Monday, October 27, 2008

Cum Slut

(Little Tea Pot tune)

I'm a little cum slut
Six pegs & a pout;
This is my pussy,
And yes you're allowed. -4
When your dick is in there
Hear me shout.
Cum right in or
Cum in my mouth. -8

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Screw You

(To be sung in the same tune as Barney The Dinosaur's 'I Love You' rhyme)

I screw you;
You screw me;
We're one screwed up family. -3
With a great big screw,
Up your ass from me to you;
Wont you say you'll screw me too. -6

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Three Truths Of The Moment

Sitting at 3am in front of the PC screen typing out the usual content for the media I work for, I found one of those stupid tricky questions again. I'm not supposed to type out dumb answers no matter how dumb the question may seem. Even if the question is dumb I'm supposed to pretend that it's perfect sense. The horror!!!

The above is merely an excerpt of the random rantings to myself when I'm working instead of sleeping. Strangely though the three truths have nothing to do with my rant. I just thought I'd mention what else I was doing at the time.

But for the moment the following truths are what you believe in regardless if you've already realised it or prefer to deny it. DO NOT confuse them as truths of life because your life keeps evolving and it just won't stick for every situation.

So now, just for the time being, while you're still sitting in front of the PC like the sleep deprived that you are, read the following and realise that...

1. You're alive because you're reading this.
2. You're literate because you're reading this.
3. You're not blind...yet.

P.S.: If you were to think about it, the author had just made you read through almost complete rubbish except for those three momentary truths.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Stand Up!

Question Time!!!:
Are you one of those people who are tired of having the floor beneath your feet?
Do you find the view or perspective from where you're standing just plain mundane?
Do most people look down on you?

If any of the questions were answered with a 'yes' then look no further. Step up to a real high. No more floors below your feet. See a different view of your surroundings. Look down on others even, if you like. They'll have to look up to you once you follow my advise.

It's quite simple. Stand up and step up! Get yourself off the floor...and onto the closest table near you. If you're at home, step up onto your chair. If at work, get onto your work table. And if you're a collegian then jump right onto your desk. Don't hesitate! Just Do it!

Why am I telling you to do this? Because you're going to love it! Who wouldn't want a little bit of fun in their lives?! No one sits down at a discotheque. So, why have a lesser kind fun at these places?

So the next time you're in a place you don't think is fun enough, hop onto the nearest table. And if you want things to get wilder, jump, scream and shout on it like you've completely lost all senses. If you don't find yourself laughing silly, fear not, you'll have everyone else around you in splits.

Disclaimer: The above provided information may/may not get you into trouble if you are physically or mentally below the age of 40. Anything "over the hill" isn't meant for your age anymore.

P.S.: No, the author wasn't high. But yes, taking her advise could be either hazardous to or good for your health.

Friday, September 12, 2008

When The Husbands Come Down...

Now, if you were to click on the title (which you should), you'd find that it's a link to a post having the same title. It would be advisable for you to read that post before you read mine that you may better understand this post in the right context. Not because I want to make the other very nice female author famous (she's famous enough anyways) but because the post's author had her own valid point too.

Men are expected to be the bread winners else they're not men enough. Us females are left home alone with nothing to do because we're too uneducated to work. So, seriously, what do we do? Make more babies like the baby machines we are?

Here's my version.

Sex: Female Married
Age: Mid fifties.
Children: A daughter in her early twenties and a son in his mid twenties.
Spouses: One. Away in Dubai earning tons of cash for her wild fantasies.

She thought: Why doesn't my hubby appreciate me more when he's around? He's so possessive. I want to feel and look sexy. Why can't I!? I think I will. Who says age matters? It shouldn't. I'm human, I have sexual needs too that need satisfaction. I want to seduce my daughter's boyfriend's delicious daddy. Who's to stop me? I like the way Mr. So-and-so winks at me. Or better, I like the top floor guy's fingers, so broad, the things he could do with them for me. I'll wear semi-transparent nighties and try and seduce him. I so need some succulent sex. Why stop myself?!

He returns and she thinks: Damn I can't do this in front of him. I'm so dependent on him. I need the money. What about the kids. Big deal, I can have what I want. A hubby, kids, free random sex, money, a future for my kids. If he was to find out I'd lose it all and so would they. Things are best for everyone this way.

In reality: For all we know Mr. hubby is doing and thinking the same while he's away. For all we know his sweet secretary is sweetly sucking at his cock on his desk while his wife merely flirts and fantasizes.

Big deal! It's natural human nature to want sexual pleasure. If society didn't make it "wrong" to have sex with anyone other than your own spouse, sex would be more recreation than procreation and there's nothing wrong in that. There is nothing double faced about it. We have to hide it not because we're ashamed of it but because society likes to pick on people. Husbands or wives even for that matter need to earn for their and their children's better living. Compromises are made, people are happy. Why play with a peaceful mind?

P.S.: The author encourages you to please read the other posts on for the sole reason that it is a fact that her own posts must terribly bore you to suicide. Also because what the other author writes has much more content that may interest you.

P.S.2: And for all those readers starved of sex, meet your new bhabhi here -->

Saturday, September 06, 2008

Call Me A Bitch

Getting straight to the point, I don't normally get called a bit of a CH. At present there are only two people who are allowed to call me that. One of them I'm rarely in contact with and the other is someone close (none of your bees-wax who). Anyways, here are the criteria and credentials needed for people to call me a female of the canine kind.

About the word you must...:
1. Sound like you mean it.
2. Know why you're saying it.
3. Know it's meaning.
4. Be able to define it if I was to ask you to.
5. Conjure up your own definition that makes either sense or sense out of nonsense.

You yourself must:
1. Be a guy.
2. Act like a guy.
3. Sound like you have more than half a brain.
4. Sound like you use your brain.
5. Seem dumb but not necessarily be so.

You cannot under any circumstances:
1. Be a female enemy.
2. Be a female who wants to be my enemy.
3. Be brain-dead.
4. Not know what the word means.
5. Not know what you're saying but naturally assume the other person might be stupid enough to fall for your stupid intimidation.

If you're anything else you belong to the dimwit crowd not because you use the word but because you don't and wouldn't know how to use the word (or any other word for that matter) in the right way.

P.S.: In short, you cannot call the author a bitch under any circumstances anyways. There'll always remain just one person and just that one person alone who'll call her that. Everyone else is just a somebody else.

Is it possible for the author to be a bitch barking out words through her fingers?!

Saturday, August 30, 2008

AC v/s DC College

Anyone who knows me knows that AC was my previous college and DC is my current college (my love) and would know that I suffer silently (as opposed to all those who suffer noisily) much due to this change. People do happen to be boring (like myself) because people's emotional or mental wavelengths differ but here's why my previous and new college are so unalike.

Girls: Most of AC girls were (are) brain-dead (dumb blondes if you may). All they ever talked about was the latest in fashion and babbled about the 'hottest' boy or bitched about some random "innocent" girl. Attire was erm...fine (on freak blue moon days perhaps). And almost every girl looked anorexic most of the time. In AC you'd just be deemed a slut or cool or both even (cool slut?) for talking tabooed topics. You're either grunge or girly here (I learnt to play dumb).
Boys: AC boys weren't (aren't) Gladrags models (though some were upcomers). Like the girls, some were wannabes while others were wannabe-wannabes (of course the term exists). There isn't much you can say about them because if they weren't flirting they were away bunking with female flirts. Here the boys' favourite things were guitars, heavy metal, porn, "chicks" and sex (sequence might be off).

