Tales from the land of Mishti-doi and Sondesh...

So, yours truly went to attend a STAR India press conference at Kolkata last week (and I do realise that this is a long overdue post). Although it was a day trip, it was a lot of fun. Can't really say it felt like I was in a different city though, since the car that was taking us to the Taj Bengal (yes, we are grand) took the highway I think, and I passed the same hoardings that I see in Mumbai. There was the same Shoppers' Stop hoarding, then R. Madhavan and Vidya Balan pimping Airtel to us, and the eggjactly the same HDIL and DLF buildings, etc. Just that perhaps, the main roads are narrower, and the traffic madder than what it is, here. Oh yes, and elephantine Ambassadors are still popular with the Bongs, as I couldn't have missed noticing.

The morning began with the highly effecient Meru cab waiting for me downstairs 10 minutes after I woke up. I'd suggest all of you to book Meru cabs online before going on trips to places. They're highly punctual, very safe and very reasonable, too. And no, I'm not getting paid to endorse them (although I should). After a forced conversation with an extremely friendly cabbie, I made it to the airport and stormed through to the Kingfisher Airlines desk. Two girls wearing their best fake smiles walked up to me and issued me my boarding pass, and I was off to wait for my flight. Can't believe how easy traveling alone by flight is. I'll spare you the details about the flight, because it was like any other you've traveled by. But one thing I must point out is the bloody in-flight entertainment on Kingfisher airlines. Firstly, it has the world's shadiest channels (partnered with Dish-fucking-TV). Who the fuck watches Ten Sports, NDTV Good Times, Zee Music, Zee Trends, Cartoon Network, Zee TV? Oh yes, and one channel was dedicated ONLY to Jannat, the movie with the current shittiest songs right now, featuring none other than star monkey and Serial Kisser, Emraan Hashmi. Wow. And that's not all. The fucking movie was playing on my way to Kolkata, and back. In fact, on my return trip, one screening got over at about 10:30 pm, and they began playing the movie AGAIN without wasting three seconds in between. So that channel was out of the question. At the start of the flight, Vijay Mallya scared the shit out of me by suddenly popping on my screen and telling me what an indispensable traveler I was to Kingfisher. I couldn't help my eyes welling up at that. *scoffs* Also, Mallya darling claims that every air hostess has been "personally" selected by him, through a tough process (from what I gathered). Of course the process is tough. Sleeping with someone the size of Vijay Mallya has to be tough, no? As if Vijay fucking Mallya wasn't bad enough, Yana Gupta pops up on my screen giving me safety instructions in Hindi and English. I'm really not surprised no one gives her roles in the movies. She can't fucking act her way out of safety instructions of an aircraft, behaving uncannily like a third grader does in a school play. By the time this entire Mallya-Gupta torture conspiracy was over, the flight takes off and you're in the air.

Oh yes, while we're still in the flight, let me give you a tip. Don't ever opt for a window seat in a plane. Waiting till your bladder's about to burst before you wake your sleeping co-passengers is really not a wise thing to do. Alrighty, when we landed and all the concerned people from Star India and the PR firm assembled, we were packed off in cars to go to the Taj. I was with a girl from the Delhi bureau of a website, and she was quite nice. So we chilled with this very nice lady from STAR, till it was the time for the press conference. The event was nice and punctual (!), except that in the words of the PR guy we were with, "The press conference should have had subtitles." The entire thing was in Bangla yaar! I inched closer to this woman from TOI Kolkata, who farely had a good grasp on the language. She translated most of the stuff for me. The best thing about these places is the number of people you get to meet. Right from other media people, to CEOs, VPs, etc. of really big places. I LOVE my job. :) After the press conference, the Delhi girl and I were heading to our room, when my shoe snapped. Yes. I was stuck in a far away city with a broken shoe. No worries, the poise queen in me said aloud. I simply decided to go out in the afternoon in search of a cobbler / shoe shop. Everything seemed so set. We'd take a faraway look at Eden Gardens, visit Victoria Memorial, since they were 15-20 minutes away from the hotel. How blissful was I! I'd get to see the places in just a day trip, and get back home to my comfortable blankie in the night. Paradise!

My ass, it was paradise.

The Delhi reporter screwed up her internet connection, so sending the story across to her office became a problem. I was blissfully unaware of all the drama that was going on, since I decided to catch a nap before stepping out for our dream shopping trip. I wake up at fucking 6 pm, and find that the Taj lobbies are galore with two other journos/ PR people scurrying between rooms and the business centre, in search for Wi-fi connectivity. By the time, it was too late to do anything since reporting time at the airport was fast upon us.

Ah. No worries, I told myself again. I'd grab sweets on the airport. As for sight-seeing, I'll come back.

Except there was a problem.

I had a broken shoe, and no time to mend it up or buy a new pair.

*Gulp*

Hobbling around the hotel, much to the merriment of the PR people and fellow journos (the woman from STAR even stuffed the Taj bathroom slippers in my bag, in case of emergencies. They were fluffy and white, FYI), we tried to all help the Delhi woman get her story across. And now we were desperate, since there was a teeny chance we would miss our flights if we didn't leave without wasting a second. After 15 excruciating minutes, they got her story across, and we had to leave. Me still limping across the fucking Taj’s grand hallways.

Taking a quick look at the time, we drew the conclusion that there was a BIG chance about the flight leaving minus us. Since I panic real easy, I was the first one to dash out of the hotel (quite like a bullet from a gun) in spite of the broken shoe, and hop into the car that was to escort us into the airport. The others piled up on me like a rugby team, and the driver was instructed to bhagao the car as much as he could. The next time, remember that that’s very wrong advise to give a driver in Kolkata. The madman drove the Qualis like it was the Knightbus and I promise you that cars, humans, flora and fauna jumped out of our way in sheer terror. But I now believe that there resides a God somewhere in our midst, which gave the driver excellent control over the steering, and each of us reached in one whole piece. As in, the individuals we had initially set out as, and not one big mass of people. After the check in and boarding pass nonsense, I finally got the fucking sweets I wanted to buy for home and Sweet Tooth. I admit they weren’t much, but at least I did something in Kolkata.

The flight was pretty uneventful, except the Mallya-Gupta torture conspiracy was still going pretty strong. After a long limping walk from the airport to the rickshaw stand, I finally reached home, by what time my foot was completely aching and swollen. I was almost teary-eyed to see mom, what with the aching foot and my beautiful house that I so, SO missed.

My trip made me realise one thing. Fuck everything. Fuck the irritation parents cause and the arguments I have with them. At the end of the day, it's them I want to goodnight to, and them I want to be grouchy at, first thing in the morning. And did I mention I wanted to live away from home? Hahaha...One day in a faraway city and I was teary-eyed when I reached home at 2:00 am (and my sweetheart mom was awake for me, as she would be even if I reached home at 5). I think I'd be dead if sheer homesickness if I ever decide to go abroad or something. Here's a big middle finger to moving out plans.

* big middle finger*

I...

Was blog surfing / hopping or whatever, and came across this tag. Found it rather interesting, and since I have nothing else to talk about nor anything else to do, thought of taking it up. Heck, screw reasoning. Goodness knows I love tags. :D Here goes.
--

I am: Whimsical, extremely hyper, unreasonable.

I think: Relationships aren't meant for me. I'm too idiosyncratic.

I know: I'm deeply in love. And loved back in multiples of infinity.

I want: To age gracefully.

I have: Everything I need. Except enough clothes.

I wish: There were more weekends in a week.

I hate: Men talking to a woman's breasts.

I miss: Waking up at 11 a.m. EVERY morning.

I fear: My loved ones dying in a bomb blast leaving me behind.

I feel: Deeply about being a mediocre writer. I wish I could be better.

I hear: The voices in my head. There are about thirty five thousand of them.

I smell: Of Nike deodorant at all times.

I crave: Greenery.

I search: For some order in my chaotic life.

