I Ruined The Twilight Kiss

I honestly have the worst luck with timing.  Words leave my mouth at the most inappropriate moments. It is extremely mortifying, because people almost always get the wrong idea about the person that I am.

Remember my blog post, The Condom Box Incident? That was just one tragic example of how much trouble my mouth can get me into. Here are a couple more.

Twilight Screening- 2007

The whole cinema was filled with throngs of teenage girls, all waiting with bated breath (literally) to catch a glimpse of the beautiful, elusive Cullens, who avoided the sun so they wouldn’t… sparkle in front of everyone and arouse suspicion. Anyway, I want to fast forward to the part where Bella and Edward kiss for the first time.

The scene was set. This was what everyone had been really waiting for. Edward murmured, “I just wanted to… try something” in his smooth seductive voice. Half the girls (and some of the guys) in the cinema melted.

Bella looks at him expectedly. Her tousled hair falls gently on either side of her face. Edward leans in and the chemistry between them is flammable. Their faces are inches apart.

‘This is agonizingly slow,’ I think to myself, uncomfortable for the actors because their faces have been on close-up for a quite a while now.

A few minutes later, and they still have an inch to go. The entire cinema is silent. I have to pee. It’s like someone pressed the pause button, why aren’t they kissing already? I can’t take this anymore.

“Oh my God, KISS her already!” I scream into the empty silence, and then immediately regret it when I realize how loud I am.

The whole cinema bursts into laughter at my comment. I grimace. I shouldn’t have done that. I look to my side at my friend E, and she just shakes her head.

Thankfully, the cinema continues to laugh and I heave a sigh of relief. I probably ruined the “tender romantic” moment for a lot of people, but no-one hunted me down with pitchforks, so I can safely say that a lot of people, like me, were tired of watching them “almost” kiss for five minutes.

Precious Screening- 2010

I think all of you know by now that I’m the talker in movies. I talk. I can’t help it, I simply must comment on every single little thing that goes on in the big screen. This is especially tiring for the person I go to the movie with, because they are usually the kind of people that like to watch a movie in silence and savour it for themselves.

I don’t give them the chance. I’m that loud, rude, annoying person that simply HAS to speak.

This also happened when I went to watch Precious. Incidentally, with E, again.

I don’t know if my blog has young readers, but Precious is a grown-up movie, and in such movies, grown-up things do happen. Anyway, I think it was the part where the mother was masturbating, and then she says to her sixteen year old daughter who was downstairs, “Precious… come help Momma.”

That scene left me awestruck. What could the mother possibly want from Precious? Honestly! I just didn’t understand it, and I think I was so traumatized, I actually said out loud, into the silence, again, “What? Why? I don’t understand what’s happening.”

To the rest of the people in the cinema it was pretty obvious. C leaned over and whispered, “She’s asking her, to help her.”

I still didn’t understand, because a few people had turned back in their seats and were looking at me ominously. So I kept quiet. But I got my movie-partners to explain it to me later, and I wish I hadn’t because it was disgusting and graphic. 😦

Knight And Day Screening- 2010

I would like, very much, to apologize to my friend A for this one. She is definitely the kind of person that enjoys her movies in silence. Also, she was in a sort of huff with me because I had dragged her to watch a Tom Cruise flick, when she really wanted to watch Letters To Juliet. But I had said to her, “Pffft, why would you want to watch a silly romantic movie with letters when you can watch blatant action and suspense?”

I think I was the most annoying when, five minutes into the movie, I realized that I still found Tom Cruise terribly attractive. The last time this had happened was back in 2003 when I watched The Last Samurai with my dad. Goodness, he was so good-looking! And he had aged so well! I was astounded.

“Psssst,” I whispered to A, who was very involved with the movie at this point, “He looks amazing!”

A looked at me, annoyed at having been interrupted when she was clearly enjoying a personal connection with the story and the characters onscreen. But to keep me happy, she flashed me a big smile and nodded. I was nonplussed, and continued, “He doesn’t look like he’s forty-five at all! I love him. I think I want to marry him.”

Out of politeness and respect for my parents, A struggled to stop herself from strangling me with her bare hands. I think I was so blinded with Tom Cruise’s physical perfection, I failed to notice this.

About halfway through the movie, I see Tom Cruise without a shirt on. This is too much for me, and the fangirl inside me bursts out. I squeal into the darkness and clutch at A feverishly. Why must he be so darn attractive when the tabloids have clearly deemed him to be insane?

