I'll Kick Your Bhat!

Ishtick Figures.

2010-01-10T01:21:00.001+05:30

Not bad for a first time no?

2009: A year in review. Part I.

2009-12-30T14:15:00.004+05:30

Dear World,

I know I've been rather inactive on this blog. I've made just 6 updates this year, which is easily the lowest in it's 4 years of existence. My sex life is about 20 times more active than this blog. But that's not saying much since 20 times zero is still very much zero. Haha. I'm so funny. Not.

As I've just demonstrated, thanks to the lack of writing, my sense of humour too has rapidly descended into middle earth. It is currently playing chess with Gollum.

And hence, in a final bid to update, I shall run you through the year that was in the life of The Tanmay. This is party 1 in a 3 part series.

1. The Big Fat South Christian Wedding.

I happen to be a South Indian. A part of the 'Bhat' family. No wait, not 'Bhatt'. 'Bhat'. Single T.

We're the other Bhats. The Bhats who've suffered numerous years of mistaken spellings on certificates, receipts, PAY CHEQUES, e-mails, internship letters, PAY CHEQUES and PAY CHEQUES. It must be noted that the Bhat family and the 'Kapur' family are allies.

That piece of information would be absolutely worthless if this was a random post. But this is a post about my sisters wedding, wherein the element of 'Bhat' is significant.

Namrata Bhat, previously known for being my sister, got married on the 12th of January to a sweet little boy known as Sharath Menezes. Obviously, since it is a wedding, several members of the Bhat family went a little beserk for a while, but soon calmed down when a fresh round of tambli was served.

Tambli is a South Indian delicacy that is consumed with copious amounts of rice and accompanied by copious amount of slurping. It is often used to change topics or to silence several members of the family (Read: My Dad). To understand the exact effect of Tambli...I quote my dad - "Nannige Anna Tambli Sikkidre Aitu!" (If I get Rice and Tambli, I could settle on the himalayas with nothing but a pair of lungis).

Right, so, the wedding.

One of the best things that came out of that wedding was that I could take several days off work using a wedding related excuse. For example -

1. Hey, I can't come to work today. Family function is happening. You know, wedding and all. Sorry *click*

2. Hey, I can't make it today... family lunch and pooja and all. See you tommorow. *click*

3. Hey, I can't make it today... something is happening in the... *click*

4. Hey, I can't. Wedding. Sorry. *click*

5. Hey! *click*

Since then, I just started to give missed calls. I figured they'd understand what it meant.

The wedding day was arriving soon and relatives were starting to pour in. Since most of the occupants of the State of Karnataka were now in Seema Society, the govt. of Karnataka declared a bank holiday that day. And of course, in order to celebrate the bank holiday, one more round of tambli was passed around.

The wedding went off well. And of course, the highlight of the wedding was that I, The Tanmay, suited up for the reception.

Getting my suit stitched was nothing short of building a wonder of the world.

Shahajahaan had built the Taj Mahal in memory of his wife.

My family wanted to get the suit stitched thanks to the memory of several formal occasions which I'd graced in nothing but a delightfully breezy pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

While Taj Mahal employed a mere twenty thousand workers from northern India, the act of getting my suit stitched generated employment for millions and millions of people from around the world. In fact, the same engineers who worked on the Sea Link also joined hands to make my suit happen.

Despite losing several good men, the suit was stitched and worn and all went well at the reception.

2. The Five Pegs Down Story: A.k.a The Mukesh Ambani Incident.

Ladies and Gentlemen, now I share with you my most prized possession. I share with you my Five Pegs Down Story. You know what I'm talking about. For the un-initiated, the Five Pegs Down Story is the kind of story you only dare share when you are.. well.. five pegs down. Each and every member of the Drinking Party usually shares this story turn by turn. Usually, these stories are punctuated by heavy doses of laughter and are followed by statements such as "FUCK YOU I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!" or "WTF!! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!! OMFGITHINKI'MGOINGTODIELAUGHING!" or "FUCK! I'M TOTALLY GOING TO BLOG ABOUT THIS!". Once a friend yelled out "HOLY SHIT! IF I TELL THIS TO MY MOM SHE'LL NEVER LET ME HANG OUT WITH YOU GUYS EVER AGAIN!". So anyhoo.. the story I'm about to tell you is a Five Pegs Down Story which I usually unload at the very end of the night. This story is so awesome that several friends have died after listening to it. An even higher number of them have committed suicide because of a sudden loss in self esteem brought about by the realization that even if they try really REALLY hard, their life could never reach the level of awesomeness that this story has reached. This story, even though scientists are yet to prove it, is the real cause of Swine Flu.

So yes, let us address the W's of the story:

When?: Late 2008, when Fox Searchlight decided to release a film that instantly catapulted Dharavi from being Asia's biggest slum to A Place So Awesome That Danny Boyle Decided To Make A Film On It. Incase you've been living under Rakhi Sawants now-silicon-less bosom, I'm talking about Slumdog Millionaire.

Where?: Imax. Wadala.

Why?: The good people at Fox Studios decided they wanted to cover in Indian Premiere of Slumdog and hired yours truly as a producer. Yes, this is the very premiere where Anil Kapoor and Danny Boyle did the Bhangra on the red carpet while Aaj Tak and India TV journalists spontaneously orgasmed at the very sigh of a phoren baba going the Punjabi way.

Wasabi?: No thanks. Maybe later.

What happened?: My job involved taking bytes from celebrities, pretending to record bytes of non-celebrities and making Dev Patel jokes while standing right behind a woman who kept giving me dirty looks. Turns out she was Dev Patel's mom. I should've guessed. Her ass looked exactly like his face.

It was a pretty bizarre yet an extremely interesting experience. I spoke to Vikas Swarup, who used some really interesting words to describe Simon Beaufoy's adaption of his book. I ate some free pop-corn and samosa. I saw Frieda Pinto up close, which resulted in projectile vomiting of aforementioned pop-corn. Then took an interview of the vomit and passed it off as an interview with Frieda Pinto. Also, I spoke to the incredibly nice Danny Boyle. here's a little excerpt from that conversation.

Me: Hey! So tell me, which parts did Loveleen shoot?

Danny: She did some bits, which I couldn't be here for.

Me: Oh you mean the bit where Jamal wins the money, which is followed by shots of all those people celebrating in their houses, on the streets etc?

Danny: Yeah. Those bits.

Me: And also the bit where he's ON the way to the studio and random people stop him on the streets and wish him luck?

Danny: Yeah. Those too.

Me: Aah, cool.

Danny: So tell me... how do you know that these shots are in the movie? These weren't in the trailer.

Me: Aah. No. You see, I've seen the movie.

Danny: How did you manage that!? The Indian premiere hasn't even happened yet!

Me: Oh oh. *whistles*

A moment of awkward silence.

Danny Boyle: Did you download the movie from the internet?

Me: Errr.... uhhh.....LOOK! FRED FLINTSTONE!

Danny Boyle: WHERE?! *turns around*

Me: OKGOTTOGOTHANKSBAI. *disappears in stop block*.

Yep, that actually happened.

So anyway, the movie was screened and one by one everybody started coming out of the theatre. Several unsuspecting celebrities were cornered by me as they put on their fake smiles and spoke very highly of the movie that they just saw. If the good people at Fox are reading this, I absolutely enjoyed taking bytes of these celebrities and I absolute did NOT have the urge to randomly zoom the camera into their cleavage. No that didn't happen at all. Not even with Preity Zinta. Or Deepika Padukone. Or Sonam Kapoor. Nope. Not even once.

One such important celebrity was Mr. Mukesh Ambani. Now Mukesh Ambani is a man I did not want to mess around with. Here's a man who owns half of Reliance. A company that will pretty much take over the country. Yes, I do believe that our country will soon be called Reliance India. But more importantly, that man manufactures textile. This means that he probably owns the fabric that is woven in my underwear. And I did NOT want to mess with the man who owns the fine linen that comforts my genitals. Hence, I decided to keep a little distance between me and Mukesh Ambani as I took his byte. Contrary to popular opinion, Mr. Ambani is not a man of few words. As he rambled on about how much he liked the movie, I noticed that an old lady wanted to cross me and Ambani and head towards the exit. I gestured to her to bend over and go from BELOW my elbow, such that she doesn't randomly come in frame. I mean, this was Mukesh Ambani's byte. I could NOT get this wrong. The old lady finally got the hint and she tried to cross over from below my elbow. However, as fate would have it, her head bumped into right elbow. Imagine the next sequence of events in slow motion. The impact of the old lady's head bumping into my elbow, propelled my arm in the direction of Mukesh Ambani's nose. My eyes widened as I saw the hand mike in my hand move with rapid force towards the 5th richest man in the world. And before I knew it, I'd shoved a hand mike bang in the middle of Mukesh Ambani's face.

About 50 people saw what happened and everybody EXCEPT for Mukesh Ambani and me was about to burst into massive, ear splitting-lung-bursting-deafening laughter. However, everybody realised that their underwear too was probably made of the textile that this man manufactures. And you NEVER laugh at somebody who has you by your balls. So everybody pretended like nothing happened. Mr. Ambani an absolute sport about the entire situation. I apologized and he gave me a grin and said "it's okay". Soon, his wife and his bodyguards were by his side, escorting him to the exit.

And that's when it hit me. I just shoved a handmike into Mukesh Ambani's face. It hit him right below his nose, but above his lip. If I'd been an inch higher or lower, I'd have probably either a) bust his lip. or b) broken his nose. If either of that had happened and if it had become serious enough for him to be hospitalized, the stock market would crash. And a LOT of people would lose money. And maybe even commit suicide. And that's when I realized. I just saved a lot of lives.So this is what being a superhero feels like. Nice.

India's Got Talent? Really?

2009-08-17T00:19:00.008+05:30

Hello. I'm back! Yes, I know it's been long. I'm really sorry. No really, I'm sorry.

Arrey relax baba. I said I'm sorry na? Now whats there to cry? I apologised na? C'mon, now stop crying. Here, take a tissue.

These things happen in a relationship okay? So just calm down now.

Good.

Now, what was I saying? Oh yes. Where have I been for the past few months? For the three and a half people who care, I was super super busy with work. Or as a friend quite eloquently put it - "Tanmay is pregnant with work.". Following which the aforementioned friend spoke to my imaginary Work Baby whilst stroking my abdomen gently.*

I was busy doing creatives for India's Got More Talent, an ancillary show** for the ubiquitous and immensely popular India's Got Talent. I did this show because it would fulfill several of my professional and personal goals.

Professional goals would include - Working with a super production company like BIG Synergy (not to be confused with Large Synergy or Mammoth Synergy). Owned by quiz master Sidharth Basu, these guys have done the biggest shows on Indian Television.

Personal Goals would include - Booking my lazy boy in hell by working on an Indian reality/talent hunt show and making eager contestants do things so evil that it that would give Satan a big bad boner.

It's true folks, if you've worked on a reality show made for Indian Television...you're most definitely going to hell. And I had this epiphany while conducting auditions in Delhi.

It was a hot hot day in the capital. Our team, including me, had just got our set of walkies and since I am a restless retard, I was busy messing around with the frequency on my set.

Suddenly, I get buzzed on my ear phones:

Voice: CONTESTANT NO.53 IS FAINTING! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME! I REPEAT! CONTESTANT NO. 53 IS FAINTING!

Now, this was none of my business because the contestant team usually handles these sorta situations. However, I hung on JUST to know what happened next.

Nobody buzzed back for almost half a minute. And then the walkie buzzed again.

VOICE: IS ANYBODY HERE! I REPEAT CONTESTANT NO.53 IS FAINTING! CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME? IF THERE'S ANYBODY ON THIS FREQUENCY, COULD YOU PLEASE GET HERE AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE! THIS IS SERIOUS! A CONTESTANT IS FAINTING!

Still no reply.

I started getting slightly uneasy. I wanted to hit the panic button.. but then I realised that it's just a phrase and in fact there is no such button.

Before I tell you what happened next I need you guys to understand that at that moment I was a producer on the show and that I was In The Zone. I was in shoot-mode. So yes, don't you dare judge me.

So I pressed the talk-back button and said -

ME: HELLO! TANMAY HERE! I CAN HEAR YOU! WHAT FLOOR ARE YOU ON?

VOICE: I'M ON THE SECOND FLOOR! GET HERE AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE, PLEASE!

ME: I'M ON MY WAY. GIVE ME A MINUTE.

VOICE: OKAY, COME QUICK.

ME: LISTEN! ONE QUICK QUESTION!

VOICE: YEAH?!

ME: SHOULD I GET FOOD OR SHOULD I GET A CAMERA?

Silence. For a moment I thought I was fired. Then -

VOICE: ....UHH... GET BOTH!

ME: GOT IT! I'M ON MY WAY!

Now you know why everybody who works in television is going to hell. And if it wasn't for this.. we have Rakhi Ka Swayamvar which is more than enough to guarantee every television employee an invitation to Satan's freshers party.

That's it for today folks. Will update often from now on. Pass this onto your entire friends list or you will die a very very painful death. Goodnight.

*Needless to say I'm not friends with this person anymore.
** In other words.. we were the bastard children of Viacom18.

*** Also, the author cannot guarentee the authenticity of this story. (Just in case the good folks at synergy read this and decide to sue me :-))

The KBC Story

2009-04-09T12:54:00.000+05:30

Somewhere at the end of 1999, Rakesh, a production guy at Synergy, (the production house that produced KBC) created the money tree for a quiz game show. The tree started at Rs. 1000 and ended at rupees 1,00,000. Rakesh smiled. In other words, he changed his facial expression by spreading the lips, to signal pleasure.

His colleagues stood around him, all marveling at the fact that the game show, Kaun Banega Lakhpati, would ACTUALLY give away a lakh for anyone who could answer just 15 questions. It's that effing simple!

