No updates today. Am going home and cabbaging.
Yes, I do have a REAL life. Idiots. Besides, the goat's down from Chennai, and Ganja's heading in to Hyd tomorrow morning.
It's going to be a party :)
September 30, 2006
No updates today. Am going home and cabbaging.
Posted by Saturday Night Takeout at 9/30/2006 02:05:00 PM
September 29, 2006
This cage is just not a symbol!
keeps me in
keeps you out
THIS is why.
Because you asked.
September 28, 2006
They're all just... letters.
Chica's already blogging up a storm there. I'll join up as soon as I get the time.
This book is great. Go, buy.
Or not, w/e. Maybe the scans are available somewhere out there.
Clubbing always scares the bejeesus out of me.
All is good till I enter the place. Sure, I'd have managed to sucker some woman to go along with me so that 1. the cover charge is less 2. I don't like a desperate fool out to score in clothes that are nice, but aren't, you know, "threads". I enter and immediately get depressed. SO MANY hot women, so little to drink. The music means I can't have a half decent conversation with the new hottie I've just been introduced to. Of course, I hear the words "shopping" and "shoes" and promptly excuse myself to go grab a drink.
2 drinks down the line, I'm gearing up. I feel the need to dance. I head for the floor warily. There's a whole lot of movement happening over there, the lights are wild, and I'm sure I see body-on-body action happening in the corner.
Depressing, but I'm already here, so let's plunge in.
This is where the real problem starts.
You see, I'm afraid of any voice that comes from the speakers.
The percussion is in my ears, I'm doing the boogie as the music is taking me over. I'm entering this whole region of communal thought, losing control of body, mind, soul (in that order) when suddenly...
"PUT YOUR HANDS UP IN THE AIR!"
"PUT YOUR HANDS UP IN THE AIR!"
"ALL YOU MUTHAFUCCHAS PUT YOUR HANDS UP IN THE AIR!"
Fine, fine already! Hands up! Happy? [whimper]
"PUT YOUR HANDS UP IN THE AIR!"
[crying] But they're already up!
"SHAKE THAT BOOTY THANG!"
"SHAKE THAT BOOTY THANG!"
"C'MON HO, SHAKE THAT BOOTY THANG!"
"NOW TOUCH THE GROUND, GO DOWN, GO DOWN, GO DOWN"
'Pi, I like you as a friend, but please take your face out of my crotch'
I can't help it. The voices are telling me to do so.
"SAY OYE OYE!"
"WOULD YOU LIKE A DRINK, SIR?"
would you like a drink sir.
"Er, no, would YOU like a drink, Sir?"
Oh wait, that's just the waiter. Fuck no, I don't want a drink. Not unless the voice from the speaker tells me to.
"LET'S TALK ABOUT SEX, BABY!"
On second thought, let's have that drink. A large.
The night comes to an end, and we walk out all tired and danced out. And the woman I'm with looks at me and goes "Wow, Pi, you must have really enjoyed yourself. You're actually smiling! That's so rare!"
Hey, I can't help it. I was only following orders.
September 27, 2006
[UPDATE: I suppose this post is now redundant, now that desipundit has managed to get my statcounter to orgasm :) Thanks DP, I'm quite kicked.]
As non-pretentious as I can be, I'm telling you this - I want more people to read my blog.
What can I do?
I can't change the way I write. So I'm eclectic, and I write on a whole lot of rubbish. Can't change that. I'd die if I didn't have the freedom. So sorry, can't be more topical.
I'm not going to go comment on random people's blogs and lead them back here. That's just cheating.
God, no blogrings, please.
So yeah, what can I do?
I want more people to read my blog.
Posted by Saturday Night Takeout at 9/27/2006 08:28:00 PM
... I saw this and thought of you.
Deal with it.
Put a finger into your nose, scratch it out from the inside of your nostril. Pull out what you can, with the thumb providing the grip as it slides out.
If it's crackly and dry, feel the way it bends between your digits. breaks up into little human mucusy dust. See the cilial hair come out with it, and feel the relief of having a partially clean nose.