A, it appears, has also been surprised by his sculpted torso, but she is not as vocal as I am. Instead, she tries to hush me, unsuccessfully, while I continue to scream nonsensical things at the screen.

I punch A’s shoulder, “DUDE. OH MY GOD. He is so hot! WHAAT IS THIS OH MY GOD.”

A winces (my punches are abnormally spunky) and says, “Yeah, we got it, now can you just like, shhh?”

I continue as if I haven’t heard her, “DID YOU SEE THOSE ABS. DID YOU SEE THEM. GOODNESS. I COULD EAT ICE CREAM OFF THEM ABS.”

The whole movie was ruined for A, who just looked at me disgustedly after we came out of the cinema. She also seemed highly irritable. I didn’t know why exactly at that time; I was still revelling in the awesomeness that was Tom Cruise.

So there you go. Three movie experiences that I ruined for two of my very closest friends. I’m sorry, y’all! But, by now, all of my friends are aware of how horrible I can be at the movies, and so now, when they choose to go the movies with me, they know completely well what is coming for them.

And for that, I am thankful.

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Posted in I'm a fool, Popculture, Tanyistid | Leave a comment

I Got My First Pair Of High Heels When I Was Five.

You know when women say, “Oh wearing high heels is a breeze! It doesn’t hurt at all!”

They’re LYING. High heels are painful. The higher the heel, the more painful. I promise you, they hurt. Don’t believe those women, FASHION IS PAIN. IT HURTS to stand around in things that put pressure on the softest part of your foot.

I want to talk about how much I love high heels. I love that when I first slip them on, they’re fine for about half an hour, and then they start hurting. I love how I have to carry another pair of shoes whenever I go out wearing them, because I just know that sometime during the day, my feet will give in and scream, “No more. NO MORE.” And I definitely love how they make you feel sexy and gorgeous and make me feel like I am miles tall (even if it isn’t exactly true).

My love for high heels stems from an early age. How do I know this? Well, I have this teardrop-shaped scar on my left knee, and I still remember how I got it.

I was five years old, and I remember my mother had bought me a pair of high heels for a performance I was going to be doing later that month. I was more excited about the heels, and from what I remember, they were about an inch high, sparkly and gold. Even five-year old Tanya couldn’t resist glitter.

I think I need to fill you in on something. Indian kids have this “tradition” where they go downstairs to play in the evening. And since I was in India at that time, I used to follow this quite closely too.

This one evening, I wanted to wear my new glittery shoes when I went down to play. My mother immediately saw how this had the tremendous potential of resulting in me getting hurt, and so refused to let me wear them.

Well, I went into a major strop. I couldn’t believe she was doing this to me. I finally had grown-up shoes and now she wasn’t even letting me wear them to show them off to my friends? What kind of a mom was she? How could she be so insensitive and unreasonable?

After about thirty five minutes of me crying my eyes out and bawling like a big baby (which I technically was), my mom gave in. I quickly wiped my tears and stepped onto them. Immediately, the dark cloud around me began to lift, and I felt like a fairy princess who just got rescued by a handsome prince. I had stars in my eyes and I felt like a whole new person. This was amazing!

Sadly, that feeling didn’t last long as I couldn’t even walk with them. I needed more practice! When my mother saw me stumbling, she told me to go upstairs and change. By quick wit (which I naturally inherited), I said, “But, Mummy, I have to practice now so I don’t fall off on stage!” all wide-eyed and innocent.

My mother saw my point and surprisingly, agreed with me. She led me downstairs and that’s when the tragic happened.

I saw the wide expanse of the area the children usually frequented and my heart leaped with joy. All the other girls were going to be so jealous that I was more grown-up than them!

Then, I started running. Which was an extremely bad idea, because I was running on gravel, and also, I had momentarily forgotten that I couldn’t even walk in heels, so running should have been out of the question.

Long story short, I fell heavily and now my left knee has an attractive pear-shaped scar on it.

Oh yeah, my mom also rushed me to hospital because my knee was bleeding profusely and refused to stop, and also because my mom is the kind of person that panics easily. But it was a good thing she did, because I required three stitches, but I can’t remember any of this, so I have to take my mom’s word for it.

And that’s how long I’ve had an unhealthy obsession with high heels. Even that traumatizing incident didn’t stop me, and now, I can proudly say that I can wear high heels without tripping/stumbling/requiring a doctor.

