Boo Boo is sitting around watching a movie by that dude who made Gangs of Fussypur, which for all intents and purposes seems to be Sopranos for India. The director seems to specialize in the anti-Bollywood style-lots of realism, quite depressing. Everything is stark and grim and the actors actually look Indian. That said, I usually can’t follow the plots (Gangs of Fussypur was completely unfollowable for me), which makes this a good time for me to introduce everyone to Ringy.
Readers, I had to wait some time for Ringy. It was around July that Boo Boo raised the issue of sidling into connubial bliss with one another, but no form of pressurized carbon or corundum made any sort of appearance until finally I was like “HEY WHERE’S RINGY BOO BOO HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN I’M AMERICAN?” Actually, that’s slightly inaccurate, because what actually happened was that I slid dreamy-eyed into visions of myself in a whorey net saree marrying Boo Boo by a seaside mandap the minute the M-word was spoken until my parents roused me out of my reverie by raising the issue of Putting a Ring on It. After which I had to relay to Boo Boo that they were actually quite worried that we weren’t For Real engaged until a mineral deposit was made on to my left hand finger. That said, both our parents put aside their concerns over for reallness and went ahead and planned the wedding sans engagement ring, because when your 30 some-some children say they might be getting married you don’t play son. So all of a sudden your prospective in-laws are calling from India and letting you know that 4 independent and trustworthy snakecharmers set your wedding date for you and your dad calls ten minutes after to tell you that the name of the venue and that the deposit’s already down so you’re getting married in five months WHEEEE!
Anyway, Boo Boo gave me Ringy last week and while I never thought I’d be that person who spends way too much time raising her left hand and drooling over her ring-damn it, this thing has me transfixed.