When someone wants to tear apart my writing — because I had the gall to suggest that society is racist or sexist — they often bring up my presumed gender to do so. I’m interpellated as “that girl,” “a chick on the internet.”
Unlike drunk texting, which can ruin everything, drunk ordering only comes with the risk of falling asleep before my pizza arrives.
Okay, but what’s your definition of being absolutely ridiculous, girl living in 2013?
Boys danced friskily in drum circles around bright, ceramic idols of Hindu gods; colorfully clad woman pushed past each other among seas of roadside stalls emitting wonderful and awful smells; rickshaw drivers swerved inches around us.
The film is half heavy-handed message about our species cruelly destroying the fragile environment and half magic spell-driven romcom a la Seventeen Again and The Switch. I watched it daily as a child.