Acceptance

Your mom called me today
When you couldn't pick your phone
She thought I would know if you were fine
She left a full moon in my face

No Eating in the Bathroom

The dashing artist was perplexed aplenty. Were his uber-skilled hands so beslimed, nay, begrimed? He shot back in his chair, and threw the woolgathering waiter a corner-eye dart. Was the tongs-wielder trying to scald him?

Our friend had asked us to dinner in a Chinese restaurant – her birthday (at thirty, she’s as lovely as a lily). Her happy, little crowd was lawyers, bankers and in-the-process-of-becoming-self-made people. She’d brought the artist along for the outré appeal.

When the steaming, tiny, white towels made their wont appearance, the manicure-haired artist was alarmingly out of it as to what to do with them, until he saw us take them in our own un-artistic hands. Kiz and I thought it so cute, after calming down from the stitches!

The Mermaid

I saw a mermaid at the beach
Sprinkling show crystals on the sand
As the beach boys all and each
Watched their manliness a-grand!

The Hype

Thirty minutes after the act
I know it for a frigging fact
That all I thought I lacked
Is nothing once it’s cracked

The ‘Bottom’ Line

You cannot tell if you’re in love until you’ve farted in each other's face, and laughed yourselves senseless! I heard this on some raunchy Russian drama on BBC radio. At the time, it felt like I was eavesdropping in shock on an unfolding scarlet scandal. But, now, I love it!

The bravado of breaking righteous wind in the hallowed presence of one you care crackers about, is even more wonderful because it tests their delicate senses, and their romantic vibes for you!

The almost imperceptible parting of the derriere crack, and the slight flutter and fall of the clothes at the point of impact; the thunderclap or power drill that brings the eerie, uneasy knowledge of what comes next; the tale of what last went in the mouth catches you on-the-fly, making you pinch your nares.

The choice: should you feel affronted? Violated! Or should you let loose laughing, and log on to the feel-good factor?

Dino Control

Under her mundane, abbess dress, Accra holds many puzzling marvels. One such is the way some of her people think. Today, at a hotel, my friends and I only craved to have the TV switched from the news to the England-Croatia game. By management rules, they had to summon the hotel electrician to do it. If it takes an electrician to change a channel on cable, it should require a molecular physicist on top of his atomic game to unscrew a light bulb, no?

The VSNL Kind of Love

I told my girl, this evening, that what we had was the VSNL kind of love. She’s the wild, audacious and fetchingly frivolous one between us. So I was ten miles totally at sea to find that she was not too oily and buttered-up by my soft soap on our joint jollification. Perhaps the ‘V’ sounded out of place. I could have pretended, for starters, that it referred to a far more delicate delight of mankind, no, womankind. But it doesn’t! Simply taking any one letter on its own demeans the raw, seductive charm of the quartet. I’ve always dreamt of the VSNL kind of love, and, now, I’m living it!