Friday, December 28, 2012

Birthday Lust List

28th, 29th, 30th, 31st December and 1st of January! Yay, happy birthday to me! The first day of yet another brand new year. It is amazing how fast time moves as you grow older that you can't seem to catch up with it. And yes, another number becomes my age, a year older, yet just another number. So what is more exciting than being the birthday girl? The gifts!

The birthday lust list...

1) A Swatch

I have something about Swatches, my first expensive watch was a Swatch and after that I have been just a huge fan of Swatches until I grew up to be a woman and Swatches just didn't cut out for the
type of matured clothes I started wearing plus, it looked a little unprofessional when it came to looking serious during a serious meeting or a fancy party but now, I am all ready to embrace my childhood love again and I am starting to go all dizzy in love with neon something and topsy turvy graphics.

2) Something naughty, something Victoria Secret

I am finally old enough to not be embarrassed to have a special wardrobe for lingerie and flaunt them. I cannot think of a better line to get all kinky and sexy and feel an instant billion dollars. I wouldn't mind the wings, too.


With me running out of space and weight with the relocation and everything (if you are aware), I have been seriously deprived of going on shopping sprees and I am not so happy, even though my bank account is so happy. So, if you get me some shopping vouchers or gift cards for ASOS, I will still be able to shop and the best part is free shipping to Australia and ASOS is just every girls' dream site.

4) Tillari

 I am a little traditional and I love jewelries. When I got married, everything was too fast I forgot all I ever wanted was a Tillari. I have told gentleman this is all I want but I don't see it coming.

5)Faux fur coat

At a major risk of looking like a bear and being shot down by animal rescue, I cannot stop wondering how soft, comfortable and warm fur coat would be like.

6) PJ

I don't know why but I want pajamas. Cute looking, absolutely soft pajamas. I like the idea of sleeping pretty and waking up pretty and I also frequently play with ideas of fire in the middle of the night or earthquake and I will have to run outside to be safe. I am also very fussy when it comes to sleep time, everything must be right from the pillow to the cuddle.

7) DHL gift vouchers

Do they even exist? Well, I certainly hope they do. I need this to transport my pillow and a few other stuffs I cannot squeeze into my luggage like my family, a wick basket and my heart-shaped laundry basket. And you wonder why I am not exactly ready to leave.

8) Four poster bed

This just spells enchanting romance and a chance for me to create our own fairy tale with the happily ever after even though people constantly pull me back down to ugly little earth and remind me fairy tales don't exist.

9) Loads of $$$$

You can never go wrong with giving me a stack of $50 dollars note. I will even give you a lap dance, if you ask nicely for it provided you don't look like a complete pervert and an asshole. Nothing ever works out without cash and I need a pretty big bag right to pay for an education, a car, a house, a good and comfortable life.

10) The last and always

Every year, I just wish for nothing but happiness when I blow out my candles and this upcoming year, I will wish the same and I wish for all of you to give me good blessing of best wishes for me as I start on life, for real this time. I think if you are happy, nothing else matters and no bullshit from life can get to you.

And with that, I want to wish all of you readers and well-wishers a very thrilling and exciting last couple of days before we count down to 2013. I wish all of you to get kissed by someone special as the seconds tick down to its last seconds of 2012 and I hope 2013 is a much better year than 2012 and if 2013 is shitty, come back to this and remember the 7 steps to happiness. I take my farewell for the year.

Happy New Year 2013!


Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Review: Male masseur + me (A perfect combination at Heritage Spa)

Sometime back, I had the pleasure of doing some spa and beauty parlor reviews for Living magazine but the list I was given was too far and wide, I ended up choosing just one and delegating the rest to the other writers (everyone deserves some free pampering!) and because I was just too tied up with too much to finish, I chose the one nearest to my office. I have never looked back ever since. Before I found Heritage Spa, Sanepa Heights (on the way to Kiran Bhawan), I used to get my pampering done at a few spots, going back to them only when I was really in a horrible state. They were all dreadfully expensive, and the service wasn't up to how much money I was forking out each time. But, I have a very bad back and money comes second when it comes to attending my needs besides, I have horrifying posture and I am even a tad bit hunch backed, so every time I booked an appointment, it was more for medicinal-recovery purpose than pampering.