Some wondered if the channel, Star Plus, had enough money to fund such a large prize money. Some wondered if Siddharth Basu would be able to hold the show as an anchor.

Meanwhile, Mr. Siddharth Basu was sitting in a meeting with the channel at Synergy main office in Delhi.

Star Plus Official: Mr. Basu I'm afraid you won't be anchoring the show.

SB: Oh really? You think I can't anchor a show?

SPO: No Mr. Basu.... actually.. -

SB: Have you even SEEEEN India's Child Genius?

SPO: I have Mr. Basu, but -

SB: Have you not HEARD my deep enchanting and sexy voice? HUH punk?!

SPO: No it's not that Mr. Basu. We've just found somebody else to host the show.

SB: OHHH! Is that so? Who is it? Who's this guy? Has he hosted a tv show before?

SPO: Uhh, I'm afraid not.

SB: AHA! So this nooob thought he could replace ME?! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

SPO: Sir, Mr. Amitabh Bachchan is replacing you.

*Long LONG silence goes here*

SB: Oh.

SPO: BURNNNNNNNNNNN BITCH! IN YOUR FACE! AHA! BURNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!

Meanwhile, Rakesh and his co workers were just about to call it a day when the land line rings.

Rakesh: Hello?

SB: Ummm, Rakesh?

Rakesh: Yes sir.

SB: You finished the money tree?

Rakesh: Yes sir. It's all ready. Starts at a thousand, ends at a lakh. 15 steps.

SB: Yyyyaaaa.... that's not gonna work.

Rakesh: I knew it! I knew the channel couldn't afford it! I mean, 15 questions and 1 lakh! It's ridiculous!

SB: Yyyyyyaaaaaa...Rakesh...The shows..uhh.. now called.... Kaun Banega Crorepati. The prize money is 1 crore.

Why English Lyrics Shouldn't Be A Part Of Bollywood Songs

2009-04-03T02:21:00.004+05:30

It's been a busy couple of months. Proper update shall come soon. But until then... here's an old piece which I wrote for JLT.

1.English lyrics confuses people. Take that song ‘Mind blowing mahiya’ for example. I actually thought the song went like this – Do you mind blownig Mahiya? But then, I am a perverted boy who likes to hump inanimate objects.

2.How would you like it if main hindi words daaly in an english article? Pasand aayega to you? Nahi no? Then why the hell would you want to daal angrezi shabd in a hindi gana?

3.Forget songs, even MOVIES with English sub titles sound awful. Let’s take as an example, the unbelievably awful Sanjay Dut starrer, Daag - The Fire. Such complicated titles will not only confuse people about the meanings of the word ‘daag’ and ‘fire’. They will also question the quality of genes that the producer’s parents passed on to the producer.

4.Tashan’s latest track – Dil dance Maare is an absolute genius of an example that demonstrates what English lyrics can do to a hindi song. We can call it the human equivalent of ‘rape’ or ‘molestation’ multiplied by twenty four. In fact, if we observe carefully, little blood comes out of your ear everytime you listen to that track.

5.English lyrics in hindi songs drive human faeces like Anu Malik to singing. Remember that song ‘Dekho Baarish Ho Rahi Hai! It’s raining! It’s raining! It’s raining!’ I’m sure you do remember. In fact, I’m so sure about this because I myself remember this song purely because of its obvious nature. Has there been a more educational song? Notice carefully how the song translates every hindi sentence into English. ‘Mera Dil Ro Raha Hai! My heart is paining, it’s paining it’s paining!’. Genius, pure fucking genius.

6.We have previously seen the after effects of mixing two languages in art. For example, when Dunston Checks In was renamed, it was called Ek Bandar Hotel Ke Andar. Till date, several people have died laughing on merely seeing the name of the film.

7.One of the main reasons why I am against the use of English lyrics in Hindi songs is due to the fear of the inclusion of other languages in hindi songs in the future. I would literally throw up if I heard the use of French in a hindi song. For example – Chez nous le heart le dard du disco or in Spanish – Jab bhi koi ladki dekho mera dil diwana bole Ole Ole Ole Ole Ole Ole!

8.Nowadays the west is copying our music. So if they copy any of our tracks which have English lyrics, we’re done for. Soon, we can expect Shakira go all – I’m on tonight kyunki mera pichwada jhoot nahi bolta! Or worse, if Eminem does an 8 Mile in hindi – Uske haath hai heavy, knees weak palm hai sweaty, uski shirt pe hai ulti, mom ki spaghetti….

9.When English lyrics are used, it’s not just the song that is messed up, it’s the video too. I mean, curse me if you want to, but watching Abhishek Bachchan trying to rap some nonsense is just not pleasing to the eye or the Islets of langerhans. (PS: The song I’m referring to is from the movie Bluffmaster)

10.And last, but not the least, because Stone Cold said so.

Oye It's Friday!

2008-12-17T15:44:00.002+05:30

For the past 2 months, I've been contracted to work on a show called Oye It's Friday, perhaps you've heard of it.

It was Sameer Nair, CEO of NDTV Imagine, who wanted to create an Indian equivalent of Saturday Night Live. That was the birth of the show.

Since then, the best in the industry have been working on the show. The content is being driven by the best writers in the industry, headed by Sailesh Dave (Great indian comedy show, movers and shakers etc. etc.) and company. Obviously, pulling of an SNL would have always been difficult, but the thought was to do something different.

I've been super excited about the show since the day I started writing for it. It's been the best job I've had. I come to office daily, and my job is to sit and crack jokes, think of sketches, gags and other things that could make the show fun to watch. I sit in an air conditioned cabin, in front of a computer with speakers, listen to music, watch television, eat food, drink free chocolate milk (no, I'm not a coffee person)and write sketches and barge into my boss' office and pitch the idea. What's more, I am paid a decent amount of money to do this.

However, It hasn't been as smooth as it seems. Writing for an Indian audience is difficult. Writing comedy for an Indian audience is EVEN more difficult. And writing SKETCH comedy for an Indian audience... is... well... let's just say that the task of shoving one human being up another human being's arse is easier and less painful.

Tanmay: "Hey! What about this idea!
Boss/Channel: No, too evolved. Dumb it down. A plumber in Ludhiana should understand the joke and laugh at it.

Tanmay: Hey! What about this!
Boss/Channel: No, too production heavy. I'm not spending so much on the plumber.

Tanmay: Hey! This?
Boss/Channel: No, too intelligent. Plumber is only paanchvi paas.

Tanmay: Ummm, this?
Boss/Channel: No dude, the idea works in English, not in Hindi. Plumber doesn't know English.

Tanmay: Okay, this?
Boss/Channel: HE'S A PLUMBER! NOT A FUCKING ROCKET SCIENTIST! HOW THE FUCK WILL HE KNOW WHAT AN 'IMAGINARY FRIEND THERAPY SESSION' IS?

And after all this, finally an idea goes through. The audience during shoot laughs at it (paid audience of the Ludhiana Plumber variety) and finally it makes the cut and goes on air. And then I get an SMS from a well educated, funny, smart, non-plumber like and intelligent friend saying "Dude, that wasn't funny".

Suicide is the only ray of hope in my life.

The first day of shoot, I entered the set. We were shooting at Yashraj Studios, perhaps the best studio in the country, if you may. The set is the most massive set I've ever seen. 360 degree set, 12 cameras, 4 platforms, 12 dancers, one magic act, one dance act, one huge projection screen, one singing act, one unique talent act, 5 sketches and 7 hours of Farhan Akhtar comprised of our first day of rehearsals. I was sure the show would be great to watch.

The show debuted last week, and I messaged a bunch of my friends about the airing and asked them what they thought. The show got mixed responses. The ratings are mediocre, but they're expected to rise in the coming weeks. However, the critics, especially those online, have been particularly harsh on the show.

The show isn't funny.

The gags were okay.

Dude, you said it'll be like SNL? It's so not like that.

Farhan looked so nervous. So did Hritik.

Half the jokes were so lame.

There's too much happening.

It looked so reharsed.

Why is Farhan cracking so many PJ's?

So on and so forth.

I've been relatively unphased. A good number of people have also liked the show. A lot. As for those who didn't, if you tune in next week, despite having so many issues with the show, then my job is done.

BTW, did you guys catch the episode?

Jhust Married!

2008-11-09T18:50:00.005+05:30

Today, my friend and I were having a random conversation* while we headed to Bandra in a rickshaw. As we stopped at a red light, several prostitutes jumped on us and started biting our ear. Soon, after much explanation from my end, they realized that just because the signal has a red light doesn't mean that it's a red light area. Much of the aforementioned ear biting stopped.

Ha Ha! I jest. I'm in a very joky mood today.

So yes, we stopped at a signal. As a joke, I told my friend that we too should stop talking until the light turns green. She didn't find the joke to be very funny, but she agreed. Like I said... today, me, joky!

At this point, a Chevy Spark stopped right beside us. Usually, a Chevy Spark isn't something that would grab my attention... but this Spark was... different. It belonged to a newly married couple. And by tradition, this Spark was totally bathed in flowers.

Now, don't get me wrong. It wasn't the first time that I've seen this. I've seen flowers cello-taped on cars before. But here it seemed that the couple, in their excitement of getting married, spent their entire honeymoon money on buying flowers and taping them to the car. In fact, I'm surprised how I even figured out that it was a Chevy Spark.

If you're thinking 'Oh Tanmay! C'mon! It doesn't take that many flowers to cover a tiny Spark anyways', then I wish you a lifetime of unhappiness and tragedy...because you've totally missed the point.

Why would anybody want to do that to their car? Isn't it enough to have just a few corsages stuck to your car to get the point across?

The following are the only reasons why I think the car was assaulted with those flowers -

1. Somebody married the car.
2. The car got married to another car in a Stone-Age themed marriage where everybody was dressed in flowers and leaves (including the bride and groom)
3. The car had the fevicol logo on it and then, it drove through that farm from DDLJ (that huge sun-flower farm where SRK and Kajol hug).
4. The car hyper pollinated itself. (Anybody who corrects me on this will have some pollen grains shoved up their arse)

In fact, this led me to question the very basics of this tradition. Why would you put flowers on your car when you get married? What can possibly be the reason?

1. So that people, in general, will know you're married.

Why would you want random people on the street to know that you just got married? You think they're going to step aside for you and let you pass? You think other cars on the road will be extra nice to you and make way for you? You think somebody will hang their head out like a dog and congratulate you? As your car passes by the road, you think people will throw gifts into your car?

2. So that your car knows that you're now married and there will be some major ass-pounding happening in the backseat.

Okay, I can't argue with that one.

3. To make the car stand out and make the happy couple feel special.

Hey, you know what else could make the car stand out? You could ask a juggler to stand on top of the car and juggle dried up turd, while you drive around town. Surely it would also make your happy couple feel special. After all, nobody else has a turd juggler on top of their car now, do they?

In conclusion, when you get married, leave your car out of it. Suicide is not something you drag your friends into.

*This is the conversation

Amogh: Dude, you should get a D-MAT account yaar!
Tanmay: Why! I toh already have a door mat at home! Ha Ha! Gedit?
Amogh: .....

10 myths about 'Roadside Romeo'

2008-10-26T17:58:00.005+05:30

1. Jugal Hansraj took 6 months to develop the script.

That my friend, is a myth. In reality, the script took exactly 10 seconds to be developed. The rest of the time Jugal was busy developing the astute art of Giving Aditya Chopra Blowjobs (GACB), which has previously been mastered by Kunal Kohli (of Mujhse Dosti Karoge, Thoda Pyaar Thoda Magic and Being Extremely Cocky About His Films fame), Uday Chopra, That Guy Who Made Tashan and Sanjay Gadhvi.

2. The animation in Roadside Romeo is world class.

That my friend, is myth # 2. It wouldn't be a myth if the world only consisted of India, Bangladesh and the guys who do the animation for 9XM.

3. Kids will really enjoy Roadside Romeo.

No. They will not. They will enjoy watching a DVD of Santa having sex with a G.I.Joe a LOT more than Roadside Romeo.

4. Anu Malik is the worst piece of trash to have ever come out of Bollywood music industry.

No. Roadside Romeo is.

5. Saif Ali Khan has done a pretty decent job in the movie.

No, that is myth # 5. Saif Ali Khan's voice acting in the film is perhaps the most accurate description of the word 'painful'. 'Removing own kidney stones using only your bare hands and hot iron rods' comes a close second.

6. Kareena Kapoor has done a pretty decent job in the movie.

If you open your copy of the Oxford Dictionary, you will now see that the word 'Painful' has two very accurate descriptions. The second one being 'Kareena Kapoor in Roadside Romeo'.

7. Roadside Romeo took two and a half years in the making.

This is by far the biggest factual error in the history of mankind. In actuality, Roadside Romeo took roughly about 20 seconds to be made. The first ten seconds were dedicated to scripting. The next 5 in blowing Aditya Chopra. And the last 5 seconds were invested in actually making the film.

8. The most difficult thing in Roadside Romeo was the rendering of hair on all the dogs.

Myth # 8 ladies and gentlemen. The most difficult thing about Roadside Romeo was grappling with the fact that one has to spend hard earned money to watch it. It's just... so hard.. to accept.

9. Roadside Romeo is a family film.

That is partially incorrect. Roadside Romeo is the last film you'll watch with your family. If it was your idea to watch the film, your family is most likely to disown you. If not, then they all will kill themselves, making you the only lone survivor of this horrific tragedy. Either way, it is the last film you'll watch with your family.

'Dirty teenager sucks dick' or 'Hot Lolita XXX_lovescock' is a much safer bet than RR, when it comes to movies you can watch with your family.

10. The funniest moment in this film was when the camera passed between Romeo's legs and got painfully (no pun intended) close to his dangling canine genitals.

