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Wednesday, January 13, 2010

To cock a snook. Or three.

Recently, my hostel room got called an industrial godown. It has in it, among other things, a black plastic mask with golden trim hung on top of the mirror, with a yellow headband perched on one side and a black headband with two red horns sprouting from it on the other, the type which flashes red when you turn a knob. It's as though the mask has an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, just as they show in all those cartoons. Do it, it will make you feel so much better. Revenge is sweet and has an excellent consistently, with a delightful aftertaste of Irish cream, which makes you crave just one more bite or seven. Thus spake the horny headband. No no, do the right thing and you will get a 5 years supply of Hershey’s Kisses, said the yellow headband in parley. Tough call, this one.

Ok, moving on. In my room, there is also my guitar in its case, and propped up casually against it, a long wooden bow. Oh and on the windowsill, two wooden arrows, prettily painted, with sharp metal tips and peahen feathers at the end, propped up nonchalantly against my beautiful retro green and red truck horn. A dozen posters, including those of George Harrison, a girl on a Vespa and a fat man drinking beer. Also, a statuette of a skinny girl in skinny jeans and a corset holding a wineglass (The girl happens to be a full grown female skeleton, by the way. Who somehow has a huge pair of knockers. Go figure.) White fluffy earmuffs hung on a nail in the wall. A beer mug with a green planet motif painted on it and the words “Don’t Panic” written under that in large friendly letters. A stuffed white and yellow cockatoo on my bed (I've named him Cockathree). A huge garish sticker of a cartoon penguin. A duck keychain stuck on my cupboard that quacks thrice when its tummy is squeezed. A bumper sticker on my cupboard that says “Warning. Chocolate can make your clothes shrink.” A reserved sign on my table, flicked from Cafe Leopold. Among other things.

Industrial godown my foot and three fourth. To borrow a phrase.

Ye olde curiosity shoppe is more like it, to borrow yet another phrase.

Sigh. Joy. Give me more crazily awesome, potentially useless junk, I'll be ecstatic. Or an empty wine bottle. I've scoured the liquor shops in the area asking for one. I'm always asked to come back. Or to buy a full bottle of wine and empty it. Sadness. More so for the liquor shop people who I annoy incessantly for the same. Ok maybe not incessantly. I think I'll go now.