I had woken up with a really sore, tensed shoulders a couple of days ago but I just didn't find the time to book for an appointment but hey, it was Christmas yesterday and I really needed for someone to give me the release. My neck and shoulders were in terrorising pain. I was feeling completely drained out of whatever chi was in my body. Plus, yesterday, I was celebrating five glorious years in Nepal. With fingers and toes crossed, I sent a message to one of the partners of the spa asking if they were open for business and if they were open, do they have any opening for a booking. They did! I was expecting a surplus of customers for some Chrissy pampering, like me. Good they didn't.

While I waited for my room to be ready, sipping on piping hot yummy Nepali masala tea, my muscles were all screaming for help. I could feel them all feeling so down and sad, probably crying the reddest tears of absolute discomfort. I couldn't wait to go in. I was feeling so lethargic but I made a mistake of making a small conversation with the receptionist, telling all about my aching raw shoulder massage. He tried convincing me into some other massages than I asked for, particularly the Dry Thai full body massage and I wasn't really in the mood to be kept off my track and convinced into something else. My usual is the Raw Coffee Bean full body scrub (hey, its winter and I am too lazy to do at-home scrubbing myself), followed by a European Swedish full body massage and the Bio-Fruit facial (hey, I need to be pampered!) If you know me well enough, you would know I hate changing my mind and routine. I hate not knowing what I am in for and what I am supposed to expect. I lack the 'spontaneous' bone. I was also not feeling particularly adventurous at all to try anything apart from my usual, and breaking a bone or two on Christmas day was far from what was on my agenda and rushing to an emergency room to fix a broken hip, just no. I was already almost convinced by the receptionist's suggestion after all, they should know better than me and then. Reena came, she is the owner and Principal (all masseurs in-house are trained on site by her), all she had to say was, "You should try Dry Thai, it is really good!" I was about to politely turn her down again, but because she is such an absolute sweet heart and so very caring and charming and all those nice things, and just then, my back just screamed more, I gave in. Maybe twisting and turning and contorting my body into a funny little pretzel would do some good. I was finally okay going off my routine.

And then, another hmmm moment. "Would I be fine with a male masseur? The guy you were talking to you gives excellent Dry Thai." Ahhhhh. First thing on my mind; gentleman would not at all be pleased with this (and he wasn't when I told him much later) but hey, he was just doing his job and I was just getting pampered. No kinky, pinky, freaky in the massage room where I laid naked in a pair of disposable underwear. Surprisingly, I felt at total ease. He was just very friendly and very professional about making me comfortable first. I will admit I was smiling cheekily with my face down as he started warming up my body for the session. Come on, I had to! The second reason why I almost hesitated on a male masseur was because of their roughness. I am very intolerant of pain. Every time gentleman tries to give me a rub down (the softest he can go), I am always screaming in pain and he gives up. I assumed the same. And then, he started scrubbing me down. Was I wrong! His touches were more defined, more pronounced, less ticklish, and unusually gentle unlike any other female masseurs I ever had. As cheesy as this sounds, he made a temple out of my body and he had me saying 'Sweet Heavens' under my breath a hundred times.

