Hallelujah!

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It's raining... justice!

Or something in that regard.

So news reaches me that the Supreme Court totally torched Sanjay Dutt's butt and said he can't contest in the General Elections this year (or ever, considering how long these cases take to be processed) since he got caught playing with license-less AK-47s instead of a stethoscope and Gandhi's monkeys like Munnabhai was supposed to. Dutt was a candidate of the Samajwadi Party for the Lucknow seat in the Lok Sabha.

In a twist of Batman-like vigilante justice being handed out, the SC said that Dutt was disqualified from contesting the elections under Section 8 (3) of the Representation of People Act. The Act states that anyone with an order to spend a significant period of time in prison is rendered incapable of contesting in the elections.

It was great news, till the court labeled his father, Sunil Dutt, as an honourable politician (which I have no say in, since I never looked up his work) and squished my ego by announcing that they had to stop him from contesting because of the case against him but that he was not a 'habitual criminal' and an all-round good guy. Really, SC? Are you sure? Because if you ask me, dude seems like he's high A LOT. Not that I'm the Keeper of the Constitution or anything, but I really do feel that possession of low-grade weed in your spacious backyard is kinda a criminal offense. You might wanna look into it.

Regardless, this calls for a celebration. I'm gonna pop open a Coke and watch Lage Raho Munnabhai while continuously laughing at Dutt's face. Then I'll probably cry myself to sleep, considering Dutt is a total jerk, but still has more money than me.

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Snapshots

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I love NDTV. It's pure entertainment. Not just because it sucks and is totally biased towards the Congress, but also because it used to be respectable and is just tumbling down the social ladder of relevance now. Granted, Times Now and CNN-IBN are pretty much in the same league too, but there's something distinctly shameless about NDTV I find really amusing.

So, you're going to have to click on the image to view it properly. It's a screenshot of the NDTV Movies webpage which I found somewhat funny, especially how cheap the journalism seems:


#1 - Seriously? More babies? Either all those kids were Cesarean births, or this woman has a steel-trap uterus.

#2 - First there was this news piece on some news channel that displayed its headlines as 'Jane Goody Finally Dies'. I get it. She was a scripted racist, uttering scripted lines from a scripted screenplay on a scripted reality show in scripted upper-class scripted Britain. Are you tippers so devoid of news that you had to wait around to report that she 'finally died'? Not cool. Also, if her sons don't want to attend, it's a private matter. I don't think they're even old enough to grasp what death is, but either way, it is immeasurably disgusting that some il-fortuned journalist actually took the initiative to report it.

#3 - SRK's hit-list and our very own Padma Shrimathi's ex-illicit lovers. It doesn't matter if your boss is glaring at you right this minute for using the office broadband to surf superficial Bollywood gossip instead of compiling the monthly spreadsheets; this is the kind of knowledge that gives you an edge over Gauthama Buddha.

#4 - In an era when Varun Gandhi gets smack for being pro-Hindu and Shashi Tharoor pisses off major political figures for supporting the Jews in ONE article, I still can't quite comprehend how Sardar jokes are still considered conventional entertainment. Especially since they're about as funny as those fart jokes we used to crack ribs laughing at in the second grade.



*Thinking of making this Snapshot thing a frequent post*

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What is With the System??

After intense nagging and a good dose of those Jaago Re ads, my parents consented to register for their voter IDs a couple of months ago. Though, of course, being MY parents, they conveniently forgot to inform me, so I continued nagging them till one fine morning, my dad woke up and yelled that he had already registered ages ago and that I should crawl into a dark place and shut up.

Well, I tried. But I just can't shut up.


Anyelectionnewsiskillingme, I found out that the reason my parents were so pissed at me in first place was because I made them run all around their parents' birthplaces to get their ration cards approved so they could register for their vote. Yep, regardless of what any website may tell you, you need your ration card to get your name into the voter list. And that too, you need to have a ration card in the district you're currently living in if you want the process to run smoothly, or there'll be some serious under-the-table cash exchange going around.

And all this nonsense even after my parents have two of the highest media of citizen identification in the country - the passport and the Pan card.


They have both. And they were denied. With all due respect, when your passport is handed to you it means the following things:

1) You were able to certify your date and place of birth.
2) Your parents were identified, as were your spouse and children.
3) Your education record was studied, in case your birth certificate was not issued.
4) Your criminal record is squeaky clean and there have been no registered cases of illegal activities, embezzlement, an FIR, or even a goddamn parking ticket.
5) You were able to provide a valid current address and also supply your previous addresses, if they were mentioned in earlier passports that were renewed.
6) Your entire traveling record is probed into and studied to make sure you didn't spend any time, any where, doing something stupid like maintaining a marijuana plantation is Malaysia.