Again, a myth. The funniest moment in the movie was when Javed Jaffrey (Charlie Anna) introduces his three angels as "This is Silk Smitha! This is Nylon Nandini! And this is Polyesther Padma!".

Are You Baby Friendly?

2008-10-22T21:37:00.003+05:30

In a desperate attempt to update, I give you this quiz I wrote two years ago for a magazine. If you think it's funny, great! If you don't... well then.. you're probably pregnant and that's just estrogen talking.

1.Do you secretly like to pinch babies?

A.Ooooooh yes! How fun! Pinchy pinchy! Bet it hurts the little bastards!

B.How would YOU like it if you were fluffy and someone tried to puncture you?

C.Goo goo.

D.YEEEES! PINCH THEM! THEY ARE SPAAAARTAAAAAAANS!

2.Given the chance, would you throw a baby on the wall to see if it bounces back?

A.Absolutely. Infact, the older the wall, the worse it’s for the babies’ skin. Besides, normally the baby doesn’t bounce back. It just falls down and starts crying and shit. Hmph! Stupid gravity.

B.Dude. Don’t ever do that. Please. *starts crying*

C.Boo?

D.YES! But whenever we throw the baby on the wall, the wall breaks down! Why?! Because, WE ARE SPAAAARTAAAAAANSSSS!

3.Why did the baby cross the road?

A.Because it was stapled to the chicken! Ha! Here’s a better one! What’s funnier than a dead baby?! Ha? A dead baby in a clown costume. Bwahahahahahahah.

B.Aaaw. Maybe the baby is learning how to walk. But what if it…hits a car?! Or worse, what if it has to poop?! Who will help it with the diapers?! WHO?! *starts crying*. *Again*.

C.Waaaaaaaaaaaah. *poops*

D.Because, the baby MUST do what it should! Or else! TONIGHT, THE BABY DINES IN HELLL!

4.Why do you do when a baby pees all over you?

A.I pee all over it too. J

B.Aaaaaw. The cute little thing. I change it’s diapers, of course.

C.Hehehehehehe. *insert giggle sound HERE*

D.The baby MUST learn toilet etiquette! Why? Because THIS IS SPARTAAAAA!

5.Babies for President?

A.Are you fuckin insane?! I’d rather have my own pimple as president.

B.Aaaw. That would be SO cute! I can already imagine it fumbling while giving it’s speech! Aaaw.

C.Boo boo, biggle wiggle.

D.Why of course! But first we must train him! We must teach him to do 98 push ups first! Why? BECAUSE…..okay, okay, I’ll stop.

Mostly A’s – Dude! You so hate babies! And babies SO hate you! You’re horrible with babies. You’re probably the guy who started the phenomenon of dead baby jokes! You either had a very bad childhood or you’re incapable of producing a baby yourself! Whatever it is, dude, some of them dead baby jokes are hilarious! Bwahahahahaha.

Mostly B’s – Aaaaw. Look at you. You little baby lover! You’re fantastic with children. The only problem is that you say ‘aaaw’ one time too many. Given the chance, you will pamper the baby until it turns into this anvil-sized blob, no? Frankly, I think you should stop feeding the little idiot so much. And maybe you take time off from making that stupid sweater. I can see you’re pink in the face right now! Aaaw.

Mostly C’s – Dude, you are a baby. Which makes me believe that you are friendly with other babies. If you aren’t friendly, you are one mean little baby. I can already imagine you wearing leather tights, tiny little guns and a sucker in your mouth muttering the words – “This cradle isn’t big enough for the both of us… mothersucker”. Gedit? Mothersucker? Gedit? Haha.

Mostly D’s – Why King Leonidus! We all have heard the barbaric stories of Sparta and it’s ill treatment of children. But I gotta give it to you. You sure do have good taste in babies. All the babies in Sparta grow up to healthy, well built, half naked, good looking men. But surely, the very idea of killing weak babies when they are born sounds weird to you? Why, this is blasphemy! This is madness! No? THISSSS ISSSS SPARTAAAAAAAAAAA!

LocoRoco Lover

2008-09-20T19:27:00.005+05:30

I got my first video game console (yes, the one with the cartridge) when I was in the 7th grade. Consequently, I wanted Mario to be my little brother and Luigi to be my house elf. I fantasized about kicking alien arse by being the third 'Contra' Man. My idea of a vacation was putting on a nice pair of orange lungis and walking across islands breaking eggs and eating birds like the 'Islander'. Sometimes I would have dreams of a circus full of people applauding me for just having jumped 20 rings of fire whilst sitting on a lion.

I got a computer when I was in the 9th grade and the first game I fell in love with was Mortal Kombat 3. Lui Kang and me would hang out every afternoon. (I would secretly be jealous of Jax, just coz he and Sonia were friends.)

For a good part of my 10th grade, I transported coal and Iron Ore from town to town and enjoyed life as a Transport Tycoon.

Occasionally, I would also pay my buddy Max Payne a visit. Me and him spent countless nights kicking some royal badass.

And now, when I'm 21, I got myself a Playstation Portable (PSP).

Video, Audio, Gaming, Internet. It's got everything. Why yes, it does make me feel powerful. Almost in a second-penis kinda way.

Moreover, I'm in love with a game called LocoRoco.

No wait, let me rephrase that.I'm ADDICTED to LocoRoco. I think about it all the time. I dream about it. Infact, sometimes, when I meet people, they all look like LocoRocos to me.

In order for you to fully understand how much I REALLY love this game, I am listing down 10 thoughts that are running in my head RIGHT now.

1. My life is LocoRoco.
2. LocoRoco is in my blood. In fact, it's also in my urine and puke respectively.
3. Im hungry. No, I am LocoRoco.
4. Hayyam Na Foiyya! Na kitti Na La Guttu! (Theme song)
5. Are you LocoRoco? YOU ARE LOCOROCO!
6. LOCOROCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
7. MuiMui! MuiMui! Hurrah!
8. Loco bumchika bumchika, Roco bumchika bumchika.
9. Loco Roco for President of the Republic of Tanmay.
10. If you aren't a LocoRoco, I probably hate you.

I think I am going to name my first born 'LocoRoco'. It's way cooler than 'The Baby' or 'Softy'.

Here's a picture of the LocoRoco. And yeah, if given a chance, please steal money from your parents* and buy the new PSP with LocoRoco.

* Extorting money from them by kidnapping your brother will also work.

Edit - Is it me, or have I actually started to LOOK like a LocoRoco?

Raksha Bandhan my ass.

2008-08-17T12:33:00.007+05:30

For those who revere every Indian festival, I apologise for the rather lowbred title. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm all for Indian festivals. I celebrate Diwali, Holi and the likes every year. The common thread that joins all these festivals is that all of them have a certain sense of logic behind it.

Let's take Diwali as an example. Diwali is a celebrated coz Ram returned back from 13 years of 'vanvaas'. I totally get it. If I was forced to live in a bloody jungle for a decade, you bet your ass I would want a fucken bigarse partayy when I return. There's nohing like shaking up the jungle out of you with the groovy folk from Ayodhya.

Now, let's look at Raksha Bandhan.

"The festival is marked by the tying of a rakhi, or holy thread by the sister on the wrist of her brother. The elder brother in return offers a gift to his sister and vows to look after her same as elder sister return offers to younger brother. The brother and sister traditionally feed each other sweets. It is not necessary that the rakhi can be given only to a brother by birth; any male can be "adopted" as a brother by tying a rakhi on the person, that is "blood brothers and sisters", whether they are cousins or a good friend. Indian history is replete with women asking for protection, through rakhi, from men who were neither their brothers, nor Hindus themselves. Rani Karnavati of Chittor sent a rakhi to the Mughal Emperor Humayun when she was threatened by Bahadur Shah of Gujarat. Humayun abandoned an ongoing military campaign to ride to her rescue."

I've highlighted the bit that I found most interesting.

My first reaction to this was, if I may use the exact words that formed in my head, "Fuck, kya wholesale mein chutya banaya!"

In case you don't agree with me and you want to hurl pointy objects towards my crotch, let me give you an explanation as to why I think this Raksha Bandhan thing is a very chutya-banao concept. (Other chutya-banao concepts include Pyramid Schemes like Gold Quest and Amway, The Indian Cricket Team, Democracy and Reality Shows)

I have 3 cousins who stay in my society, one of whom ties a rakhi to me every year. Now, I love her and all, but let's just say that I don't agree to the whole "buy a gift in exchange for a 'holy thread' thing". Here's why.

1. When I was born, Amitabh's Don was very popular. Hence, she suggested to everyone that I be named "Don". Since then, this has become a familial joke at every get together we've had. And surprisingly, the joke is NOT on her.

It's not like anybody goes all "Oh remember, she's suggested we call Tanmay 'Don'. Haha! What a moron she is!". It's more like this - "Oh remember, she's suggested we call Tanmay 'Don'. Haha! Sheer genius! Oh Don! Come here Don! Haha!"

*Sigh*

I'm just thankful that 'Don Muthu Swamy Fun' didn't release at the time of my birth.

2. Gifts are more expensive than 'holy threads'. It's not like they're holy for a reason. They're just called so. If somebody had died or lot a sensory organ in the process of making it holy, I would still get it.

3. When I was a kid, MTV call-and-request shows fascinated me. And in those times, you could hear the VJ's voice when you dialled the number. So once, I happened to call a show which was hosted by Shehnaaz Treasurywala. And my sister happened to find out. And since then she's been teasing me with Shehnaaz Treasurywala. And not just when only I'm around. When the entire family is around.

When all you want to do is be an insignificant person in one corner, she'll rise like a phoenix from the other end and yell out the death spell "OOOH! MOTU! HOW'S TREASURYWALA?!?!"

4. She stopped teasing me with Shehnaaz Treasurywala by the time I entered FYJC. That's because she now had somebody else to tease me with. Apparently she'd spotted me with a random girl at some place near college. And since then she's been teasing me with this one girl, who wasn't even my girlfriend. I spent 2 years in junior college JUST on the lookout for my sister.

A normal conversation with a relatively cute looking girl would go like this -

Cute Girl: So, what's up?
Tanmay On The look-out: Nothing much. You say.
Cute Girl: Nothings up with me too... you know what.. the other day... hey why the fuck are you hiding behind trash can?
Tanmay: SSSSSSH BIYATCH! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP! I THINK THAT'S MY SISTER! DON'T LOOK HERE! PRETEND LIKE YOU'RE TALKING TO YOURSELF!
Cute Girl: .......

5. When I was a kid, I loved only two things in life. Cartoon Network and MilkyBar. And once, on the first of April she called me to her house, promising me Milky Bar. I reached there in exactly 15 seconds. Then she told me that there was no Milky Bar. She was only kidding.

Okay, if you think about it now, it's not really a big deal. But I swear, it took 3 grown ups and 5 Milky Bars to prevent me from committing an attempted murder.

And despite all this, year after year I have to give her a gift because she ties me a 'rakhi'. Which is why I say... Raksha Bandhan my arse.

Edit: You guys should probably know that a lot of the above is exagerated. She's not that bad. Maybe one day I'll post about all the times she's been nice to me. Also, she's getting married this January and I'm super happy for her (not so much for her husband though, Ha-Ha!).

Oh no, I'm back.

2008-07-10T18:45:00.003+05:30

A big hello to the three and a half people who still read my blog.

I understand that you people have been very very concerned about my sudden exit from Blogdom. But worry not, I have been in good mental and physical (contrary to what my doctors say) condition and more importantly my internet has finally started working, so you can expect constant updates from here on end.

First up, an update.

1. After my TYBMM exams, the friends and the Tanmay decided to do something very very different and innovative and plan out an unconventional trip, instead of doing something very regular (like packing your bags and going to goa). We thought about all the different places we could go and all the exotic things we could do. About 5 seconds into that thought, we decided to go to goa and get drunk. And so we did.

2. Once I got back from Goa, a generous production house offered me the opportunity to write the script for The Star Parivaar awards. Now here's the thing.... I hate daily soaps. And the Star Parivaar Awards is like an orgy of all these soaps, put up on a stage with an audience who are ready to shag the moment Kekta Kapoor says "Su Che". So when a kind gentleman gave me a chance to write for it, I excused myself for a moment, went to the nearest loo and laughed as hard as I could. I came back all calm and composed, armed with an apology and a genteel declination. A few moments later, I had a whooping signing amount and script to write.

3. The Parivaar awards garnered great TRP's and I suddenly knew everything about Kekta Kapoors kingdom. In fact, I knew things that hadn't even been aired yet. I knew back stories of all characters. I knew how old Baa was. I knew how much nose hair Smriti Irani had. I could write a book on these shows and Kekta Kapoor would actually have several orgasms just reading the book. Like... I actually knew everything. This was the darkest period of my life and I had officially decided to commit suicide. However, I decided not to because I figured that I would return back to life within the next 15 episodes anyways.

4. It was then that a company that my friend was working at gave me a second life. I was offered the chance the write the story, screenplay and dialogues for a film starring Cyrus Broacha, Cyrus Sahukar and co. Of course, little did I know that I was in the anus of the film industry. Take every stereotypical notion you had about the film industry. Put it in a bag. Pee on it. Make a horse pee on it. Let it dry.

Now imagine yourself being inside that bag. Smell something funny?

5. It's been 2 months and the film isn't complete yet. Not to mention the fact that I was broke. And not just any broke. I was broke enough to hang my toilet paper out to dry. And so I decided to take up some writing work. Along came MTV Wassup. That's right. I did a 3 month stint at that show on MTV that airs about 68 times a day. But hey, the good this was that writing the MTV ticker was fun. But the bad thing was that I had to battle hernia twice a day while trying to decipher Bani J's hindi.