With the hour of scrubbing dead, dull skin away over, I took a quick warm shower to wash off all the raw beans to show off my now very polished, baby smooth and refreshed, wonderfully smelling skin. I changed into the most comfortable pair of pajamas-like pair of hemp made top and pants (its called Dry Thai for a reason) and I was ready to charge out of the room and change my package but I was too late and thank god, I was too late. He started from my foot and traveled his hand up my thighs and pressing all my pressure points and kneading into them, softly. Oh, it was twitchy painful like five to eight big needles were poking right into my open flesh. I was all red and frightened and again, I was this close to charge out of the room to change my package. But I just clinched my jaws as tight as I could and just withstood the (initial) pain. He was just working on finding how much pressure I could take. He was very receptive of my needs and not once was he complacent, and just placed focus on doing what he had to do to put cash to his pocket. His primary job was to make sure I was relaxing and not freaking out and then, doing his actual job of releasing all the stiff knots in my body. He asked me if I was comfortable a million times with his reassuring voice. I guess why I keep going to Heritage Spa over and over again is that they genuinely care to place customers' comfort first and everyone is always so nice and bright and just so delightfully pleasant to be around. Surely enough and shortly after, my body was stretched and turned into all kinds of weird shapes. I was in a fetal position and soon, I was a starfish and the most awesome one was when he basically lifted my legs and almost my entire body off the bed with just my head and the last of my shoulder blades still on the surface. It felt like I was defying gravity for real. It was just too blissful. I was making funny faces when he started doing that but I found myself saying yes to a second time. I kept asking him how much more time do I have because I just didn't want it to ever end by second half of the session and finally he ended it, he had to with a cute little namaste and more of, "How do you feel?" Sweet lord, I felt and still feel like a new woman! Good bye knotty knots, well, most of it anyway.

Another review I really want to do on is their Bio-fruit facial which I didn't have time for yesterday but this is one bit of heaven you just have to try. When I first did it, they told me that 99% of their clients who has done this has slept and I convinced them, the 1% is me. I never sleep even when they do those soulful head massages, I am an extremely light sleeper and all my senses are always awake but, I don't remember much of what happens during the facial because, ha! I fall under the 99%. I sleep and wake up with moist skin all the frigging time, even when I say, nope, not going to snooze this time. I know they apply lots of honey (which you would think is a perfect breeding base for pimples, it is not) and almonds. A lot of facial types leaves my skin red and peeling, especially when it comes to exfoliating. I am a Capricorn and as far as my know-about go, Capricorns have very sensitive skin. But this Bio-fruit facial is tremendously gentle. Trust me when it comes to knowing gentle and safe-care products, out of self loving and self defensive protection, I know the ins and outs of what is good for the sensitive skin. The only downside of this is that not all your blackheads are removed, which is the chief reason why I go for facial to be hones but give it the next day and you are literally glowing. I love looking on the second day after I do this facial, this glow is a lot different from the glows your other beauty parlor gives and while I am at it, the 1% who didn't sleep was a guy, some kind of expert who was trying to figure out their techniques and products used.

Besides the four, I haven't tried most of their packages, because well, I have a routine but if you are not as boring as me, I suggest you give this spa a visit and try their manicures and pedicures and fancy massage names like Pichu (is that even a massage?) and trekkers massage and I will promise you a superb and fancy time. They can be contacted at 552-4442. If you are keen on knowing their prices first, do leave me a comment and I will get back to you as I only have a wordfile with me and I have next to no clue how I can upload it here. I know the next time I am going there, I am choosing between a Dry Thai and a Swedish (yay, an expansion on my usual flavor) and I am definitely using a male masseur. And if I were to just push the praising to yet another level, it feels a little at home every time I am there.

So, I am just thinking of two Christmas later. I will be getting my Christmas massage from gentleman because next Christmas, I will give him the perfect present to me by signing him up for a spa and beauty course and the next, next Christmas he will be qualified enough to give me his signature Christmas massage and he will no longer have to fuss about another man is touching his woman's body. On a second thought maybe, I will just give him a pair of shoes or watch or some fancy dumb badass jewelry because I like that he is all fussy and not happy that I let another man touch me. I like when he is sooooooo, "No one has the right to do anything to you and with you!"


Saturday, December 22, 2012

I feel silly but so happily silly right now.

