stomping grounds, grew misty-eyed (well, almost) on seeing our secluded l'il classroom where isolation made us knit ever-so-closely. I remembered the crazy jam sessions where we danced to some seriously questionable music and got our poor toes squashed on by the yesteryear two left feet-ers. We cackled evilly, recalling our poor professors who were burdened with the creatures from hell-mouth (read: our saintly group). Finally, we wound up the nostalgic trip with a good ol’Jai Sandwich..perfectly grilled, slathered with butter and accompanied by the I-will-burn-your-every-orifice green chutney.

Clichés sometimes are the only route to go...so here goes....they truly were the best years of my life...

...listening to The Beatles today

Heaven Sent (The Mediator Series, Book #6)

Suzanne Simon (Suze)…ghost mediator extraordinaire is finally in a relationship with the delectable ghost, Jesse. But she’s also been trying to curb that inner voice which niggles and asks uncomfortable questions: What kind of a future does she have with a spook? How will she sustain a relationship with a man who is visible only to her? And what about the fact that she will age and pass through different stages of life, but Jesse will remain eternally young?

Adding fuel to the ghostly fire is Paul Slater, unscrupulous fellow-mediator. He has no qualms about playing underhanded tricks to break up the golden pair. And then he comes up with a plan. Paul, having the ability like all mediators to time-travel will travel back to 1850 and prevent Jesse from ever being murdered and having an untimely death. But this ‘humane’ plan has one little glitch. It will mean that Suze will never remember that she knew and loved a ghost called Jesse DeSilva.

Will Suze do the right thing and finally provide peace to Jesse’s wandering soul?...or will she hush her noisy conscience and hold on the best thing that has ever happened to her otherwise crazy life?

Meg Cabot winds up the teen-series in summer blockbuster style…lots of laughs and enough drama to keep the emotionally involved teary-eyed

Where the Sidewalk ends ~ Shel Silverstein

Where the Sidewalk Ends

There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,

And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.

Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

12 Key Zen Habits

Downloaded this bright and sparky poster from GoddessGuidebook.com...

Betty's Diary - Comic Book Covers