6. Soon, TYBMM results were out and you will all be glad to know that I am officially a graduate. I scored a distinction and I narrowly escaped being thrown out of the house by the fathership.

7. And now, the latest news. The Star Parivaar guys, who it seems are still tripping on my spectacular performance during the event, have offered me a chance to direct a TV show on NDTV imagine. The money is great, it involves a lot of travel and responsibility and it also involves great money. So I grabbed it with both my hands, legs, mouth and whatever else I could find around me. So yeah, I won't be updating come August for at least 15 days. But on the plus side, great stories coming up end of August.

Okayy, what have you guys been upto? Had an event 3 months?

Apologies

2008-05-23T14:10:00.003+05:30

I know, I know. I'm sorry. It's been very very long.

I'm currently working on a project which leaves me only time enough to take a dump.

What is this project that is keeping me so busy?

Well, first it was television. Now it's a film script that's come my way. Can't reveal more.

In a couple of days, I get some time off. I shall update then. I don't promise a BMM entry. But a fun entry none the less.

The Delhi Connection.

2008-04-29T09:21:00.004+05:30

There comes a time in a man's life, that he has to make compromises, let go of his principles and finally meet his fears - face to face, mano a mano. There comes a time in a man's life that he must.... finally... befriend people from Delhi.

Now, I'm not one to stereotype, but I genuinely believe that there's something wrong with the air in Delhi that messes up the DNA or contaminates the hormones of the people there. Hence they speak in that weird Punjabi accent and always keep comparing people, places and if given a chance, the length of their penises to the ones in Delhi.

Now... now... before I lose all my readers from Delhi, let me elucidate. I don't HATE people from Delhi. It's just that, I wouldn't break an appointment to go meet a Delhiite. See what I mean?

I just think that on some level, they're odd.

Now now...I know what you all are thinking.

But Tanmay! How can you say that! Not all Delhi people are like that! How can you make such incredulous assumptions! How can you hold such prejudices! You are the most sensible, level headed, funny, sexful, amazing at Counter Strike with Jedi-like-abilities person I know! How can you think like this! Why Tanmay, WHY!

Children, I think this is my one flaw. My one weakness. My Achilles heel, if you may.

However, the blog-pimp that I am, you know I wouldn't make a post JUST about not liking Delhi people. I fear the risk of losing my 0.34 readers from Delhi. Hence, I wrote this story not because I wanted to highlight what seems to be my only flaw. I wrote this because I wanted to tell you guys about one of my favouritest people in the world. Who, by the way, happens to be from Delhi.

Let's call her 'S' for now.

It was the beginning of our second year at BMM. We met at a college festival. She was the contingent leader of a rival college. It was my first time as a contingent leader as well and I was more than determined to win.

On day one of the festival, we led the festival, about 10 points clear of her college. I'd won 4 events on the trot. Needless to say that I had a boomerang-in-my-mouth grin that morning. And it wasn't just because we were winning. It was the thrill of beating a perfectly pretty girl, who was just as determined to win. That's when we first spoke.

S: Listen, can I have a word with you in private?
Tanmay: Sure. Whazza?

I usually don't use the phrase 'whazza'. However, if you must know, I was nervous and I was just trying to be cool. She was pretty, pissed off AND wanted to have a word with me in PRIVATE.

S: Listen up, Tanmay, right?
Tanmay: Yep. Whazza? (Yes, I did it twice)
S: I hate you. I think you're a jerk.
Tanmay: Uhh. *broken heart symbol goes HERE*
S: All my seniors won this festival year after year. And I don't want to be the only one to go back to college without the trophy. So you watch out.
Tanmay: Uhh.
S: So yes, quit making that stupid expression on your face. I need to win this. And for that to happen, YOU need to stop winning all the events.
Tanmay: Uhh.

And she walked off, only to turn back and give me a nice pretty smile a few seconds later.

Of course, by this time I was so smitten that this scene played out in slow motion in my head.

*Sigh*

Being the gentleman that I am, I let her win the festival. Yes, that's right. I *LET* her win. I did miserably in the next 2 events ON purpose. So if you're thinking that Tanmay is capable of running out of luck and not winning a couple of events at a festival, you're wrong! WRONG I TELL YOU!

Of course, you guys will not know the end of that story. However, I can tell you that I asked her out for coffee at the end of the festival. She, obviously floored by the sheer sexiness and the Charm Du Tanmay, said that....well.. she didn't like coffee.

*Double sigh*

S was down in Bombay to study. And today, 3 years later, she went back to her hometown, Delhi. And that's one more thing that I dislike about Delhi. It has now taken away one of my favouritest people.

And that my friends is number 4 on the list of ten random memories I'm going to share with you about my last 3 years at BMM.

5 torches and a scoresheet.

2008-04-13T11:06:00.003+05:30

The next story I'm gonna tell you is not funny. In fact, it's the opposite of funny. It is ynnuf.

But first, a recap. Last November, we'd organized our own college festival called Cutting Chai. The festival was a relatively big success. More so because we managed to put it up in exactly 1 month.

We were low on volunteers since November is the time when most people in our college feel that being an equivalent of human feaces topped with the puss of Kylie Minogues butt pimple, is a great idea.

Nobody really took any interest in the festival. Naturally, a lot of burden fell on the core team. So, we'd decided that on the day of the festivals, we would be handling the most important activities - Compering events, Supervising security, handling sponsors, Handling scores and eating free Baskin Robins icecream.

Everything uptil the 3rd day went great. The final event, the street dance, was kickass. Everybody was excited about the results. There was tension since there was close competition between the top 3 colleges. It was nerve-wrecking typical college festival stuff.

While everybody was enjoying the dance, the core committee was busy upstairs in the BMM Dept, handing the final scoresheets along with the prizes and certificates.

The dance event ended. Everybody was heading into the auditorium. The only thing left now was the prize distribution.

My walky buzzed. It was my co-ordinator.

CO: Tanmay, where the hell are you?
Tanmay: I'm upstairs. Almost done. Just a few names and tallying left.
CO: It's been 10 minutes. Everybody is waiting. People are getting impatient.
Tanmay: I know, I'm sorry, I'm doing it as fast as I can.
CO: Everything has gone very well so far. I beg of you, don't ruin it right now. I don't want anybody to leave the audi. I'll hold you responsible if you mess anything up.
Tanmay: Uhhhh... Okay... I'll see you in 5.

*hair drop silence*

Everybody in the department was staring at the Walky Talky. We had 5 minutes and about 6 more event tallying and certificate making to go. A process which would have taken us at exactly 5 more minutes.

The walky buzzed again. It was one of the volunteers telling me that people were really excited to know the results.

5 seconds later, the walky buzzed again. This time, it was another volunteer echoing the first one.

We had to hurry. Calculators were out. Pens were drawn. It was time to get going... when out of nowhere, the lights go out.

If there was ever a good time to yell out an expletive which roughly means the act of having sexual intercourse, it would be right now.

I looked out of the window to see if our floor was the only one to be hit by this stupid black out. Turns out, it was.

Walky buzzed again.

Somebody: "Tanmay, where the f*ck are you!"
Tanmay: *Insert the aforementioned expletive which roughly means the act of having sexual intercourse here*

I couldn't see a thing. There were 5 others with me in the room, I couldn't see THEM too. I couldn't see the pen in my own hand. It was so dark.

We were running out of time. By now, we were 2 minutes down. The walky was having a sound wave orgasm of it's own. Buzzing like two humping flies. We had to hurry.

The next thing I know, there were 5 sources of light pointing towards the score sheet. Everybody in the room had taken out their cellephones, almost like saying "C'mon, we've got your back covered. Now quit taking tension and move!"

Pens were drawn again. Scores were tallied. We were good to go. And just like that, we'd overcome another obstacle, as tiny as it maybe, through teamwork.

And that my friends is number 3 on the list of ten random memories I'm going to share with you about my last 3 years at BMM.

The Canner

2008-04-09T14:44:00.008+05:30

Today friends, I tell you the tale of a boy without whom I, and the entire BMM department, would be deprived of jokes. It would be appropriate to say that he is often the butt of several thousands of jokes from my side. In fact, I would go ahead and say that he is not only the butt of my jokes, they are also the crotch, the limbs, the facial hair and the islets of Langerhans of it.

The story goes like this.

If the legends are to be believed, Chirag has spent the first 17 years of his life without any sleep. I say this because for the last 3 years he has been making up for his gargantuan lack of sleep.

Chirag sleeps before lectures, after lectures.. and often joins us during lectures in a little game called Sleeping Without Getting Noticed. Of course, since Chirag is new to the circadian process of sleeping, he hasn't yet mastered the game of Sleeping Without Getting Noticed. In fact, he makes it a point that 90% of the people in class and 28% of the people outside the class KNOW that he is sleeping.

I know that I am not obligated to give you visual proof, but I will do so because it is funny and yet at the same time very very fundamental in understanding the phenomenon called Chirag.

Chirag has fallen asleep, or in other words - 'canned', in front of us about a million times. Everytime we're out drinking and having a good time, Chirag decides to sleep and have wet dreams about other times he slept. Once, we all were having an interesting discussion about science and chemotherapy, when Chirag canned WHILST he was in the midst of the conversation.

Okay fine, I lie. We weren't discussing science. It was more like sports.

Maria Sharapova, to be precise.

A conversation with Chirag will be something to this effect:

Me: Hey! Wanna grab a beer?

Chirag: Sure bro. Lets.

Me: Where do you wanna go?

Chirag: I donno how about that pla the whi as chee bee zzzzzzzzzz....

Me: ...... Okay, so I'll ask somebody else.

He's slept at possibly every nook and cranny of the house. Several chairs have had the pleasure of gracing Chirags arse for over 8 hours at a stretch. Once, Chirag was found - canned, obviously, on the stairs right OUTSIDE the house. We all like to believe that Chirag fell asleep WHILE he was ringing the bell to get into the house.

His annoying habit has often led to his downfall. Let's take last month, for example.

Chirag was up all night working on a presentation. Of course, for a man who hasn't slept for 17 years at a stretch, one night without sleep must be a cakewalk, right?

Wrong. Chirag, obviously weakened by the process of thinking for the presentation, fell asleep WHILE he was in the middle of the presentation.

I kid you not. He slept WHILE he was talking. His eyes closed and his coherent sentences suddenly lost the volubility and turned into sleepy murmurs. The professor of course didn't think it was funny. She yelled and Chirag of course, couldn't process the yell since he was, well, 'canned'.

The Canner Who Slept During His Presentation.

And that my friends is number 2 on the list of ten random memories I'm going to share with you about my last 3 years at BMM.

10

2008-03-30T20:51:00.005+05:30

Everybody has a 'group' in college who they generally hang out with. And if you happen to be very very social like me, you had several 'groups', but you'll always have that one group of guys you'll always end up going to the bar with. In my case, this 'group' was made of Rugved 'Daru' Khante, Amar 'Hummer Paaji' Varma, Adi 'Sindhi Aadmi' Bhatia, Deva a.k.a Pappi, Chirag 'ChEEraaagh' Patel and me - Tanmay 'Wilkins Mota' Bhat.

Now, you might be thinking - 'Oh funny nicknames! But I bet they don't call each other by that.'

Well, you couldn't be more wrong. You could try, but you would fail miserably.

We had spent way too many drunken nights together for us to call each other by names that our parents gave us. We'd rather refer to you as the sodomized, raped and gang banged version of your name.

Anyway, the story I'm about to tell you traces it's roots to one of those drunken nights. That's right, it's one of THOSE stories.

It was the summer of 2006. Rugved had just moved into an apartment nearby. We were celebrating his exile from his previous apartment by drinking voluminous amounts of golden coloured brewery extract, more commonly known as beer. Or in Rugved's exact words "DARUUUUUUUUUUUUUU... YEAAARRRGHHHGHGHGH".

We started drinking at about 11 pm, and by 12:30 pm we all were smashed. I was so happy high that I swear on my Simpson Boxers, the thought of having to pee and let out all the beer would have made me cry.

Soon, as our conversations started to deviate from women, food and Sandra Bullock, I started losing interest. And I did what I had to do. I played some music.

Now, I'm the kind of person who likes to play songs that are either audience participative or downright ridiculous. On this day, I decided to play Who Let The Dogs Out.

The first time I heard that song, I thought it was SO ridiculous that it got me excited to the point that I banged my head on the wall just to calm me down. So now, when I was drunk, I was just as excited... multiplied by a few million.

Here's a trick that you should do when you're drunk with your friends.

1. Gather all your friends in one room.
2. Ask them to shut the fuck up.
3. Open all windows, doors, cupboards, dustbins and drawers.
4. Turn the volume up on your speakers.
5. Play 'Who Let The Dogs Out'.
6. Change pants which are magnificently wet due to step no. 4 and 5.
7. Close cupboards, dustbins, drawers and more importantly your doors and windows.
8. Point no.7 is to avoid pointy objects being thrown at you by other members of the building.

You might be wondering why I am asking you to do this. It is only because it's the best feeling in the world.

Never have I wanted to yell out 'WHO LET THE FUCKEN DOGS OUT' in my entire life. But that night, in that situation, I wanted to yell out those words more than I wanted to be alive.

And so, I yelled out those words as loud as I could. Several parts of my lungs got angry and as a sign of protest they made me cough.

You have to admit, the first few times one of the Baha Men yells out 'Who Let The Dogs Out', you cannot help but yell it out too. And so I did. Several hundred million times.

I grabbed Hummer Paaji and we planted our arse on the window, still yelling (and laughing, yes).

The next few moments are an actual blur, to be honest. But I do remember watching several extremely scared dogs in the vicinity, who had officially been scarred for the rest of their genital-licking lives, going berserk.

And just like that, we all were in our happy zone. Careless and utterly oblivious to our entire neighborhood's necessity for peaceful sleep. However, the local patrolling police van didn't really care about our happy zone.