In short, your entire life is stripped and searched, as shamelessly as a security check in an American airport if you sport a bushy beard. And if that doesn't qualify you as a law-abiding citizen (mostly) with a clean record, then I don't know what does.


And regardless, most people of middle classes and higher do not own ration cards anymore since:

(a) They have money now.
(b) They figured Big Bazaar sells more at sasta rates.
(c) The waiting lines are bloody murder.


So dearest Election Commission: grow up. We already have and you're really lagging behind.










And once again, my voice goes unheard, right?
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To Set the Record Straight

Someone was asking me that day whether I support the Congress or the BJP and since I didn't want to sting anyone's political sentiments, I just added discreetly that "my vote is private".

And that wasn't received well.


I don't quite get it - I'm allowed to vote for whoever I want, but I can't really talk about the party I support, even if by some helluva lucky chance, it turns out to be the same party that the person asking me about it supports, and his fanaticism doesn't evolve into rage. Then again, who am I to comment on this, when someone as famous as Shashi Tharoor is given slack for writing a pro-Israel piece, even if India's stand on the conflict is pro-Palestine. OK, so the government wants to support Palestine. I'm cool with that. What I'm not cool with, is the fact that I am forced to accept the government's stand as my own and support the ties that it feels comfortable with, even if my opinions vary. Moreover, if I do have an alternate opinion, I should keep the darn thing to myself and also face little chance of the Election Commission approving me on the basis of said vocal viewpoint.

Oh, wait. Cancel that. I totally get it now - People with opinions are just not allowed to contest for a position in the state or union legislative assemblies.

Yep, I'm all clear now. I'll just pass on this message to the millions of impressionable young minds across the country so we can be fully assured that we'll never prosper.

Cool.



In more 'Duh-er than Duh' news, if you're above 18 years and have not registered to vote, well then, shame on you.



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Vocabulabalabala

Today's word:

Agelast
n.
A person who never laughs.
Usage: Agelasts must be sad, sad people. That, or retarded.

She can at least try, right?

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What's in a Word?

After a four-year hiatus, I checked out some popular Harry Potter fansites today 'cause, you know, I'm THAT bored, and re-enlightened myself over when the next movie was releasing.

Granted, I've waited years for a Harry-Ginny make out session, but once you realize that Harry is somewhat mentally challenged and might turn out to be an awful boyfriend, what with his distressing emotional history, frequent violent tendencies and claims that a conveniently-shaped scar on his head causes him to be the freak that he is, you stop being envious and just feel plain bad for Ms. Weasley.

Actually, there is no base to this image. Except that
you don't really need a reason to post a picture
of Daniel Radcliffe, right?

Which brings me to what I really wanted to talk about --- There was this period in middle school when fantasy movies and books were all the rage. I'm talking bespectacled boy-wizards, Deathstars, closets opening into another world, accursed pirates, tiny ring-bearers with hairy feet... And they were all runaway hits. So obviously, that made us resort to lingo used in these films in everyday life as a last-ditch attempt to look somewhat cool.

Well, now I regret it. Not just because it was utterly lame, but also owing to the fact that Britney Spears really appealed to my demographic back then so there were frequent requests from people asking you to hit them, baby, one more time.


I recall this conversation some prefects in my school (who were older than me and certified geeks... And also very, very jobless) outside the senior library, which was off-limits for a few hours as the librarian was away.


Prefect 1 : So what? We just wait here till the librarian gets back?

P2 : Whatever. I'm going in.

P3 : (eyes darkening and hair blowing around wildly) One does not simply walk into Mordor!

P2 : Say, what?

P4 : Yeah, she's right. The Great Eye is ever-watchful.

P2: (Eyes P3 whose hair is still blowing about) Hermione here might need some conditioner.

P1 : Nothing a little 'swish and flick' can't solve. (giggles madly)

P3 : (Patting down hair) Oh, you laugh now, little one. When that White Witch turns up before you get out, what will you do then?

P5 : (Silent all this while) I'd love me some Aragorn... (Deep sigh of painful longing)

P4 : Oh, please, bitch. Aragorn is mine. You can have Jack.

P5 : (Lights up) Sparrow?!

P4 : Well, actually... I've registered Sparrow too. You know, in case.

P5 : (dejected) Oh. I'll just take Prince Caspian then...

P2 : C'mon! Let's go in. We ain't the Marauders for nothing!

P1 : Yeah, let's go. The Trio shall always stand united!

P4 : There's five of us...

P1 : (makes offensive gesture involving a finger or two) F-

P3 : I'm not going in there.

P1 : Then stay here and pull a Boromir. We're going. (Pushes open the door)

P4 : (grumpily) Good luck, earthlings! May the Force be with you.

