Now Would Be A Good Time To Flash....... Please....

Choco Syrup now has his own blog - a real one, a public one. Earlier, he claimed that he had a "secret" blog. But I have a feeling that he made that shit up 'cause Choco was offended that Bhains Lana had a blog and that he didn't. Choco's blog is new and most of it is kinda boring, but one really cool post cracked me up. This one.

It reminded me of a very recent conversation that I had with Bhains Lana.

FYI 1 : Bhains Lana is a Marwadi. Which means that he is a stingy little bitch and also that his family comes from Rajasthan.
FYI 2 : It is IPL time.


Bhains : Dude, today is Mumbai vs Rajasthan.

Me : So?

Bhains : I’m not sure who I must support.

Me : Think of it as Sachin vs Warne

Bhains : Sachin obviously. Cool, I’m supporting Mumbai.

Me : But then again, it’s Nita vs Shilpa.

Bhains : Oh damn.. I want Shilpa to win, so now Rajasthan. Dude, you’re confusing me.

Me : Ok fine, think of it as Sachin vs Shilpa. Now decide.

Bhains : Oh cool, now I want Sachin to win. and Shilpa should be so sad after the match that she comes on to the ground and flashes!


Unlike Choco, I don't find such conversation preposterous or even pointless and I hope that the universe supports me in my quest to keep such banter from dying. 



When you flash, flash hard....
--Ravi Shastri (the wisest thing he has ever said)

When in Rome Do the Romans. When in Vancouver Become a Hooker.

Vroooooom vroooooooooom vroooooooooooooooooom….

That’s my car – the Volkswagen Jetta. Ok, technically it ain’t mine, it belongs to the car rental company but for four days it was mine. And I decided to take it to Sydney. The only aspects of Easter that trump the chocolate eggs are the four day vacation and hot chicks in skimpy bunny costumes (not necessarily in that order)! Anyway, leaving the chicks and the chocolates aside for now (you bet I’m gonna get back to them soon), let me tell you something interesting about my four day vacation. Five guys, one rented car, 900 km of empty road and 2 hotel room reservations. Now the bane of modern civilization is the Internet. Ironic that I decide to voice this thought on a web blog, but seriously, it is! Rooms reserved on the internet in a hotel that is “In the heart of the city, walking distance from King’s Cross Station with Queen sized beds, laundry facility, blah blah blah” for only $120 per night seemed like a spectacular deal, akin to those pirated DVDs available at Andheri Station for Rs. 40, but only up to the point that the car pulled up to the hotel entrance. The description should have read “In the heart of the city, walking distance from King’s Cross station but more importantly lolling-on-your-bed distance from 25 strip clubs, 10 brothels, 5 ‘massage’ parlours and over a hundred independent ghastly looking pavement hookers.” That was my welcome to Sydney. The rest of the trip probably deserves another blog post, maybe some other time.

In other related news, Choco syrup has left for Vancouver. Since his departure, he has been checking out older but younger looking Oriental women and younger but older looking Caucasian women. All of you, who are wondering why Choco has deported himself to the great white north, have no fear, I have the answer. He has gone there to become a “ghastly looking pavement hooker.” Vancouver will soon be transformed to wank-you-over.

Shatter Island

Greetings, my fellow homo-sapiens...

In my very first post I launched many creatures whose sole purpose of existence was to perform acts of nincompoopery and amuse the populace. Some of these ill-fated souls have featured in blog posts since; a few of them will soon make their debut and the rest were added there only so that they didn’t feel bad. Anyhow, there is one idiot I know, who isn’t really inconspicuous, yet managed to sneak out of the limelight. I shall call him Johnnie Dropper.

Johnnie Dropper thinks that the joke about Marjava and Mitjava being the 2 latest versions of java is hilarious and cracks up every time he narrates it to somebody. No one else finds it funny but yet they laugh when they see his head bobbing back and forth as he guffaws. His inebriated foolishness is solely responsible for the hot chicks around us knowing what we call them behind their backs.

I have no idea what my friends are up to but all of them seem to want to go to Jakarta. Cheap sex, booze and dope I guess. Numa Numa, Wind Cheater, Cold Cream and Bhains Lana have been there on multiple such debaucherous expeditions and now Johnnie Dropper decides that it’s his turn to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh. Sinners!