The police car came out of nowhere, and like most people within a radius of five thousand kilometres, they too heard a bunch of boys yelling out 'A DOGGY IS NOTHING IF HE DON'T HAVE AAAA BOOOONEEEE'.

They moment the spotted us, they yelled out 'AYE! KYA CHALU HAI UDHAR?!'

Drunk as we were, we didn't know if that was a rhetoric question or a genuine enquiry.

In what seemed not more than one twenty seventh of a second, they were upstairs, banging on our doors. Meanwhile, I thought it would be a swell idea for me to snuck under the bedsheets and pretend like I'm sleeping. Maybe it was the alchohol, but I seriously thought that the chances of them seeing a 6 feet tall and 4 feet wide person singing a verse of a popular english track, was bare minimal.

I was obviously mistaken.

They entered the house and started yelling even more loudly than us. Kinda ironic I thought.

While I was practically fornicating with that ironic thought in my head, they entered the bedroom and saw me trying to pull a fast one on them by pretending to sleep. I was even snoring. Very very loudly.

The moment they saw me they said 'YEH MOTA ABHI SOYA HAI! AYE, CHAL AYE NATAK KARNA BAND KAR!'

They threatened to take away the computer. It was at this moment that I wished I could pull of a deus ex machina and save the day. Unfortunately the words 'C'MON DOGGGY HOLD YOUR BONE! C'MON DOGGY HOLD IT!' had hijacked my mind.

Somehow, SOMEHOW.... Rugved remembered that he still had his press card from the time he'd worked for the crime beat at Mumbai Mirror. He showed them the card and they left. Not without taking away some of our alchohol.

And that my friends is just one of the ten random memories I'm going to share with you about my last 3 years at BMM.

Milk is pee and pee is milk.

2008-03-21T22:02:00.003+05:30

We all like to believe we are adults. But every now and again we laugh at the stupidest things... like we just turned 12. That's because deep down inside... really REALLY deep down inside, we all are kids. IN fact, if you eat lots of North Indian spicy food, that kid dies.

So the other day, I heard something that made my inner child orgasm several thousand times.

Guess what they call 'milk' in Singapore?

*take deep breath*

*Wait for it*

*Is your face turning blue?*

They call it 'Susu'.

*laughs hard enough to cause infanticide*

Isn't that dope? In fact, can you imagine what they call their pee? Doodh? Milk?

So new born babies in Singapore enjoy some breast susu and if you have a lot of water in Singapore, you'll probably milk yourself. I'd hate to be in Singapore and go to the grocery store and ask for some Cow's Susu.

Can you imagine what would happen if they confused ALL their liquids that way? I think the only time that confusion WOULDN'T really matter is if they confuse Coke with Pepsi and vice versa.

Dear Hansika Motwani,

2008-03-18T20:49:00.002+05:30

Hi! Whatsup?

I was just on Rediff the other day and there was this bit about how this 16 year old actress wants to change her image into something a lot more glamorous and... ummm... 'sexy'. The reasons you gave were, and I quote - "The audience is looking for a much more mature Hansika. They want to see me evolve and I'm just being myself and I hope the audience likes it".

Ummm. I *think*....the word that you're looking for is Pedophilia. The only audience that wants to see a 16 year old slut 'evolve into a more glamorous hot mature actress' are pedophiles. Oh, and by 'evolve' do you mean 'hit puberty'?!

Of course, I can totally understand the fact that you don't really know what pedophilia means, considering how you just learned the alphabet a year ago.

The article also had pictures of you wearing what looked like my handkerchief and a dress which had your sixteen year old tits popping out of it.

You then continue to talk about how your board exams are coming up and how you usually get only 5 days a month to study and how that is more than enough for you to do very well.

Following this there was a huge 'hahahahahaha' in the article. Must have been a typo or something.

Further down the interview, I read that you are also honored to be romantically paired opposite none other than Govinda, in your next movie called 'Money Hai Toh Honey Hai'. Again, the word pedophilia comes to my head.

Just wanted to drop by and let you know a few things before somebody at school tells you this.

Yours Oldly,

Tanmay.

Tagged.

2008-03-11T12:40:00.002+05:30

Will have my vivas in a couple of days. So I'm back to being all PMSY and pissed off at college again. What was I thinking? Missing college?! Really?!

Anyway, in the mean while a bunch of people (The Other Veda and Miss Lunacy and Emotionally Eccentric) have tagged me. Might as well finish it off now before my hormones have sex with each other and make me all emotional over this missing college weirdness.

Rules on blog and links as appropriate. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself. Tag six random people and let them know they've been tagged.

1. Allright. I'm going to share this with you people. But I swear, one more joke about this and I will personally see to it that your face befriends each and every part of my ass. So yes, this is what I do.

My phone has a credit limit of 500, which I exhaust in exactly 8.56777 seconds. So what I'm saying is that my outgoing calls are barred more often than my neighbour making horse noises while having a bath. (More on that story later. Also, don't ask me what horse noises are.)

One more thing, my landline has only incoming services.

So everytime I'm at home and I want to order food and stuff, I have to go online and ask people if they are willing to call up the restaurant and order the food for me. I've lost several good friends in this procedure.

2. I like eating maggi. And my liking is not limited to the cooked version of the delicacy. I also like eating just the seasoning. Yum yum yum yum yum.

3. I have two compartments in my wallet. I use one compartment only for hundred rupee bills or more. The other one is strictly for fifty rupee or less. I don't like taking five rupee notes. They're a little too green for my liking.

4. A lot of people have lost their vision on seeing me with long hair, I know. I regret their loss of vision, but to be honest I like it. The long, weird curly hair makes me feel like I'm wearing a helmet of sorts. Also, even though it's not true, I feel like the longer the hair grows the smaller my head looks.

5. Whenever I travel by rickshaw, I often have a mental race with other rickshaws. I mentally urge my rickshaw guy to beat the other rickshaw. And sometimes, if I'm not too distracted, I keep count of the number of rickshaws my rickshaw guy overtook.

6. I like to right click on my desktop and refresh ALL the time. I'm unbelievably restless like that. I refresh like ALL the time. I like to believe that my computer is ACTUALLY getting refreshed everytime I do it. Sometimes I get a mental image of my computer letting out an electronic sigh of relief.

Okay, I tag a bunch of my juniors now. Amogh, Sharu, Aarti and Menon. I also tag Rishi.

Jai Sandwich Owns Your Ass.

2008-03-05T12:02:00.002+05:30

The first time I went to Jai Sandwich, I was mesmerized by the sheer number of people who actually ate sandwiches. That's probably because there's a sandwich for everyone at Jai's. If you're the kind of person who likes your sandwich simple, Jai's got the plain veg sandwich. If you're the kind of person who likes it funky, Jai's got a schezwan masala cheese toast mayonaisse aloo paneer sandwich. If you're the kind of person who loves suffering from dysentery then Jai's also got the triple scezwan spicy toast.

I was never a sandwich person. I was more of a frankie - vada pav person. And because of that I am also a person who bleeds gravy.

Jai Sandwich is not your average sandwich guy. He's more like your average sandwich guy with 4 other guys who make sandwiches at the speed of lightening.

My first day at college was during our orientation. I remember eating a sandwich from Jai's and I immediately KNEW that I'd be spending more money on this guy than what I'll spend on fees for college. And sure enough, I did.

Jai Sandwich. Just one of the things I'd be missing about college.

This is not going to be funny.

2008-02-29T21:33:00.002+05:30

The next few posts on this blog aren't going to be funny. So in case you've come here for a few laughs, you may proceed. If you want funny, go watch Aaj Tak or something.

I say this because as much as I wanted to ignore it, it's finally here. The last few days of college. As much as I'd HATE to admit it, I'm a little sad. No, fuck little, I am sad. But then again, I'm raring to get out of college as well. Sure, I've been complaining about how college sucks so bad. But then again, that's just me being a prick. No matter what I say, I *know* I'm going to miss this place.

The next few posts on my blog are gonna be short stories about places, people and things that I'm going to miss about college.

So yeah, you can gladly un-bookmark me for a good month or so. Coz this ain't gonna be funny.

Brrrrrrrr.

2008-02-09T23:14:00.000+05:30

Okay, so it's fu*kin cold, eh? The entire city collectively decided to switch on their AC's and leave their fridges open. And all of a sudden, it's cold as hell. It's winter like we've never seen before. It's the kind that give Eskimos nightmares.

There's not much you can do in such weather. And while you're doing nothing, you might as well go through older posts on my blog. (Oh fuck you. I can't pimp my own blog anymore?)

Anyways, here's what you CAN do in case you don't want to read everything else. Hmph.

1. Try and use your hardened nipples to cut through glass. Or steel. Or watermelons.
2. Try and milk cows and see if they give Vanilla ice cream instead, like it said in those Santa Banta jokes.
3. Try and use your hardened nipples as toothpicks and try and poke them into Paneer Tikkas and see if you are able to pick them up.
4. Pretend to be Sub Zero and take full responsibility for the low temperature.
5. Rub chalk on your nipples and see if you are able to write on the black board using it.
6. Wear a Santa Costume and if people ask, pretend like it's just a sweater.
7. Try and find other productive uses for hardened nipples.
8. Place your hands under your armpit. Yes, that feels nice, doesn't it?
9. Make a note in your diary that reminds you not to do the above during the summer.
10. Raise the lid and sit on the pot. Feel the cold ceramic literally freeze your bottoms. NOW, you can get yourself spanked on your butt, but not feel it! Ha!
11. *Insert obligatory bath-in-cold-water-watch-nuts-shrink-joke-HERE*
12. Wet your hands and touch everybody's face.
13. Prepare for your funeral.
14. Pretend to throw water on your friend's face. When he/she shuts his eyes, throw ice at him/her. Once you're done doing this, clasp your mouth in disbelief and say "I SWEAR, IT WAS WATER WHEN I THREW IT!"
15. Grab a cup of coffee, sit back and read through the rest of this blog. (For the last time, I *CAN* pimp my own blog on my own blog, okay?!)

Joks that I crake.

2008-02-05T16:23:00.001+05:30

I love random 3 a.m. conversations. Especially if the person at the other end of the phone isn't asleep. But then again, I wouldn't blame you if you DID fall asleep while speaking to me at 3 a.m. This is why -

*On the phone at 3 a.m. Just in case you didn't read the first paragraph*

Tanmay: You are gujju, yes?
Person: Zzzzz. Wha? Huh?

Tanmay: You are from that western coastal state of India called Gujarat, correct?
Person: Yeah, I am. Why?

Tanmay: You like Dhoklas? And Undiyos?
Person: Dhoklas, yes. Undiyo, no. Why you asking?

Tanmay: No reason. Just asking. *whistles. Looks at tree*
Person: Okay. Zzzzzzzzz.

Tanmay: STOP SLEEPING YOU DHOKLA FUCK*NG CHUNDIYO!
Person: What did you just call me?!

Tanmay: Err, I called you a DhoklaFucker and Chundiyo. Two new gujju abuses, I made. (I like talking like Yoda, sometimes)
Person: Hahahahahahaha.

Tanmay: Ha! I just got a mental image of two snacks doing it.
Person: You mean two 'snakes'! Hahahaha.

Tanmay: Yes, and then a little snake is born. Tiny little earthworm like.
Person: Errr.

Tanmay: Oh! Oh! Oh! What did one gujju snake tell the other?
Person: Ummm. No idea.

Tanmay: Sssssssssssuuuuu Che?
Person: *wierd dial tone*

Tanmay: Hello?

Why do people wear socks?

2008-01-29T17:59:00.000+05:30

(Warning: The author of this post is highly bored. He is infact so bored that he actually bothered to warn you)

One of the most intriguing questions that has baffled the human kind for ages is this - Why do people wear socks? Why?

Most people react to this question in this manner -

People: Don't be stupid Tanmay. People wear socks because they want to avoid shoe bites.

Tanmay: If that's the case then don't buy shoes that bite you. It's easy - all you have to do is check if the shoe has teeth or not. Simple.

People: Socks keep our feet clean.
Tanmay: DON'T UNDERESTIMATE THE FUCKEN SHOE, OKAY?! SHOES ARE NICE THINGS. THEY WILL KEEP YOUR FEET CLEAN.

People: It looks nice.
Tanmay: Looks nice? There's hardly anything to look at! First you wear them, then you wear shoes! That covers up the entire feet! You can barely see the sock! Don't be fucking stupid.

People: Ha, so we'll wear it over chappals.
Tanmay: Will you also wear green shorts and a flourescent pink t-shirt?! No? Oh c'mon, you're already halfway into Retardsville with that sock and chappal thing you're wearing!

People: But socks look so pretty!
Tanmay: You mean those pink fluffy frills? Tusshar Kapoors underwear looks better than that. Besides, I think my Simpsons Boxers look great. Do you see me wearing them on my feet?

People: But if you don't wear socks, your feet will stink.
Tanmay: That's just fuckall logic. Scientists have proven that socks stink more. Those scientists are no more employed, but still. We must consider this unemployed fact.

People: Okay fuck you. What's your problem?
Tanmay: My problem is that I hate to bend over and wear socks. It's too much trouble. Why to waste time wearing socks when you have to waste time again to wash them. And the serve no REAL purpose. Face it. I'd rather stick cloth on the insides of the shoe and wear them directly. See? No frills, no nothing.

You're spending money right now.

2008-01-05T08:18:00.000+05:30

Yes you are. Think about it.

You spent a good amount buying that computer. So every moment you spend on it, every penny you spent on the computer is being utilized. Not to mention the electricity.

And if you're sitting at home and reading this, you're spending more. Every penny you spent on the house, your chair AND your clothes is being utilized.

In fact you're always spending money. Even if you're just walking on the road.

