I recently saw my first Bollywood production, which is a movie made in India with lots of singing and dancing.  It was great. It was called Mujhse Dosti Karoge!, which apparently means “Be My Friend” but for all I know translates to “Me So Horny.” The story was a riff on Some Kind of Wonderful with the guy not realizing that his bookish, shy girl-pal is a better match for him than the hot party girl, but it was great because the shy girl-pal was ten times hotter than the hot party girl.  It was a glorious disregard for reality.  In an American movie, they would have at least slapped some glasses on her or something, but this movie just offered up a Bizarro world where the pretty girls read books and the party girls look vaguely like bald eagles.

I also loved that, along with the singing and dancing, there was a wedding every five seconds.  A wedding ceremony would suddenly appear out of nowhere, and I’m all, “Wait a minute--the characters don’t even know each other.  Why are they getting married?  And the movie was all, “Hey, they exchanged five words to each other.  That’s reason enough for them to get hitched.” You only see that kind of thing in Bollywood movies, and maybe Kentucky.

Everyone dressed in amazing outfits.  You’re thinking, whatever, everyone dresses well in movies.  But this flick made the characters in a Meg Ryan comedy look like bums under a bridge.  I went home and decided that I, too, would like to be always color coordinated with my background, but after walking to the kitchen and having to change my shirt three times on the way, I decided it was more trouble than it was worth.

Then I started vacuuming my living room and felt the urge to burst into a musical number, complete with badly translated, unrhymed subtitles:

You are thief of my heart
If my heart was like a piece of cheese
You would be the rat getting the cheese
I am now chasing dust bunnies with aplomb

On a completely unrelated note, I was walking through San Francisco and one of the street performers was a very large opera singer. She had a beautiful voice that nearly drowned out the jackhammer on the opposite side of the curb.  But, as previously mentioned, she wasn?t a small woman.  Maybe you shouldn’t bother going to work or school today--because if it’s not over until the fat lady sings, I think we’re all pretty much done.