Librarian : (reaching the spot, says to P4) You're in detention, just for ruining the Yoda impression.


OK so that wasn't what really happened, but it was a long time ago and it's late and I'm tired and really need some shut-eye.

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Oh, The Pressures...

Just the idea of being a girl can scare the living hell out of you. Not that it's any harder for the guys, they're messed up too. But men make it a little more difficult for us to feel good in such a pressure-cooker atmosphere.

And it's not just the men. Even the miniature versions of these men can screw us up. Take my brother for example: A few years ago, I was with my bro to catch a train somewhere and we met this friend of mine on board who I talked to for a few minutes before she had to leave. The moment she did, my brother turned to me and said:


Bro: OMG! Did you see her legs?

Me: Her what?

Bro: Her legs! She's so hairy.

Me: (trying to ignore) Look! A cow on the road!

Bro: (doesn't care) Well, you do it. Hair removal, I mean. Why can't she??

Me: I'm finding it hard to believe you, especially when your own legs rival that of a grizzly bear's.

Bro: Yeah, but that's what makes me a man! (puffs tiny chest out)

ME: Trust me, with that attitude, you're already halfway there.

Bro: I just need to grow some facial hair though. And maybe some armpit hair! That would be cool! Do girls have armpit hair?

Me: (hyperventilating) I'm so thankful I'm not going to be the one to have The Talk with him...

Bro: The talk about what?

Me: Sex.

Bro: Like in rep... uh... reproduction?

Me: (suspicious now) Yeah...

Bro: We did that in science yesterday. We saw these slides with yeast or something budding? It was kinda sick to look at. That's what you're talking about, right?

Me: Yes. That is what I was talking about.

Bro: Oh. Gross.

Me: You have NO idea, kid.


See what I mean?
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Comics + PIMM = Temporary Enlightenment

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'Cause Calvin in just so darn cute...

And also because, hey, any reason to put off studying for the entrance exams.


P.S. 'PIMM' is a weird abbreviation for the blog's name...
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The Grossest Deaths in Hindi Cinema

Virtually all Hindi movies have one thing in common - a suitably happy ending for the protagonists and a lifetime in hell/jail for the villians. But some writers decide to take the story a little further by introducing a lovable character and then killing him/her ruthlessly to make it look like some effort had actually been put into the script. Or they just make sure the villain is killed in the most disgusting way possibly so as to not lose audience interest.


So here are my Top Ten Grossest Deaths in Hindi Cinema:


#10 - SRK and Manisha Koirala in Dil Se

In 3... 2... 1... BOOM!

Who didn't know that she was a terrorist? Well, SRK didn't and that just led him to an untimely death by blowing up in the middle of a field. Actually, it can be considered a warning for all those eve-teasers out there. If you stalk a girl in utter desperation, chances are she might be a suicide bomber with the LeT and bomb your ass till your intestines blow into a million pieces. Just a thought.


#9 - Shantipriya in Om Shanti Om

Some speculate that the Green Goblin might have killed her.

Well, actually it wasn't all that disgusting. I was kinda relieved at first 'cause that way I wouldn't have to sit through her 'ek chutki sindoor' monologue again. But what do ya know? Bitch comes back in a miniskirt and blowing bubble gum.


#8 - Amitabh Bachchan in Sholay

I don't even wanna comment on this...

I've actually never seen the whole movie in one go, just bits and pieces of it till I finally managed to edit the movie in my own head and figure out what the hell was happening. Still, Jai was a better actor thatn Veeru and definitely should not have died.


#7 - Random secondary character in Kaal

"Look at me! Do I look like a deranged maneater to you?"

That movie was ridiculous, and even the gory deaths couldn't make it any better. But there was this one cool scene where this minor character (who was just present for comic relief) finds himself beheaded by a glass window that broke apart when a car blew up. So that finally made him stop screaming and I could stare at John Abraham in relative peacefulness. And you know what was the grave mistake the producers committed (besides actually casting Esha Deol)? Renaming Corbett Park as Orbit Park. Seriously, he named it after a brand of chewing gum. No wonder the tigers were pissed.

#6 - Salman Khan and SRK in Karan Arjun

It's just a funny image, OK?

Why do I even see these movies? Oh, it might be because that's the only movie SET MAX seems to have any rights to air. That and Anaconda - Hindi Mein. But let's not even go there.


#5 - That jolly bhabhi in Hum Aapke Hain Kaun

Salman Khan sexually harrassing women while rocking
the 'computer nerd in suspenders' look.