Johnnie Dropper comes from a relatively small city in one of the two “dry” states of India. “Death before alcoholism” is the state’s backup motto. It falls a close second to “Shimmering shirt on garba night shall lead you to true happiness.” Johnnie has spent a better part of life eating “theplas” with fermented “chundo” hoping that, having preserved the chundo two years beyond its expiry date, the effort would totally be worth the buzz that he may get. Now, when such a fool travels international and sees all those liquor bottles in the duty free shops at airports, it is totally expected that he gets a boner! It’s like when kids from an all-boys school enter the world of junior college and are forced straight into the path of multiple underwear and baggy jeans!

Scene 1
Place: Changi airport, Singapore
Occasion: Johnnie Dropper meets Johnnie Walker
Side-effect: The promised Boner

Bhains Lana is already in Jakarta. Johnnie Dropper is joining him there for what seems to be an orgy. Different “client” they say, but in an orgy does it really matter? Johnnie cannot go there empty handed. He knows that his dealings in Jakarta are going to be pretty lucrative and so our hero decides to indulge in some classy scotch.

Scene 2
Place: Soekarno–Hatta International Airport, Jakarta
Occasion: Johnnie Waker meets ground
Side-effect: This blog post

A six foot tall man with a really small head would have his shoulders at somewhere around five and a half feet. Yes, it’s a really small head! Anyway, the bottle in a plastic bag is slung neatly over his shoulder. How the %*&$ (clue: rhymes with luck) does the damn thing slip out of his hand?
Advice for you Mr. Dropper - I’m not much of a drinker but I know one thing, always respect the holy trinity of booze - Johnnie, Jack and Jose. And just cause the black label (get it???) says Johnnie Walker doesn’t mean you try to make it walk.

Cheers to Wind Cheater for her inputs. Thou shalt get a steak with onions - at Leopold - on me.

The Solitary Sleeper

Guess what guys, all this chilling out that I’ve been doing for the last couple of months has come to a screeching halt. As crappy luck would have it, I am now (shudder) On-Call for the next whole month. Actually, not one month, it is for five whole weeks. That’s (Window+r calc Enter 7*5 Enter Alt+F4) 35 whole days (shudder shudder shudder). Let’s try this with a more positive attitude. I now have the power to sit alone at the computer all day and solve issues. Yayyy!! With great power comes great responsibility, so I am now responsible for another mobile phone. Wait bachcha…. It’s not just any phone - it’s a Nokia 3310 - the cool one with absolutely no features. Sorry, it does have Snake II and an annoying alarm clock. My first phone was the cooler cousin of this one. Nokia 3315. Other than the fact that it was “newer” in the “market” and that the keypad had “funkier” joined keys, the phones were the same. These were the two points I repeated over and over and over and over again in those extremely aggressive “my phone is better than yours” brawls. Those were the silly old days. I don’t engage in such futile arguments anymore. I guess it’s the effect of the “you are not here only to learn, you are here to become mature young individuals ready to face the world” policy followed by the educational institutions I have “studied” in. I digress. Back to the phones. I say they are the same because other than having no difference in features, both have the amazing ability to shut off even when the battery has surplus electrons ready and raring to go. It is this phone that earned me the reputation of “the guy who hangs up on you mid conversation.” That’s when the chicks stopped giving me their numbers. (Woohoo – Eureka moment) That IS the reason. I have hit it! So I finally got tired of playing the snake game and graduated to a phone that could store porn photos, videos and other forms of extreme pleasure entertainment. And now when I hold this piece of primitive electronics in my hands, I realize how much I missed playing with the virtual snake.

Speaking of missing things, a “yo wassup!!” to all you guys. Miss ya loads!! I promise to be back soon to make your lives miserable once more! Till then, cheers and peace out!

Welcome to Melbourne

There are two types of people who read my blog. One is the type that’s thinking, “What!!?? No drawing on this one?” Then there’s the other that’s thinking, “Whose case is he on this time?” If you’re thinking neither, then you’re like a hermaphrodite - the type that possesses neither male nor female sexual organs. If both the thoughts crossed your mind, you’re still a hermaphrodite – with both male and female organs. Go gonads! And, if you’re thinking “Where the hell is he going with this?” Well…. Errr… Nowhere! I just wanted to call a few of my readers eunuchs!

