Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Of hot Italian businessmen and whimpering, blue eyed females.

My last letter to you was filled with my anguish over being bored this summer. Your reply of how many celebrities you've spotted already in Cannes this year didn't help much. You are remarkably insensitive for an imaginary friend, you know?
Anyway, after my angst filled days of boredom, I resorted to reading Mills and Boons. Now before you look down your perfect nose over me, with those judgemental eyes, let me clarify that I was desperate and I had nothing else to read.
So as I read through my I don't remember which number Mills and Boon (Seduced by the Italian Boss- I swear I'm not making it up), I realized the key features of a Mills and Boons, which make them so ridiculously same and unreal. 
So for no apparent reason, I'm going to tell you all these features. Brace yourself.
First and foremost, let me clarify these books have a plot, I swear. I know I sound like a teenage boy defending the porn industry, but some Mills and Boons have good story lines, if you manage to wade through the very graphic sex details. 
The Mills and Boons of my mum's time are the one in which the author actually paid attention to the plot, instead of the guy's incredible pecs and chiseled features. Though the common theme used to be the guy proposing an appalling arrangement to the girl, which required her to wed him and of  course have mind blowing sex too. Of course in the end, everything tied together and with a generous peppering of words like 'my darling' 'the love of my life', the guy declares his undying love for the woman and they live happily ever after. 
The name of the guy is mostly something supremely exotic like Lorenzo, Vincenzo, Santiago, Ricardo (I swear I'm not making anything up).
He is always a super rich business man who is in a position to help the poor girl, and he does so but only when she promises to sleep with him, I swear I'm not kidding, and because she is completely enamored by his stunning good looks, she doesn't even think how perverted that is. Who am I kidding? If Hrithik Roshan ever propositioned me like that I would say yes before he even finishes his sentence. I'm shallow like that.
In other situations, the guy (once again a super rich business man) finds out that his ex wife or previous one night stand (more often than not his secretary) has a child, of course his own. He is obviously enraged at being duped of fatherhood for so many years, very conveniently forgetting how ruthlessly he had informed the girl before sleeping with her, that he doesn't do relationships and how he thinks women trap men by getting pregnant.
I am not kidding, this is the plot of every single one of the Mills and Boons. Throw in an abundance of euphemisms for the male genitalia and you have a book!
O.K so maybe, I'm being a little harsh here, some of them are actually pretty good. And however many you read, you feel so happy when they finally meet you cannot help but smile stupidly. 
They are a good break from reality and restore your faith in the fact that one day you will find a Greek/Spanish/Italian, super rich businessman, who will instantly fall in love with you.
Yes, Mills and Boons are a huge indulgence, like chocolate, the difference is that they don't add fat to your hips. And objectifying men like that is strangely empowering.
So now I'll let you get back to your canapés and what-not. 
Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass.
(May your swords stay sharp)

Wednesday, 12 June 2013

I was bored.

Dear Henri,
If my brain hasn't stewed to a heated mush in this awful summer heat, then thank the lord for His small mercies.
Moving on from the gross description of the possible state of my brain right now, let me get to a very pressing issue. Boredom.
Having nothing to do and sit around the whole day in an air conditioned room, freedom to watch as much TV as you want, sounds like a dream. At least it did to me.
But as much as I try to deny it, I have contracted the worst possible phenomenon a teenager can face. Boredom. Sheer boredom has been eating my brain and making me weep endlessly in frustration, since the onset of these vacations. 
And believe me, I have tried everything. I have read through all my books, watched all movies which were unseen and watched them again, re-watched Friends over and over again. The boredom got to such extremes that I (you might want to sit down while reading this one) I even tried to EXERCISE!.
Shocking, I know.
So with painfully aching muscles from my valiant, yet ultimately failed, efforts at working out, I write this letter to you, oh imaginary friend (possibly French and a Chris Hemsworth look-alike at that) , with great pains. I am bored.
To others it might seem a fickle matter. 'Go out and explore' they say. These 'others' don't know how hard it is to get motivated and leave Doctor Who or to put aside a book and go out and enjoy the delights the great outside has to offer. 
Us lazy people, we are stuck wallowing in the dark pit, that is boredom.
Cringing everytime I hear the word 'sports', I am a creature who is happiest when crying over a dying Arthur (Spoilers!) or shouting insults at the demons of Supernatural. 
Contrary to popular belief, boredom comes rarely to people of my kind. We are so happy in our little worlds, fighting over different ships (to the uninitiated, ships are two real or fictional characters paired together romantically by fans), discussing the possibility of the Doctor existing in real life and of course, planning the inevitable zombie apocalypse.
What I'm trying to say here is that, we rarely have time to get bored. But here I am. Bored.
You may guess the state of my mind by my inane ramblings. 
This has prevented me from enjoying the blissful time that is these vacations, and wallow in self pity. But no more.
I have made it my mission to destroy the dark force that is this boredom and ENJOY the rest of my freedom, from college and what not.
Even if it means reading trashy romance novels, or having a superhero movie marathon.
So for now, this is it. I will return to Chris Hemsworth and his biceps, while you can go back to doing whatever non existent, imaginary people do over the summer.
May the Force be with you.