Quips: The "I'm still in mourning" edition

Death
Upon discovering that he has been requested to write something to be read at our grandfather's funeral.

Aiya: I want it to be funny.
Me: I'm the one who has to read it. You know I have absolutely no comedic timing.
Aiya: No, for real, it's going to be uproarious. You'll see.
Me: Okay, how do you propose to do this?
Aiya: Knock, knock.
Me: Who's there?
Aiya: Not Pappa.
Me: *groan* Duuude. Do you actually expect me to say "'Not Pappa,' who??"

A post-mortem on Thathi's eulogy where he conveniently swapped "Amma" and "Thatha" (the terminology he's used all his life) for "mom" and "dad"

Me: Thathi, seriously? What the hell? Mom and Dad? Even though Aiya and I are so white we never freaking called you and Ammi that.
Cousin #1: Yes bappi. What was up with that? Were you trying to prove how Canadian you are now?
Boisterous Aunt: No men. The sun was coming onto his face, I'm sure he was just disoriented and couldn't concentrate.
Grandmother: It was a lovely eulogy. But you know even through the tears I couldn't help but wonder why at that point in time you decided to start calling us "Mom" and "Dad"
Thathi: Well. At least people could understand what I was saying.
Me: Hey! I can't help that I have an accent that no one in this country seems to understand.

At the Achcars. Cheez unleashed an unsuspecting, innocent fellow who was visiting from India into our midst.

Sahib: So I heard you're down for your grandfather's funeral?
Me: Yeah, it was on Wednesday actually. We went through all of his stuff today. I flicked one of his cigarette lighters, look it matches my cigarette case.
Psylog: Ooo let's see the case! *proceeds to rifle through the contents of my case in an unseemly manner.*
Me: And look, this is his...*begins to point at the snazzy tie that brings together numerous parts of my ensemble*
Psylog: *looks up from rifling* Seriously, STOP TALKING ABOUT THE TIE. NO ONE CARES.
Me: *sputtering* but...but...I'm still in mourning!
Sahib: *Looks on in utter horror*

Inn on the Green post-dinner with the family and pre-quiz

Smackity: RASTI!!!!!!
Mansage: Yeah. He's already had a few to drink. Just sit down and ignore him.
Me: Kermz, shove over!
Kermz: Where are you coming from?
Me: Oh, I had dinner with the family.
Kermz: *Gives me the once over*
Me: What?
Kermz: Oh. No. Nothing.
Smackity: Rasti you do realise that some of your err, assets are on display. *giggling*
Me: But. But. I'm wearing grey, navy blue and white!
Kermz: Right. Because you're still in mourning no?

Clawed.
It was really nice to be able to unexpectedly meet up with Aunty and the Fascist especially since the grand reunion was not supposed to be until sometime in May when the two of them would be headed to Europe.

At Global Towers. A favourite haunt of ours in the old days.

Mansage: Call up Aunty, she said she may be able to join us after work.
Me: *Dials* AUNTY! I hear you may be able to join us for a bit of a claw session this evening?
Aunty: Indeed little one, it'll be nice to hang out like the old days. *said with uncharacteristic affection* Where are you two?
Me: Global Towers!
Aunty: What the hell? You guys are such bloody losers.

Aunty: Seriously. What' wrong with you?
Me: Why?
Aunty: You've been keeping the wrong company in Canada. Pretty soon I'm going to have to disown you.
Me: Eh? Disown?! Aunty! No!
Mansage: *looks on with bemusement*
Aunty: You have lost your claws.
Me: Surely you jest?
Aunty: We have sat here for 20 minutes and you still haven't made one ageist remark against me.
Me: I'm still in mourning?

Dinner at Agra. A favourite picnic spot. Aunty kept us waiting for an hour.

Mansage: Call Aunty!
Me: No, I called her already, you call aunty.
Mansage: Call Aunty and tell her that I'm so desperate I'm ready to hump this sausage. *points at the phallic looking pillow*
Me: Yeah. No, I'm not telling her that.

Mansage: I'm hungry.
Me: Yeah. I am too.
Mansage: *points at pillow beside me* Open up that sausage, run your hand up it and turn it on.
Both: *Dying of laughter.*
Me: That doesn't even make any SENSE.
Mansage: That should make it on the internets. I'm hungry.
Me: Yeah. I am too.

Aunty: Okay, what shall we have?
Mansage: *natters off the list of things we've pre-thunk up*
Aunty: Okay. Fine.
Me: But wait. Mansage you wanted the lamb no?
Mansage: Yeah, but Aunty doesn't eat that, so we'll go with the chicken instead.
Me: Sin men, just because she's mutton* doesn't mean that we need to have a meal with no lamb.
Aunty: That was weak. But considering you're still easing yourself into things. I'll give it to you.
*The Colombian Dictator, upon seeing old women in age inappropriate attire, would often remark that said specimens looked like "mutton dressed as lamb."

Me: Okay, we've set out an agenda of things to discuss...
Aunty: An agenda? What? Why?
Me: We had too! You're only gracing us with your presence for a short while and there's much to go over.
Aunty: Okay. Fine. What's the first thing?
Me: The ex.
Aunty: What. NO. WAIT. We're not discussing that. *Look of utter horror.* In a few words? Vacous, vapid, immature, silly...
Me: HA. I thought we're not discussing that?
Aunty: Yes, but this is why you hang out with me.

Me: You know Mansage was getting pretty desperate while waiting for you to show up.
Aunty: Oh in what way?
Me: I'm almost too frightened to say. You know how sometimes if you don't say things out loud it's almost like they never happened?
Aunty: Yes and when you do speak out it just solidifies it?
Me: Yeah. Somethings are just better left unsaid.

Mansage: I have to choo.
Aunty: So then go.
Mansage: *drops a pillow on the ground*
Me: Dude, you dropped a pillow.
Aunty: Typical man. Violates and then just casts aside when it's served his purpose.

"zomg. It's just like irc up in here"
- psylog
The dangers of hanging out with the same people you waste copious of amounts of time on the internets with. You have been warned.

him: ...and then i saw him, head bowed utterly raw and honest. Fully aware of the fact that no one gives a fuck about him. Man. I can never blog about the good things damn it. But seriously psylog...the pussy this guy gets is unbelievable. I mean we're talking about the kind of girls I stalk on facebook. THAT'S HOW GOOD.

Discussing the nitty gritty details of music selection on the jukebox.

me: WTF! Is this? Tina Turner?
loverlord: Okay. You know what. We should seriously have a new rule about the amount of times a diva can be played.
migrainecat: Yeah seriously. I think this is the second time we're hearing this song.
TinaTurner's#1Fan: Noez! You don't understand. This song. THIS SONG. It used to be my theme song *starts singing "You're Simply the Best"*
me: I can't believe I'm hearing this, nay witnessing you do this.in.public.
TT#1F: This is nothing. I used to sing this into a hairbrush and jump on my bed singing along. This and Richard Marx, my dirty little secrets.
migrainecat: Yeah. Not so secret anymore eh?
TT#1F: Aw shit.