I am looking back and seeing how much I have achieved and smiling and thinking, shit, this is my life. For more effect, I’ll repeat, this is my life, my goddamn fucking life! Just holy cow, I am thinking. I woke up feeling so fantastic yesterday, much more so today. It honestly feels like I am given a second chance to make things right again. I basically did a lot of cleaning around the house to celebrate my recovery, not that I was dying or anything serious like that, it was just a very nasty cold. I also found a very motivating blog of a wife and mother, with a cancer-stricken husband who fought cancer, and now, he has the chance to see his three young boys grow up to be fine young men. Just makes me love life more than ever and find glee in having lost my voice and even in the poor spider waddling in the glass of lukewarm water I left unattended for just a few seconds. Sadistic I know, but hey, my head doesn't feel like it’s filled with heavy black smoke and a thousand little needles.

I spent the entire, yet another sleepless night of yesterday, going through one blog post to another and then, I decided perhaps it is time I get a little bit more personal with my blog, too. I don’t know if I am personal enough with my entries  maybe I already am, maybe I am not. I think I am vaguely personal. I like talking in circles and popping out of the bushes like little red roses once in a while, but maybe now, I want to tell you more about who I am and write about the people I love (there aren't a lot, to be honest, because I don’t have too much love to give away and I will warn you, if I do this, you readers are bound to be bored with a lot of stuffs on what my daily life (read: boring) is like, focusing mainly on this stroll of life I am taking with the gentleman. He is me and I am he, we are two rolled in one. He is terrifyingly like me and I am exactly like him. ‘Just the milder version,’ as he likes to put it. My life just comes to rust and dust if I do not have him. Cheesy but completely true to a point of tad bit creepy, because that is how dependent I am on him to make life better for me. He hates it but that is just something he has to put up with, for the rest of our lives together.)

As if I was not high on life already, gentleman added more sugar to it. He occasionally does this thing where he asks me a lot of random questions that almost usually starts from, ‘What is my favorite color?’ or ‘What is my favorite fruit?’ or ‘What is my favorite food?’ Crap but goddamn when he does this, it makes me realize I have someone, who at this age, still bothers to ask me about my favorite color. That is so five-years-old! He must really love me a billion times. I love being five-years-old with him, and 18-years-old, 22-years-old, 32-years-old, 55-years-old and even 102-years-old.  Though, it took him a couple of asking and memorizing to finally know the answers himself but he still asks those questions. It’s like a game for him and I go all *%&#! He sure does know all the right ways to hit all my wrong nerves. Like I said, that is just the preface before, he goes into deeper profound questions. Now, this game, I enjoy. He takes me by my hand and enters me into a philosophical class I never knew I even signed up for. Today, his first logical question after a few of annoying questions was, “If you could change the world, what that would be?” I didn't have to think a lot about it. I have always been passionate about finding a cure for cancer.

“But that doesn't change the world.”

“Yes it would. Cancer would no longer rob people of their time (and more).”

“But that still doesn't change the world.”

Clearly annoyed now, I could possibly have screamed, “But it changes the world I live in.”

He annoys me plenty and I pretty much drive him batshit crazy. He hates me, he loves me. I hate him, I love him.

“If you had to change your name and you couldn't run away from it, what would it be?”

“I am not going to change my name, no fucking way.”

“But you have it, its official thing; you could land in jail (and the yadah).”

“I will tell them, ‘No fucking way! I just won’t allow it.'”

“But you just have to.”

“Okay, I will name myself ‘X’!”

“But they want a real human name.”

Annoyed again, and screaming at him to just stop being so irritating, I said, “Fine, Jenny it is.”

And he is happy. Gosh, he is so maddening.
He asks me about my favorite books, I have none. I justified with him saying, “It’s like asking me who my favorite child is.” He was reasoned enough. Five favorite authors? I just had four and he insisted I name a fifth because he asked for five. Oh goddamn him! Again, I reasoned with him saying, “I cannot tell about a fifth child I don’t have.” Oh, it’s a wonder really why I cannot get enough of him and why I even bother to talk to him, at all. And if you think that is all that is to him, his magnitude of annoyance I mean, wrong!  