Kuch Bhiiii…………

Anyway, enough of the stupid and mindless nonsense and let me start with the more important and intelligent nonsense.

As his handsome self sits down on his toilet paper wiped ass and begins writing this blog post, he begins to think to himself, “Why am I referring to myself in third person?”

So, this is my first post from Australia - the land down under. Or, as the Indian media likes to call it - The Slaughterhouse! Just as any cow, goat, pig, hen, or any other yummy animal, has absolutely no clue what’s in store for it when it’s being led to the butcher, I started my journey to Melbourne chaste and innocent (He he). After the two totally unnecessary stops at Bangkok and Hong Kong, the pilot of my Cathay Pacific flight finally realized that I had to be dropped off at Melbourne and very reluctantly landed the plane there.

Melbourne Airport is awesome.
It is awesome because the immigration fellow doesn’t even check if you have a visa. He just stamps your passport and thinks “Hahahaha, one more Indian not getting out of this country alive!”
It is awesome because the unattended sniff dogs smell you and your bags and walk away thinking “Hahahaha, one more Indian not getting out of this country alive!”
It is awesome because by the time you realize that you’ve been waiting an hour for your luggage, you’ve considered the possibility of your bags not arriving at all and you slowly start seeing yourself having to sleep in the buff because the only clothes you have are feeling up the insides of a washing machine. We all know someone who has been-there-done-that, don’t we? ;)

Finally my bags tumbled down the shaft on to the conveyer belt and a huge sigh of relief later, me and my bruised bags headed towards the taxi stand.

Taxi Drive: “Are you Indian mate?”
You know you’ve outlived your welcome in Australia when you say “mate” with a Punjabi accent. That is the reason why Mr. Khattar is going back to Ludhiana after the summer. “Summer mein Melbourne ki kudiyaan kuch kapde nahi pehenti. Dekh ke jayenge.”

“Summer mein Melbourne ki kudiyaan kuch kapde nahi pehenti.” This time I am saying it. I honestly do not know what the reason is - the sun, the heat, the desire to undress, or the longing to die young of skin cancer, but the girls here do not believe in the concept of covering themselves. It’s an absolute nightmare for those (weird men) who like to have a little left to the imagination. I, on the other hand, am not complaining! :D

Now, coming back to Khattar saab. The man gave me the creeps. Five minutes into the journey, he very casually mentioned “Abhi radio pe suna, ek Indian ko jaan se maara.”
@#$%^@&*%!!!!!!!!!!!!????????
His nonchalance can be explained. He didn’t want me crapping my pants in his taxi. Then he followed up with a “Yaar, tu dar mat. Tu toh city mein rehta hai. Wahan kuch nahi hoga.” Yes I believe you, you human enema!

Then in true Indian style (I refrain from using ‘Punjabi style’ for fear of sounding racist), the bugger cheats me. When the taxi pulled up in front of my hotel, the meter read $45. Reasonable. So I hand him my credit card and say “Receipt lagega.” Aaaahhhhh.. That was just the opening that Khattar needed. “Receipt??” and he jumped on to the meter and the console below it. Several seconds of arrhythmic ping beep beep beep ping ping pong ping beep pong ping ping ping beep beep beep passed by nervously. Suddenly the printer showed signs of life and out popped a receipt for the full amount of $59!!!! The meter glanced at the receipt, got the joke, and decided to play along. So, right there, in front of my eyes, the big red $45 disappeared and to take its place on the electronic display came our old friend Mr. Big Red $59.

Score:
Khattar 1
Amdocs 0 (Yeah, yeah, they’re paying for it)

$59 - $45 = $14 = Rs. (14*42) = Rs. 588/-

GO KHATTAR, GO KHATTAR, GO!!
GO KHATTAR, GO KHATTAR, GO!!

I felt so proud to be a ‘desi’ and as I heaved my bag out of the boot, I glanced up at the smirking crook and I swear that I could hear him think. “Bevakoof saala!! Hahahaha, one more Indian not getting out of this country alive!”

Cheating the Wind

This is a story of love, of passion, of temptation, of betrayal, of sorrow, of denial....... But most of all, this is a story of lust!

In a classroom filled with students he noticed only her, she noticed only him. Her bashfulness, his apprehension and a common fear of the unexplored prevented their gazes from meeting. He made the first move. She was waiting for it. He was all she hoped he was. She was errr.. Well.. Somewhere there. This had the makings of the perfect clichéd love story.