All was going well and happy in the magical land of Suraj Barjatiya where the unicorns gallop and the rainbows are bright. And then one fine day, when some 96% of the movie was over and the audience was soaking too much fluff-sugar into their bloodstreams, the bhabhi woman slips on some loose carpeting and tumbles down a longass flight of stairs to her early death. Anything more horrifying in a family movie?


#4 - Asin in Ghajini

Illustrating the fact that we see more of 'Kalpana was killed'
than we see the real Kalpana.

Stabbed and then knocked on the head with a metal rod. Anyone say 'ouch'?


#3 - SRK in Darr

The look of revulsion on Juhi's face convinced SRK
that he needed to double his deodorant use.

Sunny Deol (back when we could still understand what he was saying) beat the crap out of SRK and he finally died, all the while over-pronouncing his 'K's.


#2 - Amitabh Bachchan in Black

Why are all of Sanjay Leela Bansaali's movies
so effing BLUE?!

Alzeimer's is just painful, man. I don't want to talk about that.


#1 - The Untimely Death of Cinematic Dignity in all of Karan Johar's films

It started with this.

Dude makes six movies on families, families, families with adultery, families with heart disease, tiger families and homosexual families, all well-supplied with tear-jerking (eh...) scenes.

Seriously. I grieve.


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1... 2... 3... 4... Get to Ten Before You Kill Someone...

I walked into Crosswords recently to buy myself a bunch of old favourites; books which I had lost or lent to someone who never gave them back (you know who you are) or just ripped apart by accident. So I scrambled around here and there and managed to pick up a few Grishams, Ludlums, a copy of The Tempest, the entire Lord of the Rings series and a couple of *cough* romance novels *cough*.

So here I was holding all these books and fumbling towards the counter when this girl, probably as old as me, came up to the cashier and asked, "Do you have a copy of The Three Musketeers?

To which the cashier replied, "Yes, ma'am, we do. Would you like the original or abridged version or one with cliff notes?"

"I don't know. Can you point me to where that is?"

He waves towards a section of stacks. "Near the classics section."

The girl gave a huge smile and FINALLY left, giving me the opportunity to dump my books onto the counter.

Oh, but knowing my luck, she was back in seconds. "It's such a big shelf of books! I have no idea where I'm supposed to look."

I was doing my best not to shout my ass off at her, when the cashier intervened and said to me, "I'll be right back, ma'am" and made me wait for a good three minutes.

The girl appeared with the cashier, seeming extremely happy for getting her hands on one lousy book, and almost crashed into me at the counter. And the idiot that I am, I tried to make the situation better by making small talk.

"So, do you have to study that for school or something?" I asked casually, hoping she'd just go, "Hmm" and I could rest in peace again.

Only she started gushing, "NO! I saw this book was mentioned in that movie. With that cute guy!! The Slumdog one... Have you seen it? Dev Patil is sooooooo cute!"


*Cue ominous background score*

...Mentioned in that movie...

The Slumdog one...

...Have you seen it?

Dev Patil...


Holy mother of *beeeep* !

My Second Dev Patel post in two days? Even the fates
can't deny that we're meant to be...

Let's start from the beginning:

1) You don't read Alexander Dumas because his name is mentioned in a movie. You read Alexander Dumas because he's freaking Alexander Dumas!

2) Slumdog... Have I seen it? Are you really asking an Indian that? Shame on you. Even if I hadn't seen it voluntarily, I'm sure some crazed fan (read: my friends) would have pulled me into the theatre by force of hand to watch it. We're lame like that.

3) When you want to buy a book, you check up on it first. Like what genre it is, or when it was written and whether it would be remotely interesting to you. Or at least read the back cover. I doubt someone who reads a book just because Dev mentioned it would find a story about earnest friendship, extreme valour and applaudable patriotism, all set in the medieval French period, a good read.

4) It's Patel, OK? He's Gujju. It's not Patil; that's not Gujju at all. He's the reason I started eating Dhoklas and watching Sarabhai vs. Sarabhai so remember: it's Patel. PATEL!


...
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Current Mood :: Really Missing Heath Ledger

Who's seen The Dark Knight?

Actually, it'd be better to say: Who hasn't seen it? 'Cause if you haven't, you're pretty much a grade-A loser.

And that's not me talking, it's Warner Bros.' Swiss bank account.

I swear on God, if I ever hear another 'why so serious' joke,

I'll wring someone's neck...

So I was watching it for the 700th time yesterday and I figured, the Joker's cool and all, and Ledger successfully played a role that would be soon lead to all those 'Who's going to lose to Heath Ledger' bets on Oscar night. But I just can't help think...

...Why are his evil plans so goddamn complicated??

Let's review what he did to 'thwart' Batman in the movie, shall we?


STEP 1 - Set up a bunch of Joker lookalikes (OK, with masks) to steal a bank.