At DC the girls aren't all that open about closet stories and if you're a girl who has a dirty mouth (like mine) then you're bound to get tabooed too if you're not too careful. At least here the girls look like they eat food.
Boys: DC boys are a little different. They actually have a method to their madness some of them. Sure, they flirt too (all normal humans do) but some of them can be way more romantic about it. It's either that, or they're really perverted (you wouldn't believe the encounters here).

The difference between the two colleges? One of them is setting me up for my career (else I wouldn't be in it) while the other made me feel like a deadbeat (though it has potential).

I suffer because at AC I was so much more free to hug those of the same sex or the opposite without people getting wrong ideas. Couples thronged the campus and PDA was allowed to a liberal extent. In DC you're either a porn watcher (porcher) or a "good guy/girl".

Sure, I've to hold my tongue, no talking casually with the guys or girls else the word slut would have two different meanings in the minds of the two major genders (eunuchs would come other the minority). But I love DC and frankly, I'll just have to live with this.

P.S.: For all those who know not of the names of the colleges before mentioned...go figure!
For those of you who do...good for you!

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Slip Offs

No, this has nothing to do with language. No slip-of-the-tongue stories here. No grammer lessons for now.

It's all about which plastic/rubber flip-flops to avoid. Now we all love flip-flops. They're all nice and flip-floppy and are real comfy for general use as footwear. They come in assorted types and colours not to mention materials. They're perfect for the rains too...or are they?

No, not all rain flip-flops are fun in the rain. You've got to be careful. If there's one kind of rain slippers that you need to avoid, it's the plastic-rubber kind. Why? Because besides being real easy to slip your feet in it's just as easy for 'em to slip back out...while walking. Yes, these oddities manage to allow your feet to slip right out since they have no support strip at the back either.

The best example of these kind would be the 'BATA & I' slippers available in all Bata stores. If you still wish to enjoy these really cute slippers you'll need to purchase a pair one size larger than your actual feet size. Won't help much but things might be more comfortable.

P.S.: It can be very annoying when your slipper slips off your foot while walking.
More so when you've got mucky puddles all over and you're in a hurry.
Worse when other people notice and smirk away.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Lights Out!

You know, there is actually a disadvantage of having the lights go out when you're at home. It's very annoying really. Unless you're stuck with this really cute guy/girl who's willing to consent (yes, I've got a very wandering mind) you can be assured that stuck in the dark all alone is bad. Here's what can happen in the dark when home alone and the lights go out and your looking for the light.

1. When things go bump in the night: You know why things go bump in the night sometimes? In such cases it's because some other family member/room mate probably crashed themselves into something. Strangely the same can happen to you too if you try walking in the dark. If you happen to trip over the carpet end or rug or knock over a few stools while stubbing your toe at the same time you'll know why things go bump in the night. Yes, it's you making all that noise!

2. Blind man's bluff: This is such a nice game to play when you're with friends. Friends who (provided are not freak-brained enough to not tell you when you're about to bang into a wall) will obviously tell you that you're going the wrong way. When the lights go out the game gets a lot more tougher. You're bound to make plenty bumps in the night. True some places are well lit with natural light even in dark times but there are places that can be pitch dark. Beware!

3. Closed doors: This is something else you'll need to be vary of. Always know which doors in your house are often open and which are often closed. If bedroom doors are usually left closed be sure that you don't rush into a closed door, it might give you a head/foot ache. Also if your toilet/bathroom doors remain open make sure you don't walk in and slip on any un-mopped water on the slippery floor.

4. The light at the end of the tunnel: The reason why you're walking about in the dark like a barking blind idiot in the first place is because you're looking for a candle and lighter or torch or cell phone or whatever else might be convenient (and if you didn't realise this in the first place you're madder than me). Before you go about like a madman it's important that you know where the items needed are to begin with. Don't just randomly ramble about. That's just stupid.

P.S.: Yes, the author has been a blind bat and managed to ram right into doors, trip over stools and had her damned phone tucked in her pocket all the time. Talk about idiocy!

Sunday, August 10, 2008

The Farmer

A farmer is more interested in the hard work which is farming out in the sun daily. He is concerned with the money he'll make in order to provide decent meals for his family and himself. Being out in the sun for so long makes his skin more tanned than it is making it appear darker considering that natural Indian skin is already tanned. But the farmer doesn't care. This is his routine. His duty comes first.

We in our fantastically super-clean lifestyles are not at all interested in being out in the sun for more than five minutes. We'd all rather be in a properly air conditioned room so much so that it feels like winter while there's sweltering heat outside. We're greedy for our salaries to provide for our ever hungry stomachs that delicious chocolate cake which we'd rather not share. We use every possible face wash, scrub besides creams, lotions, powders just so that we appear white enough or clean enough, whichever first. We care. This is our routine. Providing ourselves with luxury is our duty.

Neither of us would like to exchange lives. We are creatures of habit. The farmer hates to be idle. We love being our lazy, relaxed selves.

Friday, August 01, 2008

Scarred From Afar

But you see, he wanted to do more
Firmly I had to say "no"
To me he wouldn't listen
He said,"With you I want to sin." -4

We did at least three reps
I thought, "How adventurous of me"
I ignored the cautionary steps
Damn! how wanton of me! -8

But I wanted to join him;
I wanted to be his bin,
I asked if he could
Grow for me some wood. -12

My soul experienced it from afar.
I saw me being scarred.
Since there was little I could do,
I just watched my self move. -16

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Spray Orgasm

Are there joys to a toilet spray? Really? Of course there are. At least I say there are for the sole reason that it gives me a special joy. I wouldn't know about guys whether they would feel the same (they probably do for all I know) but if there's one thing for sure, there sure is some real 'feel good factor' that can come out of your usual toilet spray.

What does your ordinary spray do? It sprays out water whenever you may need to wash your delectable derriere. This is it's main purpose, to wash away impurities. But that's not all it can do.

If a bored girl was to just direct the forceful rush of water straight onto her delicate vaginal area she'd be surprised to learn something very sweet, so sweet it could get her high. Yes, you can even orgasm with the kind of force the spray has.

I therefore suggest all sex deprived females to have a spray in their loos for those who don't. For those who do, stop looking at your spray as just a spray.

P.S.: Have a spray day today, everyday!

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

Two Little Dickie Heads

Two little dickie heads
Pissing on a tree;
One wore a button shirt
And the other wore a tee. -4

"My birdie's bigger!",
Said Shirt to Tee;
"Mine's been with better."
Said Tee to Shirt with glee. -8

Later Shirt and Tee
Sat by the creek,
One all coy;
and the other all meek. -12

"Oooh", said Shirt
Your head tickles me."
And so was the love
Between Shirt and Tee. -16

Friday, July 04, 2008

Salary Day V/S Report Day

Salary day reminds me of report day for a certain number of reasons. The reasons for which are as follows:

Salary Day
1. The anticipation: To begin with, there is this anticipation that comes when you're expecting your salary. You wonder if you've missed any office days and taken an off and whether it might effect your pay (or not) in any way.

2. The line: You have to wait in line to someone else. Employees are called by name one by one to come and collect they're cheques.

3. Meet with the Head: This is the moment you're in front of you're boss. You're just standing there like some sorta pillar till he decides to give your presence an acknowledgement.

4. The lecture: This is the part where s/he looks up at you, smiles and then gives you a full, verbal report of your performance last month. You just nod and agree with pretty much everything s/he says.

5. The cheque: This is what you've waited so long for. That piece of paper which tells you how well you've done last month. In case your salary is lesser you'll know you've missed days. In case it's all there you'll know you've done well.

6. The exit: You finally leave the cabin and can heave a sigh of relief with you're precious cheque in hand, soon to be deposited in your bank account.

