kill the barbie, save the child!

i hate kids. i despise those little 8 yr olds and their birthday parties. terribly.
i spent the better half of last evening trying to sit through my cousin's eighth birthday. and by the end of it, i seriously wanted to run for dear life!!!

it started fine, till yet another nameless, scary 7 yr old, spilled her pepsi on her rather ugly, pink and white barbie dress, and then decided to start howling. followed by the birthday girl, who had to burst into tears cuz of course, tht former irritating child had started the game, and of course, it was her birthday, and attention had shifted to whiney pepsi spiller. and that of course, was a criminal offense. then 5 yr old lill child decided to join in the tear shedding ceremony... why? well, wen asked, she very promptly replied, "cuz every1 else is crying!"

then came the magician and the clown and the malnutritioned rabbit and the pigeon with the broken neck. straight out of a cheap gore flick. and the kids, of course hated it. one 9 yr old, was brave enough to throw crumpled balls of tissue at the magician, after which a tissue fight, of gigantic proportions erupted, and whiny pepsi spiller, was ready to spill tears again.
then the clown was tripped, and the rabbit was almost strangled and the cake attacked. small fists, diving into the disgusting pin cream was a happy sight, perhaps, because it meant i wudnt have to eat it anymore. but of course, it wasn't good news for the walls or my poor aunt.

then came the barbie fight game, basically, a lame ass game, where the kids started telling tall tales about their barbies, trying to prove to the small small world, "my barbie bestest!" and of course the tales, were far from entertaining. i mean, the entire thought of a barbie helping you pack your school bag is scary, not to mention the other scary kinds who tie braids for unsuspecting souls, and bake pink muffins and of course, the kind which helps paint stars on the ceiling of the room. and it continued, and so did the horrifying shrieks and the tears at the cake throwing and the pepsi spilling and the hair pulling and the falling down and then more whines and then the passing the pillow game and then the miniature food fight.

by the time those things had left, i was the most perfect nervous wreck. i was not only traumatized, i also spend the next to hours watching saw, trying to cleanse my mind, soul, et all. yes, indeed, saw was more comforting than those pink clad creatures!!!

yesterday, i perhaps understood why people commit suicide. i was on the verge of killing myself. but i don't really suppose me killing myself would have affected the little horrors. they would've come up with "suicide bomber barbie" and "serial killer barbie" and perhaps even "dead and decaying barbie" soon enough! so much for respecting the dead.

i hate barbies. more than those vile things, i hate wonderfully pink birthday eighth birthday parties!

loita!?!?!

this is an extremely badly clicked photograph, bt the content ws too hilarious to be missed, and with the shopkeeper glaring at me, this was the best i could manage!

i found this awesome sight, adorning a dusty corner of a teeny tiny book shop on college street. i possibly might have been allowed to take a better pic, had i not spent 20 mins abusing the poor shop owner for not knowing who j.r.r. tolkien is! :P

aaaand, you all see miss paris hilton adorning the cover of a bengali book, and those, who can't read bengali, lemme translate the title for you... "LOLITA".