If it's wet and sqooshy, look at it stretch into viscous threads. Feel the stickiness. if it's white, be thankful. If it's yellow or green, I'm sorry you're a little ill. If it's anything else... hrmm.
It's snot. Go to the basin and snort out as much as you can. Wash it away and then use soap on your hands.
It's snot. It helps. Keeps out the bad shit.
It's snot. It's great to take it out, but it's a good thing it's there.
It's only snot, for God's sake.
Deal with it.
September 26, 2006
Oh I have to tell you.
Remember the little white boy I was telling you about?
Well yesterday I'm entering the building, I'm on the phone and I see him. So I indicated a hello to him and carry on to the appartment.
About ten minutes later, the doorbell rings. I'm in the bathroom and I think it can't possibly be for me so I don't really bother. But the ringing continues. So I go to the door and say , 'What?'
The boy says, 'It's me aunty'. [probably thinking it's Sneha]
Anyway I get the key, open the door and say,'What?'
So he says, 'Are you alone?' I say 'Yeah'.
Then he says that he wants to tell me something, but I'll get angry. Now here I am edging away because I think he's either going to throw something at me or hit me and run or something. He notices and says, 'No, no. I'm not going to do anything' and moves back a step.
Then he continues that I might get really angry if he says what he wants to and I say, 'Well, it depends on what you're going to say'.
So he comes out with it and says,'I fell in love with you'.
So I go 'Ha ha' [mirthlessly] and then say 'How sweet'. [because it's expected]
And then he says, 'You're not angry?'
I say, 'No'.
And then he wasn't saying anything at all.
So I said, 'Ok, now go'.
And he goes.
There's more but maybe some other time.
I get the best letters ever :)
Beatzo tells me of this urban legend that NITW is famous for. Apparently the college is situated right next to this notoriously violent town, but things used to be quiet with the students as long as they didn't mess with them. Anyway, the story goes that once some guy went and "fell in love" with one of the girls in this town, and the father of the girl found out.
(Sounds like Romeo and Juliet? Read on...)
So one night, a gang comes in thru' the connecting gate between the college and the town and walk into the mess where the boy's having dinner with his friends. They then switch off the lights, and there's a lot of noise which goes around. The lights come back on... and the boy is still in one piece. No bruises. No nothing.
Only, on his plate is the head of the boy sitting next to him.
Yeah, like that.
NITK has an urban legend too. We all heard it when we joined college. See, in the first block hostel is this room (77, 79, 89, can't remember the number, but w/e) that's not being used. It's filled with cots, broken chairs, etc, but the hostel authorites refuse to clean it out and give it to anybody. Why? Turns out that room has had quite a few suicides in it. Anyway, once this guy was staying in it (a fresher) and exams came and went, and this boy packed up his bags, preparing to leave. He goes up to his friends, asks them to come over to the railway station to drop him off, which they gladly do. They drop him, wave goodbye to the train, etc and head back to the hostel. They reach, and they're passing the boy's room (the guy who just left) when they notice it isn't locked. They walk in... and the boy is hanging from the fan.
Uh huh. I know. Freaked me too.
That room, since then, has never been given out to anybody.
September 25, 2006
September 23, 2006
(Not for the weak of heart. Really. Please, if you get offended by strong content, stop right now. I don't want to ruin your day for you. For the others, carry on!)
The solution hit him on the way back home, actually. And it made him feel immensely happy, so much so he actually skipped (kinda) the rest of the way back.
See, life wasn't so great for our hero. A marriage that was just boring, a job that sucked ass, and a paycheque that *just* about paid the bills. Not really unusual, but he couldn't stand it, y'know? It was all so... normal.
He needed to escape. And now he knew how.
He climbed 4 floors, reached home, got in, locked the door again, and turned around. And for ther first time in 12 years of marriage he was actually glad to see his wife (they didn't have any children, thank you for asking). She asked him how the day was, but he knew she wan't really ever listening to whatever he said back. Today though, he said "Great!!"