Report Day
1. The anticipation: Here there's this anticipation for your annual exam report. You wonder if you've completed your 75% attendance, or if your papers went well and if your projects were more than satisfactory besides being submitted on time.

2. The line: In this case you wait in line according to your roll number. You stand in the line and wonder why the person right in front is taking so long and when your number will be called to collect your report.

3. Meet with the Head: This is the part where you're finally in front of your professor. You just stand there untill you've signed the register and wherever else that needs to be done before you can claim your report card/paper.

4. The lecture: The professor finally decides to give you his/her attention. S/he may first ask you about your health to waste time and then blab you about your wonderful (or not) performance during the entire year. Here too you just agree with whatever is being said in the hope that it gets you your report faster.

5. The report: Finally, after all that talk you get what you want. Proof of your excellent (or not so much) performance. Your attendance, ranks and percentage would tell you if you were a good girl/boy all the scholastic year round.

6. The exit: At last you get to take your leave with satisfaction on your silly smile knowing that you've passed "with flying colours". You can now add the report to all your other similar (if not better) collection of reports.

Friday, June 27, 2008

How To Appear Dumb

I was inspired by this odd but very interesting question at work one day. A user at the forum asked for tips on how to come off as the dumbest person in the world. Normally I'd ignore such a question but then decided that it actually made sense and that there are people who would actually want to appear dumb. Albeit, being dumb I can assure you can be very tricky. Very often it can easily be made out whether you're a wannabe dumb person or if you're seriously dumb! Remember that to pull this off you'll need to put in a lot of effort into it. So here are a few tips on how to appear dumb.

Observe people around you, on the streets and in all public places. You will be surprised by how many dumb people are right next to you. Notice how they speak, learn their broken forms of speech including all the grammatical errors present in their speech. Keep in mind the tone that they use and try to mimic the babble that leaves their mouth each time they speak. You can even engage in a conversation with them if you feel like so that you learn their mannerisms when it comes to speech and even learn how they dress and their highly complex body language.

Practice prevents poor performance, therefore make sure you practice all this in front of your mirror every once in a while. This will not only help build your confidence but it will also let you know whether you are performing in the right way or whether you need to change anything about your act. It can also make you more optimistic about yourself as you'll be ready to laugh at yourself and have fun with this odd experiment.

You'll know that you're successful at being dumb once not only fellow dumb people think you're one of them but also the not-so-dumb (because no one's really all that smart) ones get duped into thinking you're dumb.

So, do you think you're smart enough to be dumb?

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Stand Up For Udders

I watched "Barnyard", the movie (I don't normally review animated stuff) and thought this one scene in the ending was really kooky. I mean, there was this cow, standing on his own two hind hooves (yea, two, 'cause the fore hooves were on his hips) and he was saying this very meaningful sentence. Now, what was it he said, oh yes, "A strong man stands up for himself; but a stronger man stands up for others.". Well yea, that's pretty much what he said. But what was strange was the angle from where this particular scene was portrayed from. It was from the bottom looking up with a full view of his very pink, moist, almost full-like, udders. What made me think this scene was whacky was that, there was this cow, yapping away about standing up for others, while standing on his hind hooves with udders in my face. Now is it me, or was it coincidence that standing up for udders and standing with full blown pink others was a little freaky (yea I wrote it like so on purpose). Perhaps there was this hidden joke which was supposed to mean "Stand up and check out my udders"(?).

Saturday, June 07, 2008

Telling Time In College

During my first three years in college I re-learned to tell time. It can be compared to telling time at work and the normal accepted way of telling time which we're more familiar with.

The normal manner in which we tell time would be by the 12 hour or 24 hour clock. We read time as 3:15pm or 15:15 depending on which is more convenient or perhaps enforced to follow. Nevertheless we're all well aware of both ways. In this case time just goes on and on: there's nothing all that big to look forward to, 'cept maybe during the few hours/minutes/seconds before new year's on new year's eve or your (or anyone else's) birthday perhaps.

At work we're in the office only for a particular time. At some work environments you're there for about eight to nine hours which is the norm or if you're one of those diligent ones you might be looking forward to an overstay. The only thing you're looking forward to is probably the time to go home and take your late trip to dreamland only to probably check out early and leave for work again the next day. For those who have stressing jobs which need to be given a lot of attention you don't have time to check what time it is, but for those who have little to do at work usually tell time according to the various food breaks. But all this can't always be of any reassurance whatsoever.

At College we tell time a little differently. Each lecture is for about thirty to fifty minutes each with a ten minute break for recess. Here if you were asked for the time by any of the teachers during class practically everyone might tell you not exactly what time it is but rather how many more minutes left till the bell rings because that's the only thing on students' minds at that time. Even if the time happens to be 12:30 in the afternoon and the bell is expected to ring sometime around 12:40 then the time will be "ten minutes for the bell to ring" irrespective of what the time really is.

Frankly for some reason when you're busy whether it is being bored, completing work tasks or listening to the droning voice of the lecturer time always manages to fly super fast. And those are the best days ever. It's too bad the remaining days are only left to be cribbed about.

P.S.: If any of you readers feel that there are other ways of telling time, feel free to share your experiences with the author.

Friday, May 30, 2008

Blogger's Boredom

I doubt this is the opposite of what "Writer's Block" is or what I'd rather call in this case, "Blogger's Block" but it's definitely an experience writers/blogsters* must have had to endure at some point of their life. It's those annoying moments when you have too many articles in front of you all prepared to be posted as and when needed under the scheduled section. Furthermore, drafts of twice as many articles are already waiting to be typed out and edited in Notepad (or where ever else) too; so there's no chance of a shortage of articles. This unfortunately can create boredom for the blessed writer/blogster. There comes a point when even the blogster is too bored to bother with creating more topics to be typed out or type out any even.

Once the blogster realises that s/he has reached this stage s/he must figure out something else to kill boredom with. The initial reason for blogging was to kill boredom/stress/frustration.
So now what does the poor unsuspecting blogster who has been infected with "Blogger's Boredom" do?
Sure, s/he can go out, have a blast, etc but what happens when the bloggster decides that blogging isn't just as fun as all the other stuff s/he did in the meantime?
What will happen to the readers?

P.S.: This is the part when you readers will have to answer those questions for the author. She didn't intend for them to be rhetorical you know!

*Blogster sounds way more better than blogger; plus it rhymes with monster and it sounds so way more uber cooler there!

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Hat Phone Cat Cake

I walked in the store;
And there it sat,
The thing I came for
The yellow straw hat. -4

It shimmered and shone.
All in black.
For how long I've wanted a phone;
No more had I to hold back. -8

It was so adorable!
My mum finally agreed;
I couldn't believe it was possible,
Yet there the kitty sat looking at me. -12

It looked soft and tender;
I wanted to sink my teeth into it,
Kids of all gender
Envied my cake, cream bit by cream bit. -16

He wore his hat,
He picked up the phone,
Her kitten leaped out of the sack,
Her cake was her very own. -20

He had a shade from the sun,
He had some one to listen,
She had a companion,
Gluttony was finally not a sin. -24

A straw hat and a fancy phone;
A cute cat and a cake,
A day of no sad groans and moans,
How happy were they all made. -28

Four different people;
Four different wants satisfied;
Four strangers thrilled;
Four cravings died. -32

Friday, May 16, 2008

I Love My Job

I love my job. It's way more better than the job that I did last year, plus there are a lot less restrictions. Here's more or less what my previous job was like and note the subtle differences between the two.

Previous Office Conditions:

1.Breaks: Only two tea breaks, ten minutes each. Not more than twenty-five minutes on your dinner break (it was an afternoon shift). No eating while working. Loo breaks were taken in plenty.