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Monkeys Excrete A Lot

This is going to be another blog post on monkeys. I know most of my blog posts revolve around my hatred for certain animals, but please bear with me. This particular time was so devastatingly shocking that I literally could not sleep for a few nights after. That NEVER happens to me. I’m very good with my sleeping schedule.

Anyway, we were in Sri Lanka for vacation in the summer of 2004. I was going through my, um, chubby phase (I think that’s the kindest way to put it, so I don’t hurt my feelings), and I wasn’t as physically fit as I should have been.

Can I just tell you something about our family vacations? If you happen to be part of our family vacation, you should know that my dad makes us walk a lot. Covering all the historically exciting places across the country is hard work, and that is exactly what we were doing in Sri Lanka.

Back to the story. We were descending down from a mountain after having admired a panoramic view of all of Sri Lanka. There had also been a super famous temple on the top, and as is the norm with temples in Asia, the place was crawling with monkeys. I didn’t mind them at first… they looked a little cute and forlorn, and had unnecessarily long tails, but it wasn’t like they were especially bothering me. I still maintained my distance and held onto my dad’s hand.

Halfway down, because we were on a vacation, we decided to take a picture. I decided to sit down on some steps because I was tired and fat and lazy. My brother and my mom soon followed suit and my dad snapped off a couple of pictures. Done with pictures, I stood up and brushed my pants down.

My fingers brushed against something that was definitely not dry leaves and dust.

I looked at my fingers. It looked like I had sat on a clump of mud. However, there had been no rain for days, and the mountainside was as dry as bone. Where did that clump of-

I stopped. I lifted my fingers to my nose, and took a cautious sniff.

I HAD JUST SAT DOWN ON MONKEY POOP.

I took a deep breath and started screaming. Being the melodramatic type, I also cried. You have to remember, I was also only eleven years old. A tired, cranky eleven year old who had just soiled her pants unintentionally.

And my fingers were covered with it too. My face screwed up in disgust. I managed not to throw up, but it was hard work, because I could only manage to keep my fingers at arms’ length (any further than that, and I’d suffer from a dislocated shoulder). My mom came running over, distraught to see her eldest child in a state of hysterical tears. Upon learning what had happened, she gasped loudly, and burst into unfair and cruel laughter.

My dad and my brother joined in; mirthful laughter, laced with mockery and cruelty. How could they do this to me? Weren’t they going to help me clean off? What kind of a family laughs at their daughter?

I wandered off to the side, and tried to wipe the flow of tears from my face, but obviously failed miserably because somehow, the poop had spread to my other hand as well.

My family calmed down after a while, and my mom tried to comfort me (but didn’t do quite a good job because she kept snorting every few seconds). She gave me numerous wet-wipes and I wiped the worst of it off. Sadly, nothing could be done for my lavender trousers, because I was too disgusted by what had happened to them.

The entire car journey back to the hotel was spent with me sniffling and wallowing in self-pity and misery, while my family gave each other secret glances and coughed to cover up their still uncontrollable joy and mirth at seeing me sit on a pile of monkey poop.

Do you see why I don’t like monkeys? After what they have put my through, why should I like them?

And this wasn’t the only monkey incident that happened in Sri Lanka. Something else happened when we got back to the hotel.

But that’s a blog entry for another day.

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The Cockroaches Of Vietnam

I’ve been to Vietnam only once in my life and I’ll have you know that it was an unforgettable experience.

We were there on a school trip to aid a children’s foundation, so it was all for a good cause. But I think it was quite a failed trip, because out of the six days that we were in Vietnam, we only managed to do about half a day’s worth of community service. The rest of the time was spent, shopping, sightseeing and eating.

Anyway, what I really want to talk about was our hotel. Due to the fact that we were ‘students’, and on a “budget”, we were booked into a three star hotel by our school. All of  were extremely sceptical about the state of the hotel because we’re all a bunch of spoilt brats and that’s how we roll.

We paired off, two to a room and started unpacking.

Two days later, something happened. It altered us beyond recognition. And it happened to me first.

We had just come back from dinner and shopping, and had retired to our rooms. I decided to take a shower, on account of how humid Vietnam was. I put on my flip flops (no way was I stepping into a foreign bathroom without any protection for my feet), took my shampoo, soap and conditioner, and headed into the bathroom.

What I saw made my heart skip a beat.