She looked up in mild surprise. Our hero was never EVER in this good a mood.
The first punch he threw her was a very strong hook, caught her diagonally across the jaw. A satisying click/snap that could be nothing other bone breaking meant his day had just become better. An immediate adrenaline rush and a tingling in the back of his spine. Good good.
(You're welcome to stop reading this now. Don't say I didn't warn you.)
She landed on the floor in a whimper. He then systematically started pounding the living daylights out of her. In his head he just kept saying "make every blow count. Make EVERY blow count." He kicked in her nose and regretted not laying out sheets, but that wouldn't matter, duh. This was NOW man! And the sight of blood just confirmed his suspicion - that this was a good idea after all :D lol macha, lol.
Another kick to the back of her head seemed to make her unconscious, but he didn't really care. He wasn't looking for suffering, he was more interested in the release of a lifetime of inane bullshit. Anyway, atleast the bitch had shut up. He landed his knee down into her spine, and got up with her hand twisted behind her back now.
Fuck, we might as well do the other hand. Heha! CRACK.
He stopped for a second when he realized he was humming the words to 'My generation'. The smile came back to his face, and he went inside the bedroom, came out with a cricket bat.
The bat was a GM, the kind that Steve Waugh used in his glory days. Very cool. Nice curves, 3 grips, lightweight, a satisfying echo anytime it connected with solid. Yup, he was testing that out right now.
He sat down on his knees and smashed her ankles in with the bat, just to make sure she couldn't run away. Which was stupid, because he'd already shattered both kneecaps. Ah, but whatever, it's his day, so let's not judge him.
(people try to get us down)
The sweat was pouring down his face now. And he was LOVING it. The ribs were now just toothpicks poking away at her innards. He guessed he'd killed her somewhere in between the head whacking and the indidual finger damage he'd administered, but again, he didn't really care.
When he felt the strength go out of him, he sat down a bit to catch his breath. Life was good.
(Why don't you all f-f-f-f-fail!)
He went inside, came out with the knives.
Another hour passed.
Our hero, self absorbed, tired, and with a bloodrush in his head that didn't seem to stop, lit up the blood stained cigarette on the balcony and wondered. Well, not really, he was screaming "Awesome, AWESOME" in his head. Like I said, don't judge.
He stepped up on to the railing, flicked away the cigarette and dived down.
(I hope I die, before I get old)
So all the music channels are promoting this chippie named Sona as "The first desi rock chick".
Fact- nothing special about the music.
FACT - NOT the first rock chick. And layering a half decent guitars and a predominantly postgrunge moody tone to the song does not a rock chick make.
The first 'desi rock chick' (I already hate the term) I saw was at Saarang, when Bangalore based Clockwork Orange performed live in the finals of the battle of the bands. (Decibel, I think it's called). The band has these 2 amazing women who totally rocked the stage. Samira Mohamed on vocals and Yasmin on drums.
Yasmin a goddess on the drums. She's a friggin' nonstop skinbanger the likes of which I've not seen ever again. About 8000 men fell in love with her right then.
Samira Mohamed had this outrageously orange outfit that made me giggle out quite loud. I suppose she thought it was a rock thing or something, and we'll let her keep thinking that, aye? :) But what a voice. What an awesome voice. Pumped up women singing rock renditions of "What's going on" is a major turnon.
I wanted to write more here, but I think this should do. :P The official band homepage is here, and you'll find samples on the RSJ GreatIndianRock collections of stuff they've done. Go, explore.
Are there any rock chicks that you've seen/heard? Write it out here in the comments, and we'll package off this whole post and send it to those idiots at MTV and Channel V. Seriously.
PS- Yes Ganja, Susheela Raman too.
September 22, 2006
What did the tapori say when the hot accounting chick gave him the brushoff?
"Oyhoy, din mein spreadsheet, raat ko bedsheet?"
[true story :D]
September 20, 2006
As a rule, I don't really like people.
People are dirty, inconsiderate beings. They're also all phenomenally stupid.