2. Communication: Phone's have to be switched off. No random surfing on the internet while working; all sites 'cept for the ones needed for use were blocked any which ways. No newspapers or magazines allowed. No talking while working (we were being monitored from the overhead CCTVs).

3. Pets: Cockroach heads found once in a blue moon in the coffee cup; you'd find them roaming about every once in a while. Rats roam freely among the cable wires if you're paying attention to your surroundings, dead ones too.

4. Shift Timings: An eight to nine hour job that extends up to eleven hours plus three hours travelling time. Rs.200 is taken out of your salary for travelling expenses (drop to home at night) besides the everyday Rs.12 bus fare . (I thoroughly disliked this one).

5. Food: Idlis tasted more like paper and juices were adulterated so much that you're not sure what exactly you ordered in the first place.

6. Colleagues: Zombies! and nothing more. Practically everyone knew very little about anything at all and gossip mongers thronged the place at all hours of the day. An "attitude problem" prevailed amongst all the zombie colleagues. Back biting was the core of life for most "agents".

My Current Office Conditions:

As many as you want, as long as you please, keeping in mind how much you've to do/left to do per day. Lunch breaks can extend upto fourty-five minutes. Phone breaks can extend upto fifteen minutes.

2. Communication: Talk on the phone when you like,leave it on ringer, blab incessantly if you must. Talk to your neighbour. Eat with your neighbour. GTalk with your neighbour. Laugh like you've lost all sanity...etc.

3. Pets: Bunty and Babli (do I know them from somewhere else?). Two skinny brown strays live in the buidling premises. They're lovable and are fed when we can.

4. Shift Timings: From 7a.m till 3p.m. Technically it's from 7:30a.m, we're allowed a half hour margin (we can walk in at 8a.m if we like too). Travelling is easy and there's very little loss. We leave pretty much before time if not exactly on time.

5. Food: You can order from out, eat nothing, snack, whatever you like. But what's really nice is that when we sit to eat we sit round a table in the office kitchen and eat our fill of homemade or ordered out food...with the boss (where else do you have that?).

6. Colleagues: This one is amazing. Everyone at the office is nice to you. There's no teamleader and therefore more equality. You can talk your heart out with them. They've got more than half a brain which is more than what can be said about most of my previous job colleagues and half my college class combined. They've got a better sense of humour. They're all pretty much elder to me but they definitely have better qualifications and are amazing to talk to, each and every one of them.

Now you know why I love this job more. Get jell!

P.S.: If you still can't see why I love this job more than I detested my previous job then my love must be blinding you sightless.

I'm also paid more.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Got Talons?

People ask annoying questions. One of them are, "Got guts?". I find this question very odd. Does it matter if you have guts? We all have guts, don't we? But why guts? Why ask someone if they have something that they most probably do have. Maybe guts because you're apparently supposed to sound daring?! Maybe...maybe not! But no, it isn't guts what you're supposed to have. It's talons. Yes, long, yellow, sharp, mean and vicious talons. That's what you really, truly need.

Why do you need talons? I'll tell you why. First of all it's because you don't have them. If you did have them then no one would have to go around asking random people if they had talons. And this way at least the question wouldn't sound so rhetorical as opposed to asking about someone having guts or not. So you see, it's more sensible to go about asking for talons instead.

Now, if you had talons then you'd be capable of skilfully ripping the gooey guts out of other people. It's very simple really. And then maybe after ripping the guts out you could ask about the well-being of the guts. Take for instance the following scenario.

Alpha: Got talons?
Beta: Yea, what's it to you?
Alpha: Mine's better than yours.
Beta: Oh yea?
Alpha: Yea!
Beta: Okay, let's claw!
Alpha: Bring it on!
(Much scratching and clawing goes on between squawks till you hear a kind of squishy ripping sound and then a sploosh.)
Alpha: Got guts?
Beta: I'm dying!

Now do you see why it's better to ask if the other person has talons and not guts? If the other person has talons then it's quite likely that he might also have guts.

P.S.: Talons could mean anything from intelligence to strength depending on the situation.

It's quite likely that the given scenario was between two owls; of course, it's just an assumption.

Friday, April 11, 2008


I take pride in dedicating this article to Opportunity. Here is what random people think of opportunity when it knocks on their doors.

1. The Moralistic Writer:
Opportunity is selfless. Few people appreciate it the way we all should. What opportunity has to suffer each time it knocks on our doors; it's a real shame. It tries to bring out the best of us. It knocks on our doors hoping that we'd open just to make our lives more easier or happier. But the lazy fools that we are, we never open the door on time. Worse, we sometimes don't even hear the knocking. It's so bad that we've turned deaf to it's knocking due to the perfected practice of ignoring the knocking.

2. The Working mother/Housewife:
Opportunity is like an annoying salesman. But we're tired people. Each time we open the door for it we've to run around quite a bit before we get the finished product. The only difference is that opportunity can bring to life our deep desires better than the gawky salesman. But we just can't keep opening the door each time and scurrying around like rats. We've got very busy lives what with the previous goals we've still not received.

3. The Hormone Infested Teen:
When we're in our youth it's easier to run around when opportunity tells us to. We find it fun in fact. We even find opportunity in the salesman that came knocking at our door (salesmen are feisty). We're ready for the risks that come with the goals that opportunity offers and give it all to get what we want. I mean, we don't want to regret no having fun when we grow old and boring, right?

4. The Spirited One:
It's destiny's decision for you to chose an opportunity or not. It all depends on fate...oh yes, and karma. You may think it is you who is choosing opportunity but it's not at all like so. Opportunity is probably the one who chose you before you even knew it was at your door. Our lives are controlled by higher powers and beings: those of which we know nothing of. Nothing!

5. The Layman:
It's better to not give opportunity such great importance. It's better to live one day at a time. There are better things to worry our over-stressed out minds already.

So which one seems more like YOU?

P.S.: The above five are few of the various alter-egos from the author's mind.

Friday, April 04, 2008

Six Characters In Search Of An Author - Luigi Pirandello

Six Characters In Search Of An Author is a modern play by Luigi Pirandello the original title being 'Sei Personaggi in Cerca d'Autore'. In the play, the audience is confronted with the unexpected arrival of six characters during the rehearsals for a play coincidently, one of Pirandello's own plays 'Mixing It Up' which was Pirandello's hint of self-humour. The Characters insisted on being given a chance to live, to be allowed to tell their unfinished story since they were abandoned by their original author. Pirandello describes the play as an abortive attempt at a play which he gave up on after realizing that "I have already afflicted my readers with hundreds and hundreds of stories. Why should I afflict them now by narrating the sad entanglements of these six unfortunates?" The characters, however, already created in his mind were "creatures of my spirit, these six were already living a life which was their own and not mine any more, a life which it was not in my power any more to deny them." The Comedy is without acts or scenes. The performance is interrupted once, without the curtain being lowered, when the manager and the chief characters withdraw to arrange the scenario. A second interruption of the action takes place when, by mistake, the stage hands let the curtain down. The ending is quite abrupt though with the Characters not completely getting what they wanted but disappearing just as suddenly as they came.