I wonder: For how long will I be this happy.

I regret: Meeting the wrong people and giving them my best.

I love: My family, him, gym, work. In that order.

I ache: In the heart region, when I'm upset with the most important people in my life.

I am not: Suspicious. I trust too easily.

I believe: That some people will always remain obnoxious. Stop trying to change people and the world

I dance: To the music of love.

I sing: Very horribly.

I cry: For silly reasons. Or when the heart is aching.

I don’t always: Remain upset for long. But neither do I always forgive.

I fight: When you mess with my values or principles.

I write: When everything else fails to soothe me.

I win: Because the other person tires of arguing with me.

I lose: To a passionate kiss, or an 'I love you' whispered in my ear.

I never: Leave home without wearing eyeliner.

I always: Miss home whenever I'm out.

I confuse: Serbia with Siberia.

I listen: To nobody.

I can usually be found: At work. In the gym. In Inorbit Mall. At home.

I am scared: Of being mediocre in whatever I do.

I need: Constant love and attention.

I am happy about: How my life is right now.

I imagine: To be hugely successful and very rich, in about seven years.

I tag: No one. I shove this tag under my butt and refuse to get up.

It's a Bug's Life

I'm amazed at myself. Truly, I is. I've slept at 2 a.m. last night (transcribing interviews, let me add), gotten up at 6:30 this morning, and now it's 4:40 in the morning, and I'm still at work. And miraculously, I feel fresh enough to work for about four hours more. Yes, this is the same lazy lump of a cow you know. Now, kindly reunite your jaw with the rest of your mouth, so I can get on with my story.

Anyhoo, I've transcribed about seven interviews since morning, proofread about 16,000 pages and eaten enough junk food to sustain me for a trek to the moon. Talk about working life, eh? But you know what? I love it! Maybe it's the initial excitement of identifying yourself with a product that you've helped put together, and you know is the best, not to mention that it's something you're fiercely proud of. And I don't think I can put in my best without having a certain pride about what I'm working for. Internal jokes with the colleagues are a different thing, but listening to a third person diss my magazine in public? Hell, NO! I've never had any respect for people who work for one organisation, take the salary they give you, drink their chai, use their air conditioning, and bitch about them.

Call me weird, but I think there's a certain fun-ness about working with colleagues for a common cause, late into the night. I know it loses its glamour after about 12 p.m., when you start missing the comfortable blankie, but talking and laughing at corny jokes with your team has its own romance. It's funny how you reach a point when you don't want to even look at another page, much less edit it. Fuck this shit anyway, seems to be ringing in your head rather LOUDLY. But so what? I can't wait for the bloody magazine to come from the press the next day with its shiny, glossy pages and lovely smell of new paper. So I suppose, putting the magazine together is like going through 17 hours of labour, but when it finally is printed, it's something like checking to see whether your perfect little baby has all of its limbs, nostrils, etc.

Alright. So that's what I think of work right now, post three weeks. Maybe I'll think differently after two months. But so what? For now, I feel like my true calling's beckoned me, and do let me enjoy my limelight, will ya? Thanks!

24 Hours with...

Our magazine Campaign India, has this teeny section, which gives people a sneak peek on the day of a person from the advertising, media or marketing industry. The column's called '24 Hours With...' Now since nobody is going to feature me in the magazine although I'm very interested to be, I think I will abuse my beautiful blog and interview myself. For those 0.5 faithful readers who've stuck by me, I think with this blog post, you'll also understand why I cannot update more often. Here goes.

Name: Moo Cowey.
Job: Editorial Assistant, Campaign India.
Professional Mission: To stay awake at work, without external help from tea, coffee, etc. Oh yes, and also sneak in some byline stories on the website.
Personal Mantra: Try not to get into the editor's way and his bad books.
____________________________________________________________________

7:00 am Time to pry those eyelids open with extreme will power. Move around the house like a zombie while trying to shower correctly, and get in breakfast through the mouth and not nose, etc.
8:30 am Be the last one to get into the mad rush of the train, cussing loudly in my head at the lack of a seat. So it's standing from Borivali to Lower Parel, AGAIN! Call him up and bully him into keeping me company till I get off the train, so that the journey seems shorter.
9:30 am Enter office on the dot, swipe my card, and waltz into our section like a poise queen. With a cheery good morning to the editor, I sit down waiting for God to send in the coffee.
10:00 am Co-ordinate with my colleagues who are either on their way to work / in Delhi / at a press conference and jot down all the stories that are to be uploaded on the dotcom. Then the mad scramble for images begins, while simultaneously cursing the designers who decide to be late again.
10:30 am Get stories in order, begin uploading on website. Have mini argument with editor over the top story for the day.
11:30 am All news up on site. Small pee break and call him up. Life seems good again. Now back to the desk to arrange for the newsletter.
11:45 am Newsletter successfully sent. Begin calling PR people to scout for press releases, ad campaigns or stories. Sigh.
12:30 pm Lunch time. Rush to the pantry with colleagues, before stupid, noisy group in office capture all seats and serenity of the place.
1:15 pm A short quick call to mum, basically to tell her boredom hasn't killed me yet. Then a half hour long phone call to him before he gets to work at 2 pm. Wish that would never end.
1:50 pm Back to the seat. Sudden press conference pops in at the ITC Grand Central. Wind up work quickly if hope to make it on time. Curse myself for not carrying my own cutlery.
2:30 pm Make it barely and register at the media registration desk. Exchange polite hellos with PR people and give away business cards by the dozen. Heck, they're free anyway. Proceed towards actual event and jot down notes, actually wondering, "When in fuck's name is this thing going to end?"
3:45 pm Cab it back to work and proceed with accumulating news for upcoming issue closing. Colleague brings random page to be proofread. Finish all that and fix up two PR meetings for coming week.
4:30 pm Chai break with the two colleagues. What follows is a half hour of chai, gossip and girl talk. Move back to work thinking sweet thoughts of packing bags and leaving.
5:20 pm Wrap up last remnants of day's work and begin to clean desk before leaving for the day. Actually leave in about 15 minutes if there's no work pending.
5:55 pm Catch the ladies special to back home, to hit the gym directly from work.
7:30 pm Meet daddy at the gym, and workout begins, followed by an amazing steam bath till dad finishes his workout.
9:30 pm Reach home, have dinner. Fill mum in on the intricacies of my day, when thoughts of my beautiful bed and fluffy quilt begin to weigh me down.
10:30 pm Phone time again, till I fall asleep while the other person is still in the middle of talking. This happens EVERYDAY.
11:45 pm Goodbye, world. See you tomorrow.

Working Woman...Shhh...

After being a crocodile, pig, mule, hippo (and all the other lazy, sloppy, slow animals you can think of) for more than two months, your favourite cow decided to go and find a job. What a stupid decision, that. Egad! So, after about endless lazing around in bed till 11 a.m. every morning, yours truly has to wake up at 7 a.m. SHARP, finish all her business in an hour, and travel standing to work EVERY fucking day. It's a different thing that life seems better when I do get to work, but sometimes, there's not much to do, and I wish I was home, or with him. Heck, I always feel the last bit. :)

Anyway, working life's good. As of now, I'm afraid of my boss, but my colleagues are adorable. It's so good when you have young, patient colleagues, who're girly in a nice kinda way, but are always free with their time to help. I've just started attending bloody press conferences at annoyingly fancy ass five-stars, and so far I think that's what I hate about this job. Stupid pretentious buildings from hell. With their silly, pretentious food. I've a good mind to carry my lunch with me, the next time. At least it doesn't judge me when I can't eat with a knife and fork. When, oh, WHEN will I master the art of cutlery? Anyway, that's beside the point.

There's nothing much happening with me these days. I don't even have time to read a book, sleep, return calls of friends who still care I exist (which I don't think will last very long), sit with mum for a while and catch up on her life and issues, heck, I even miss gym sometimes. :( What could get worse than THAT?

