India Uncut

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Saturday, November 11, 2006

Sunday, bloody Sunday

Indiatimes never fails to amaze me. Consider the following introduction to a slideshow:

Sunday mornings. Or should I say Sunday afternoons? Aaaah! That feeling of waking up at your own time, Room chilled like Rockefeller Center during New York winters, snuggling on satin and dreaming of uh … Penelope Cruz running in slow-mo on white Waikiki beaches, eating corn-on-the-cob (actually that’s what this dream sounds like - corn!) with me and soft Tchaikovsky playing … beautiful - then suddenly …
Bugger me softly, what to say now? This takes Purplocity and Verniness to hitherto unachieved heights, and I shudder to think where these gents will take us next. Perhaps I should just crawl into a corner, get into a foetal position and loudly sing La Traviata or something. How to match this level of surreal?

(Previous posts with Purplocity/Verniness: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25.)
amit varma, 6:23 PM| write to me | permalink | homepage

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