The six Characters are The Father, The Mother, The Stepdaughter, The Son, The Boy and The Little Girl. The Father is originally married to The Mother and insisted on The Son being sent off to live in the country to live with a wet nurse when he is a baby and therefore grew up not knowing his parents and dislikes them. He also dislikes his step-family, not considering them a part of the family. The Father told The Mother to marry another man who was one of his clerks whom he felt she loved more. Later, he nearly has an affair with The Stepdaughter, until The Mother interferes. When he learns that The Mother's second husband died, he invites her, The Son, The Stepdaughter, The Little Girl, and The Boy back to live with him. The Mother's three children are, The Boy, The Child, and The Stepdaughter with the second husband and had The Son with The Father. The Stepdaughter is the spirited daughter of The Mother and her second husband who is employed by Madame Pace and after she is "two months an orphan", she nearly has an affair with The Father. She runs away from home later in the story. According to her, she went to the author of the story constantly, trying to get him to finish the tale. The Boy is the middle child and only son of The Mother and her second husband. He is disliked by The Stepdaughter, who thinks he is an idiot. He never speaks during the play. At the end of the play, he commits suicide by shooting himself with a revolver. And lastly The Little Girl who is the youngest daughter of The Mother and her second husband and the favorite of The Stepdaughter. It is mentioned once that her name is Rosetta. She never speaks during the play. At the end of the play, she drowns in a fountain she was playing in, although The Son tries to pull her out. There are a few other characters which include Madame Pace who is the employer of The Mother and (later) The Stepdaughter. She runs a brothel out of store. She only appears for a short period of time in the play, when The Stepdaughter and The Father perform their scene in the shop together. She speaks in an Italian-American style. The others include various members of the theatre where the six characters had come to such as The Producer and The Actors.

This is my favorite play ever. The complexities in simple reality is truly brought out in this play. The methods used to tell the story like the 'absent audience' and relative or reflective self realities is really beautiful. You could read the play for more than five times and still learn another part of it that you've missed. My favorite of the Six Characters are The Father for his intelligence which is not so easily comprehensible by most of the others present and The Stepdaughter who isn't what you'd call wanton but one who is bold and rebellious. A really inspirational read.

Friday, March 28, 2008

Testimonial Poem - By Anurag

I remember,one fine night,I got frandshipped by a mer made.
This mer made,when life throws lemons at her,makes lemonade. -2

To me,she looks dainty,to me,She seems jaunty.
I never knew,she would,someday, become my E-Aunty. -4

She's been Ann ony mous,Mer made,Aura and now Mad Dame.
With Mayo,She'd love to play the 'touch touch' game. -6

My Aunt's smart to not reveal her face on this social networking site.
You know,she's the only one with whom,I never fight. -8

Like me,even my aunt's a nocturnal creature
who's intalligent,indepandant and many such features.
Not to mention in her druggie collage,
She tops in English Literature. -12

She's so kind to me,she never calls me Anufag.
Raagman,which she addresses me as, I like as tag. -14

But sometimes she comes across to me as an Overly Wanton Lass.
I hope she never ever leaves my frand Mayo's ass.
She likes to eat chilly roles with extra cheese,
Pardon these subtle references,please. -18

She has Seraph,Mayo,Spit and many a spouse,
We stalked,in an area which rhymes with dombivali,is her house. -20

One can read a lot of porn in her poem blog,
May god those puking sessions whenever she hogs. -22

Mayank's her stupid baby and she,his first earthquake,
My aunt's a bit EMO,but not at all fake. -24

She'll do HM from DCC and set up a tea-stall in some mall,
Where we 'MFM' members will go someday,freeload and have a ball. -26

I like her name,her name's unique.
She is very active in our cyber clique. -28

I guess,I've bored you enough,it's time to now say Bye.
So stop reading this now and go watch some hentai. -30

Take Care,
Your loving Nephew,

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Advantages Of Being Female

There are many to those. Few examples given below have been tried and tested: I needn't explain further.

1. More Competition:
Men like to compete with other men. They don't often compete with women thinking they're not worth the trouble even. Girls on the other hand have it better. They compete (more like war) with their own sex. So it's easier to compete with men too since they underestimate us and girls can make surprise attacks on them. The best part is that girls can act dumb for as long as they like without a guy knowing that they've got bit of a brain which is what makes it so cool. Too bad all men don't try being dumb: they could get away with lots of things too.

2. Brushing Past Breasts:
Girls can brush past another girl's breasts as often as they want without being sorry about it. A girt won't get mad if another girl touches her so long as it's not a guy. You (if you're a girl) could brush your hand past her buns or have your hands on her thighs too and she still wouldn't mind knowing you're female. Therefore boys can't touch for free but girls can. Should be fun for lesbians too. Of course if a guy was to do the same on purpose or by mistake to another guy he'd make sure he never does it again...period! Men detest gays, girls detest neither lesbians nor gays. So if you're a gay and the female knows this you needn't be afraid if you brush past her 'softies' by mistake.

3. No Coffee:
Girls don't need coffee to keep themselves awake at night (it causes them fatigue actually). They can naturally stay awake at night if they wanted to.

4 No Underwear:
Girls don't produce a bulge when they're exited. Even if it's that time of the month there's always a handy tampon. It's a great way to get someone's attention when wearing a mini or flared dresses/skirts too. It's comfortable for the girls and nothing to complain about for the boys either.

5. Poison:
Centuries of slavery over the stove: poison must've been brewed somewhere along the way. The recipe must've been handed down to today's generation by now. So while Mr. I-don't-wanna-help-out-with-the-cooking grows a premature middle-age spread Ms. Kitchen can brew him up a nice bowl of sweet poison. A word of advice to all men: suspect your other halves before your side of the half succumbs to a woman's grudge. It's either that, or behave!

6. Freebies:
Yes, most importantly, it's the freebies girls keep getting all the time. Boys love to shower them with gifts assuming they'll get something in return. Boys like to believe in that silly saying, 'give a girl love for sex and the girl does vice versa'. I'm sure it does work often but not before you've drowned her in a sea of goodies. The best part is the girl decides when to give in and can take as many gifts as she likes till then: and should the guy try any of his 'tactics', he can be accused with rape while the goods are still hers. Lucky girls, eh?

P.S.: This article goes out to all those females with borderline personality who need to keep looking for reasons to why they're female.

Friday, March 21, 2008

Pygmalion - George Bernard Shaw

Pygmalion, a play by George Bernard Shaw is based on the story of Pygmalion by Ovid. The play is about Henry Higgins, a professor of phonetics, who makes a bet with his friend Colonel Pickering who was also a professor of phonetics that he could successfully pass off a young Cockney flower girl named Eliza Doolittle, as a duchess or rather a refined lady of society by teaching her how to speak with an upper class accent and training her in etiquette. In the process, Higgins and Doolittle grow close, but she ultimately rejects his domineering ways and declares she will marry Freddy Eynsford-Hill a young, poor, gentleman who even though is a push-over, is madly in love with Eliza.

Even though much thanks is given to Prof. Higgins for her improvement in her accent it is Col. Pickering who teaches her proper etiquette. Higgins wasn't one who would be kind but was rather what you'd call a 'male chauvinist pig'. He may have been quite the intelligent chap but he wasn't one who was polite. Pickering on the other hand was much kinder to Eliza, treating her as if she was a duchess from the very beginning to the end unlike Higgins who did the very opposite. Eliza most probably chose Freddy over Higgins because Freddy was kinder to her and would satisfy her emotional needs and would treat her in the romantic way which Higgins never would. She could have remained with Higgins and never had to work another day in her life but she chose to continue her flower selling profession financed by Pickering with Freddy by her side.

My favorite character was Higgins. He was your no nonsense guy who treated all, men and women, the same without ever having to put a plastic smile on his face ever. Frankly he was more a man than Freddy could ever be. But it was his despicable way in which he treated all women that drove them away from him.

Thursday, March 20, 2008


What they like to tell you once they've got the room booked and you refuse them is funny sometimes, really. I love the way boys try so hard just to bed you. So without further ado, feel free to run through ten of the funniest I've come across followed by what I was thinking when the line was said.