The tax you payed was used to build that road. So everytime you walk on the road, it's like a small amount of what you paid is being utilized right there.

Even when you're crapping. You paid money to to build the toilet, no? Not to mention your underwear.

So, when are we NOT spending money? (I need your help with this)

The only scenario I can think of, off the top of my head is this -

The aircraft you're travelling in is crashing. And you throw yourself off the plane without a parachute. (if you took the parachute, you will still be utilizing the money you spent on the flight, no?)

Oh, and you strip yourself naked before you do that.

That means you'll be naked and hovering in mid air.

I think that's the only point during which you're not spending any money. I also think that you're gonna die. Hmmm. Interesting.

On that note, Happy New Year! (2007's top 10, coming up!)

Aye Aye Caption!

2007-12-20T19:58:00.001+05:30

One of the first batch of posts on this blog was a picture description post. For all those who read those posts, may your souls rest in peace.

Now, for the new, more tolerant and forewarned readers, here's a Picture Post coming to you after a very VERY long time.

What I do is give you the description of what' happening in the picture. You, in return, gimme a nice funny caption. Okay, so it doesn't have to be funny. But I would like it if your caption didn't impart wisdom about The Expressionists Theory on Transitivity of a Hyena's Innards.

Anyways, yes, about this picture.

This picture was clicked on the last day of Cutting Chai (The college festival I blogged about). The festival was over and done with. And there I was giving my last Thank-You speech to all those who helped out with the festival. And just as I was going to land the big one-two on the speech, there came a dog.

He just came....and like.... just sat there. Almost like he was waiting for me to get done so that he could start with his own speech. He considered me to be his equal, if not his inferior. It was almost like he was letting us all know that we're disrupting his time table and we should really be fucking off now. So to make his presence felt, in the middle of my monologue, he just came and planted his doggy arse across the parallel.

Now, gimme your best caption. Your time starts now.

Okay okay, no time limits.

I amuse myself. I don't know why.

2007-12-05T03:48:00.001+05:30

I love practical jokes.

This one's one of my favourites. I carried out this practical joke often when I was in junior college, pursuing Science (something that the fathership thought would be perfect for me)

Whenever I would be writing a maths paper, I would PURPOSELY leave the entire paper empty. The examiner would check the first 10 papers before he would finally reach mine. And luckily, all 10 students who were in front of me were fantastic at maths and would write their paper like they were replicating The Fountainhead in font size 88.

So yeah, the examiner would check the first 10 papers, which are packed. Then when he would reach my paper, it would be empty!

Ha ha!

What an idiot!

He thought he would find one more paper with like... maths stuff written all over it! Well guess what, you WON'T find anything except my roll no. on that paper! And maybe a small doodling of Pythagoras making out with Einstein! But that's all! HA HA YOU STUPID EXAMINER! FOOLED YOU! MY PAPER HAS NOTHING IN IT! HA, HOWDYU LIKE THAT YOU IDIOT EXAMINER!

Okay, so turns out that I couldn't do that joke more than 1 time a year coz like I needed to 105 marks or something to pass. Sheh! What a waste of such an ingenious idea.

So anyways, today I invented yet another masterpiece of a prank. You guys MUST try this. It's super cool.

So like, I wrote down the words "I can't read" and asked people to read it out loud.

And the moment someone would read it, I would go like "Aaaw! You can't! You poor baby!"

After which I would give them a little hug and laugh my way into the bank. Of course, I was very confused about why I came to the bank.

So I came out of the bank and continue laughing my way to no real place or a phrase in particular.

So, that's two things you've learnt today. One, never act out a phrase. If you do, make sure you pick the right phrase.

Two, if you ever meet somebody who tried to make you read a paper which said "I can't read", you know where the idea originated.

Dear Bobby Deol,

2007-12-02T00:22:00.001+05:30

Hi, how are you? Bad? Good.

I am writing this letter to you to tell you just how much I love you. I'm writing this to tell you....how utterly.... how do I put this.... useful(?) you have been to a humor writer like me. I love you Bobby, really.

Let me start off by telling you that a humor writer has needs. No, I'm not referring to sexual needs, no. I mean sure, we could do with the occasional acquaintance with the opposite sex, but this is not the right time and the right forum to talk about this.

I'm talking about more abstract, non materialistic needs. The needs I refer to are the conversational jokes and anecdotes that are universal and can be applied at any point in a piece of writing. More often than not, these needs are satisfied by cracking jokes on people who can easily be made fun of. Let me give you an example, my love -

If I'm writing a funny post about something very very mundane like today morning's lecture, this is how YOU make ME seem funny -

Today mornings lecture was boring, much like watching grass grow or a film that involves the use of A Bobby Deol.

See? It's thanks to YOU Bobby, I can make jokes at ease! You are such a unique specimen, that I can actually refer to you as a separate object. Hence, you are not just Bobby Deol, you are A Bobby Deol! See the difference?

Thanks to your sheer incompetence as an actor, I can now make fun of you! Not just that, you're so super ugly that you make blindness a fantastic thing to look forward to! Bobby, let me tell you that you DEFINATELY have that certain *nothing* about you, which no other human being has. You're so talentless that you make a scripts work by not accepting the movie.

You're so cool Bobby. You really are.

I mean, everytime I run out of thought, all I have to do is think about you, and *pop*! There comes a joke out of nowhere!

I have your unbelievably ugly face to thank for that. It's a face made for radio. It's also a face made for Pro - Abortion ads!

ABORT YOUR KIDS! OR ELSE HE MIGHT TURN OUT TO BE LIKE THIS!

*Sigh* Bobby, you're really helpful. All those times that I've fallen short of the word count, you've been there to help me. I can't imagine what I would do without cracking jokes about your sheer lack in intellect and pathetic dancing skills. Thanks for making dead animals look cool Bobby. Thanks a lot!

In conclusion Bobby, please don't be angry with me. I mean, sure, I make fun of you and all that. I call you a cow-fucking moron and I also think that you couldn't get a clue during clue mating season in a field of clues if you smeared your body in musk and did the clue mating dance. But you must know that whenever anybody makes fun of your acting skills, I stop them right there and tell them that it's not your fault! You're paralyzed neck upwards.

You're not?!?!

No! How can you NOT be paralyzed! Surely you are! I mean, I assumed you were paralyzed since I've never seen you emote or express anything using your face. C'mon! You can't NOT be paralyzed! It's the only logical explanation for the sheer lack of facial expression and blase dialogue delivery!

Anyways, thanks for always being there. Thanks for being yourself. If it weren't for you, humor writers around the world would be deprived of an easy target that the world could laugh at. Thanks for being yourself. Thanks for being a Bobby Deol.

- Yours lovingly,

Tanmay.

What?! I still have readers?

2007-11-26T02:46:00.000+05:30

The last one month has come and gone in a jiffy, leaving me absolutely no time to update this place. In fact, I've had such little time that I can actually count the no. of minutes I've had on Jadoo's left blue hand's fingertips. Not just any fingertips, but Jadoo's LEFT blue hand's fingertips. I can't help but focus your attention on that extremely crucial analogy, to make you, my beloved readers, understand WHY I haven't been able to bore you for the past one month.

But for now, time is all I have. It's time for a good, well deserved ramble.

What have I been upto? What has this seemingly useless wanna be humor writer been doing for the past 1 month?

First off, I was practically ambushed into being Chairperson for my college festival. Here's what happened -

I walked into college one day to attend "very important college fest meeting for all TY's". Apparently the meeting was held to tell everybody about the progress on the festival.

The festival had made tremendous progress from the time they had the last meeting, to the point where the name was decided. The fest was going to be called Cutting Chai.

Okay, cool. I don't mind the name. The festival was supposed to be fun and retarded, so the name went down well with me. But really, it took them a week to decide on the name? I can so imagine the minutes of the meetings while they did this.

Day1. The festival should start with a C. Why? I don't know. Should it start with B?

Day2. Cutting Chai. Oooh, I like it.

Day3. How about The Antonio Banderas Fest?! No, Cutting Chai was better.

Day4. Why is it called Cutting Chai?

Day5. *Yawn*

Day6. Should the second 'C' in Cutting Chai be a capital? Oooh, how about a cedilla?

Day7. Fuck it, let's call a meeting.

So yeah, the name was decided. They were now looking for a Chairperson.

*insert scary music here*

I should've seen it coming when everybody literally came and hugged me when I entered class. Compliments about my supposed leadership skills, my extreme competence as a planner flew all around the place. They even told me I was funny! What was I supposed to do! It all sounded so genuine! My readers, you must understand, I got 'duped' into doing it! I would have never left you guys and done some stupid festival! You must understand!

Here's how the perfunctory conversation went between the Co-Ordinator and the Tanmay-

CO: So Tanmay, you have to be chairperson. Everyone says so.

Tanmay: But...me...who everyone? *takes out knife*

CO: All your classmates. They all say that you will be the best person to do it.

Tanmay: MY CLASS PEOPLE DON'T WANT TO DO THE FEST! THAT'S WHY THEY'RE TELLING YOU TO CATCH ME! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND!!!

CO: Why would anyone try and escape a chance to be the chairperson of their own college fest? It only involves so much hard work that will practically wear your testicles off, give you diarhoeea, make you forget the spelling of diarrhea, not update your blog for ages and give you a mild headache that will actually, potentially, never go away?

Tanmay: ........

CO: So tell me, you doing it or not?

Tanmay: Ummm, no.

CO: Why?

(At this point, I was already thinking of something good and convincing to say. See, I'm smart like that.) *hollywood grin with flashy teeth goes here*

Tanmay: I...err.. have dance class.

CO: You... have... dance class?

(Okay, so I'm not that smart. But hey, it's still believable!)

Tanmay: Yeah. Salsa. I am learning Salsa. Hey, why are you laughing?

(Okay, so not that believable. But hey, it's still a convincing excuse!)

CO: *stops laughing*. Sorry, so tell me, when and how often do you have to go to do Salsa?

Tanmay: Twelve times a day. 2 hours each session.

(Okay, so not that convincing. But hey, it'll still make anybody pity you! 24 hours of salsa and all!)

CO: Fuck you, don't you bullshit me. Apart from this, what else you busy doing?

Tanmay: Ummm..err... Kathak?

CO: Kathak? Really?

(Clearly, this wasn't working. I had to make her really genuinely believe that I was busy.)

Tanmay: I also have bharatnatyam, Indo Jazz classes and Bookbinding classes and lesbian pottery classes on the weekends.

CO: Okay, that's it, you're Chairperson. See you tomorrow. Come with a plan for the festival and how to go about it. The principal wants to know. A 20 slide PPT would be good enough. But I'd say, make it 40.

Tanmay: But....Salsa...classes!

At this point, I could already feel my intestines groping my neck, my spleen headlocking my urinary bladder and my tear glands going haywire. Oh how much I cried!

Chal now, more on the festival tomorrow. Neend is happening.

Obligatory Post-Exam Yell

2007-10-15T09:51:00.000+05:30

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

PS: I've been working on some analogies. Tell me how is this one.

The end of each individual exam is like the undoing of a stapled pin from your testicle.

Comments will be most welcome. Okay bye, beer awaits.

To laugh or not to laugh.

2007-10-03T19:12:00.000+05:30

The first university exams are here and like most students, I too, am busy doing several things at the same time. These several things include playing Pacman (Why doesn't he EVER become fat?), watching reruns of Friends and just generally Being Of No Real Use (also known as Being a BMM student).

Also, in my free time, I have decided to undertake a study to understand humans better. And YOU should help me.

This study includes a close look at how sadistic humans are. Given an opportunity, would a person want to laugh or be sad at another persons misery. Also known as Schadanfreude. I assure you, this has nothing to do with Sigmund Freud or any of his teachings.

Now, I wish to do so by taking a survery which comprises of this question -

They say that a 1000 strong human farts (by strong I mean the ones which make no noise and are the stinkiest) has enough energy equivalent to that of an atom bomb.

What if one day a person ate so much (let's say this person is your best friend or your brother or something) and released a fart, equivalent to the aforementioned fartified atom bomb. And then he died. Like, he just stopped living. His arse burst like a baloon which just touched a pin. The inner fleshy parts of his ass are splattered all over the living room. Blood everywhere. Maybe a little bit of pee and pooh here and there. (See, I'm trying to make it funny and disgusting at the same time, so it's more difficult to choose)

On the one hand, you have the conversation piece that will last you a life time.

(You: Hey, *controlling laughter*, guess what my friend died!
Listener: WTF?!
You: *laughing* Yeah! He like, farted! And he just like, died! Bwahahahahah!)

On the other hand, your best friend just died.

What would you do when you hear the news? Would you laugh or would you feel bad?

Please leave me your anwers. I will give you credit at the end of my reasearch. Thank you.

Aah, here it comes.

2007-09-29T19:28:00.000+05:30

What follows every big Indian victory is loads of alchohol consumption and some typical old fashioned PJ's and rumours. Okay so like listen to the couple of REALLY bad ones I heard.

1. Why was ESPN banned after the match was aired?

A - Because they showed a blue film on the 24th of September. Apparently a bunch of men in blue were fucking a bunch of men in green.

*controls laughter*

Okay, here's another REALLY bad one.

2. Why was Abdul Kalam the most happy after India won the cup?

A - Because he had predicted that India would be a super power in 2020.

Okay, now that I've totally stunk up the entire room, I'm gonna release some more super bad ones.

3. Okay, so like Joginder Sharma's father owns a paan-beedi shop somewhere in U.P. So like, guess what was Dhoni's first words to him when he came into the Indian team.

A - Ae Joginder, ek Marlboro light laana.