This is turning out to be one of the most boring posts I've churned out in a while. In fact, there's so much to say, but no time to write it. Lunch's here. So I've gotta hog. :D Toodle-oo, me hearties. And pray that I can write sooner and more frequently.

* breaks coconut in front of blogging deity*

The End.

It's over. It's all over. Two and a half years, and it ended this way.

And yes. I topped my college English Literature. But what the fuck does it matter? What's over, is over.

I will always love you. And I'll also be there always, whether or not you need me to. I don't expect the same.

Goodbye. Forever.

Free advice? Erm...Put it where the monkey puts its nuts.

Right. So everything you care to mention is expensive. Food, vegetables, milk, clothes, travel, everything. You name it, and it's ready to rip your pocket to shreds. But know what should be charged? Like REALLY made costly? Advice. If you think about it, there really needs to be some system, where, if you offer advice that hasn't been called for, your bank account registers a serious low in funds. Because I don't think anything else can get it through people's thick heads to SHUT THE FUCKING HELL UP.

I was talking to Snooty a while back, to help me decipher an email from a prospective employer. This employer person spoke about hiring people as trainees, etc., and I kind of have a problem with that. Not because I want a job that offers me an executive post or something, but just that, I hate having to go back to job that pays me just 4 or 5 thousand (and that was part time. So it was good, actually). But if I'm going to work full time, I might as well get paid more than 10 thousand, to say the least. I don't want a BIG PAY PACKAGE, goodness knows I'm still a fresher. Not an unreasonable expectation, right? If someone's paying me 10 - 15 thousand AND still wants to hire me as a trainee, I don't really see what's the problem. I want to learn, in any case, but personally I don't see anything wrong with having some money on the side.

So yes, Snooty used to work at this same company I want to get into, and so does Zander. Impatient little twit that I am, I didn't wait for Zander to call me back, but decided to clear some things with Snooty . I was already kind of depressed with the fact that my chances at this place are almost negligible (apparently they've already hired trainees and other assorted blah), so I didn't really know how to gauge the situation. Did these people hire all freshers as trainees? If they didn't, did they pay trainees really less? And how long do you remain a trainee? What logically followed was asking Snooty about it. After patiently listening to him lecture me about how careful one must be while giving a subbing test and reading and re-reading every syllable, and how it's not okay to make mistakes, I asked him what I wanted to know. Did these people pay trainees really less?

What followed was an indignant outburst from him. He starts with See, THIS is what I don't like about you. What do you care how much they pay trainees? Even if they pay you 3 thousand, be glad they're taking you. First prove yourself and then talk about payment.

Ok done? Thanks. This coming from a person, who is a cynic to the innermost atom of his body, who cribs about everything that happens on the blessed planet, who thinks his company wastes money on unnecessary things when he's made to go on a junket to Germany, who is quitting a job he joined three months back because he wants to go back to a place he hated (but payment is an issue!), and who basically has been in the field for not more than 4 years, and is all of 25 years old, but pretends to be 80.

I don't mind when people advise me as well-wishers. I don't mind when the criticism they have to offer is constructive. I don't even mind when they tell me that I suck, in a nice way, providing good reasons as to why they think so, and trying to help me get better (if they're an expert, or better than me). However, I do not appreciate it if you don't answer a straight question, get me wrong, offer advice about a completely irrelevant issue and make me feel like a jackass. I'm sorry, I don't need to hear that from you. And why should I? Just because you think you've seen the world? Just because you think you're older and wiser? And don't pretend money isn't an issue. Especially you. And especially since you don't know what difficulty the other person must in. Maybe I need the money. Can't that be a possibility?

In short, don't be idealistic for people. You haven't been appointed by God Almighty to remind His subjects of their forgotten ideals and values. I think I'll just cut to the chase and tell you to get a life. Or sort your own out. And while you're at it, just leave me alone, ok? Thank you.

Note to self: No one cares about you as much as Zander does, neither does anyone talk as much sense. So the next time, stop hopping about and wait for his take on matters, will ya?

Plase don't discurrage.

I was going to write a really whiny post, just about when I signed into MSN Messenger. Uglyhair was online, and for the first time in my life, I was glad to see him there. Now before I began bitching, I need to introduce you to Uglyhair. Uglyhair is this overly intelligent chap I know, who's always late and extremely hairy. He's 21, a writer, and even has his own online music magazine and stuff. Although the information I just provided you guys with is extremely irrelevant, all you need to know about Uglyhair is, that he's a bigger bitch than I am. And that's no mean feat. Oh yes, he's funny too!

So recently, Uglyhair was at this important office meeting, when a friend calls him up claiming an emergency. Uglyhair excuses himself from the meeting, and scuttles out in alarm. The "emergency" turns out to be thus: The friend knows someone who wants a job in the writing field. Could Uglyhair help him out? Please? So, just to shut him up, Uglyhair agrees. "Send me the guy's CV and a writing sample," says, Uglyhair.

Said friend agrees. And in a hushed voice, says, "Look, whether you like what he writes or not, don't discourage him!"

Uglyhair goes back to the meeting, and all is peace. He's even forgotten the "emergency", until he checks his email. This is the writing sample waiting for him (And I paste the email verbatim :P):

Subject: Plase read it

NIGHT OUTS

hey you might have gone on night outs with your friends , well i do too; for i find them very interesting ( you will know why) and so i am writing on this topic.We plan night outs so we can have a pleasent break from our dull routine ( it must be mentioned that not a single one of us have a routine so forget about it being dull) and have good booze ( my mouth is watering!!). Me and my friends agree with it and so we see that we at least have 15 sessions in a month and the following is one of such night out. It ranks first in our list ( it is not all exaggerated)
CORPORA L'S HOUSE

Our 12th exam had finished and on the same night we planned a session at Cp's house. It had rained so the weather was perfect and our logic paper was good so we were felling perfect. Our session went perfect ( too many perfects!) and we were just chilling out when suddenly a friend started crying; reason: his so called girl friend used him and did not care for his feelings ( neither did we), but as he started crying loudly we took him in the balcony and tried to explain him some shit ( remember we were drunk; by the way we had rum,Old Monk ). Meanwhile another friend started crying;reason: his small sister bullied him. This was at 3am. then another friend started yelling that he loved a girl very much and howled her name , while i was trying to jump from the balcony , at the same time reciting the logic answers. Meanwhile Corporal puked and the guy was still howling so i bet him black and blue while somebody broke all the glasses as all the cigarettes got over. It all ended when Corporals land line rang at around 4am ( we were damn scared ). What a PERFECT night!!!
my friend if you are interested in more of our stories you can join us sometime and with or without booze ( ' with ' sounds better ) we will tell you all and plus you will become a part of one.

Points to be carefully noticed in above mentioned piece of prose:

1. It gets over too soon.
2. Booze makes the blessed chap's mouth water .
3. The line We plan night outs so we can have a pleasent break from our dull routine ( it must be mentioned that not a single one of us have a routine so forget about it being dull), had me falling off the chair and laughing for 40 minutes straight. I mean, have you READ a funnier sentence all your life?
   
4. I may be twisted, but, Our 12th exam had finished and on the same night we planned a session at Cp's house, sounds like an orgy.
   
5. Meanwhile another friend started crying;reason: his small sister bullied him. I don't see the need to cry, unless you have Chucky for a 'small' sister.
   
6. Meanwhile Corporal puked and the guy was still howling so i bet him black and blue while somebody broke all the glasses as all the cigarettes got over. I love how much action this sentence sees! If you notice carefully enough, there are FIVE things that happen in this one sentence. Profound...
   
7. It all ended when Corporals land line rang at around 4am ( we were damn scared ). Scared by a land line ? Or did he mean land mine? :-S
8. my friend if you are interested in more of our stories you can join us sometime and with or without booze ( ' with ' sounds better ) we will tell you all and plus you will become a part of one. Rush like a bullet from a gun to enrol first. The first ten members get a dunce cap, and six free 'sessions' in a month. Good 'service', too.