1. He Said: I thought this was what you wanted too.
I Thought: I wouldn't be here if you knew what I really wanted.

2. He Said: I paid for it, now you must pay me back.
I Thought: Nobody bothers to pay me!!!

3. He Said: Just for old times sake.
I Thought: You forgot to add please to that.

4. He Said: You said you wanted a surprise, so... Surprise!!!
I Thought: You're surprise was expected but must be rejected.

5. He Said: Didn't you once say you wanted to be raped?
I Thought: Kindly rape first and then explain.

6. He Said: We could get married someday, you never know.
I Thought: Pity the girl who ever fell for this one.

7. He Said: I turn you on/bring out your wild side, don't I?
I Thought: It would've worked if that was true.

8. He Said: I'll show you mine if you show me yours.
I Thought: No, I can't bear to see it anymore.

9. He Said: Aw, come on girl, I've got a boner here!
I Thought: My fault?

10. He Said: You're supposed to be a bad girl, remember?
I Thought: You don't bring out my wild side, remember?

P.S.: The Author Says:

-When your mind's eye widens, your legs spread just as wide and vice versa.

-How she got into/remained in/got out of any of those situations is no one's bees'-wax.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Dear Principal

As a student of my college I've decided to submit the following copy of my letter to my principal. The actual name of my college mentioned has been changed on my own request.

14th March 2008.

To: The Principal of The Featherbrain's College

From: Anonymous student in the First Year Literature section of the Degree College 2007-'08

Dear Ma'am,

1. Switching students' subjects
2. Un-restrict the Literature section of the library to Literature students
3. Video Library needed

Following are a few suggestions for the improvement of the library, the Literature section and the degree college in general:

1. Switching Students' Subjects:
There are less than 130 students in the F.Y. Literature class. A good fifty percent (and more perhaps) of these students simply loathe the subject. I know so because I've to listen to their loathing each time class commences. They have absolutely no interest in the subject. The sole reason they opted for it is because they loathed History and Economics as well (they loathe education in general) and assumed that the subject included only simple comprehensions and grammar. They mightn't have even read the literature part or even known what it meant while filling up the admission form. Many have even admitted that they would rather be in the History section (They must loathe Economics more).

Therefore I ask (more like beg) you to permit these loathsome loathing students to switch subjects. It will benefit the students (especially me, in case I plan to stay on), I assure you. The ones allowed to switch won't harass fellow students with their constant cribbing and the Lit. students can enjoy discussing various pieces of Literature with fellow classmates and the professor at ease. And to prevent this from happening each year ask the students not to opt for a subject they aren't already basically aware of or interested in. It will save a lot of us much trouble.

2. Un-restrict the Literature section of the library to Literature students:
I ask you to consent to this plea if not to the above one. I understand that you might be afraid of students flicking books off the shelves of the library. I assume that is the reason for not wanting to un-restrict the literature section. We (I speak for all my alter egos if not for other Lit. students) would like to enjoy browsing through the pages of books at our own leisure before borrowing them. You may restrict it to students of other sections after you free the Literature loathing students.

3. Video Library needed:
Besides printed text, students can learn to improve their imagination and lingo through movies as well. I'm not talking just Golden Globe winners: include movies made on social problems, historic evens and so on. Illustrations can be much better than print.

I do hope you will consent to at least one of my suggestions provided after your perusal. I'm sure the letter was worth the peruse even if you plan to ignore it.

Thanking you for your time,
Anonymous student in the First Year Literature section of the Degree College 2007-'08.

P.S.: To view this letter on the internet as well feel free to visit the link below:

Thursday, March 13, 2008

How Many You've Had? - In Search Of The perfect Other Half

Searching for the perfect other-half is tiresome and time consuming. For some it's important to taste your goods (take it to mean whatever your imagination likes) before you take them home for the rest of the family to inspect or at least find some brand value about it. Many of us like to go out with as many potential spouses before we choose the "right" one, while others just look for 'fun' (whatever that is). Then there are those who'd rather find "the one" on the very first try and refuse to check out the market for better produce.

For some it's fun to juggle as many partners as you can but I doubt if they plan to get hitched with any of those. For others it's chain-dating (it's a real term I'm sure). Those who chain-date either are afraid of committment, insatiable or have been dumped (or been dumping) way too many times to bother with the count anymore.

There is no real 'perfect half' of course. For all you know there's someone better than the one you're with. But you'd rather not search because you're comfortable where you are and satisfied (keep telling yourself that, it works). So there's no need to lose what you've got should in case you regret it and end up alone. I wonder how those who had their marriages and spouses arranged for them cope. They take what they get and live with it (or not, depends) I suppose.

But I guess in the end, it only matters if you're happy where you are and with whom you're with or whether you've been with many or none before you met "the one". There's nothing wrong with being single either if you're happy about it.

P.S.: The Author Says:
-For those who are single, be glad you've got only yourself to be responsible for.
-For those in a relationship(s), be glad you're not still searching and complaining about being lonely.
-For those unsatisfied, blame yourself!

Saturday, March 08, 2008

Rainbow Trains

If you're a regular commuter by the locals in Mumbai (or Bombay, or whatever, as long as it's a name for a place I can use) then you've probably noticed the garishly painted ones by now. If you haven't then consider your eyes very lucky 'cause these colorful locals aren't really a sight for sore eyes. Goodness forbid, your already sore eyes might lose sight even.

It's the new 'in thing' where the locals are decorated with advertisements of various colors of the rainbow and more. We've got pink locals telling us to swallow pills to avoid further gastric problems, black ones telling us to watch some show supposed to be filled with 'exitement' and peach ones too, saying something I'm glad I don't remember what. There's more, we've even got a sickly bright green one, brick-red, crayon yellow and a pastel sky-blue color too. Sure, it's a change from the usual sight of the normally brown and light beige colored locals (which blended well with the rust-red paan colors), but it's a nasty strain on the eyes. What's worse is when commuters (mostly from the men's compartments) decide to tear up the stuck on advertisements we get a fine collage of the previously brown and beige color along with the color (paper stick-ons) which was pasted above it with some spots of paan too and that just makes it all the more frightening and revolting to look at.

It's only the slow locals, which were previously brown and beige which halt at all the stations that are decorated so. The fast locals, both new (silver and spacious) and old (brown and beige) are left as they are. And since I can't afford to travel slow I've never traveled in one of these decorated locals and hopefully never will. I just get to watch them pass me by; sorry I looked out the window for a fresh sight and glad I looked out to find inspiration in such sorry sights.

P.S.: *Paan or gutkha is betel leaf with other ingredients chewed till it turns into a red pulp in your mouth and must be spat out but never swallowed. It's eaten to "paint the town red" and get mouth cancer.

The author doesn't chew any of the above rubbish.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Houses Of God

I really wonder sometimes (too much) about the many houses that god* supposedly owns all across the globe.

Q: Does god know about and keep track of each and every one of them?
A: Maybe god doesn't know about all of them and doesn't have the time to count.

Q: Does god know about all the controversies that erupt when one of them is broken down only to be taken over by another of some other religion?
A: God figured that humans can figure out a fate for their religious lives themselves.

Q:Does god live in all of them?
A: God's got his own heavenly home and couldn't bother about the teeny-weeny ones we build.

Q: Is god really omnipresent?
A: If god's gaseous, then maybe, yes.

Q: Does god live all alone in his earth home?
A: I don't see god to begin with.

Q: Does god know that more often than not the doors to it's** houses are closed to the pitiful and that they remain empty when not in use for prayer?
A: God is a silent watcher.

God has it's own house wherever it is. Yet we claim these places of worship as our houses. We decide who is allowed and who's not. I thought all were welcome, sinners (I can't define the word 'sinner' properly and refuse to include myself in that category nor in the next, I'm plain human) and saints as well.

