Achcham Undu- Achcham Undu!!

Its rarely that I take the initiative to book movie tickets. I do it out of extreme emotion, and ya may be when I'm pmsing. This was one such circumstance too. I was compelled to want to watch a tamil movie. The one running at the hip' multiplex was the title of this post.

Well, I don't usually take the trouble of reading reviews before I watch a movie. I do not like to bias my mind. But really, it's no such fancy thought.

The movie I'd say was good. Very good.

Its cosy and tart, with the perfect humour,that does not make it embarrassing while watching with a male counter part. None of that indecent, sex oriented comedy, that has brought me to loathe tamil cinema, dominated by the prototyped, cliched slapstick humour. This one was good, with a fair dose of romance between the hero and heroine, a married couple settled in New Jersey, with one daughter, a son on the way, a beautiful home and a snazzy convertible.

When they decide to paint their basement, they unknowingly, hire the services of a paedophile painter, who abducts and kills children. Their adorable daughter is his next target. And the movie is centred around his attempt to get her, and their escape. What I also loved about this movie is that they decide to heed their sixth sense, which continuously, sends out warning signals.

Although the story is not gory or bloody or violent, I let out a squeal of fright, some where midway where the scene does get you on the seat's edge.

It culminates, on a good note with the happily ever after end, and some irksome facts about child sex abuse around the world. I appreciate the movie in all earnest, and recommend that every parent and child watch this movie, to come to terms with the real world.

What I did miss, was my dear 'H', who is out of town, and butter popcorn and coke, which I skipped, thanks to the little guilt worm, which has now caught up with me.

Cheers!!!

The Guilt Worm's Appearance

One morning as I lazily strolled into my office complex trying my best to fake repentance for being late yet again, and trying even harder to appear as if in a hurry, I glanced drooling at the attractive display board of a french cafe that seemed to have opened recently. "La Boulangerie" I read aloud, in a fake and probably very incorrect french accent. And so that cafe became a delightful item on my to-do list.

I went there yesterday. A friend and I in fact. And I've been trying to lose weight. Thinking of that, I get the feeling I've been doing that since I was in my mother's womb. No. May be I'm wrong. May be I died fat in my previous birth. I'm still working on it. Mind you.

Ok. Detour. Apologies.

The stuff on display was so inviting. I did not care to think I was never going to achieve the feat of being able to see my

toes, without bending over. So we ordered. Not garishly. Just sensibly. One at a time till we reached satiety. And went right past that. I think I've got a rule in friendship. I only make friends with those who love food. We almost always catch up over food. And we never order diet cokes or salads.

When we finished I felt a little guilt worm tugging at my heart. And so did she (my friend I mean). But it did not matter. There was reason to celebrate ( and when there's no reason, we're eating cos we're depressed. It's a conspiracy if you did not note.)

The worm now has my whole heart in its claws. But i give myself time. Four days. I'm finally settling down. I 'm going to do something about the excess kilograms. And I certainly don't want this to be my dying wish.