Needless to say, I hadn't read such a thought-provoking piece of writing since 'A for Apple, B for Ball...' I bet, Uglyhair hadn't too. But nice person that he is, he didn't discourage the chap from writing or anything; he simply didn't reply to the email. Instead, he just forwarded it to me. Really, Uglyhair's sensitivity moves me to tears, sometimes.

...And you complain that people these days just aren't as nice as they used to be!

Money, money, everywhere but not a coin to spend!

It's that frightful season again. The season where vacations are almost over, and you're moping about all over the place because you don't want to go that frightful hellhole (Read: school / college) you left behind last term. Seriously, why didn't I burn the building the last time, yaar, you question yourself over and over, but the reopening day just looms closer, in answer. Familiar? And don't say you enjoyed going to school / college, dear reader. Because traitors aren't allowed on my blog. :P

This year's funny for me though. I've just appeared for my TYBA exams, and don't plan to complete my Masters or anything immediately. So the next logical thing for me to do is take up a job, which I would really love to do. It's a weird feeling, of not going to a new year of education this year, but to something that grown ups seem to do. For at least a year or two (till I resume my education again), it'll be a life of catching trains, struggling to make it on time, working, mad colleagues, learning to grin and bear it, and so many other things. Wow! I'm growing up. And kindly don't leave 'you-think-working-life's-gonna-be-easy-think-again' messages. I know it's going to be trying. But just let me discover it for myself, ok? Thanks.

Now when I get my first salary, I need to buy quite a lot of things. I can't keep asking mum and dad for the dough every two days. Aaaargh! Goodness knows I need a job that pays me at least a lakh per month. That should be enough, me thinks. For now, these are an absolute priority. And I'm thinking of pawning my pearlies till I raise the funds for all my needs. (I DO have very pretty pearlies. You can eat your dinner off them!). Here goes:

1. An external harddisk (For the amazing movies stuck on Mikachu's computer).
   
2. A Creative Mp3 player (To filter out the rubbish songs that the gym churns out. Race songs, to be precise.)
3. Books. At last count, there are about 7,567 books that I want to read.
4. Get enough fuel and roam about in my car. In your FACE, railways!
   
5. Gym clothes. Track pants especially. Also, I saw these amazing Nike tees that I must own. Damn you, Rebecca Bloomwood! (What? Shouldn't I be rewarded for my dedication?)
6. Gym shoes for dad. The ones he currently owns are a nasty grey that I refuse to acknowledge.
   
7. Clothes. For the rains. I haven't shopped in the entire summer, so I simply must, now. I NEED CLOTHES. For those of you horrible ones who have money at your disposal, Inorbit has some really good stuff you'd like. AND DO NOT WASTE MONEY ON CROCS. (Hate you for back-stabbing me on that one, Mikachu! :O)
   
8. Bags. Jute. Leather. Everything. Raid. Baggit. Atria Mall.
9. Mikachu's 21st birthday. Want to give her a birthday she can talk about to her five hundred grandchildren on her deathbed.
10. A big treat when the White Phoenix comes to Mumbai. Since that isn't happening ever, my money's safe.
11. Take a trip out of the city. The last time I went out was to Kashid. Last year. Funnily enough, on the first of June itself. :'( This time though, I'm gonna catch a flight.
    
12. Buy lovely stuff for the all the people I love. To death.
    
13. Try out Thai food. (Now why haven't I done that before?)

Ok, that's a scary list. I stopped adding items to that before I jumped off the terrace. Maybe tthe ones in my head will go away if I ignore them. Worth a shot, no? Perhaps selling my teeth as antiques from the Mauryan dynasty, to an unsuspecting foreigner at Colaba, is the only way to raise enough money for my escapades. :( Why is all the money in the world with Paris Hilton, Mukesh Ambani and the lecherous fatso Vijay Mallya?

Beats me.

Signing off. Hopefully the next time I update, I'll have a job or something.

*Sigh*

A-moosing, innit?

Your resident cow, Moo, is truly flattered at the overwhelming attention she's receiving from her faithful readers. :D Thus, as promised, she has decided to make a post of all the Moo-isms that have been churned out in honour of her. For this, she would like to thank the Overrated Outcast for spreading the idea like an epidemic, G@k for being a quick learner, The Mugger Much who doesn't like to be left behind, the White Phoenix who is simply a copy cat and Mikachu, who cannot resist taking part in anything to do with me. So here goes nothing! And thanks to the efforts of the aforementioned blokes, Moo now knows what it is like, to be Bruce Lee. I bet no other living person has this feeling. ;)

Moo now proceeds with the task at hand:

Q: Which is Moo's favorite Prabhudeva Song?
A: Moo-quabla


Q: Which is Moo's favorite cocktail?
A : A Moo-tini


Q: Which is Moo's favorite city in the US?
A: Moo York


Q: If Moo was made the Chief Minister of Maharashtra what would Bombay be called?
A: Moo-mbai


Q: Which is Moo's favorite Karisma Kapoor song?
A: What is Moo-bile number!!


Q: What will Moo's "suhaagraat" be called?
A: The Moo-n landing


Q: Why does Moo keep watching Umraao Jaan?
A: Because she loves the Moo-jra


Q: What scooter does Moo drive?
A: A moo-ped


Q: What is Moo always wondering about?
A: To Moo or not to Moo


Q: Why is Moo a cannibal?
A: Because she eats beef.


Q: Who did Moo vote for in the UN secretary general elections? [or Moo's favorite Thai abuse]
A: Ban Ki Moo


Q: What drink does Moo ask for in a sports bar?
A: The Moo Shake


Q: Where does Moo go for a night out?
A: To the Moo-vies


Q: Why doesn't Moo do any work?
A: Because she has lots of Moo-lah


Q: What did the French guy call Moo?
A: Le Moo

(Moo credits The Overrated Outcast for the above gems).


Q: Moo's fav dance number?
A: Moo-ngda!


Q: Moo's fav cricketeer
A: Moo-ttiah Moo-ralitharan


Q: What is Moo's favourite Marathi Song?
A: Mi tujha mama, de mala Moo-ka!

Q: What is Moo's favourite dance step?
A: The Moo-n walk!


Q: Moo's fav beauty product?
A: Moo-ltani mitti.


Q: Moo's fav moo-vie dialogue?
A: Moo-gambo khush hua!


Q: Why will moo always be a lil girl?
A: Kyuki Moo-ch nahi to kuch nahi!

(...G@K came up with the ones above. Sigh! :D).

Q: What would you call Moo if she decided to blow up people professionally for a living?
A: Moo-jahideen

Q: How would you congratulate Moo if she married Obama and dressed up sluttily for the occasion?
Q: Moo-barack Ho.

Of course, Moo's favourite food crop is obviously "Moo-ng Dal".

Q: Moo's favourite South Indian diety?
A: Moo-rugan.

Q: Moo's favourite Bollywood gangster?
A: Moo-na Bhai.

Q: Moo's favourite civic hangout?
A: The Moo-seum.

Q: Moo's favourite district of Bihar?
A: Moo-nger.

Q: What weird-smelling vegetable do you get if you cross the Moo with Jet Li?
A: Moo-li !!

(Courtesy: The Mugger Much)

Q: What kind of money does Moo like?
A: Moo-lah


Q: What will moo have if she goes for a sex-change?
A: A Moo-stache.


Q: Moo's fav bollywood song for abt her nymphomaniac neighbour(if there's one)?
A: Padosan apni Moo-rgi ko rakhna sambhal mera Moo-rga hua hai deewana.

Q: When does Moo fart the most?
A: When she eats Moo-li parantha!

(That was the White Phoenix jumping on the bandwagon)


Q: What does Moo say when she's troubled?
A: Moo-si-bat hai!

