So, after MNIK, can Kajol be called the first true bollywood MILF? Off the top of my head, can’t think of anyone who has had a success like MNIK after having children and being cast in the leading role. Call it what you will, but the movie did collect over 100 crores worldwide, and this is only its first week.
Kajol was yummy, as usual. She always had a good set of knockers, not the nearly flat ones like a few going around today. She could do with a little work around the hips, but that can very definitely be overlooked. Her boobs seem to have grown, and she looks to have just the right amount of meat everywhere.
Can’t wait for this trend to catch on!! Here’s more power to you, MILFs of India!!
Greetings from 37,000 feet! Man, does Virgin America get it right! This is the only way to fly domestically. As much as I adore Sir Branson’s latest, let’s face it: Singapore Airlines A-380 International Cabin Class it isn’t. Unless there’s a rose petal-sprinkled, Pratesi-wrapped fold-out bed hiding in first class about which I am not aware. I’m here with a mini bottle of Karma Brut CA “Champie” (I sound like the Ladies Man- “I’m here with my Courvoisier…”), free Wi-Fi and violet mood lighting that has my current environs mistaken for my own private corner of the Boom Boom Room. And how amazing is it that I can watch an episode of Maury entitled “Before the Wedding I have Three Shocking Sex Secrets!?” Part of me hopes we never reach LAX.
Everything about air travel has always fascinated me. I don’t know if this is due to Mom’s frequent trips to New York during her pregnancy with me, “We’re Going On An Airplane Trip” being one of my favorite childhood reads (who needs “Good Night Moon” when you’ve got that and “Snow White in New York?”) or the fact that I flew PSA’s L.A. to San Diego route almost monthly as a tot so I had the reassurance that Grandpa and Grandpa were always a mere 25 minute plane ride away.
Speaking of PSA, remember those smiley faces on the noses of their 727’s and their fleet of stewardesses whose micromini dresses and Go-Go boot uniforms basically catalyzed sexual harassment prevention awareness? The first time my dad visited my mom since they had started dating, flying from Miami to L.A. was the hard part. All he had to do was find the PSA Terminal at LAX, fork over $6 for a one-way ticket and wait like 20 minutes for the next flight. Once airborne, he struck up a conversation with the guy in the next seat, who told my father that the purpose of his trip was to get lucky with one of the stewardesses. Apparently this gentleman made a monthly sport out of taking a short, inexpensive flight solely for a hospitable hook-up. Ah, the 70’s…
Having been born in the early 80’s, I’ve always felt I came into existence at the tail end of the 20th Century’s most defining period of social, cultural and technological innovation. I feel privileged to have at least experienced the denouement, especially in regard to the Jet Age. I remember my parents dressing me to the nines when we flew so that when I sauntered down the aisle of that Pan Am 747 or Eastern L10-11, I fit right in with all the men in suits. Even though air travel was pretty standard by then, flying was still kind of a big deal in a sociological respect. Maybe that’s why I collect vintage carry-ons from defunct airlines and wear them with a badge of honor. They remind me of how exciting and respectable air travel once was. My God, what I wouldn’t give to have experienced the Concorde! I pray our beloved supersonic jets will return to flight at some point in my lifetime. Enough of these flying buses already!
Though unrecognizable from what it once was, every aspect of air travel still invigorates me. A violent descent into West Palm Beach amidst a tropical storm a few years ago has turned me into somewhat of nervous Nellie, but I still find no sensation more exhilarating than revving the engines before that proceeding initial push into take-off. And there’s no better feeling in the world than when the plane hits the runway at LAX or Charles de Gaulle, and the knee-jerk reactionary thought of “Thank God, I’m home!” consumes me (I’ve never actually resided in Paris, but the City of Lights has always felt like home and I’m actually hoping it does become my temporary home at some point in 2010). Funny how after eight years in New York, I still don’t echo that sentiment upon touchdown at JFK. Then again, JFK does house my favorite building of all time, Eero Saarinen’s Space-Age masterpiece TWA terminal. Not that I don’t possess undying adoration for the Theme Building at my dear LAX. Argh…L.A. vs. New York is going to be the ongoing conflict that haunts me for eternity.
I don’t know what’s on TV in front of me, but the actress playing Selena Gomez’s mom (is it dirty that I know who Selena Gomez is?) is a total MILF. It’s officially time to divert my attention.
