Colombo Confessions is all about having a laugh. I’ve had the misfortune of associating with a wide cross-section of Colombo denizens. This column is a look at the lighter (sometimes) side of Lankans in the capital of Sri Lanka.
There’s a rumour that Covid-19 has packed up and left the Colombo 7 building. Why? Because even the most virulent of organisms can’t handle the drama that Colombo aunties got going on. One Colombo 7 aunty told me a long time ago about another aunty who’s cheating on her husband. Whatever happened to snitches getting stitches? Ironically, this holier-than-thou aunty is also cheating on her husband. It is the height of cheek, I think, to b***h about others while you yourself are stealing someone else’s man just so you can wear Louboutins and sashay in his Mercedes. Of course, I suppose you can appease your guilt by running to pray every Sunday, or frequently atoning to whoever your assigned overlord is.
Stealing unhappily married men seems to be a prized career among the Colombo 7 harridans. It might even be older than the world’s oldest profession. Of course, supply doesn’t seem to be much of an issue, with almost all the Colombo 7 uncles being unhappily married to equally unhappy aunties, and then looking for solace in the fleshy arms of another aunty – and vice versa. These tarts of both genders need real professions instead of stealing unhappily married louts from each other. There, darlings, I just brought some Broadway-level drama to a newspaper near you.
Also, what’s with these hideous old aunties trying to act sweet 16 today? Have they not heard the phrase “mutton dressed as lamb”? They are just one dainty skip away from a fractured hip, yet totter around in heels that could be legally classified stilts. And then, of course, judge those younger than them for not knowing how to dress.
Another double standard these days is with tech. I was recently treated to a lesson on why iPhones are better than Android phones by a walking leg of mutton in lamb’s clothing, who it turned out, couldn’t even swipe screens unsupervised. But please, by all means, ask the Android boy to help with your iPhone, and insist they’re the same thing but iPhones are still better because you have one. Honestly, this basic airhead doesn’t know jack except to play cards while eating my food, and that too might be stretching it.
As an aside, dear Colombite, just so I avoid appearing partisan, I've used iPhones and Samsung phones, and they are both great. They serve a purpose, which is to stay connected. The desire for you to hate one brand over the other is another example of having double standards. It's like loving your eldest child because she’s a little less ugly than your youngest. Just for the record – they both redefine ugly.
Let’s take, for a moment, the ageing flamingo married to that expensive plastic surgeon who regularly haunts my waking nightmares. Her newfound profession (rumour has it) is teaching 80-year-old men to be her personal gynaecologist. Her daughter – who can only tell time from the face of a Rolex – is also sure to make cheating on her own husband a kreeda of sorts (in the near future). Sadly, like mother, like daughter seems to be the order of the day.
I regret the day I met this coterie of dysfunction; she always takes the cake. Sometimes literally.
(Rohitha Perera is a writer, blogger, and content marketer from Colombo, Sri Lanka. He used to be an editor at a lifestyle magazine, and now works in the IT industry)
The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect those of this publication.
There’s a rumour that Covid-19 has packed up and left the Colombo 7 building. Why? Because even the most virulent of organisms can’t handle the drama that Colombo aunties got going on. One Colombo 7 aunty told me a long time ago about another aunty who’s cheating on her husband. Whatever happened to snitches getting stitches? Ironically, this holier-than-thou aunty is also cheating on her husband. It is the height of cheek, I think, to b***h about others while you yourself are stealing someone else’s man just so you can wear Louboutins and sashay in his Mercedes. Of course, I suppose you can appease your guilt by running to pray every Sunday, or frequently atoning to whoever your assigned overlord is.
Stealing unhappily married men seems to be a prized career among the Colombo 7 harridans. It might even be older than the world’s oldest profession. Of course, supply doesn’t seem to be much of an issue, with almost all the Colombo 7 uncles being unhappily married to equally unhappy aunties, and then looking for solace in the fleshy arms of another aunty – and vice versa. These tarts of both genders need real professions instead of stealing unhappily married louts from each other. There, darlings, I just brought some Broadway-level drama to a newspaper near you.
Also, what’s with these hideous old aunties trying to act sweet 16 today? Have they not heard the phrase “mutton dressed as lamb”? They are just one dainty skip away from a fractured hip, yet totter around in heels that could be legally classified stilts. And then, of course, judge those younger than them for not knowing how to dress.
Another double standard these days is with tech. I was recently treated to a lesson on why iPhones are better than Android phones by a walking leg of mutton in lamb’s clothing, who it turned out, couldn’t even swipe screens unsupervised. But please, by all means, ask the Android boy to help with your iPhone, and insist they’re the same thing but iPhones are still better because you have one. Honestly, this basic airhead doesn’t know jack except to play cards while eating my food, and that too might be stretching it.
As an aside, dear Colombite, just so I avoid appearing partisan, I've used iPhones and Samsung phones, and they are both great. They serve a purpose, which is to stay connected. The desire for you to hate one brand over the other is another example of having double standards. It's like loving your eldest child because she’s a little less ugly than your youngest. Just for the record – they both redefine ugly.
Let’s take, for a moment, the ageing flamingo married to that expensive plastic surgeon who regularly haunts my waking nightmares. Her newfound profession (rumour has it) is teaching 80-year-old men to be her personal gynaecologist. Her daughter – who can only tell time from the face of a Rolex – is also sure to make cheating on her own husband a kreeda of sorts (in the near future). Sadly, like mother, like daughter seems to be the order of the day.
I regret the day I met this coterie of dysfunction; she always takes the cake. Sometimes literally.
(Rohitha Perera is a writer, blogger, and content marketer from Colombo, Sri Lanka. He used to be an editor at a lifestyle magazine, and now works in the IT industry)
The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect those of this publication.