Superstar Sunday

The second half of my day today is quite sad. You know, meetings, calls, VCs, and most of them well within the scope of my analysis in the last post. Anyhow, we are not here to complain. We are here to rejoice.

Let me elaborate.

When : Sunday evening
Where : In the bedroom
What: Ah, see now that will take some explaining

The Dude and I are watching Saving Private Ryan on the television. Ok. Strike that. The Dude wants me to watch Saving Private Ryan. Now this movie is big for The Dude. Because this apparently the only movie ever that got some sort of emotion out of him. Which in Dude terminology would mean , he actually felt for the characters on screen. This is big for his wife, who is slightly more obvious when it comes to display of emotions in general. Ok, way more obvious. Ok, so she cries while watching exceptionally emotional scenes in movies, or books, or Grey’s anatomy. Ok, she cried when one of the Splitsvilla contestants left the show, and her ‘love’ of 2 weeks was very upset about it. Can we get back to the point now?

Yeah, so The Dude was totally into the movie, and I was watching it with quite some interest too. Somewhere in between I decided that my back and shoulders  were hurting, so I quietly slid down the bed and plonked myself on the ground near the edge of the bed where The Dude was sitting, and asked him for a shoulder massage. He obliged, since he was watching the movie, and in all probability, does not remember this happening.

In about 3 minutes, my phone rang. I refused to look at it, clearly enjoying the attention to the poor back. Then I looked anyway. It was the Drama Queen. Hmm, what could it be? Is any of the gang’s birthday up anytime soon? Or has she found out the true identity of yet another secretive anonymous blogger?

That was enough motivation, and I picked up her call.

‘Hello’.
‘Hey, you didn’t tell me, your krrrrrrrrr krrrrrrrrrr krrrrrrrrrrrrrr krrrrrrrrrrrr’
‘Huh? I can’t hear anything! Let me get out of the room. Yeah, tell me now.’
‘Can you hear me?’
‘Yes, now I can’
‘You didn’t tell me krrrrrrrrrrr krrrrrrrrrr krrrrrrrrrrr krrrrrrrrrrrr’
‘ Ok, I really can’t hear you’
‘Can you hear me now?’
‘I don’t know why, but I can only hear you when you ask me that?’
‘Ok, You. Didn’t. Tell. Me.That. Your. Blog. Got. Pictioned.’
‘Huh? Pictioned?’
‘Featured. Featured. Featured in Femina’
‘What shit!’

Ok, yes that was my exact reaction. I have noticed I say that quite often in fact.

‘Ya! I am in the parlor, and I was flipping through the magazine, and I saw this! Congrats, and go pick it up!’ (this is out of a hazy memory, but I am unsure of the exact words used)

This was followed by a short conversation, clarifying the edition, and the cover page, and what it said, and who was on it (which by the way, madame didn’t know, she doesn’t know Miss India Sarah Jane Something, fine, I don’t know her as well either, I guess).

And that was followed by me making The Dude miss some important bits of Saving Private Ryan to drive me to the Magazine stand to pick up an issue. And then of course, me roaming around the house the rest of the evening with a massive grin plastered over my face, trying to click a decent shot of the page and send it to my mom. Some sight it was. It was good. And for once, Sunday evening was a happy time.

So here it is, in all this glory! Our first brush with fame! I am thinking of changing my name from DI to SDI for the sake of this. Oh, and my MIL’s reaction was ‘ Wow! They wrote about you! That’s awesome! But why didn’t you send a nicer picture?’ If only they’d asked for it! Oh well, I am not complaining!

Yay! we're phamous!

 
P.S. Ooh, and for those who are interested, it is the March 5th 2011 edition of Femina, on page 131. Under the column ‘Fastest Blogger in the East’. That, I think is the ironic bit, but the rest of it, ah well, I am one happy person.