It's a fine fantasy we let ourselves believe. It's not god's house. It's ours. We could put it to better use. Some do. The others?

Q: Who holds the keys to these houses?
A: Humans.

Q: Who can put it to better use?
A: Humans.

Q: Who doesn't?
A: Humans

Q: Who does?
A: Humans.

Q: Who complains?
A: Humans like me. You too?

P.S.:*Yes, with a small 'g'. Why? Because 'god' is still just another concept to the author. She refuses to speak further on this delicate topic.

**The author isn't deciding god's gender herself who might even be a eunuch for all she knew without knowing for sure. Therefore she won't refer to god as neither he nor she.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Nineteen Days

Nineteen days;
It took you to leave me.
Nineteen days;
But I ne'er was happy.
Nineteen days;
And you ne'er once laid me.
Nineteen days;
You've proved you're a pansy. -8

Nineteen days;
It took me to like you.
Nineteen days;
You were seduced.
Nineteen days;
You got used.
Nineteen days;
An' I'm all o'er you. -16

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Happy Valentine's

Everyone's probably done a topic on it too. It's about that silly day when girls see through rose-tinted glasses and some lucky boys get to see rose-tinted stuff too (it's an innuendo if you want it to be). I found someone who (I) wanted to be my valentine too (who said I couldn't?!). And here's a little about him.

I don't know his name. He wouldn't tell me. I didn't ask. I met him in the local train compartment as I rode home one evening. He spoke only gibberish, gibberish I slowly learnt to understand. He was little, young, dark, filthy and wild too. His eyes were blood-shot red. He had muddy hair, natuarally fashioned into some weird 'center-shock' style. He stuck his head out of the compartment door, and barked at the dogs on the platforms that whizzed past us as the train sped by, some dogs even barking back quite obviously annoyed. He exited everyone around him. Some even laughed at his silly antics while others thought he was out of his right mind (and into his left I suppose). I didn't think the same.

He flirted with me. I told him to 'shut up!' as I wasn't going to be taken in by him so easily. But he wouldn't give up. He pointed at the moon and spoke some loving gibberish about it. He seemed to be speaking in a 'ghatti Hindi' dialect execpt that he didn't know what he was saying but was trying to say something nevertheless. He threatened to unzip my zipper (like I'd let him), the one that had a kechain of a little Eiffel Tower hanging from my bag. He tried to impress me by barking at random people he could see from the train. He didn't even notice that there were others in the compartment. He kept looking at me even when I tried to ignore him.

Finally, I gave in five minutes before my ride ended by nodding my head in agreement to every word of gibberish he said. He was glad for the attention I was giving him. But then my stop came and I had to alight. And as I did so he looked back at me so forlorn. He obviously had someplace else to be. I then offered him a sweet I saved for anyone who wanted, knowing that he was the deserving one. He accepted without second thoughts and waved back at me as the train made it's way ahead leaving me feeling glad I made a little six year old a little less sad.

Happy Valentine's you little freak!

P.S: The author could've made it into a poem. What a twitty imbicle of her not to.
The author wishes everyone a happy Valentine's. May you all drown in love!

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Pyromaniacs Close Amongst Us?

I do not discuss politics ever. And I will continue to do so. It causes people's blood to boil, creates chaos in the deep recesses of their minds and exites more than needed, ignited emotions. This one fortunately has got to do only with the behavious of the members of certain political parties. I'd rather die than mention anything here (I'd be set on fire if I did).

What seems strange is, why should these followers of certain political parties set fire to various modes of transport? Why must they set fire to anything at all, would be an even more logical question. Why must they they run amuck damaging anything and sometimes everything in sight? Why damage things that aren't theirs like that? Why damage at all? No doubt, raging fires do look beautiful (I think so even if you don't) but that doesn't mean you can set fire to anything and everything you like.

I came to a few conclusions which I've listed below. I'm sure one of them must be the right answer if not more than one.

1. They must be paid a hot amount of dough.
2. They have been pyromaniacs since childhood due to some sort of mental trauma.
3. They've been brainwashed by the political party concerned.
4. They like the heat./They feel cold.
5. Pitiful upbringing.
6. Inner desires kept deep within for so long that the need for setting things on fire just had to be fulfilled.

Monday, February 11, 2008

You Know What I Want?

He wanted to see me dead.
That's what the kind man later said.
He offered me a hot soup of stringy meat;
And a bottle of vodka, neat. -4

I accepted and devoured it all;
Peg by peg, the drink was taking it's toll.
While he sat by me, watching,
Refusing the drink I was offering. -8

I'd eaten nothing for over three days;
These were my filthy workaholic ways.
Anyone offering free hot food
I'd considered it to be all good. -12

I knew he'd want something back.
He looked like a real lecherous rat.
So I replied the inevitable "what?"
When he asked, "You know what I want?" -16

"I want to slice your throat to make you scream and cry;
Then I could watch you bleed as you slowly die;
I want to tear the hair off your head;
All I want, is to see you tortured to death." -20

Lucky for me, the drink
Made me lose my ability to think;
So he said nothing I could understand,
Neither from beginning nor till end. -24

I was starting to feel queasy,
And the situation wasn't making it easy.
He tried to slip his coarse palms up my skirt;
But I somehow made sure his plans didn't work. -28

I wanted to fight back with dirt!
I threw up all over his silver satin shirt.
Though I'd very much like to brag and boast,
It was actually the vodka that took it's due course. -32

And so I walked home with a smirk;
That day was better than most days at work.
And from then on I ever won't
Answer when someone asks if I know what they want. -36

Friday, February 08, 2008

Second Best

For girls, to be themselves is usually considered second best to men. For men, to be so much as so hinted at that they're acting like girls is an insult. It's like being female is wrong., like being compared to muck. On the other hand a girl is asked to stop being 'girly'. Should they be 'manly' instead then? What's 'manly' or 'girly' anyways? I doubt it's got anything to do with the difference in the anatomy. A woman beating a man at something he's always been successful at is like a chimpanzee being able to fly a space rocket better than the astronaut itself. I suppose people forgot that girls were born with brains too. We're still mistaken for monkeys minus any grey cells.
If a guy has many girlfriends at a time or gets a new one each week and gets to bed them all he's considered as the society's stud, a playboy. Nevertheless, it's supposedly fine for him because he's a boy. If a girl does the same she's a slut and a whore. Whatever happened to the word man-whore? I don't see many use that word even though it deserves regular usage. Girls aren't allowed to be promiscuous. Even gays are treated worse because they let out their 'feminine' side. Do lesbians get to let out their 'masculine' side let alone have one?
Girls who like sports, who prefer pants to skirts or short hair and nails to long are called 'tomboys'. Where are the 'janegirls', I ask?! The very word says that she's being 'boyish'. Even she's not really accepted in society. Why? Because she's a little bit more practical. Therefore we can conclude that smart girls aren't accepted in society, the dumb ones are more preferred. Wearing pink is now associated with girls so much so that breast cancer is associated with a pink ribbon too. It's a girl thing i guess. Even Barbie, supposedly a little girl's best friend, must find it tiresome to wear pink so darn often.
I suggest females should give birth to more girls, go for artificial insemination and castrate all the males they give birth to for a few decades or more. There's always the sperm banks, lesbians and sex toys if we ever run out of men. Then we'll see who's second best. The tables will someday turn!!!