For a second, I stood there, frozen with fear and shock. And then I opened my mouth and let out a bloodcurdling scream worthy of a B-grade movie.

I had seen a cockroach.

A COCKROACH.

I ran out of the bathroom, yelling unintelligible words at the top of my lungs.

“AHHH OH MY GOD OH MY GOD WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE I JUST SAW A COCKROACH YOU GUYS OH MY GOD!”

I flung my door open, and pounded on everyone’s door, screaming about said cockroach. Everyone opened their door hurriedly, and asked me why I was shouting like a three year old having a tantrum.

I could barely get the words out; I was that terrified and upset.

I explained as best as I could, and expressions of fear and horror crossed everyone’s faces. They looked at me, concerned for my well-being, and astounded that I had gotten away from the monster unscathed.

I calmed down after a few minutes (although I still had an unmistakeable tremor in my voice), and said the words everyone had been dreading.

“We have to get rid of it. But I’m not touching it. Someone help?”

Everyone looked away from me, uncomfortably. The silence was palpable, until eventually, my roommate, An said she would take a look and see if it was still there.

I heaved a relieved sigh, and followed her, armed with a rolled up newspaper. The rest of the girls (the guys were on a separate floor, and didn’t know about the crisis we girls were dealing with) peeped in through our open door and waited.

And waited.

Turns out, we couldn’t find it anymore. We scoured every part of our room, and that little son of a mother seemed to have disappeared off the face of Earth. Where had it gone?

Over the next few hours, I didn’t say a single word to anyone because I was too busy questioning my sanity. Had I really seen it? Or had it been a figment of my imagination? And if it wasn’t, then it meant I had a dirty cockroach gone rogue in my room. How would I be able to sleep at night?

Thankfully, a few days later, all the rooms on our 2nd floor found cockroaches. First came the tell-tale squeal from the room opposite to ours which was occupied by J, and A. A screamed the loudest I think. And then the room next to mine, and a few hours later, the room down the hall, housing S and D.

I remember, every time someone screamed about a cockroach, I ran around gleefully, jumped on their beds and shouted, “I TOLD YOU SO. REMEMBER MY ROOM HAD THE COCKROACH FIRST.” They would then, look at me and remorsefully nod their heads.

Obviously, we told our teacher about the infestation problem and she marched right up to the reception and complained fiercely. They said they would see what they could do, and we went from the 2nd floor to the 3rd.

And that is why I don’t like cockroaches. I have been scarred, but as I said, I emerged unscathed, and I’m proud to have faced those monster roaches and come out alive, if a little bit shaken.

Posted in Animals ew | Leave a comment

The Condom Box Incident

I remember this with startling clarity, on account of how absolutely mortified I was.

We were just about to break for Christmas vacation and it was the last day. To get into the festive spirit, our homeroom teacher had suggested that we partake in Secret Santa this year. Naturally, everyone agreed, because who doesn’t like receiving presents?

We’d picked out names from a top-hat on Monday, and come Friday (the last day), there was quite a large pile of sparkly, gift-wrapped presents in all shapes and sizes. I can tell you right now, I was muchos excited. We were already high on the festive mood and add to that the joy of getting presents from a random classmate! Awesomeness!

The teachers handed out the presents. We received them gleefully, and contemplated for a second and wondered who they were from.

Suddenly, amidst the frenzied tearing of wrapping paper, I heard this loud, totally unsophisticated guffaw behind me. I looked up in surprise. Who let animals inside the classroom? It sounded awfully like a donkey…

Nope. It was my friend E. She had just opened up her present, and burst into unladylike laughter at the sight of it. ‘What did she get?’ I wondered, as did half the class who had suddenly spotted E rolling on the classroom floor in great mirth.

She had gotten a box of condoms. And this was obviously from my other friend, V, because she was chortling away guiltily too.

After the laughter at such a ridiculously hilarious present had died down and the bell had rung signalling the start of our Christmas vacation, we went and sat down on a flight of stairs, tired out.

We were sitting there, talking away, as girls are prone to do, when suddenly, I spotted the box of condoms clutched in E’s grasp. I pried it away and stared at it. Since I’d never seen a condom box up close before, I was, naturally, filled with morbid curiosity.

I looked at the back. And what I saw made me open my eyes really wide and I let out the loudest chuckle ever.

From what I remember, certain words and phrases come into mind, including something like, “rose-patterned for extra pleasure” and “XL”, and “lubricated”.