The flowers, the chocolates, the midnight messages, the kissing smilies (:-* for the uninitiated), the "you keep the phone down first"s, the endless mushy talk.......

It lasted for some time. Six years to be precise.

He thought he had done everything right. He thought she was his and he was hers. Together they would laugh, cry, fight and love. Together they would live their lives. He thought they were forever.

But the perfect clichéd love story was not to be.

She soon left him for another........

Every night he lies in bed and stares at the ceiling. Wondering where he had failed. Other than the auto rickshaw, what did Babban have that he didn't?

 

Wind Cheater had earned her name!

The BIG Bang Theory......

A snippet of what transpired at the lunch table today....

Jhakaas Boy: ………… (The Elephant Story)……… How can anyone miss a freaking elephant walking in the middle of the road????

Shy Shen: He's obsessed with this story, he has recited about 15 times already.

Choco Syrup: He's just obsessed with you.

Shy Shen: (nazal twang) Whaaatt??

Choco Syrup: If you don't get married, not that you won't, you know who you can go back to. Jhakaas will marry you..

Shy Shen: Yuck.. I’m not marrying him. I’d die a virgin but I will not marry him.. Cheeee..

Choco Syrup: Hahaha.. You’re gonna die a virgin. Btw, do you know what they write on tombstones of virgins??

Everyone Else: What??

Choco Syrup: Sent back unopened...

Shy Shen: All because of you I'll die a virgin.. And if that happens my ghost will come and haunt you forever...

Everyone Else: ha ha ha ha ha ha ha... :D

Choco Syrup: you want me to make sure you lose your virginity?? Come...

Every1 Else: ha ha ha ha ha ha :D

Shy Shen: (nasal twang) noooo..... (Then proceeds with a stoopid explanation in a nasaler twang)..

Choco Syrup: you know what you should do.. If you die a virgin, then your ghost should get into Bhains Lana's body and make him have sex with a man!! That way both of you will fulfill your respective desires...

The Luckiest Day of His Life!

The title of my previous post caused mayhem. 2 of my 3 readers were thoroughly confused and demanded an explanation. So here it is - in pictorial format!!! I know that my artistic skills aren't the best in the world and this pretty picture may not paint the entire story, so just for you I present, THIS!!

.... when a tata sumo hits you on the head

samudranb does feature in my first post but since I plan to retain the mysterious nature of my characters, I shall not reveal his blog-identity..... Loneliness has driven him to tweet himself. Orrrrrr it's just a lame marketing strategy for all those books that he's written with numbers in the titles!!











CLICK TO ENLARGE

So Help Me God

I went for a movie yesterday - The Ugly Truth. The truth: it was ugly! (Sorry, had to get this one out of my system)

Don’t watch the movie. It is NOT a chick flick because even chicks wouldn’t like it. Gerard Butler lives up to his name - he looks like a butler. Not that I care, but it was worth mentioning. Katherine Heigl is the only thing worth watching on that screen. The title was probably the only other interesting bit in the movie. Inspired by this title (and nothing else from the movie) I have decided to dedicate this blog post to a few ugly truths that crack me up as well as a few that totally haunt my existence.

·         There were no naked chicks in the movie. Not on screen, not even in the theatre.

·         I was hoping there would be naked chicks in the movie - on screen AND in the theatre.

·         My vacation has given me a time to do a lot of things that I don’t usually do. I went swimming the other day. Aaah, the joys of an empty pool….. Well, it was almost empty. There was this little kid who was being taught how to swim by his pop. The kid was crying cause he wanted to go pee and, for some reason, his pop wouldn’t let him go. Then, he stopped crying…

·         Numa Numa is going on a biking trip next week. He’s gonna ride 860 kilometers on the last day. Rest of the year he’s gonna have a blue ass and sore nuts.

·         In the re-match of their famous 100 meter sprint encounter last year, Choco Syrup once again lost to HIM!

·         Loose motions cannot happen in slow motion.

·         I met Cheese Omelet yesterday after quite some time. She has been putting too much cheese in her omelet lately. Go on a diet Cheese.

·         Taking photos of random stray dogs with your flash ON ensures that you too get snapped.

·         Most of you will get the pun in the above line just about now…

·         This blog post ends here….