(Mikachu came up with that!)


Q: What will the world know Moo's kid as?
A: A Moo-latto! :D

(Teehee...I came up with that!)

Mikachu, oh Mikachu...What do we do with you?

Fine. FINE. I'll write about it. But only because I want to.

Have I told you about my pet, Mikachu? Well, she's this crazy, freak I know, and I love to death. She's funny, random, quirky, impulsive and all the things I'm not. I'm not going to make this verbose, and just say that Miks is one of the bestest things that have happened to me in a while. She's THE ideal gal pal. :)

So I get this random call from her yesterday, telling me she wanted to meet up. Huh? On a Sunday afternoon? Can't it wait? NO. It can't. Meet at Bandra, will give instructions when you alight. 5ish. Click, went telephone.

Sigh. OK. Off I waddled (standing in the train all the way to Bandra) and I was given mafia style instructions by Mikachu's boyfriend (what do we call him?) to get to the place they were. What the fuck was with the suspense anyway? Were these people into drugs? Sex trafficking? With a weird sense of foreboding, I reached the place I was asked to come to. And was given a big grin and a welcome by her boyfriend (who we shall call Y) and I understood.

Of course. A tattoo parlour. I KNEW it.

We enter the tattoo parlour, and I'm greeted by a HUGGGGEEEEEE scream and a big hug from Mikachu. Followed by an annoyed look by the tattoo artist, who smiles at me. My eye wanders over to Mikachu's left ankle where inscribed is one of the most beautiful tattoos I've ever seen. It's in the form of a creeper, but instead of just leaves and flowers, there are words that the creeper is made of. 12 words, that describe Mikachu, or are symbolic of what she wants to be. Beautiful idea, really. And what I loved most about the idea is, that the entire idea was designed by Y, and the words are in his handwriting. The tattoo artist made an exact copy of the design, and inscribed it. That's what makes it so much more special. Y was only short of tattooing her himself! :)

I admit my teeth went all chatter-y with the ugly buzz of the needle. I hate the sound. I'd prefer getting poked in my gums by a dentist (which I quite like, actually), but to each, his own. At the end of the business, Mikachu has a beautiful tattoo and a lovely smile pasted on her face (which got a bit alarming later since she refused to stop smiling). I'd have posted pictures of her tattoo, except she doesn't want 'plagiarizing whore bitches hijacking her lovely, lovely tattoo'. Fair 'nuff!

People get weird stuff tattooed onto themselves. And in weird places too. The guy who owned the tattoo parlour Mikachu was in, has a tattoo on his tongue, and even on the soft skin below the tongue (and behind your lower teeth). Ouch! That mustn't have felt ticklish. There are some wierdos who get their girlfriends' faces etc. tattooed on various parts of the body. Just one question for these losers.

What do you do when you break up? ;)

Edited to add: As of now, we have 21 Moo-isms. For those who want to see a seperate post for them, keep adding more pearls of wisdom. :D Man, I feel like Bruce Lee! :P

Pickled Tink *hic*

(Warning: Long post, but extremely well-written and worthless).

So after about a zillion weeks, Zander was sweet enough to take Moo out for a fun day to Inorbit. For those one and quarter faithful readers who've been tracking my health over the last two weeks, I'm much better now. Stomach upset is kinda there sometimes, but nevertheless, I decided to go hog on a very big lunch even if it proved to be my last supper. So this is what I ate:

1) Half a pasta (the spiral kind, dunno what it's called) with rose sauce (not the flower, but basically tomato and cream), and loadsa veggies.
2) One chicken drumstick in some amazing sauce.
3) A diet coke after what seems like a decade.
4) Half Chicken Caesar Salad from Pizza Hut
5) Half a Pepperoni Pizza with lots of cheese.
6) Half sizzling brownie with vanilla ice-cream (Courtesy: Cafe Coffee Day)
7) Lots of water.

* burp *

I think I ate enough for three Ethiopian adults. * hic *

Anyhoo, Zander and I roamed about for a zillion ages after that, looking at stuff in Lifestyle and Shoppers' Stop, after finally concluding that Calvin Klein and other assorted brands need to be reported for extortion. Call me cheap, but how can you justify a stupid plain yellow tee (the colour of pale poop, to be precise) at a price of 2500 bucks? I mean, did you forget a decimal after 5, or something? Silly, everyday jeans you wouldn't look at twice, priced at 3400 bucks, while somewhere else a white racerback with polka dots is supposedly worth a grand. I'm very fond of good clothes myself, and with friends like Mikachu, one really tends to become Rebecca Bloomwood, but let's face it. I'd rather use my crisp 1000 rupee notes as toilet paper, than throw it away on some random piece of ' branded' textile that you wouldn't even spit on. Pah!

What is the big deal about brands anyway? What is it about brands that make us so patronising towards people who buy clothes from regular stores? Personally, I have a few brands I completely adore, like Lee / Levis for jeans. I have yet to come across other brands which makes jeans like they're meant exclusively for my bum. Same goes for Adidas t-shirts. It's the comfort and fit that matters the most to me, although I've bought so many clothes and kurtis from random stores just because they were nice. But, I have a cousin who will buy tees and jerseys from Adidas or Nike, simply because he can yak about them to his friends later. Another friend has a stupid pair of Police sunglasses worth 10k, which I'm not sure he could even afford at the time. And believe me, they do nothing to distinguish him from the ass that he is. Cliched as it may sound, I still firmly believe that class and attitude comes from within. Don't try too hard by going to fancy places, unless you LIKE the stuff you're spending on. No one cares that much, really. So, the next time someone wants to dress up in street clothes, don't forget he may be more stylish than you are, what with your branded wear and all. I can't count the number of time women in ridiculously expensive clothes (and horrendously ugly) by Anita Dongre (AND, as her brand likes to be addressed) have made me guffaw. When you have style, it shows. Wearing clothes by AND, BUT, EITHER and OR isn't really the answer, people! Pasted that in your hat? Good. Now go dress nicely.

In other news, I've finally received the damned blog award that's been going around in circles, but never coming to me. Although I have a problem with it being pink, it will have to do. Maybe I'll get Zander to photoshop it into a deep blue or something. :P The Gentle Whisperer said so many kind words while parting with the award, that I was moo-ved to tears. Ok, so that was a sad one. :P Anyhoo, here goes my blog award!


I'm not sure I deserve this award, because I've seldom done anything for social welfare on my blog. Let's see, so far, I've laughed at the Chinese for their atrocious English (can't say I regret it though. It's still one of my favourite posts :P), I've only whined and whined about myself (although you can't say I didn't warn you ;)), been really mean about small girls who fell into the drain (and who unfortunately came out alive), written banal poetry, wished pedestrians were dead (ah, that was a fun, FUN, time!), written about 'my knight in shining armour' and some other stuff I'd rather not mention. The only worthwhile things I remember writing about is the social work bit and the RTO post. Weak defences, but will have to do. Sigh! It's been so long. So much time spent in observing people, their habits, exaggerating, mocking, being bitchy (if I don't like them) and then writing about them, watching the comments flow. If you've been the butt of my ridicule, all I can say is, behave yourself the next time. ;)

It's now time to pass on the honours. It was a tough choice to make, since most of my readers have a) either received the fucking thing before I did (hmph!), or b) don't even bother to update their bloody blogs. After contemplating for about 39.4 seconds, I decide to pass on the award to the following people. We, the Jury, are very biased, but you already knew that.

1) The White Phoenix: Because I love his blog, and I love him for the person he is. His laziness in updating his blog space would put a mule to shame, but once he does update, it's totally worth it. So here's a shiny, pink award for the Phoenix we all love.

