I bring to you this weeping delightful piece of journalism, baiting me with that breath-bating title: 'Barfi!' left Lara Dutta in tears and more
What? What?! I went chasing but the mystery of the "more", oozing along with the tears, was never revealed. My guess is, given her condition, it must be the milk she is lactating.
Continuing to the next wonderful article, the nebulously titled I enjoy keeping fit: Malaika, it informs us in a remarkable conflation of two cliches, "Young girls would give their right hand(sic) to have a figure like Malaika Arora Khan." Reminds me of something I read a long time ago but could never muster the courage to try: castrated men don't go bald.
And really, girls, have you ever seen a one-handed obese "young" icon? That right hand might just be getting in the way of your prospects; chop it off.
By the way, the article seems to take its inspiration from Luck in trussing itself with its motif, and nothing else. "...I also love being fit. I am very particular about my fitness and lifestyle. I enjoy keeping fit..."
Replace that "fit" with any other passion, "shit", "having sex", "playing ludo", "slapping cows" and you even have another coup for the next day.
Moving to the next gem, Only happy films for 'Ishkq in Paris' director, which informs us how director Prem Raj says he wants to make emotional, but happy films because, clearly, happiness doesn't qualify as a state of emotion. Or perhaps, he is searching the name for the genre: drama.
As for his profound statement, "Emotion have to be there, but will be light-hearted, which one can see and laugh.", what's with this entire article and self-reflexivity? Is the reporter drawing us into some deep philosophical questions on the nature of celebrities and how they and the hack-journos covering them have nothing meaningful to say than repeat the same half-literate tripe again and again? Do you think?