Yeah, you, me, the whole kaboose.
Don't even expect me to prove it. You already know what I'm saying is true.
Question is, what the fuck are we going to do about it?
Turns out you can even leave offlines in the meebo box. There's a pleasant thought. And without any way to track IPs, I suppose you could get away with saying a lot of stuff to me. Great. A fabulous way to start off the morning. Idiots.
A crazy wikipedia article on Mithunda's Disco Dancer. Do check out the memorable quotes section. Consider -
"He's got guitar phobia. A guitar killed his mother." - P.N. Oberoi
"Mother, I have my music. I will sharpen this music like a sword and stab the city's heart with it." - Jimmy
I have discovered the truth. It is purple.
[Can you click on the FAQ button that disappears almost immediately? Is ok, here it is for the spaz'.]
If you grabbed Bluebeard's family jewels, would that mean you're hanging on to his pirate parts?
September 18, 2006
Let's start at the very beginning,
A very good place to start.
"C'mon baby, lets go make 2 minutes of squelching noises" - Neil Gaiman, Sandman (Calliope)
"Well, that was fun." - Me
[chocolate, bicycles and GhayabAaya on doordarshan]
[insert many years of bullshit]
Unh, Unh, UNNHHHH!!!! ...
Damn, these stairs are tough to climb!
[greeting cards floating the wind, out of a door, onto the road. It lies]
PS- Alcohol's not working any more, and I'm not willing to go back to weed. Any suggestions?
Added a meebo widget which means you can now bug me thru' my blog if I'm online. How awesome is that?
Shit. I'm going to regret this, aren't I?
Posted by Saturday Night Takeout at 9/18/2006 06:28:00 PM
A wallapaper for you thankless farks. A little knowledge of hindu mythology might let you appreciate this a bit more.
Ganesha pic: Googled.
Design concept, work, and the guy who goes to hell if the big G gets pissed: Me
(Post as much/many as I can without bothering about what you think.)
Lunch's over, one mutton frankie and a sprite. Not a very good combo, the damn frankie starts repeating on you with lemony traces. Makes your mouth smell like a porn star (I think).
I've been accused of revealing too much to the world about what's in my head. Deleted some old posts on the blog because that psyched me. Are you judging me with my every word?
I hope so. I'd expect nothing less from you, because then I grant myself permission to judge you right back. Deal with it, douches.
No more Mr. Nice Guy.
Posted by Saturday Night Takeout at 9/18/2006 03:30:00 PM
September 16, 2006
Bought off the Raaz dvd a few days ago, and went thru' the whole thing tonight. The music's really bad, it's a bgrade version of an average english flick (though Pfeiffer was quite good in that) Bad acting, bad music, terrible screenplay, no suspension of disbelief at any point of time. Dino Morea is a pansy, Bipasha Basu is [tongue in throat gawking] and Ashutosh Rana tries hard to pull a good performance from a totally deadbeat character. He doesn't succeed.
Then again, I'm just nitpicking, because I only wanted to watch it for one reason. Malini Sharma. And she's a total delight to watch. Very neat portrayal of a psycho-neurotic-suicidal-intense woman. An absolute treat. She scared me more than once in the movie.
Oh, and she's a COMPLETE drool-a-licious hottie :P So without any futher ado (always wanted to say that], let's just put up 2 photos of her from the movie and keep staring at the screen.
I really need to find out where she's disappeared.
PS- As a bonus, here's another photo from her early modeling days.
[mentioned previously here, and another great photo there too...]
Yes, I obsess about ONE celebrity. So what? Atleast she's not, y'know, Kareena Kapoor or somebody :P
Ok, goodnight now.
September 15, 2006
September 14, 2006
(quite a few, will take a bit to load. And the order's messed up a little, sorry.)
Doors. I don't like them. It's true.
Buddha. Respect, punks!
Satish Reddy, no names please.
Spot the ninjas. I dare you :P
Random. Consider it stock.
Juma Masjid, I think.
Scratchy itchy graffititchy. Charminar.