2) The Overrated Outcast: NO one can talk pure rot with astonishing insight like this guy does. We met through a common friend, namely, Arjun Singh (the old hag with the reservations. Yes, that's the one) and today, we share a blog relationship like no other. We're both sarcastic bitches, with an opinion on everything under God's benevolent gaze, and this misanthropy is what is the foundation of the ardent admiration we share for each other. :D Oh yes, and how can I forget the compilation of Moo Jokes that he's so labouring on? He truly deserves this award like no other.

3) The Mugger Much: Now this guy truly deserves the award in the true sense of the term. I'm not sure I understand what he says most of the time, but nod intelligently and he'll love you. He'll write beautifully about anything ranging from short stories, to life at the IIT, to breakups or Communism. His brain needs to be transplanted when he isn't looking and inserted into my skull. So dear Croc, here's your pink award. It's all I could do. :P

4) Ess: This guy too, has a take on everything there is to have a take on, but subtlety is his middle name. He comes across as someone who'll make you feel like a jackass, but rather politely. Love his blog for the philosophy there is, but weaved in a rather fun, light way. So here I thrust the award on the unaware Ess. :)

That's about it, I guess. I expect link love and acknowledgment, not to mention some traffic diverted to my site after this whole charade. Don't think I doled about the pink picture because I meant the things I just said. Geez. And others interested in lobbying for it (we live in the country of Vijay Mallya), take me shopping and feed me a brownie, and the award's yours.

'Nuff said for one post.

*collapses with exhaustion*

Illiteracy, thy name is Moo. :(

This slightly mean (but lots nice) woman I know, Chandni, is upto no good again. :( She's put up a list of books that you're supposed to have read by now. She seems to have gobbled the entire fucking list, while I don't score anywhere. I should kill myself. Anyhow, I'm being man enough to admit that I'm not well read, but I want to be. I REALLY DO! So I'm going to post the list of books here myself, the ones in bold being those I've read, while those in italics being ones that in the bookshelf waiting to be read. The ones whose fonts I haven't messed up are the ones I haven't read, nor own. Whew! Here goes. *sob*

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
Anna Karenina
Crime and Punishment (hey that's not fair! I am about to start reading The Idiot)
Catch-22
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Wuthering Heights (I'm reading it)
The Silmarillion
Life of Pi : a novel
The Name of the Rose
Don Quixote

Moby Dick
Ulysses
Madame Bovary
The Odyssey
Pride and Prejudice (finally I get to use bold on something)
Jane Eyre
The Tale of Two Cities
The Brothers Karamazov (hasn't anyone heard of Dostoyevsky's 'The Idiot'?
Guns, Germs, and Steel
War and Peace

Vanity Fair
The Time Traveler’s Wife
The Iliad

Emma
The Blind Assassin
The Kite Runner
Mrs. Dalloway
Great Expectations
American Gods
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

Atlas Shrugged
Reading Lolita in Tehran : a memoir in books (
Memoirs of a Geisha
Middlesex
Wicked : the life and times of the wicked witch of the West
Quicksilver
The Canterbury Tales
The Historian : a novel
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Love in the Time of Cholera

Brave New World
The Fountainhead
Foucault’s Pendulum
Middlemarch
Frankenstein
The Count of Monte Cristo
Dracula
A Clockwork Orange
Anansi Boys
The Once and Future King

The Grapes of Wrath
The Poisonwood Bible
1984
Angels and Demons
Inferno
The Satanic Verses
Sense and Sensibility
The Picture of Dorian Gray
Mansfield Park
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

To the Lighthouse
Tess of the D’Urbervilles
Oliver Twist
Gulliver’s Travels
Les Misérables
The Correction
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
Dune
The Prince

The Sound and the Fury
Angela’s Ashes : a memoir
The God of Small Things
A People’s History of the United States : 1492-present
Cryptonomicon
Neverwhere
A Confederacy of Dunces
A Short History of Nearly Everything
Dubliners
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Beloved
Slaughterhouse Five
The Scarlet Letter
Eats, Shoots and Leaves
The Mists of Avalon
Oryx and Crake
Collapse : how societies choose to fail or succeed
Cloud Atlas
The Confusion
Lolita

Persuasion
Northanger Abbey
The Catcher in the Rye
On the Road
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Freakonomics : a rogue economist explores the hidden side of everything
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance : an inquiry into values
The Aeneid
Watership Down
Gravity’s Rainbow

The Hobbit
In Cold Blood : a true account of a multiple murder and its consequences
White Teeth
Treasure Island
David Copperfield
The Three Musketeers

Fuck that's just 13 books. *shoots self* Oh but just for general public welfare, I'm going to list some books that ABSOLUTELY must be in the list as well. Go read.

Half of a Yellow Sun - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
The Longest Memory - Fred D'Aguiar
Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe
Twelve Bar Blues - Patrick Neate
The Book Thief - Marcus Zusack
Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell (WHY wasn't this in the list?)
Chocolat - Joanne Harris
The Diary of Anne Frank
Lord of the Flies - William Golding
The Rape of the Lock - Alexander Pope
A Thousand Splendid Suns - Khaled Hosseini
The Purple Hibiscus - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
An Old Captivity - Nevil Shute
The Colour Purple - Alice Walker
Little Women - Louisa May Alcott
Shakespeare
The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
Love Story - Eric Segal
Boogers are my Beat - Dave Barry
Marley and Me - John Grogan
The Godfather - Mario Puzo
Harry. Fucking. Potter.
To Kill A Mockingbird - Harper Lee (HOW did they forget this one? :O)

And I have to go now. I will add some more books later as and when I think of them. For now, I feel better at not being as illiterate as I initially thought. :D Teehee!

Almost Dead, but not Quite!

I can't believe I'm still alive. In the past three or four days, I've been ill enough to cover an entire epidemic in the continent of Africa. Worry not though, people! Moo is quite ok again, and just amazed at the number of things that happened to her at alarming rapidity. I've been telling whoever was polite enough to listen, about the whole bunch of viruses that attacked me, whilst I was blissfully unaware and minding my own business. The sneaky bastards. So hopefully, people haven't lost interest in me yet, so those who still want to know how ill I was, will be linked here. Here goes.

1) It all started around last week, when my ears went red and started itching like bitches.
2) This was followed by excessive scratching and heating up of my ears.
3) By the time the ears were resolved, an ugly rash evolved on my arms.
4) Meanwhile, my eyes started watering, and my eyelids started being sore to the touch.
5) The beautiful red rash planted itself on my legs and thighs.
6) This was followed by sleepless nights, where scratching could be listed as my main occupation.
7) The homoeopathic medicine I got was good, but it gave me hugely swollen fingers and swollen, tender gums. Yeah. They couldn't even keep my mouth out of it. How was I to TALK? :'(
8) Fever and a cold kept punctuating this entire spate of disorders.
9) The rash erupted on my face and my eyelids. My. Eyelids.
10) Since I wasn't weak physically and the doctor allowed me to, I decided to go to the gym and distract myself. Sitting at home would only make me wallow in my misery, so I went. It happened to be the day of my new strength workout, with 15 exercises in total. Yeah, so since the gym, every conceivable muscle in my body began to hurt, so that even scratching became a luxury.
11) For some inexplicable reason beyond my realm of understanding, the joint at my right shoulder is hurting like a pack of bitches, making me scream out while turning a power steering. :(
12) Now that most of the above disorders are 95% better, my digestive system was feeling left out, I suppose, so there comes a bout of loose motions. I spent most of today crapping my innards out.

The Guru Cool and I were chatting today, and he asked me a relevant question after I listed this entire list to him. Says he, "Dude, are you sure you aren't in a wheelchair like Stephen Hawking?" I also cannot help but remember Jerome K. Jerome's "Three Men in a Boat", where the narrator discovers with a visit to the doctor, that he has EVERY conceivable disease except Housemaid's Knee. I laughed at the time, oh so heartily, but now I know how it feels. Not the best feeling you can have, but who am I to judge? :P

Anyhoo, I like to believe I'm positive, so I'm just going to say that although I hated the last 3-5 days, I was happy they happened. WHY? Because I could blog about it and a-moose you, you ninnies!