“So if writing was forbidden, it was unlawful, what would you do?”

“I would still write. I wouldn't care.”

“They will jail you for it!”

“Still would write. I wouldn't want to die a coward and for heaven’s sake, who imposes such laws?”

“Even if they hang you naked, out in the open?”


“Or maybe, they will not hang you and instead leave you naked outside, alive, and let vultures feed on you.”

“Yes. It will never change.”

“Even if they put you naked in front of people……….”

At that point, I got super provoked so I don’t remember how that question ended. You do not ask such questions to a person like me who makes a living through writing. Jeez! Yes, come to think of it, I think I probably won that one with that.

He wrapped up the therapist-patient conversation with, “It is to see how loose your screw is and if I need to tighten it, how much then.Thank you for answering with honesty.”  And that he is hungry, he wants to go have something and he just leaves me at, “eh?” Thanks very much for the free consultation. He is pretty much an idiot, as you can tell. He essentially takes me as a weirdly wired up childish little pampered girl, who wants to celebrate her birthday with a lot of silly hats and silly costumes, where I make everybody treat me like a princess if not I will not give them goody bags at the end of the day. I don’t know why he does all this; as a mere entertainment for me mostly I suppose. Other times, I think he does it for inspiration --  to inspire me or to inspire himself, and he always leaves me inspired and reminds me that I still have some humanity in me, in this harsh little world and that I still have a golden heart, even though it is plenty smaller than a lot of golden hearts. Or maybe, he is simply trying very hard to understand me. And here I sit, smiling and thinking, being thankful for all that I have in my life and some of which I wish I didn't have, and that I couldn't have a better person to call my most favorite person in entire the world. But of course, when we fight, he is but a devil, a devil who still manages to make my life infinite rosier than it was before him.

Yes you genius, you finally figured out, I am so madly, madly in love with him. ;) 


P.s: If I feel like it, I am even going to change the 'About Author' section today too, so please care enough to read about me, boast about me (that shouldn't be challenging)! But my eyes feels like it is about to pop out and I am starting to feel really nauseous. 

Thursday, December 20, 2012

Sick and dirty

For weeks, I have been just getting sicker by the day that chances of me dying before the apparent doomsday is seemingly higher. But still, I have been teetering towards death being as dutiful as ever because that is just how I am. I find it ridiculously hard to just break apart from the life I lead to just be a lazy sick slob. Story of my pathetic life. With fever threatening to burn my hair and a cough that just don't bugger off, is the reason for sleepless nights. I slept just an hour probably last night. Life of a, well, me! And swallowing slimey worm-like medicine is the most unceremonious time of my day but there is something about that medicine I cannot seem to get enough of because it is like methamphetamine; it makes me high and really pumped up and then, out of utter exhaustion when I finally realise it, I fall asleep like a baby, a happy baby. Unlike last night, last night was all kinds of bitterness.

Today, I am groggy as hell but hey, Christmas is five days away and I know I have been a really good girl so I need my Christmas list up (not that I see anyone presenting me anything) but, I have been thinking and thinking but like every other year, being a good girl will have me no presents at all because I have completely no clue what I could possibly want. On second thought, yes, I would like a ticket to go to Space on that Russian Spacecraft next year and I would like airplane tickets to visit my friends and family all over the world. Mostly, I want to go to India and just mediate because I think I really need that, besides a new iPod because the one I currently have, its battery runs flat within two hours and what good is an iPod if it doesn't last me the entire day and I constantly have to check to see if the red warming battery button sign is on. It is just not cool, having to worry if skipping one song will reduce the remaining battery life and so on. I used to love my iPod, now its just a reminding alarming fear that good things always come to an end.