STEP 2 - Kill said lookalikes, but not before crashing into a really solid bank building's wall using just a school bus.

STEP 3 - Join forces with the local mafia gang, even when the audience knows you prefer to work alone.

STEP 4 - Kill innocent people till Batman reveals himself.

STEP 5 - Somehow expect that Harvey Dent, that pompous brat, will reveal himself at Batman instead.

STEP 6 - Proceed to pretend attacking the envoy carrying Dent, expecting to be caught.

STEP 7 - Wait in patience while Batman interrogates you to ultimately reveal that Dent and Batman's one true love (who is also Dent's girlfriend and totally insignificant to the plot after this) are strapped in warehouses filled with dynamites which will blow them into smithereens and he can only save one of them (Note to self: Retire the word 'smithereens'. You're embarrassing yourself).

STEP 8 - Know that Batman will pick the girl and switch their positions beforehand so Batman reaches to save Dent instead and Rachel dies.

STEP 9 - Obviously know the exact placement of the denotators so that Dent doesn't die, but his face is mangled exactly in half.

STEP 10 - Escape. Duh.

STEP 11 - Free Dent from hospital and convince him to wreck havoc against Batman (who saved him) and not you (who actually killed his girlfriend and ripped apart his face). Plan a future career in politics.

STEP 12 - In a span of six minutes, convince Gotham that there's a bomb threat on EVERY bridge and tunnel. Then proceed to capture an enormous population of the public and convicts and pile them in two different bomb-strapped ferries to make sure they finish off each other.

STEP 13 - Pretend like you knew all along that Dent would be corrupted easily and was just a ploy to throw off Batman.

STEP 14 - Dress up your hostages and your henchmen and confuse Batman on whether to attack the henchmen, the hostages as the henchmen or the SWAT team.

STEP 15 - Finally get caught, but expect Batman to let you go 'cause you know he's that big a douchebag.

STEP 16 - Come back in the next movie to haunt Gotham - Oh. Wait...


Well, at least most of it was right.

In contrast, here's what the villians do in the Spiderman movies:

STEP 1 - Capture Mary Jane Watson and hang her from a tall building/bridge (she should be conveniently wearing a short dress at these times).

STEP 2 - Get your ass kicked by a superhero who shoots cobwebs from his wrists.


And you wonder why The Dark Knight has already pocketed a cool $1bn...
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A Little Jerry Maguire Hurt No One...

...Except me.

There was this nauseatingly sweet couple down by a Baskin Robbins outlet in the city sharing an ice cream and doing PDA-infused, couple-y stuff. I'm totally for a good dose of romance, but making it so public takes the fun out of it. Not to mention, you become Sena-bait, which isn't as cool as it sounds.

And if you're asking why I was watching this, it was owing to the fact that traffic is murder in Mumbai and when you're stuck somewhere, you're kinda stuck there till something drastic happens. Like until an asteroid drops in front of you and removes any and all vehicles/rogue cattle/sugarcane juice machine thingies from your path. And even then the huge chunk of rock that is the asteroid would be in the way, so commuters don't get to win anyway.

Anyhopelesstraffic, the dude of the couple starts doing these retarded gestures which, after intense observation by me and my cousin, were interpreted as what Tom Cruise does for Rene Zellweger in Jerry Maguire (You complete me). I guess it's justified if Tom Cruise (circa 1996) does it, considering he's effing Tom Cruise and was reasonably good-looking around that time. It's also OK for Rene Zellweger to be on the receiving end of it since that was the one movie she at least pretended to act in.

I'll probably get slack saying I should allow what little romance we have left in the city to thrive. Then again, my ass won't be the one forced by the moral brigade to marry the person I was sharing a double-chocolate ice cream with.



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It's Karma, Baby

I was out all morning so when I came home and found out that Lalit Modi's entire plan is going kaput, I was literally giddy with excitement.

Read the other crap here if you're interested: Rediff

Like I was saying, this is plain and simple karma. Not that I don't enjoy cricket. It's just what the IPL is doing to most Indians.

For example: A friend of a mutual friend of my cousin who is a political activist with a youth group recently sent around some scraps on Orkut talking about how disinterested teenagers and young adults are in voting. There was one particular example she took from a Facebook status update that really pissed me off.