The Terrorist Manual

2007-09-05T03:31:00.000+05:30

Today's paper (DNA) carried the following excerpt -

"All the accused in the 7/11 train blasts case appear to be religiously following the Al-Qaeda manual that lists dos and dont's for extremists who are captured. The 18 chapter-chapter manual, first discovered by the Manchester police in 2000, teaches Al-Qaeda operatives how to operate in prison. It directs detainees to not divulge their true identities, refuse to record their statements and refuse to give out any information about Al-Qaeda".

The manual was specially made for all retarded terrorists who didn't already know that revealing the whereabouts of their master, Osama Bin Laden, would be a fucking daft thing to do. The manual, also popularly known as The Book That States The Fucking Obvious, also has information regarding the operation of the new Moto Razr2.

Here's a little excerpt from the book -

Chapter 1.

DO NO TELL THEM ABOUT THE SECRET AL-QAEDA HEADQUARTERS, HIDDEN BEHIND THE BIG BEN.

Kindly refrain from giving out the whereabouts of our secret lair. Even if you are subjected to torture. Even if they take tweezers and pluck out each and every hair off your terrifyingly hairy balls. Kindly do not tell them about Osama Bin Laden or any of your other superior in commands.

Please.

For more information, log onto www.Al-Qaeda.com/manual

Tag. You're it!

2007-08-25T15:33:00.000+05:30

Veda tagged me.

1. Who's the better superhero – Batman or Superman? Why?
Ans:- Anybody who wears his chaddi over his pants is automatically superlative in comparison. Besides, even YOU know Superman's better. Imagine an over the table arm-wrestling contest between Batman and Superman. There's a pretty good chance that Batman faces an unavoidable itch-situation in his underpants. Superman however, wears his chaddi's OVER his pants. Probability of Superman getting chaddi-itch is way lesser when compared to Batman. I don't know about you, but betting on Batman in such a situation is just money down the drain.

*whistles and looks at tree*

2. Say you can ask any literary/TV character you want, out on a date. We'll just assume they'll say yes right away. Who? Why? Where? What?

Oh God. This is tough. Off the top of my head, Arwen from LOTR. I admit, Liv Tyler might have something to do with it. Also coz I was just going through random pages of Return Of The King yesterday.

At the shire? A breakfast date? And some sex after that? And some more sex? Sex? Sex!!

3. Everyone has one. A movie that made you gag, choke, throw up, wake up screaming in the middle of the night or all of the above. Which one's yours?

When I was a kid, I saw Alien. Nights have never been the same since then. *sobs uncontrollably*

4. Let's have it - the worst pick-up line ever used on you, or god forbid, used by you.

The worst pick up line? There was this one I used in my first year junior college, and it worked. I don't know why it worked. Probably coz we were playing this game where we see who comes up with the worst pick up line ever. Probably coz it was so retarded that she found it cute. And maybe coz we both were drunk out of our wits.

Hey, did you just fart? Coz you blow me away.

Yeah, we were drunk.

I'll post my set of questions later. Goodnight.

No, YOU are the only wrong.

2007-08-21T19:14:00.000+05:30

"Tattoos are bad."

"Tattoos are spoiling the youth."

"Tattoos are bad for the skin."

"Tattoos are too expensive. "

"How can young young children get those tattoos inked on their skin?"

"How can parents allow their children to get them?"

"What do you youngsters like in those tattoos? "

"Tattoos don't make sense."

"Tattoos represent everything that is wrong with the Indian youth today."

"Tattoos are bad for Indian culture."

"Tattoos are wrong."

"You students are wrong."

"This whole world is wrong."

No, you going menopausal and taking out your sexual frustrations on us students, is wrong.

YOU BEING A TOTAL BITCHSLUTFACEDCOCKSUCKINGWHORE IS WRONG.

Oh and by the fucking way, You saying "Tanmay Bhat, A 137, your project is on 'How to Motivate youngsters to go to a tattoo parlour' ", after giving us a fucken lecture on how a tattoo is the worst fucking thing that has happened to the world, is the fucking wrongest fucking thing in the world. (yes, I know 'wrongest' is not a word)

Just Fucken Wrong.

SINGLEDOM! OH HOW I EMBRACE THEE!

2007-08-11T11:24:00.000+05:30

There are several reasons why I love being single. One of them being the fact that the possilibity of the following happening to me, is zilch. You know why? COZZZ IM SINNNGLLEEEEE! *does little jig*

Anyways, it's not like I'm against a relationship or anything. I'm cool with two people getting together, banging each other and having the odd moment of mush and like sharing money over the cab rides and ice creams and stamps and other stuff that you can go dutch on. What I don't like is when things go beyond the motherfucking boundaries of sanity. Picture this.

'A' breaks up with 'B'. A is happy in life, probably banging 'X' already. Probability of 'A' getting over 'B' is higher than Paris Hilton being a virgin.

'B' on the other hand is super SUPER depressed and fucked up in the head.

'B' doesn't smoke. However, in order to get attention from 'A', 'B' decides that asking everybody else for a smoke in front of 'A' is a very effing great idea. Please note, 'B' has never had a smoke in her life. 'B' doesn't drink. 'B' probably doesn't know how good porn really is. Basically, 'B' has led her life the hard way. No beer, no nothing.

Now, 'A' in turn buys her a smoke, instead of shouting at her and denying her the smoke.

If you understand how a woman's mind works (woah woah, hold your feminist horses), you would probably know that all sorts of fucked up things are happening inside 'B's head right about now. I can practically picture all the pissed off thoughts engaging in a topless sweaty battle with a very flattering hologram of topless 'A'.

That evening, 'A' gets a message from 'B' saying "Fuck man, I hate 'A'. I hate him so much. I can't believe he's being such a dick. Fuck man, how could he do this to me. I hate him, I fuckin hate him"

10 minutes after that, 'A' gets one more message saying "Sorry, that message was for 'C' ".

The next day, 'A' has a nice chat with 'B', telling her that things are over and she should really try and move on and stop convincing everyone in their social circle that 'A' should get back with 'B'.

'B' on the other hand things 'A' is out of HIS mind. That's right, 'B' thinks 'A' is emotionally unstable. 'B' thinks 'A' is just confused about things and hence he's just doing things on instinct. So 'B' says "'A', I want you to take time off and think about what YOU'RE doing".

WTF?!?!?!

I don't know what 'A' said after that, but MAN I would kill to see his expression when 'B' said that.

Meanwhile, 'B' also asked 'A' the one universal question that has baffled Mankind for centuries.

'When will you be Ok?'.

Now if you will excuse me, I have to go lend 'A' my Orb Of The Future so that he can peer into it and tell 'B' "when he will be Ok".

The title of this post now makes total sense, yesno?

The dilemma of the party cap.

2007-08-03T19:09:00.000+05:30

The other day, our co-ordinator walked into class during a brand building lecture and woke us up from our stupor. She said she needed two students of average intelligence to perform a task that involves going to Lower Parel, immediately. The task also involved total freedom from the intellectual masturbation that our African-looking, excessively well endowed professor was indulging in.

Now, the task.

We were given a party cap with the words "Come, celebrate with us. R.D.National College, 21st July, 6 pm" written inside it. Each cap was specially made and was being given out to the chief guests who we were inviting for an orientation function for our juniors. Now, first up was a certain 'Pushpi' at advertising agency - Saints and Warriors (Founded by The Ultimate Warrior of The Ultimate Warrior fame). Just as we entered his office, we faced THIS dilemma.

1. Should we hand him the cap BEFORE we verbally invite him?

Pros - It's a fun gesture to begin with. And c'mon, who doesn't like party caps?

Cons - What if he says no? Should we ask him to return the cap? Nobody likes to part with their party caps, no?

2. Should we give him the cap AFTER we invite him?

Pros - If he says no, hey, we get to keep the cap.

Cons - It'll be weird to just 'hold' the cap while we are talking to him. Nobody ever just 'holds' a cap. That's just weird.

Oh, I forgot to tell you. When we got there, we realized that Pushpi was short for Pushpinder Singh.You guessed it. He's a Sikh, and so he wore a turban.

Now, if you were in my situation, what would you do? Would you give him the cap before you spoke to him? Or after you were done speaking to him?

I'll tell you what I did in my next post. Now quick, answer my question.

BMM Boy turns 20. His prostate resigns.

2007-06-28T00:16:00.000+05:30

Tanmay Bhat, resident of Andheri and to-be member of All India Dentures Association of India turned twenty on the 23rd of June.

What would normally be a day of drunken debauchery and extremely haziness turned out to be a day of drunken haziness and extreme debauchery. Here's what the lad had to say when asked about his state of mind "fuhgen shit. oooh, beer!"

The night before, Tanmay drank copious amounts of alchohol at Ghettos, spending money enough to raise the GDP of Uganda by 8%. He was soon surprised by his friends and a very questionable cake.

In the morning, he picked up from where he left off. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, at 7 in the fucken morning Tanmay and a bunch of his friends downed rum, vodka and beer and headed towards college. What followed can be best described as 'holyshitthey'refucked'.

"I didn't know what had gotten into them. I've never seen any student slurr so much in my class!" said Varalaxmi, their Media Planning professor, apparently appalled by the fact that her students had violated the rules by mixing drinks. "Everybody knows that it's always better to drink rum that early in the morning" she said, almost sounding like an alchoholic drag herself.

Later that afternoon, Tanmay was summoned to Shivaji Park Cafe Coffee Day by his employers at JLT, only to be handed a pastry and a note which said "Come to Cafe Ivy, if you know what's good for you. Oh, and you're an idiotic fuck." What followed can only be witnessed in the Heptathlon event at the Olympics. The genius that my boss is gave me the following directions to Cafe Ivy - "Arrey, come to Atria Mall, and udhar se jo ka hai woh u-turn hai, uske pehle se wala baju se le aur phir left maar aur dukaan ke aage se phir udhar hi side mein jo woh baju mein cafe hai *hic*"

"It took me about 20 hours at fucking Atria Mall to figure out the exact location of Cafe fucking Ivy. But the time spent in travelling up and down Atria Mall, asking for directions from stoned cab driver, finding a fucken PCO to finally call Raddy, was totally TOTALLY worth said" said the young birthday boy.

Imagine the cleanest, coolest cafe that you've been to. Now, replace coffee with wine and other forms of alchohol. That's EXACTLY what cafe Ivy is like. "I would personally like to thank my beloved venerated employers from the TOI building for one of the best birthdays ever" said a teary eyed Tanmay.

That evening, Tanmay made his second silver screen appearance on a show called "MTV, On the Job". Much will not be spoken about the show because, well, there's nothing much to be written.

At nightfall, the alchohol flowed, the music seethed, the friends sang. These young boys have truly come a long way.

To twenty years of friendship, brotherhood and...well...beer.

Cheers!

Sssexxxxx

2007-06-22T19:56:00.000+05:30

Is it me, or does the word "sex" actually sound funny everytime you say it?

From time to time, I go through phases where I get hooked onto a word and I end up using it in every sentence. The word of the current phase, you guessed it, is "sex".

You might think that it's odd for a 19 year-old virgin hormonal, heterosexual male to be obsessed with the word "sex". However, I am going to try and sell you this concept.

The word "sex" isn't funny in it's essentials. It becomes funny when you enunciate. For example, try saying it really loudly. Or stress on the "s" and the "x". Something on the lines of "Ssssseeeeexxxxxxxx".

See? I'm sure you at least smiled when you said that. And if you're a male, I'm sure you got a boner.

What makes it funnier is when you try and use it in daily conversation. Something which I've been doing for the past week or so.

So this is what my average conversation goes like -

Friend: Hey! Whatsup!
Me: Nothing much man. You say.
Friend: Same here. I'm bored.
Me: Sssssexxxxxx.
Friend: ......

In fact, it gets even funnier when you try it on other people. I asked random people on my MSN list if they want to have sex. Like I'm offering them a bowl of icecream or something. (hey, you want?) Here are the replies that I got -

(12 Sex Raddy Goat Drawer Pineapple Poop = Me.)

12 Sex Raddy Goat Drawer Pineapple Poop says:
You want sex?
BOND JAMES BOND says:
lol

12 Sex Raddy Goat Drawer Pineapple Poop says:
Sex?
gagan says:
chal na. gand mara.

12 Sex Raddy Goat Drawer Pineapple Poop says:
I'm bored.
:DPooh:D says:
yah man. so am i.
12 Sex Raddy Goat Drawer Pineapple Poop says:
You want to have sex?
:DPooh:D
eeewwhhhhh

12 Sex Raddy Goat Drawer Pineapple Poop says:
sex sex sex sex sex sex sex
ob!!! down wid a sore throat!!! says:
no no no no no no LOLZ

12 Sex Raddy Goat Drawer Pineapple Poop says:
You wanna have sex kya?
Abysmal paper. Fucked. says:
Sure.
12 Sex Raddy Goat Drawer Pineapple Poop says:
Cool. Your window or mine?
Abysmal paper. Fucked. says:
they're both the same, chut. chal fuck you now. bye. haha.

If you never come back to my blog again, I understand.

Yesterday.

2007-06-12T11:46:00.000+05:30

Yesterday, I called a friend "Pink Floyd" because he was wearing pink.

Yesterday, a friend got very frustrated because I kept calling him "Pink Floyd".

Yesterday, I called a friend "Pink Fried" because he was very frustrated.

Yesterday, I lost a friend to a really really bad joke.

Why I Need A New Phone

2007-06-10T16:12:00.000+05:30

Apparently, in my last life I was a cannibal who ate 4 year old cutesy babies and gifted their bones back to the baby's family for christmas or something. Hence, In order to punish me, God has not only made me unbelievably ugly, but also gifted me with a phone that Satan himself used to make several calls and thrust it up and down his arsehole for sexual pleasure. How else do you explain this?

