On being LS....

Long years ago, when I was a mere teenager, there was this show on Sony anchored by Archana Puran Singh. It was a bollywood gossip kinda show, peppered with the top 10 songs of the week. The last segment of the show was when she talked about the HS(High Society) and LS(Low Society) happenings in Bollywood. You know...pink beaded purse-LS, (This was before Bunty and Babli, when everything beaded, and horrendously bright became hip) Aamir in Mela...verrry LS. Twinkle in anything, movies or otherwise-LS, Kajol in Gupt-HS. Kajol in Hamesha-LS. You get the picture, I think.

I've just had an epiphany. I'm a derelict because I'm LS. Verrrrrry LS, as the magnificent APS would say. Here's why.

1). I'm rude on the phone. Roomie says I sound as though I'm doing everyone a massive favor by taking their calls. In my defense, I will say this. I don't mean to be. I just dislike long phone conversations. There are only 3 people in this world with whom I can talk on the phone for more than 10 minutes, and not feel like I'm having a tooth extracted. And you have to have the phone permanently attached to your ear to be HS. So...LS, definitely LS.

2). On the subject of phones..I neither know nor care what model phone I possess. I have never used its camera. I don't know if it is bluetooth enabled, and I don't give a rats' ass if it is. I have no clue about MMS. I only use my phone to make and receive calls. Not phone savvy....totally LS.

3). I have no social graces whatsoever. I go to a party, and sip my drink quietly. I suck at polite chit-chat. I am no butterfly. More like an owl. In fact, I have been called an owl on occasion.(Long story. I'll save it for a different post!!)

4). I'm a poor liar. I stammer, and blush, and the person knows I'm lying when I say I can't make it to dinner, because I have to go to lab. When in fact, I have nothing to do in lab. I just want to curl up on my sofa, with "Pearls, Girls and Monty Bodkins." And everyone knows that you have to be a good liar to be HS.

5). Sometimes, I tune out of conversations. I get this glazed look in my eyes. I'm in a land far, far away. When this happens, Amma says I look preoccupied.(Mothers, you gotta love 'em!) Roomie says I look blank.(Unkind, but true) The truth is, I don't know WTF I'm doing at those moments. In any case, my periodic tuning out cannot contribute positively to my personality. Chalk another one up for LS.

6). I couldn't read past page 30 of Song of Solomon. I thought it was boring and too damn slow. I also once read a compilation of short stories by Nobel Prize winners, and I thought them all very sad. Everyone was unhappy. Felt like the Dementors had written the book. There was one particularly gruesome story about a village in which every single baby was killed brutally, in a planned assault. Thats all the story was. A description of the systematic cold-blooded murder of infants. In gory detail. I enjoy Wodehouse, Austen, Erle Stanley Gardner, or even John Grisham better than that stuff. Not highbrow....LS to the core.

7). I like Govinda. I think Hero No.1 is one of the funniest movies ever. Is there something lower than LS? I think I maybe the SC/ST of LS.

8). I can't air-kiss. I simply can't. The first time my salsa instructor "muah-muahed" me, I just froze. Thereafter, everytime I went to class, I had to prime myself mentally to receive that bristly brush against my cheek. An ability to air-kiss is intrinsic to being HS. I fail miserably....therefore LS.

So, there you go. As LS as they come. Oh well, it is my cross, and I shall bear it as best as I can. On the plus side, I can burp in public and not be embarassed. No one expects better you see.