Here's the specimen:



The fact that people would actually support Lalit Modi instead of the one thing that just helps India qualify as a democratic republic and prevents her from being nuked by some crazed country wanting to instill democratic freedom everywhere - the elections - proves that as citizens, we still have a long way to go. The mere idea that someone would fight for provision of Z-grade security to international players and IPL sponsors, and not for people who actually take out the time and effort to vote for their leaders (and to protect the privacy of said vote) kind of disgusts me. It's one thing if the IPL is a government franchise. But the whole thing is a mega-private scam, threatening not just cricket as we know it, but stressing on regionalism when there are no actual boundaries on these regions in the teams to begin with. I can see it right in schools, at homes, out on the streets; people are torn between supporting what they assume is their own state's team and the state they live in. Some would say that by legalizing use of arms by trained and certified bodyguards for protection, the government can prevent hassles like this. But do you really think that Lalit Modi, King of Cash Scams and President of the Association of Pathological Liars is really going to spend money out of his pockets (money that we and the sponsors gave him in the first place) to secure safety procedures for the common masses who come to view some hedonistic display of supposed athletic prowess? I really don't think so.

The IPL is a hoax. And a hoax, I have to say with no shame, I thoroughly enjoy. But if I had to pick between a Chennai Super Kings vs. Rajasthan Royals match and the possibility of electing a party whose cabinet candidates truly promise tax waivers in fuel-petrol, I'd have to say: Screw the IPL. There'll be plenty of T-20 matches to watch in the immediate future, but petrol without the 150% sales tax + VAT isn't exactly an easy and near possibility.



UPDATE:

Narendra Modi, Chief Minister of Gujarat, has answered my prayers. No, he didn't gift me a private jet, he did the other thing. Modi totally just called out on the inefficiency of the current governments of the states that wouldn't give security for the IPL, saying that he wouldn't shame the nation in the same way and would provide security if he was asked to.

Moreover, he threw the final bomb by stating the well-thought argument that if the governments are so unprepared to send out security teams for a measly set of 3 hour cricket matches, what the hell is it going to do during the Commonwealth Games?

Basically, Modi worked with the standard Indian cultural influences - cricket, pride and a bit of a controversy. If that doesn't make people vote for him, I don't know what will.
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In Other News...

In majorly boring 'other news':

1) I woke up at 11.40am.

2) I ate breakfast anyway.

3) My maid vocally and physically (she possesses the ability to summon a broom with just her thoughts) threatened to slit my throat if I ever spilt chocolate milk on the black ottoman again. I mean, it's an ottoman, OK? And it's black. No one cares to keep a foot cushion clean, not when your foot is on it in the first place.

4) Then I figured, it didn't matter whether I ruined the ottoman or not... All that should matter is that I waste upto a gallon of chocolate milk a month, spilling carelessly on random pieces of furniture.

5) The Bachchan family's watchman was just nominated for a Padmashree award, for displaying excellence in guarding Prateeksha (along with 20 odd gun-toting R.A.W dudes), making Abhisekh Bachchan the sole non-receiver of the award in the gang.

6) Still thinking of #5. Poor Abhi.

7) I confess to reading an old copy of Seventeen yesterday. I found the hair scrunching tips quite helpful too.

8) What's up with that Hannah Montana chick? I know she owns Disney, millions of pre-pubescent teenage girls, a couple of pedophiles here and there, and you and me too. But does she have to own us while looking like a washed-up hooker off the Hollywood Boulevard? Here's a tip: the reason Britney Spears ditched those purple leggings in the 1990s is because it was made a crime against humanity to wear it into the new millennium.

9) I still haven't heard from that prank caller with the sexy voice I ended up chatting with for an hour last week. Mission accomplished?

10) Oh, my God! They're everywhere... THE CROCS ARE EVERYWHERE! They're worse than that sequinned-handbag syndrome that hit the planet a few years ago. Only this time, we get them in all colours - neon orange, hot magenta, vomit green - you name it.


OK, I'm done.


***
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Vocabulabalabla

Have you ever been to a site that thrashed Indians, where they spoke about how all we're good at is calculus and reproduction?

Well, I decided to combat that.

How, you ask?

By introducing my own vocabulary section here, of course!


Today's word:

oscitate
v.
to yawn or gape from drowsiness.
Usage: 'Oscitate' must not be confused for 'oscillate'. One is exhibited during a Chemistry lecture on the constituents of Dettol and the other can be studied at a Physics lecture on wave formations, in which case you're oscitating anyway.

A typical Google search on 'oscitate'.

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Mainstream Cinema is Giving Me Unrealistic Hopes

My Acer laptop bailed on me a week ago due to unknown reasons.

OK, fine. I accidentally poured water on it. Operative word: accidentally.

And my Dad was completely against paying to fix the damn thing, which I was OK with since the laptop is really old. I'm talking Yuvraj-Singh-going-out-with-Deepika-Padukone old. That must have been, like, five years ago, right?

Regardless, my Dad finally agreed to let me call customer service and ask them what the hell they were doing selling me a laptop that fused when you just dropped water on it. Even if that is pretty much the only criteria you need to fuse out any circuit. The little details don't matter. So I call their 1800 line and some dude in a Scandinavian country (at least I think so) picks up and thanks me for calling and that my issues will be immediately attended to and to hold and that I'll be dispatched to a customer services line in - wait for it - India.