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Minorities And Majorities

The minorities are those really quiet people in a classroom or at the workplace who you barely even noticed were there. They don't really dress according to 'fashion'. They never pop out of their little underground holes unless there is a compulsion to do so. They're never engaged in much conversation nor are they worth conversing about since they don't wear or do anything controversial for any of the girls to gossip about. They're so, almost invisible. They don't really care about what people say. They're safe in their little closets. Then again we're just as invisible to them. We're not included in their conversations. They obviously snicker at us the way the others snicker at them except they do it more discreetly and quietly.
Just like we call our groups as 'we' and thier groups as 'they' they do the same to us. People are usually put in any one of two categories. They're either 'this' or 'that'. You're either 'here' or 'there'. There is no inbetween. You can't be both. So you're either part of the 'we' group or 'they'.
So, which group do YOU belong to?

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Girl Talk

I go to"warm the benches" at college but what I do enjoy is eavedropping/joining in on other females conversations (boys' conversations aren't as good) so I can use it as fodder for my next blog post if needed or just something to laugh at.
Recently college had left early. I had nothing to do since it was too early to leave to go see my friend as she's usually an hour late and I was two hours early so therefore three hours early. I saw a couple of my friends and some other girls who I don't bother talking to sitting together and discussing some intriguing rubbish or the other. I decided to join in.
The following incident happens before the TICKET COLLECTOR post. Here are a few excerpts from the conversation:

Ecxerpt 1:
She: Let's read"The Sexpert"* section in the Mumbai Mirror. (opens newpaper to the section concerned and reads out loud)
Girl: (with genuine interest) What exactly does a sperm look like?
Me: (with feigned interest) An adder?!
Female: (genuinely annoyed) What? Is that a word?
The question remains unanswered as they change topic. I should've mentioned tadpoles instead.

Excerpt 2:
She: How do lesbians do it? (giggles)
Girl: (intrigued by question) Can they? No, they just cuddle up and kiss I guess. (cuddles self with eyes tightly shut and a silly smile on her face and then pouts)
(bedlam of giggles at Girl)
Other girl: (feigning seriousness and banging fist on desk at the same time) There must be a way!
Female: (taunts Other girl) Why, who do you want to do that with? (smirks)
Me: They use double sided dildos.
Girl: (befuddled) What? Diddle-o...what?
She: (understands what Me's talking about) So that means they put one side in each... (voice trails off as She's embarrassed to speak furthur)
Me: (continues She's unfinished sentence) ...of their respective soft, juicy, pink vaginas.
Female: (to Me) You're disgusting!
Me: (To Female) As are you and the conversation. (smiles sweetly to annoy Female)
We switch subjects here as things get heated up. It's somehow my fault.

Excerpt 3:
Girl: (with widened eyes) There were lesbians in my school and they did dirty things in the bathroom.
Me: (annoyed by the use of the word "dirty".) Dirty?!
Girl: (not understanding my tone of voice) Yes, I saw two girls half-naked in there once but I ran from there. I saw a girl put her hand under her skirt in class too.
Me: (wanting to ask which half but then decided not to) She could've been trying to get her panties out of the slit it keeps getting stuck in. (stresses on the word "slit")
(another outburst of giggles and a few shocked gasps at my statement)
Female: (to Me) You always think dirty only.
Me: (to Female, furthur annoyed by use of "dirty" word) What's dirty about it? It makes sense doesn't it?
Girl: (decides to agree with Me half-heartedly) I suppose you're right. But don't you think lesbians are weird?
Me: (checks time and decides to leave) Sure, they've got penis-envy. Bye you guys. (gets up and leaves)
I leave the giggling goats to themselves and set off to meet my friend. I'm certain they're happy I left too.

P.S: The author loves to make fun of fellow-females.
*A twit who answers more or less repeated sex related questions everyday in the Mumbai Mirror.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

By The Head Ticket Collector's (T.C) Office

Recently I found myself seated by the head ticket collector's (T.C.'S) office at some random railway station. I've better things to do usually, but college left me a little too early that day and I had to meet a friend at that station as I agreed to accompany her (the same one from THIS article) since I had little better to do. I got to the station on time but she's usually at least an hour late and I normally pass the entire hour calling her incessantly asking her how much longer till she got there but not this time. This time, I decided to just sit and observe the T.C.'s at their jobs.
For about 90 minutes I sat by the head T.C.'s tiny office and observed the men dressed in navy blue/black coats and trousers, light blue shirts with mauve ties and some also with beer bellies with walrus moustaches. There were about as many as 15 of them on the double platform which was more than the usual amount at other stations. And I must say they did a good job too. It must very lucrative for them considering the amount of people they catch in an hour alone. I'd say it was roughly about more than 30 ticketless passangers they caught per hour. They usually make them cough-up about Rs.150-200 or so per person (I speak of an unforgetable experience) You can just imagine how much they must make in an entire month and more so during festive seasons.
Sitting right next to the door allowed me to hear the desperate pleas of those caught ticketless. Some would make up stories to be let off while others would be on the phone asking for someone to get them out of their plight. Those who had the cash on them were out in a few minutes. It was about 45 minutes later when one of them came and asked me for my railway-pass, I thought they'd never ask. It got boring after that. My friend finally arrived and we left the station and it's T.C.'s.

P.S.: The author found out that she can be very patient...provided her mind's distracted.

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

Bunking In College - Second Time Blacklisted

For the second time during this academic year and since I started college two and half years ago I made it to the blacklist. Out of six different subjects I managed to miss lectures more than allowed of three (yes, we're allowed to bunk upto a certain amout of lectures per subject). I was devastated to find out that it was just three but was proud of myself anyways. I made it to the first list but not to the second, but now I'm back on the third list. I doubt if I'll get on the list for a third time though. I plan to attend classes more regularly (so I've been telling myself lately). I've got myself on the blacklist twice and that should be more than enough, I shouldn't get greedy (???).
I suppose it isn't at all fun to be home all the time and at least not this often. It's a bore really. I'm not sure what I learnt from this experience. It seemed utterly useless. Then again, a lot of things I do seem useless anyways. The only thing I learnt is that keeping up with missed notes is a lot tougher when you miss too many lectures at a time. I've missed five lectures in a row for Sociology (I wasn't on the list for this subject, I wonder how) now and if this keeps up I'll soon find myself running around for notes like the kids at college who I dispise and refuse to share my notes with (I'm a selfish pig, so what?!). I won't turn into one of them, not now, not ever! Time to say hello to 'Ms.Goody-Two-Shoes' again, she's been missed for too long.

P.S.: The author was blacklisted for Psychology, Foundation Course and English Literature and was on the borderline for Sociology. Only Communication Skills was reasonably attended. There's no list for French but she wouldn't be caught dead blacklisted for that ever eitherways. Not bad eh?

Saturday, January 05, 2008

Book Review: The Boyfriend - R. R. Rao

This book deals with a relationship between two homosexual men. The fictitious and satirical story takes place in Mumbai, India.

The two men meet in the gents' toilets at Churchgate where cottaging is quite regular. They never expected it to go on to a relationship but it evolves into something deeper between the two. While one was a 33 year old freelance journalist, the other was a young 20 year old adult. A female painter falls in love with the journalist once she finds out about his homosexuality but he ignores her obvious seductions. Their relationship goes sour when the younger of the two begins work as a male-prostitute, earns more than the journalist and no more needs to depend on him anymore. He eventually leaves his journalist lover to marry a girl arranged by his parents who are oblivious to their son's sexual romps with the journalist. The female painter friend is happy that the journalist is rid of his boyfriend and lends a shoulder for him to cry on. Neither of the two get into a relationship though they do remain as friends.

The book brims with sexual innuendos such as referring to the penis as a "chilli" and other similar situations. The story was written in the form of fictional reality where the places that were described were actual places in India (Bombay) but the story was fictional. The atmostphere during the entire novel was very dull or bleak. The only thing that kept me reading on were the double entendres. A very simple plot but nevertheless an average read.