So many men, so little aspirin!

What with the passage of Mothers' Day recently, I've decided that too much importance is given to some really sad things, at times. Why do Mothers need a special day? If they're that special to you, you wouldn't treat them like dirt now, would you? And if you do treat them like the queens they are, why do you need a special day to prove it? That's what I don't like about these generic days. Anyhoo, realisation also hit me in the head about how there are very few days attributed to men. Father's day, maybe, but I for one don't even realise when it comes and goes.

Ah well, so this post goes out to the men in my life (not in the amorous way, you perverts!) who've poked out big chunks of my heart and refuse to give it back. :)

1) Daddy Dearest: Undoubtedly, he's been in my life even before I was born, and needless to say, I'm Papa's little darling. Maybe he's the only one in the world, who thinks I still am little. Till the end of time, he's the guy who'll always have the largest chunk of my heart and a copyright to all the tiny pecks on the cheeks. I can still go sit on his lap, plant him with surprise hugs, and cuddle into his arms in the middle of the night, without him complaining of disturbed sleep. And how many dads get up from a well-deserved nap to bail you out of a tiny car mishap, ala Austin Powers? And did I mention he's my gymming partner? No? My driving instructor? No? Ah well, he's all those things too. In turn, I'm the one who dutifully laughs at the PJs, plays secretary, computer technician and instructor at times. We have our tiffs and verbal punches at times, both being impatient, but pah! Who doesn't? So Pa, please don't ever get old, and stop telling me when to brake when I'm driving! :P

2) Zander: I've written a whole post for this guy. And ever since then, he's been acting extra nice to me, picks up calls when required, etc. Guess a little diplomacy never hurt anyone. So I'm just going to attach an extra special hug here and stop yapping about him further, else his head gets bloated and is unable to fit through the doorframe. * hug *

3) G@K: My sweetheart of a brother. The two of us are not related, except by a special connection of the dil, and he'll always be the amazing person that he is. Always concerned, and perpetually worried about my well-being, I'm glad he's not related to me in anyway. The cousins, etc. that I do have are the most annoying creatures on earth. I'm kinda glad that I have a brother who isn't remotely connected to anyone but me. I'm missing this crazy guy with the corny jokes, ever since he moved to Australia two months ago. :( Not that we met often, but I always knew I could pop to his place when I needed to. One of my biggest saharas in Mumbai, is no more in Mumbai. Hmph. But the good thing is, we get to talk more often and catch up with each other constantly, funny as that may sound. God bless GTalk. And I better see you soon, G@k! You owe me a lunch at the Taj. :P

4) Phoenix: This person is my 3 a.m. friend. We've never ever met in person, but already know so much about each other! He'll buzz and message me at all weird hours of the night, because he knows his message will rarely remain unanswered. We keep thinking of new ways to be mean to each other, but he'll grudgingly admit that I reign supreme, always. (Heck! It's my blog. I can say whatever I want about myself. :P) One of the only people I know who's reading sensibilities match mine, we're constantly recommending books to each other. He's really brainy and stuff, but never once will believe it himself. Just don't get him started on himself, and you'll be fine. :D And also don't ever believe when he says he's coming to Mumbai to catch up with you soon, because ultimately, he's a filthy liar. :P But he's a close friend, so if anyone were to kidnap him, I might consider paying his ransom (if it's not above a hundred bucks). :P Love you Phoenixikins! :)

Ah well, there ya go! If I've missed out any men from the list, it simply means that you need to work harder to make me rattle off your name from the top of my head. There's no point in painstakingly remembering you, right? Now go away, and don't attack me with acid. :P

Goosey Zander

I'm slightly worried about Zander. For the uninitiated, Zander is my best friend, soul-sister, fellow bitch and partner in crime. Plus, what totally helped cement the friendship from my side, is that he owns a bike. And that it's (the bike's) always available as and when required. Oooh, and did I mention that he rides it like the bike's a part of his body? No? Maybe I didn't mention it because it would seem weird to have a bike as a body part. So now that I've got the introductions out of the way, I'll get to the problem in hand.

Like I said, I'm worried about Zander. This is the boy, who loves to do nothing. Erm yes, given a choice, he'd make an occupation out of just that. Nothing. Give him chicken biryani, a cozy bed and enough time to sleep, you wouldn't even notice he was there. He can be that inconspicuous. And believe you me, it's no mean feat for a giant like him to achieve - inconspicuousness. So this extremely lazy and content chappie, is gradually turning into a housewife (feminists, I don't think I really care about you, right now). Well, his mum and dad are out of town for a month, and he's home all alone. You'd think he'd gather the boy gang and host parties, go out clubbing, come back really late, oversleep, and you, the usual things boys would do. But sadly, my dear little Zandy Poo is doing none of the above. Instead, he:

1. Wonders what he can cook for his next meal, uncannily like most mothers / women who cook, do.
2. Wakes up at 5 every morning, and soaks clothes for the maid to come and wash.
3. Wakes up on time, without anybody having to prod and poke and yell at him to move an eyelash.
4. Leaves for work on time, after overseeing the general state of the house.
   
5. Does NOT visit his male friends much, but comes home and sleeps.
   
6. Hasn't boozed at all.
   
7. Does the vessels regularly, without watching them pile up.
   
8. Complain of household chores and the way everything needs to be scrubbed clean.

Wow! Is that the Zander I know? And is this what living alone for a week does to a person? Fuck! If I ever go abroad or even out of the city for a romantic weekend with my boyfriend, I'm packing my parents in a lunch box and taking them with me. Poor poor Zander.

Anyhoo, the mom took pity on my suddenly bachelor friend, and invited him home for lunch. Needless to say, he was really happy with the invite (although he won't admit his glee) and happily toddled along to my house. :) I bet the first thing that went through his mind was, Wow! that's some lunch money saved out of my monthly budget. Perhaps I can buy an extra kg of rice and hoard it instead! Much merriment happened, and after lunch we settled down for a movie, saw half of that, went outside for a quick chocolate brownie, came back, and everyone in the house settled down for a nice chat session. And Zander even exchanged a recipe with my mother! :O Chilly fry something. Fuck! It's funny how you think you know your best friend in and out, and he suddenly exchanges recipes.

After the recipe bit, my parents were convinced that little Zander was ready to tie the knot, and make some lazy woman lucky. And I couldn't agree any more. I mean, what's not to agree? He's smart, adorable, tall, generous, rich, side-splittingly funny, a biker, and he exchanges fucking recipes. I'd marry him right away, except Aamir Khan and I have this thing going on for really long now. He completely understands, though. Best friends, no? :)

Ok enough with the random nonsense. I attribute this nonsense post to lack of sleep (courtesy: Slonumb. The woman's been keeping me awake with phone calls right up to five in the morning these last two days). And, I dedicate this post to Zander, the rock of my life, the pain in my arse, and the throbbing in my head. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't know I even had one. A head, not an arse. Cliched as this may sound, he's one person who I know will remain constant in my life, and keep me sane. I love you loads Zander, but slightly less than you love me. :D Don't ever leave me stranded in life, and kindly buy a new bike now. NO! NOT a Royal Enfield. :P Apart from that, you're quite alright as you are.

I repeat. I love you. A universe-full.

P.S. Don't tell him, but I might marry him if he whips me up a delicious sizzling brownie with vanilla icecream. Shhh...

Pointless Existence

(Disclaimer: Personal post, subject to be irrelevant. Feel free to skip.)

I need to study German. I need to look for a job. I need to be there for my parents. I want to be the rock in their life. I want them to be happy. I want to be happy. I want to stop pretending all's good. Because all's not good. I want people deserving to be unhappy, who cause nothing but grief, to really be unhappy. And the good ones need to be able to smile. I've stopped believing in the greater good. There's no such thing. There's no law of the universe either. Neither does Doom's Day exist. People have stopped getting what they deserve. It's all bullshit.