So, obviously I decided to open it all up, and read the instructions. Out loud.

Can I just stress that this was a horribly bad idea, because I had forgotten that we were still in school?

I read in an obnoxiously loud voice, and very soon, I had all my friends giggling away at how I put emphasis on ‘certain’ words and phrases. I tried to keep a straight face, but very soon, I was reading the ‘instructions’ with a huge smile on my face.

Can I also interrupt this anecdote, to mention that I have very bad timing? Of course, I only remember this when I get caught doing something which looks very very wrong to the person who’s just caught me.

So anyway, here I was, merrily playing the fool and reading out condom instructions in an educational institution. Suddenly, I receive a hard nudge from A, who was sitting next to me. E, who was standing in front of me, kicked at my feet. They were apparently trying to draw attention to something, but at that point in time, I didn’t care. I wanted to continue reading out loud how to dispose of a condom properly. My other friend, An, also started coughing loudly. I wondered what was up, but still didn’t stop, because, well, I was having quite a laugh.

I paid no heed to them, which turned out to be a fatally grave mistake, as it seems. Because what had happened was, that someone was coming down the stairs, and my friends had been frantically trying to warn me. That someone turned out to be the school’s academic advisor and the Physics teacher, Mr. B.

I remember, I only noticed him once I sensed a black, ominous, man-sized shoe stepping on the step I was sitting on. I look at it, and suddenly, all is quiet. I continue to look at the shoe for a few seconds, trying to identify its owner, and delaying the inevitable.

The suspense is killing me. I know I shouldn’t, but I have to look up.

I look up, and gasp. Of all the people that could have caught me, it had to be the one with the power to expel me. Oh. My. God

In my panic, I dropped the condom box onto my lap, and the piece of paper I had been reading from fluttered down to my feet. Mr. B, looked at me strangely for a few seconds, with his head cocked to one side, and then gave me a knowing smile, like he knew exactly what I was doing. I gasp again, because how do I tell him that the only reason I was holding onto such an incriminating object was because of my foolish, morbid curiosity, and not because I planned to use it? As I buried my head into my hands, everyone in my vicinity burst into hard, cruel laughter. With my ears burning with humiliation and shock, I could sense Mr. B walking away from the crazy lunatics that were currently rolling on the floor laughing. And me, hunched into a foetal position, quietly praying and hoping that I wouldn’t be expelled.

I was obviously not expelled. Mr. B never even mentioned it to me. But from that day onwards, I knew never to mess with condom boxes.

Of course, that didn’t stop my “friends” from telling everyone what had happened. E, even told Mr. F, my ITGS teacher, who had quite a long, loud laugh at my expense.

Sigh.

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Molested By Monkeys

Um, so can I just say that I’ve always been a bit scared of things that move? Okay, scratch that, I meant, I’ve always been apprehensive of anything that moves. For me, “anything that moves” includes humans, lizards, cockroaches, and suspiciously animated GIFs on the Internet. I don’t know why, I seem to have this pathological fear for anything that seems to be in motion. That is exactly why I don’t trust Venus Flytraps. You know, those weird plants that snap their jaws shut whenever an unsuspecting insect goes near their mouths?

Anyway, getting back to the subject at hand, I’m always very wary when it comes to animals. Humans, I can just about handle, but animals are the most unpredictable things ever. Monkeys, especially. There was this one incident involving monkeys, which I have never been able to forget. Whenever I think about that day, I shudder and grimace involuntarily.

It was a bright sunny morning, and C and I were on our way to E’s house to work on a school project. I’d just like a moment to mention that E’s house is practically in the middle of a jungle, so it isn’t uncommon for her family to chase away monkeys and such from their kitchen and backyard.

Anyway, C and I had just gotten off the bus, when he started craving something to eat. We still had a few minutes to spare before we had to be at her house, so we headed towards an Esso petrol station and into a convenience store.

We both chose our ice creams and then headed out, where they immediately started melting. The natural thing would be to eat them as fast as possible, no? That’s exactly what we did, except, for some reason, C finished his really quickly, and I was still only halfway through mine when we entered E’s street. The beginning of the forest.