As does bad, I need to remember, bad things come to an end too. Life is a vicious cycle, no one is on a constant track. There is no plateau. There is ups and downs, a lot of downs and a few ups and a few plateau but hard times moves to good times and good times will collapse to hard times again. So when good times roll in, don't be a queen or a king and just sit on your throne and enjoy your dried fruits, get out and do something because the throne turns into a fucking monster as soon as you get too comfortable. And that is 12 minutes worth of prep talk for you and especially for me. I need to just sober up and be more better at becoming the person I truly am. Everyday, I am just becoming unbecoming and it is really not glamorous, to be honest. I haven't washed my hair for three days straight, that is how disgustingly unbecoming I am but when you are too gunk up with blocked nose, the hair doesn't really seem to stink and besides, my body smells a lot like Axe Oil and Vicks, which in my opinion is parts of heaven. Okay, now just forget the part of me not having showered for three days, its frigging winter and I am just human. I am allowed to make mistakes, be imperfect, be lazy and be crazy.


Tuesday, December 11, 2012

A raging war and saved bullets

Freedom is a limited thing; there is only so much of it I could make use of until it started to rhyme a lot with boredom. If boredom was ever a middle name, it would fit in right between my first name and my last name. I am partly a meaning of monotony, even my dull hair clearly lacking in hair treatment, nutritious elements and color highlights says so. I believe a person’s hair says all of a person’s life, just think about it – if it’s unkempt and oily, or if it’s soft and silky. There is no logical way of explaining this phenomenon of mine, and so, I am not going to make the tiniest attempt to clarify my thoughts and no, this is not boredom talking but the mind of a very frustrated analytic being.

I am completely losing it staying at home all day, not exposed to the waves of people and creative thoughts. Day to day, I have been doing nothing but the usual thing that just robs the joy out of living and life, honestly to this point, life is just killing it for me. Being a human being is tough. You have to talk to people when that is the last thing you want to do, you have to make a living to survive, you have to write because people are waiting to read something and the worst is you have to please. Unlike our pet dogs, Tommy and Snow (I still hate this name), who just sleeps all day and play with each other and if they don’t feel like doing anything or seeing anybody, they just get lost and we just assume, they will come back home and they always come back home. If I were to just disappear from the face of earth… its better if I don’t go on. Life needs to give me a break. Oh, eureka! I have a passport, a couple lakhs. I need to run away! I can run away.

But, we have got to just get up and do it. Again. Again and again. Be with a broken arm in a sling or a stinging hot fevered head or the third sleepless night or stitching up a fragile broken heart that just gets torn up again, we just have to get up and do it again. No excuses, no amount of scratches and bloody sore muscles gives a break. Those are all signs of weakness and like boys as they were growing up were told to not cry because big boys don’t cry, in women, parts of those traits have been instilled, involuntarily. You don’t show vulnerabilities to anyone because if you show, no amount of strength you show before or later will ever be remembered. Life in all its essence tells a tale of a war and we are all in it, tugging every might in us finish the fight.  It is not about rewriting history as the victorious one or to prove anyone, anything but only to get through yet another ordinary day and price up your worthiness.

I am not a decorated soldier and I have no wish to become one. I have survived too many gun fires and saved too many bullets of mine that I could have just shot and let out bloodshed but everyone has a moral sense or at least I have a moral sense that tells me they are just another human being and maybe, like me, they just want a break. Fine, I will give them a break if that is what they want but I calculate and weigh things out. I might not be good in mathematics or physics but the more bullets you shoot out, the lighter the gun gets and then, it gets a little easier. Maybe it is time for yet another genocide I will take charge of or maybe I will just sit still and count down the days. Just carry the heavy gun and just soldier on because those times when you were brave, those counts for nothing but a small sign of weakness, weakness is always remembered. A war always has an ending and mine is coming soon, I know. If I just keep my bullets to my side, I should win and I shall forget it all and forgive but any war veteran will tell you, you are never just normal after coming back home even though life gets back to normal.