So the line was on hold with that awful music for about ten minutes before a guy picked up and started chattering away in that horrible anti-British accent all those call centre people seem to have. Needless to say, being an 1800 line, I didn't get anything useful out of it and my appeal for warranty was, very rudely, rejected. But I couldn't care less since my Dad will eventually stop fuming anyway and take the laptop somewhere into the hidden IT section of his company that no one sees or knows and get it made as good as new, with the latest iTunes installed.

So my laptop? I don't give a damn. But what I did care about, for a large portion of the call and subsequently after, was whether the call centre guy looked like Dev Patel.

Seriously.

I'm gonna hit that. Soon...

For all I know the call centre dude must be married with kids, probably rides a Scooty Pep+ to work and watches Nach Baliye reruns. But what if, just what if, he turned out to be an annoyingly cute British-Indian with a life-long ambition to track down a girl he met years ago and wouldn't rest until he was united with his one true love?

What if this Dev-ish person was actually one of my kindergarten classmates who used to pull my plaits and pour water down the back of my multi-coloured uniform?

And what if that boy got hit with a large stick of utter cuteness as he grew up and started thinking, "Maybe I shouldn't have pulled her plaits and poured water down the back of her multi-coloured uniform" and attempts to find me and take me far, far away to a... umm... CST terminal where we can start life anew with our tender love and affection for each other?

You can't see me, but I'm jumping in my swivel chair, yelling, "Hell, yeah!"

And you know the best part?

He'll be ten million bucks richer by the end.

Which means "Goodbye, Acer" and "Hello, MacBook Air".
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The Talkies, My Way - Fashion

My ass was so bored today that I ended up watching Fashion for like the fourth time. The first time, I found it pretty damn good, the second time was reasonably well-off and the third was slightly painful. And today's screening just further proved the already established fact that I have a very low tolerance level for bullshit.

So like any other pseudo-blogger, I figured I'd write about it and unite all beings against the forces responsible for Priyanka Chopra's botched lip enhancement surgery.

FASHION --- THE TRUTHFUL VERSION

SCENE - Meghna's home

MEGHNA:
I wanna be a model, daddy! I wanna go to Mumbai and pose in
skimpy clothes!

DAD:
Bah. It's your life to ruin.

...

SCENE - Cafe Coffee Day

MEGHNA:
Oh, stereotypically gay asst. designer no one knows or cares about!
I hardly have any money for a good photoshoot, even if I can afford to
consume Rs.500 worth coffee and brownies every day from the
ricidulously expensive Cafe Coffee Day!

STEREOTYPICALLY GAY ASST. DESIGNER:
Will you do a lingerie ad?

MEGHNA:
Oh, no! I have principles to follow, even if I seem like a hypocrite
considering my dresses are so short you can see my bum and I
have an adulterous affair with my married boss.

STEREOTYPICALLY GAY ASST. DESIGNER:
They'll pay you.

MEGHNA:
OK.

...

SCENE - Meghna's First Show as a Viewer

RAHUL ARORA:
Hello! I'm another stereotypically gay designer who'll be in this
movie purely for Madhur Bandharkar to showcase how
homosexuals are discriminated against, even though he's
already done it in so many of his previous movies.

AUDIENCE:
BOO! We've been here for an hour and we still haven't seen
any of those sex scenes the director promised us!

...

SCENE - Interview

CASTING PERSON WHOSE NAME I CAN NEVER REMEMBER:
So, you want to be a model?

MEGHNA:
No, I want to be a supermodel... Haven't you seen ANY of the promo videos on MTV?!

...

SCENE - Ramp

MEGHNA:
Look at me! I'm a big model now and currently in a relationship with
a minor character who will be conveniently eliminated in a few
minutes to focus entirely on me and my disgusting
swollen upper lip.

HANDLER:
Shonali, we're ready for your showstopping walk.

SHONALI:
(Arms flailing wildly)
You b*stard! Go away, don't interrupt me when I'm cutting lines!
And while you're at it, grab a drink which is 80% alcohol by volume.

MEGHNA:
Man, I hope I don't become like her.

AUDIENCE:
See that? That is an obvious Bhandarkar ploy to slyly suggest that
she is, in fact, going to go the way of that other model with the
flat chest.

SHONALI:
Don't hit out at me. I've been typecasted into roles which involve
me being drunk, high, hungover or a combination of all
of these in all my movies.
And I usually die in the end.
You b*stard!

...

SCENE - Penache Launch of Meghna

MEGHNA:
I can't believe I'm the face of Penache!