Picture this: Here I am, skipping in the sunshine, happily enjoying my Popsicle, when suddenly, an ominous chattering starts up. I stop, and look around me. A group of monkeys have gathered around us, huddled over fences and staring at us from trees. I look at C, and he dismisses it with a shrug. I try to adopt a similar nonchalant attitude, but my heart has started beating faster and faster. My hands become clammy, and my icy treat doesn’t taste as good. I squeeze my eyes shut. I gulp. This is not how I wanted to die. WHAT WAS THIS CRUEL JOKE GOD WAS PLAYING ON ME? I DID NOT WANT TO DIE YOUNG. WHY ME?

I start to walk along cautiously, while C swishes his plastic bag around like a five-year old.

“Shhh!” I hiss at him, “What are you trying to do, seduce them into coming closer? Stop flinging that plastic bag around! Don’t lure them with the false promise of food!”

C narrowed his eyes at me, and continued flinging the bag around. The food inside the plastic bag crackled promisingly, and the amount of monkeys surrounding us suddenly doubled. Everywhere I looked, I could see a pair of cruel monkey eyes. I clutched at my bag, and lowered my eyes. Maybe they didn’t like eye contact?

Suddenly, five monkeys darted in front of me and crossed my path. I screamed a feeble cry for help and stopped walking. There was a particularly large monkey sitting right in front of me, not two paces away. It was apparently a mother, because she had a baby monkey clutched to her chest. The baby monkey sneered at me, and flashed his vicious eyes at me. I tell you, if looks could kill…

Then the little baby monkey started hissing. I think that’s about the time I lost it. It was the last straw. You know that illusion that babies are meant to be sweet and cuddly? WRONG. ABSOLUTELY WRONG. Especially when it comes to monkeys.

So there I was, being assaulted by monkeys when I threw caution to the wind, flung my ice-cream wrapper in their mean little faces and ran for my life towards E’s house.

My running away from them seemed to unleash some sort of trigger.  It was as if all hell had broken loose. The forest exploded with monkey squeals and chatters, as at least a hundred or so of the little brown pseudo-homo sapiens chased after me. I, in turn, also squealed as loud as I could, shouting, “GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU DEVIL CHILDREN, GET AWAY FROM ME, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU I GAVE YOU MY ICE CREAM WRAPPER THIS IS MY POPSICLE AND YOU CANT’T HAVE IT GET YOUR OWN.”

Meanwhile, C, started laughing hysterically and shambled along, not the slightest bit scared of the mentally deformed apes that were currently chasing me.

And that is my story. That is why I don’t like monkeys. I thought I was going to be eaten alive, and the E and C were pretty sure I was in desperate need of therapy after that horrifying encounter, but my parents didn’t think therapy was necessary, and frankly speaking, neither did I. I healed by myself, but I don’t think I have ever fully gotten over my fear of monkeys.

As you can see, I didn’t die. I got to E’s house before the monkeys could, and barricaded myself inside her gate, and then ran inside and hid in her room, so it was all good.

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Most Unorthodox Celebrity Couples

  • Matthew Bellamy and Kate Hudson: For me, this is unholy. This is impossible. Kate Hudson is like, the complete epitome of Hollywood; a golden poster child for Hollywood with famous parents, American, and more importantly, blonde, whereas Bellamy, who’s famously known to be the frontman of alternative rock band, Muse, is a hardcore rocker, almost always seen in black, and not even from the same country! I don’t understand what the two of them have in common, and I want to know what they talk about.
  • Jesus Luz and Madonna: When I first heard about this, I, like everyone else, sighed at the idea of Madonna with someone who was young enough to be her son. What made me LOL further was the fact that he was called Jesus. Granted, it’s pronounced “Hay-zoo”, but it still made me laugh. I mean, what are the chances? Heehee. And then I found out that his mother was fifteen years younger than Madonna. How awesomely weird is that?
  • Tom Cruise and Cher: Did y’all even know that the two of them had been together? I didn’t either, but a little research yielded such shocking results that I couldn’t help but have my jaw drop onto the floor. This was back in the 80s, when Tom Cruise was an up-and-coming actor of only 23 years of age, and Cher was at the height of her career. So unorthodox, no? I definitely thought so.
  • Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson: I think these two are mainly on the list, because I can honestly say that I did not expect Lindsay to date a girl. It was not something I’d have ever expected from her, because wasn’t this around the time she started going “crazy”? Before that, she’d been the bright-eyed, shiny-haired pretty child actress who’d done a great job in Mean Girls. But here, she was frequently indulging in crack and partying (which wasn’t doing her appearance any favours) and she constantly looked like she needed a nice hot shower. And we all knew theirs wasn’t a relationship that would turn into anything serious.
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