Hobo's dying hedonism

Post Script: Hobo's mum hath requested her to identify a Hindu temple and get blessings from temple priest on the day of her birth. The only temple hobo knows of is the Hare Rama Hare Krishna temple and she not be a big fan of that cult. Barrycuda avers they be sexual perverts so then one wonders why hobo not be a fan of this cult but hobo is a woman of many quandaries and this is yet another one of them. Hobo shall abide by her mother's request and visit temple and get token blessings, because they certainly aren't deserved, but she wants something like her annual yagna nonetheless which is how she decided to tap in to her hardy, quirky contacts in the city's teeming underground......

Hobo: Hey Shaman, good to see you again. I have a request. I need a cleansing ceremony on the day of my birth. I was thinking of going the Hindu way but figured this is different and more exciting and most Hindu sects preach the many paths to God anyway so...........

Shaman: Hobo, hi darling how're you doing? *air kiss air kiss* Now stop shitting me coz I know you're an athiest.

Hobo: Athiest until I get a sign. So I'm a fence-sitter, that I am but I am also a traditionalist. No family here this time round the time o' my budday buddy and I wanna do something to hark me back to the days of yore.

Shaman: OK where's your home, I'll perform the cleansing ceremony there.

Hobo: I'm a hobo, I don't have a home.

Shaman: *massages his temples, looking obviously pained by her* Okkkkkk where do you spend a lot of your time here?

Hobo: *points to The ****** across the street* The pub.

Shaman: *siiiiiiiiiiiiggggggghhhhhhhh* Fine. It'll be weird but it'll be at the pub.
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I haven't partied much the past month and a half or so. Actually since Benny left. Teri yaad mien yaara dildaara, hum bus teri rah takhte rahe. Which is insane. It's unmerited too (not because you're not worth it Benny but as such I believe any kind of abstinence is absolutely unnecessary unless you're diabetic) , I know I don't really have much to celebrate but surely it can't be that hard to invent a reason. So my parents went ahead and did me one better, they invented a reason. Me! My budday more specifically. I need to compensate for a serious depression in my hedonism. Even though I recently professed a desire to curtail my hedonism, turns out I have and I needn't any longer. I've been sober, monogamous and decent. I haven't been me. I need a night to smash this fucking domestic mould, mold more like it. Feather's coming all the way from Toronto as is Manju-Dahlink from Delhi, the Junior Vicar shall make his presence felt too. As will MC Nigga Savage who unfortunately is a social retard but nonetheless shall make for merry company with his Swedish-English gangsta-isms. This boy is white as snow, but his spirit is that of a gangsta. Sanitized suburban living sure warps these kids up. Seriously wait and watch what happens to the kids being spawned in those lofty Gurgaon towers. Seriously what would your identity be if you grow up in Belvedere Towers? Or Mayfair? How about a dose of reality? Mayfair, Gurgavan, Haryana. Will these kids recognize themselves as Haryanvi manor (manner too) borns? The names property developers christen these luxury apartments with to attract nouveau money is rather telling no?

Oooo this is funnnnnn, I get to draft a guest list. The Hook and I used to do that every time we planned a night out in The Bubble. Not just because there were people to avoid but essentially because being two social butterflies we'd fluttered through a melange (there's that word again) of different crowds and grouping them all together always spelled trouble. Or worse, boredom. Now is the time to draft yet another one. But, for a Friday or a Saturday. Ugh! I hate partying on Friday or Saturday nights in any city. Everyone's out, everyone's in a 'partay' mood and everyone finds my fucking feet to stomp on. I hate large crowds, I hate uber-loud dhin-chak dhin-chak music and worst of all, I hate the fact that on a Friday night some of my favourite London party places i.e. lounge bars, morph in to clubs. There's always Molly Moggs to start the night at and Lounge Lovers to end the night at. Or Zivania's arms which is what will happen if I get drunk enough and get my way.

!!!!! ARSENAL JUST LEVELED!!!!

Benny for you and me, since our birthdays are quite near each other's, I'm gonna live it up in Soho. He and I hosted the mother of all 18th birthday parties together. And it was one fucking crazy night that neither he nor I can ever forget. Or remember...... There was sex, drugs and rock and roll, I know this because I have been told. Those were the days when I was still a virgin so the sex wasn't me, it was The Harridan's cleavage. The Harridan was famous in our party circle for trapping men between her 'gruesome twosomes'. She'd hover around the chosen target all night long, getting him drunk, drunker, drunkest. Blind, blinder, blindest. Like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, fattening them babies up till they were ripe for consumption. Trust me only the drunkest guy in the room would consent. And by consent I mean he'd pass out between the gruesome twosomes. One remarkably smart and cute guy fell in to that trap that night and forever more I'll be astounded by it. Not that his other option inspired much confidence but at least she wasn't annoying on top of being an idiot. Poor thing didn't have a bear trap of a cleavage though.

But your best buddy alcohol can do that to you, turn on you when you're down and out. How many times have I snapped out of my alcohol dazes and thought 'WHAT. THE. FUCK.!?!' That too right when his lips are coming at you like an aardvark's snout and you snap out of it, have an out of body and a momentary (and impossible) sober moment and think 'help me'. No no no no Siree I be learning that my soul's my best friend, alcohol's just a great drinking buddy! :)

!!!AND HENRY JUST SCORED!!!! ARSENAL WIN !!!! O BALLE O BALLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOW THAT'S A REASON FOR SOME SERIOUS HEDONISM!!!