Cabin crew, please be seated for takeoff

63 days ago I told myself that 63 days from then I would write a blog.....
So here starts my first post of this sparkling new blog!!
This time I promise to keep this blog alive and noisy. As noisy as a foul mouthed Pomeranian in labor!
Initially I was gonna give this blog a philosophical touch. But even the enlightened run out of gyan often. So I’ve decided to use this as a medium to laugh at stupidity! Now that I’ve mentioned stupidity, I have to mention:

Jhakaas boy: Well, that’s me. Surprise!! :-P The name is Jhakaas, NOT Jackass, but Jhakaas!!

Bird Brain: This outspoken woman will probably dominate the comments section of this blog. Perennially lost - I’ve seen crabs with a better sense of direction. Has an unparalleled knack of being able to entertain when least expected with either her dazzling brilliance or utter nitwittedness. Then again, you will be entertained only if she hasn’t run back home.

Butt Lee: She was born 3 feet 5 inches. And that’s when she stopped growing. Vertically! For her, Indian sport is synonymous with Indian politics. Rabindranath Tagore won an Olympic Silver Medal and Sachin Tendulkar is the Father of our nation!

Tomato head: No!! His head is not shaped like a tomato. Errrr…. His head is no longer shaped like a tomato. He’s the man with the beautiful voice. I sincerely believed that the voice was hollow but then I heard his rendition of Michael Bolton’s “Can I touch you there” and was touched….. There….!!

Cold Cream: Although I don’t really agree with the consensus that this burly bugger is actually a little girl in disguise, he does tend to fodder the rest of the world with enough to support their argument. Put beer in his belly and he’ll make sure you don’t regret it!

Shy Shen: Her face looks exactly like a question mark. The dame is so confused that she often breathes with her mouth and talks through her nose. She has the capacity to sulk for long periods of time. The only way to stop her sulking is to take her shopping. She hails from that part of the world where jelly sweets are used to cure Diarrhea.

Rodenta Rascalla: This tiny Madrasi is one of my favorite sources of entertainment. It’s extremely difficult to not laugh at the things she says or does. Her famous “I’m feeling pukie” monolog accompanied by the trademark disgusted expression cracks me up every single time it makes a trip past me.

Bhains Lana: After making a mini-fortune dabbling in the stock market (during office hours, using office resources) this guy lost it all in the form of

a. his brand new phone

b. his bike mirrors

c. a very expensive date

He recently went on a pilgrimage to ask the lord for strength to deal with this acute agony.

Numa Numa: This illegal immigrant from Indonesia tries to pass himself off as an Assamese. After a failed attempt at being a music-video-dancer back in the motherland, he settled for the drudge of a software engineer here in India. However, favors (of a very mysterious nature) for his former employers saw them send him on multiple all-expense-paid visits to his homeland on the pretext of work. He has now quit his job to start his own tea business. He’s going to grow tea himself, sell the tea-leaves himself, buy the tea leaves himself, brew the tea himself and drink the tea himself. No idea how the money comes in!

Chocó Syrup: The man is the source of the most outrageous theories backed by statistics which are made up only 49.54% of the time. His atrocious Hindi is the source of much amusement. Don’t believe me? Ask the unsuspecting young female doctor who was told that the crick in his neck was a result of “ek hafte se hilaya nahi hai.”

Wind Cheater: She laughs at everything. Go win the Nobel Prize; she’ll still laugh at you. After the Mumbai Police crackdown on dance bars, this former bar-dancer was left jobless. She is desperate to create, in a partnership with Numa Numa, a dance academy to revive their respective careers.

Kuchu: The woman with the poorest jokes. She spends more time in a local train every day than most people spend awake! You get her upset and before you know it, the world is reading fabricated crap about you in the newspaper.

Cheese Omelet: Her real name is “I can’t stop talking and I have to give vivid details of everything that happened to me during the day to everyone I know otherwise the world is going to end and even if the world does come to an end, while it is coming to an end, I must constantly give status updates to the rest of the people just in case they can benefit from what I have to say even though it makes no sense cause the world is coming to an end.”

You’re gonna be reading a lot about them and laughing a lot at them.... Enjoy the show!!!

Disclosure: The characters in this blog are NOT fictitious and any resemblance to persons living or dead is NOT coincidental. It is YOUR job to figure out who is who.