MEGHNA'S BOSS:
I can't believe I'm gonna nail that hot piece!

MEGHNA'S BOSS'S WIFE:
I can't believe I'm with this cheating guy just for the money!

ARJUN BAJRA:
I can't believe I'm going to be stuck as That Guy Who Priyanka
Chopra Dumped In That Movie Based On Realistic Themes!

JANET:
I can't believe they're making me marry a gay dude!

SHONALI:
You b*astard!

...

SCENE - At some hotel, lawn, verandah, bathroom.

A dozen or so fashion shows occur which are completely redundant
in terms of the plot, making viewers wonder whether the shameless
skin show is basically there to cover up the lack-lustre script and
garner ticket sales from pre-pubescent, sexually-frustrated
teenage boys.

...

SCENE - Random venues.

MEGHNA:
I'm a total bitch now and I can't recognize myself in the mirror.
Moreover, I'm very lax with using contraceptive measures,
as is my married boyfriend, and am retarded enough to not
read the fine print in my contract. I also celebrate my first
abortion by consuming vodka shots, driving drunk and
vomiting (figuratively)on my boss-boyfriend's wife.

CASTING PERSON WHOSE NAME I CAN NEVER REMEMBER:
We're firing you and replacing you with a younger, hotter model
who has a non-M&M-shaped nose.

MEGHNA:
Well, I never expected that, what with my ugly and exbarrassing
behaviour over the last few days. Let me now go to a nightclub and
use my fake nails to sniff contraband drugs.

...

SCENE - Back home

MEGHNA:
Daddy, I can't go back. I'm scared.

DAD:
You've stayed here for a year, mooching off of your parents.
Pension doesn't grow on trees, you know!

...

SCENE - Streets

MEGHNA:
Shonali! Why are you lying on the street and sniffing
talcum powder?

SHONALI:
'Cause after my wardrobe malfunction on the ramp, I realised
that no TV channel broadcasted the footage since no one
cares about fashion in such distressing economic times.
And I'm also out of coke.
You b*stard!

MEGHNA:
This is a good chance for me to prove to the audience that
I've turned over a new leaf. I'll take care of Shonali and start
wearing more conservative clothes.

AUDIENCE:
Oh, man! Might as well leave this snooze-fest now.

...

SCENE - Fashion Show
(Just before Meghna's showstopper walk)

POLICE DUDE:
Uhh... That wild-haired girl from Gangster died of overdose.

MEGHNA:
That is bad news!
(momentary lapse of time)
I'm over it. Time to strut my stuff!

GHOST OF SHONALI WHICH WILL LATER HAUNT US IN RAAZ:
You b*stard!

...........................

Ah. That was fun. :)

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My Blood Stream Needs a Pick-Me-Up

...and I'm thinking caffeine might do the job. Only the more coffee I drink, the more I start to channel the Dracula-sunken-eye look, and that's not what I'm going for right now.

Then again, coffee might be a good alternative, as opposed to, say, ripping every strand of hair on my head from its roots, which is precisely what I want to do everytime I see THIS:





I don't think India is going to rest until its people completely squeeze every drop of relevancy that is still left in the song, milking the phenomenon for all its worth. Basically, this hype is not going to wane till the Academy Awards of 2013, so get ready to hear a rendition of 'Jai Ho' from your local grocery serenading his succelent Nagpur oranges.


Aam aadmi ke badhte kadam, har kadam par Bharat buland...


Ugh.
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Just To Make Things Clear

This is a blog with honour, pride and dignity. We are responsible journalists with a sense of decorum that makes us use this mighty tool of communication in a appropriate fashion. We are people of our word and swear to -


Oh, God. I can't do this. We have no morals, OK? No social etiquette, no conscience and definitely no sense for others' privacy.


And no, this blog isn't about a particular school or anything. We learned that lesson months ago.


So what the hell is it about?

Here's the thing: We're Indians, right? Except we really aren't. We want to be global citizens, which would explain why Akon is very popular during dandiyaa parties, but we haven't gone to the extent of approving couples living together before marriage. Obviously, "Smack That" is appropriate. Pre-marital fondling is not.

This is for you. The Indian who won't vote when he's finally a major, but will squeal about the crappy transportation service. The same Indian who will also graduate and jump at the first opportunity to catch a job placement in Canada. The same Indian who will give me slack for writing this, even as he nods his head in acknowledgment.

We're hypocrites. And we know it. Just for that attitude, we're kinda cool.

Here's to you guys.

...
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Intro and the Like

We're back!

Seriously, we're back...

Hello...?

Does anyone care?




Whatever. I'm calling for a DRUM ROLL!


(Deathly silence)


Ah, you bitches.
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