Charminar. Something, don't ask.
The way up. Charminar.
Beatzo took this. Stringing the guit with new phosphor brozes. Hyd maal. Plays well, nice tones (in case you wanted to know).
One more charminar. Better for wallpapers.
September 13, 2006
September 12, 2006
Let's break it all down.
The walls. Let's break it all down.
See the scratch become a groove become a crack become a door.
It's that easy. All you need is time and a spoon.
Break the walls, punk.
What're you waiting for?
The chords for "Sajna" from 'Waisa bhi hota hai II', MY version-
(and it doesn't sound half bad, if you get the strumming patterns right)
Ex - 079900
Dx1 - 057700
Dx2 - 057070
Cx - 035050
Dx3 - 054030
|Ex |Ex |Dx1 |Dx2 |Cx |Dx3 |Ex |Ex |
Sajna... Aa bhi jaa.. Sajna..Aa bhi..Jaa ..
|Ex |Ex |Dx1 |Dx2 |Cx |Cx |Ex |Ex |
Nahin... Dil Mera... Nahin... Dil Mera...
These should be the 2 repeating sequences throughout the song. Have fun.
PS- Marry me, Shibani. Wear that red dress every day and, um, night.
The song for the week is Kailash Kher's "Teri Deewani".
Go now and buy the cd. "Kailasa". Initially just the name of the album, it's now also the name of the band Kailash Kher sings for. And they're great.
The cd's 175 Rs. if you want to compare, that's about 3 1/2 beers.
However, worth about 10 beers, if you're talking the buzz. Go now, buy. You'll thank me.
[I obviously like the album. On repeated play for 2 days now.]
September 11, 2006
September 08, 2006
This place in manipal, previously called ShangriLa, now called Anupam. Very very nice dosas, so if you're in the area, do give it a looksee.
But yeah, super cool menu backing :)
Back to work.
PS- Thanks for the pic, Dad!
September 06, 2006
September 05, 2006
haws ya...hi...me,myself or moi not really comfortable bragin...but wat i knw of self is,i belive in living for the day,would give up anythng to spend time with people who can laugh at themselves more thn at others...hmmmmm self proclaimed foodie and music buff...cherish good ol friens and enjoy good company...gosh!!!its getting serious,guess its time out...jus uploaded ma profile at hi5 and tryin to xpand ma network of coolios...natural coolios...oh yeah also figurd out ur taste of music pretty much like mine....smthng in common yeah!!!no opinions..hehe.. ;) orite thn laterzzzz..
[name censored, obviously. If YOU wrote this and my putting it up here offended you, buy a dictionary and get back to me.]
Game over, folks. It's the end of the world as we know it.
E.C.: I had recently read that the cucumber confiscated from you by airport security was auctioned off a Sotheby's New York. Do you happen to know who bought it, or how much it went for?
Derek: It was not a cucumber, if you are talking about in the film. It was a zucchini. If you use a cucumber...cucumbers tend to be, I know this is hard to believe, but they seem to be too large for realism. They also have a much watery surface, which can be disturbing. It can actually work against the effect you are trying to make, if you catch my meaning. It conjures up images of disease. But, my recommendation would be staying well away from the cucumber. As far as that particular auction is concerned, I have no idea... I've heard rumors, I've heard e-bay, I've heard $30,000...I don't know. Needless to say, none of the funds accrued to good old Derek. So, uh, end of story.
AHAHAHAHAHAH! Rest of the interview here. (Please tell me you've watched the movie)
September 04, 2006
I'd rather feel overworked than feel useless.
Fuck me, I have to be careful what I tell my boss.
2 weeks over. So far so good.
(Image: The Wheel Stealer (1966), sketch from Jim Henson's Designs and Doodles.)
September 01, 2006
They found The Scream! Rejoice, pop culture addicts!
The new firefox is here! (beta) Check out the new features. Drool.
Anatomical structures of cartoon characters. Stunning. Make sure you see all five pages, links at the bottom.
Ok, back to work.