Dear God, if you exist or pretend to,

Please make them smile. And please keep him happy. They're all I have. If the people who are the reason of my existence aren't content with themselves, there's no point to me, is there?

What is with tags, again? Is there a season for tags, like there is for sales and discounts, mating, acne, etc.? I can't believe I'm posting tags back to back. My creative juices are bottling up inside me and will burst out in floods if this continues any longer. Till I go figure where my creative juices are even hiding, I'll post this tag The Gentle Whisperer put me upto. And I can't believe that people KNOW I'm jobless enough to take up their tag first. :( Hmph. Whatever. Here goes:

1) Last Movie You Saw in a Theatre:
Taare Zameen Par, with Ro. And yes, cried during the song 'Ma', till my nose looked like Rudolph's.

2) What book are you reading?
Ah! My favourite kind of question. I'm reading Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, which I think everyone should read.

3) Favourite Board Game
Game of Life, Scrabble, Pictionary, Monopoly. I'm a very board-games kind of a person.

4) Favourite Magazine
Not much into magazines, but perhaps the Readers' Digest.

5) Favourite Smell
The first whiff when you enter a cake shop
The smell of agarbatti after mum finishes pooja
My hair, after washed with Dove shampoo
The smell of his deo

6) Favourite Sounds
A baby chuckling
Bob Sinclair's World Hold On when I'm working out
Laughter and teasing on the dinner table when everyone's at home

7) Worst feeling in the world
Having to lie to someone you love more than your life
Being cheated on
Realising that someone you trust, doesn't trust you back.

8) What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?
Why in the name of my neighbour's pink chuddies, is it SO freakin' hot!

9) Favourite Fast Food Place
Does Nando's qualify as fast food? No?

10) Future Child's Name
Hiranyakashappoo. A what-the-fuck kinda answer for a what-the-fuck kinda question.

11) Finish this statement- "If I had a lot of money, I'd..."
I'd bathe with milk everyday. Anyway I hate drinking the thing.

12) Do you drive fast?
If a speed of 60 - 80 on an empty road, fast?

13) What was your first car?
My family's first car was a white Datsun, in Dubai.

14) Storms- Cool or Scary?
Make-you-crap-in-your-best-pants scary.

15) Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?
No one's allowed on my bed.

16) Favourite Drink?
Peach iced-tea from Bombay Blue, Lemon Juice from Cafe Samovar.

17) Finish this statement- "If I had the time, I would..."
Spend more time at the gym, or perhaps learn to play a sport.

18) Do you eat the stems with Broccoli?
I've never ever even eaten Broccoli.

19) If you could dye your hair any other colour, what colour would it be?
I wouldn't fuck up my hair more. It's pretty sucky as it is in any case.

20) Name all the different towns/cities you've lived in.
Kuwait and Mumbai!

21) Favourite Sports to Watch?
Tennis, cricket sometimes

22) One nice thing about the person who sent this to you.
I would sell a kidney if I could write like her. I love her turn of phrase.

23) What's under your bed?
I'd say "MONSTERS!" if I was Calvin, but it's just random stuff from here and there, really.

24) Would you like to be born as yourself again?
A thinner version of me, wouldn't be a bad thing.

25) Morning Person or Night Owl
Three night owls rolled into one.

26) Over Easy or Sunny Side Up
Sunny side up

27) Favourite Place to Relax
Home, or the sauna.

28) Favourite Pie?
I like syrupy Indian sweets better.

29) Favourite Ice Cream Flavour
Honey Nut Crunch from Baskin Robbins' and Ferrero Rocher from Gelato.

30) Of all the people you've tagged who's the most likely to respond to this?
I'm being charitable and not tagging anyone. This tag dies with me. :P


I tag

My neighbour with the pink chuddies. And of course anyone who's interested enough.

Right. I've done my good deed. May I go now? ;)

Songitty Tag

I was unfairly tagged by this stupid Phoenix I know. Although I'm secretly pleased that I was chosen, I still don't like this tag because it's going to take quite a while to finish. So at the end if I tag you, you'll know I don't quite like you, which is why I'm putting you through it. :p Alright. Here goes nuffink!

Rules of the tag : Various situations are given. You have to come up with a song (or set of songs) that aptly describe the particular situation in your life.

Your Life: The Soundtrack

Opening credits: Mujhe Mil Jo Jaaye thoda paisa - Agosh

Waking up : Subah ho gayi Mamoo - One of the blasted Munnabhai films

Average day: Yaara seeli seeli - Lekin

First date: Ishq hua - Aaja Nachle

Falling in love: Unchained Melody - Righteous Brothers

Love scene: Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton

Fight scene: Shut up, just shut up, shut up! (by I don't know who)

Breaking up: Judaa ho ke bhi tu mujh mein kahin baaki hai - Jal

Getting back together: Bring me to life - Evanescence

Secret love: Mera padhne mein nahi laage dil - Kora Kaagaz

Life's okay: Haal Chaal thik thak hain - Mere Apne

Mental breakdown: Maula mere, le le meri jaan - Chak De

Driving: Thandi hawa, yeh chandni suhani - Jhumroo

Learning a lesson: Bad Day - Daniel Powter

Deep thought: Laaga chunari mein daag - Manna Dey

Flashback: Woh shaam, kuch ajeeb thi - Khamoshi

Partying: (for some weird reason) The Birdie Dance

Happy dance: Move Your Body - Johnny Gaddar

Regretting: Turn Back Time - Aqua

Long night alone: Midnight Bottle - Colbie Calliat

Death scene: Zindagi kaisi hai paheli - Anand

Closing credits: Yeh Hai Meri Kahani - Zinda


Actually, it was rather fun coming up with this. So I'm going to tag all those I like, too. :) Here goes. I tag:

1) The Gentle Whisperer (this time, no forgetting you!)
2) The Overated Outcast (please humour me, you...)
3) Ess, of Idle Mind fame (What the hell, you're idle anyway, aren't you?)
4) Chandni (I'll be crushed if you don't follow suit)
5) G@k (I love bothering you)
6) Pooky (To save you the effort of penning your thoughts)
7) And anyone else who feels aptly jobless as I do, at the moment.

Kalyug is...

1) A five year old calling another five year old a chootiya.
2) The second five year old retaliating with a 'tera baap chootiya', in protest.
3) A person saying he'd exchange his mother for the Delhi Darbar cook. The food's THAT delicious, or so it seems.
4) Sending your parents to old age homes, so that you can live in their flat for free.
5) Schoolkids having designer uniforms that include minuscule skirts.
6) A fourteen year old girl flushing her love child down the toilet.
7) Paying Rs. 85 for a glass of chhas
8) Asking around who Narayan Murthy is
9) People taking out the time to wonder why Farah Khan's husband is younger than her
10) Thinking Rahul Gandhi has his father's good looks
11) Bargaining over a potted plant worth Rs. 10
12) Himesh Reshammiya winning music awards
13) Kajol, Ajay Devgan and that hag of a Tanuja judging a reality dance show
14) Actually thinking that Kajol and Ajay Devgan were less haggier than Tanuja
15) Khali getting newspace with his GIANT presence.
16) Girls swooning over the news that Salman Khan might get married to that dumb bitch, Katrina.
17) People breaking up relationships of 8 years, just for some short term fun.
18) Swapping life partners for exotic varieties in sex.
19) Killing your father and burying him in the same house you're coveting.
20) A jilted girl making arrangements for an acid attack
21) Playing "Hum yeh loongi uthati, tum ko disco dikhati" song for Ganpati festival.
22) Not being able to afford a flat in Mumbai anymore.
23) Driving drunk and running over a few people, but still getting bail
24) Literature students not knowing the difference between their / they're / there. Really, it's NOT that hard.
25) Going to class drunk.

* Depressed *