* My phone has no back cover. So, the battery is exposed. Which in turn makes my SIM card loose. Hence, my call gets disconnected every now and then and my phone flashes a message which says "Sim Card Rejected". (Which I once read as "Sim Card Richard Gere" )

@(#$&*@)#(&*@#)*(

* The green button on my phone doesn't work. So everytime I have to pick up a call, I have to press the other button, then scroll down to the "Answer Call" option, and then answer my call. Similarly, if I have to make a call, I have to hit "Option", scroll about 58 steps upwards, do four backflips, eat my own intestine and then hit "Make Call"

* Even though all the names are saved perfectly well in the contact book, everytime somebody calls, the spelling goes FUBAR. So I get calls from people named - Tanosha, Booboo, Bacardi Bum, Dariusssss (pronunciation similar to that of 'my preciousssssssssssss') Hathwank Internot Servicys.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to have a little talk with Satan.

The rains are here. Fuck.

2007-06-02T21:42:00.000+05:30

Because I like to waste your time and also because I like wasting time on the whole, (Ha! See! That was such a redundant sentence! Oh shit, I'm doing it again! HA HA!) I am going to enlighten you with facts that will serve no useful purpose and bear no consequence on your life or mine.

5 things I hate about the monsoon :- (This, despite the fact that I quite enjoy the monsoon every year. Ha! That makes you reading this list as an even bigger waste of time! I should really stop typing now coz this has turned out to be a pretty long brackett. Fuck, then there's really no use of putting these bracketts, no? I might as well have typed this tripe OUTSIDE the brackett! But it's so much fun to type inside it! abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz123456789!!)

1. If I see one more earthworm, I will personally sprinkle salt equivalent to the quantity required to cook a meal for a million people. Die bitch. Wriggle, and fucking die.

2. People. I hate people who hate the monsoon on the whole. How can anybody not like the monsoon? Humans are water-friendly people. Over 90% of our body is full of water. We drink water, we bathe using water. And when the need arises, we even find it amusing to take a dip in the water, thrust ourselves around, jiggle our limbs in our effort to stay afloat and then pee in it coz nobody can notice and also because...well...admit it, the warm feeling around your crotch while your entire body is cold actually feels kinda nice.

And the moment it starts raining, we run for cover. WTF?!

3. Gumboots. C'mon, even YOU know that it's such an ugly UGLY piece of footwear.

4. The wanna-be rains. You know these type of rains. They're so puny, about 0.000204923 mm long, and keep annoying the fuck out of you by trickling down your scalp. They're not heavy enough to make you run for shelter. They're not light enough to NOT give a fuck about. And they don't even last for like...10-15 minutes. They go on for an entire hour. What a fucking waste of time.

5. The diseases. The monsoon is like fucking christmas for all the scientists and doctors. I fall sick at least once during the monsoon, every goddamned year. And each year, I suffer from something far more complicated, and a lot more difficult to pronounce. The monsoons should come with a predictable disease list every year with them, I feel. The first rains should be an indicative of that.

Maybe they make lovely little patterns or they should just spell out the names of diseases on a large piece of land or something. That would make things a lot simpler, thank you very much.

3 weird WEIRD things I saw/heard today.

2007-06-02T03:43:00.000+05:30

1. I dined at a place called "Just Punjab". The meal of the day was Chicken Scezwan Hakka Noodal. Yeah, it was JUST like Punjab.

2. I was peeing at the J.W. Marriot bathroom today, when a kid entered. While he was peeing, his mom entered.

No wait, let me restart.

I was in the GENTS bathroom of J.W.Marriot today, when a kid entered. While he was peeing, his FEMALE mom entered. And this is the conversation that followed.

Mom: Is everything okay beta.
Kid: I don't know mama! Kuch baahar nahi aa raha.
Me: *trying to control laughter, spraying all over urinal while trying to do so, unsucessfully*

3. The tomato soup at Marriot was priced at Rs.300. Apparently they only use imported gold coated tomatoes from Switzerland.

What's odd was that the shat-upon, cow-dung coated tomatoes used to make the Tomato soup at "Just Punjab" (priced at Rs. 50) tasted better.

Yo!

2007-05-30T23:09:00.000+05:30

If there's one song that grabs me by my balls, thrusts a glass of beer in my hand, and makes me want to get up shake my bootay, irrespective of my physical/mental condition, it's gotta be this.

Smooth - Santana, feat. Rob Thomas

Man its a hot one
Like seven inches from the midday sun
I hear you whisper and the words melt everyone
But you stay so cool
My mu equita my spanish harlem mona lisa
Your my reason for reason
The step in my groove

Bridge
And if you say this life aint good enough
I would give my world to lift you up
I could change my life to better suit your mood
Cause youre so smooth

Chorus
And just like the ocean under the moon
Well thats the same emotion that I get from you
You got the kind of lovin that can be so smooth
Gimme your heart make it real
Or else forget about it

Ill tell you one thing
If you would leave it would be a crying shame
In every breath and every word I hear your name calling me out
Out from the barrio you hear my rhythm from your radio
You feel the turning of the world so soft and slow
Turning you round and round

Bridge
And if you say this life aint good enough
I would give my world to lift you up
I could change my life to better suit your mood
Cause you're so smooth......

To the powers that be. em. em.

2007-05-26T03:09:00.000+05:30

Please, PLEASE, enough.

I'm so bored right now, that I'll slit my throat just so that I'll have something to do. Enough of this 'vacation' thing.

A vacation, according to the handy dictionary on my task bar, is defined as "Leisure time away from work devoted to rest or pleasure". But what if the very fundamentals of work is defined by the adjective - "pleasure"? It kinda vitiates the entire concept of a "vacation", no?

I am sick of not doing anything. I am bored of porn. I am bored of "hanging out" and "chilling". I am so bored I signed onto facebook and started keeping a count of scraps on Orkut.

Please PLEASE take me back to the boisterous corridoors, the classrooms redolent with the smell of dusty paper and the floors peppered with crushed glasses of iced tea.

Bring on the projects, bring on the ego clashes, bring on the late nights! And for gods sake, distract me from this fuhgen Orkut.

Don't you judgme by this, biyatch.

2007-05-22T17:42:00.000+05:30

If I were to jot down all the horrible things I've done in my life, it would fill enough books to beat Rowling's 78th Harry Potter book titled Harry potter and Hermione's Left Tit.

The following story is an extract from that very book, possibly the worst and the meanest thing I've ever done to anyone, and by no means should anyone try this at home.

This happened when I entered my tenth standard, the final year of school. I was at math tuitons with my friends.

Chilling, doing some math, giving each other the heads up on the latest gossip.. you know, the usual.

We were the noisy batch of 2pm - 3pm. Since it was afternoon time, we would rarely ever be disturbed by the doorbell.

But on this fateful day, while my friends were engrossed in their books and while I was...well....making a small obscene doodling using a protractor (hehe), the doorbell rang. And since we, as students, are just looking for an excuse to be distracted, we all looked towards the door.

It almost seemed comical as to why the entire room's attention went towards the door. The 6 of us got into an esoteric discussion about who might be on the other end of the door.

As guesses were being flung all across the room, rumours about an intergalactic alien coming in to seige a war on mankind, to recapture an old prophecy that hath resided in the mathematical tomes that we refer to in our human argot as "text book".

My professor reached the door and opened it.

Enter a very thin framed, frail woman, dressed in a bright BRIGHT yellow coloured saree. (hear govinda is planning to sue her) She greeted my professor and entered the house.

The room suddenly went very very quiet for some odd reason.

Funny, I thought. It's just the maid. What's the big deal?

I got back to my books, only to notice that everybody's eyes were still on the maid who just entered.

I didn't get it? What was the big deal?

So I just nudged a friend of mine and said "Chal yaar, baii hi to hai" (C'mon dude, it's just the maid")

All my friends heard that. I *think* even my professor heard that.

All 6 of my friends looked towards me with a look that SHOULD have made me go "FuckwhatdidIdo?" But what I ACTUALLY said what "What?! C'mon, it's only the maid. Lets get back to work, I gotto leave quickly today".

Big, BIG mistake.

One of my friends, lets call her A, still kept looking at me and muttered the words

"She's.my.mum.Tanmay".

*Silence. Oh, the painful silence*

Oh. Fuck.

It took me approximately 7 light years to lift my eyes from my textbook, to the level of her moisty eyes. I could see from the corner of my eyes, the shock in everybody elses eyes.

Thankfully, nobody created a scene at that moment. However, big argument ensued once we were outside.

Now, please, can somebody tell me, how was I supposed to know it was A's mum?! I obviously apologised profusely! But c'mon! But she loooked like a maid! No kidding! Complete with shiny saree and thin frame! She even wore similar chappals! I swear! You can't blame me ENTIRELY for it?!

It can be safely said I haven't met her eyes that day onwards.

Ehem...Soo...you're still going to continue reading my blog, right?

Dravid's Misery

2007-05-16T18:55:00.000+05:30

Fasten your seatbelts, grab some tissues and get ready for the worst year of your cricket watching life folks. For I just checked out the Indian Team's schedule for the coming year, which I *think* was specially designed for post world-cup-crisis during a round table conference at the ICC, which was headed by Satan himself (along with Malcom Speed, Greg Chappell and Sharad Powar).

Here's what the schedule looks like -

I - Bangladesh Tour. (Okay, so we can take them. Kinda.)
II - India tours England in June/July. (These England tours are never short. This one goes on till August)
III - 20-20 World Cup in South Africa in September. (.......)
IV - India tours Australia in October (Oh. Fuck.)

I'm just going to try and make a rough estimation of the country's state of affairs in the coming year -

1. The entire country will be in a state of emergency.
2. Several BCCI officials will commit mass hara-kiri.
3. Mayawathi will go on her annual hunger strike.
4. Power cuts will double to ensure that nobody will EVER watch cricket again.
5. Taking the 5:06 P.M Virar local will officially be christened as the national sport. Other sports like Lagori, Stop and Palty and Gilly Danda will find sudden interest, which will lead to corporate sponsorship.
6. All the astrologers who predicted Sehwag will finally score runs will be burnt alive at Oval maidan.
7. All bookies will turn into stock brokers and Sensex will hit the 50,000 mark.
8. The search for a foreign coach will end. The BCCI will now conduct an inter-galactic space research to find coaches from a different galaxy.
9. Sony will launch Playstation 4 which will be called Habibul Bashar Cricket 2008 at the paltry price of Rs. 7.
10. Sania Mirza will be named as the new Indian Cricket Captain. Parthiv Patel will be the vice captain. Dinesh Mongia and V.V.S Laxman will still not be able to find a place in the team.

Also, Dravid's diary will look something like this -

It's been 3 months since our 5-0 whitewash in Australia, and still I haven't been able get back to my own country. I am currently residing with the native Kangaroos in western Australia. They are very generous creatures, I have realized. They are quite lucky too. Each and every Kangaroo here has been at the receiving end of some sex over the past three months, which is more than the combined sex I have had with my wife over the past 3 years, ever since I became captain. But still, I haven't lost hope. Perhaps when I tell these Kangaroos that I am the leading run scorer for India overseas, I might get some action from them. Who knows. It might be fun.

I hear Dhoni has finally shaved his head. Harbhajan is currently a pimp in northern Afghanistan. He says the weather is pretty good there. Sehwag finally divorced his wife and married his mom, a rare feat in Najafgarh. Sachin was forced to retire from international cricket when we found that that he suffered a minor injury in his testicles too, the only part which was healthy and fully functional at his ripe age of 39. Saurabh has turned waiter in his own restaurant I hear.

I also hear that the ICC is planning to shorten the world cup? They say that this time there will be an opening ceremony, handing over of the cup to Australia and the closing ceremony. Is it true?

Aaah, I miss the good old days when we would lose to minnows and still be cocky enough to claim that we are one of the best teams in the world. How I wish I could go back!

Tanmay's All New Marketing Lesson.

2007-05-08T00:22:00.001+05:30

The other day, I went to Shoppers Stop. (No questions about the current location of my testicles will be entertained.)

I went there (accompanied with a female friend of course) to figure out what is up with that place that gets women more excited than getting their Gspot tickeld by using a feather.

So like, whats up with that place? What is the big fuckin deal about it?

A bunch of over priced stuff, ugly looking women selling perfume and even uglier smelling men selling watch. You expect people to buy that?

That's why, to help you guys at Shopper Stop out, here's a free marketing lesson that I think you must put into practice.

1. Lesson #1 - Identify Your Customers

Now, if you notice carefully, it is not I who requires your extremely over-priced piece of clothing. It is your own staff that could do with a little bit of a makeover. Know what I'm saying?

I just don't think that somebody who is wearing the darkest shade of greenish-maroon whatsitcalled should try and sell me clothes. Nor do I think he should pick his nose and then offer to spray perfume on me.

Perhaps you *might* want to change things up a little. Try asking your OWN staff members to sell each other clothes. Only one badly-dressed-smelly man can understand the needs of the other.

Here's what you do - The ugly looking women should sell the perfume to the ugly smelling men. And the ugly smelling men should try and sell the women some watches. Haaa? Doesn't that sound great?

Lesson# 2 - Do.Not.Copy.Stuff.

Now, I happened to notice something very similar looking today. Before I tell you what it was, let us journey back to relive a very memorable day in my life.

You see, I've never been an 'art' person. As a kid, if you gave me a crayon, I would've probably eaten it or shoved it up my sister's barbies' arse. Not coz I was a sadist or anything. It's just fun to fun to fuck around with barbies. (Any jokes on the use of the phrase "fuck around" will not be tolerated) However, my perspective on art changed on that one momentous day.

When I was in 4th grade, during one of our "Work Experience" classes, we were asked to make a wall hanging. While the entire class came to class the next day, armed with glue, scissors, colour paper, little beeds, shiny silver particle type thingy, tiny stars, fancy rope, colour pencils, wierd hardening paste, small pieces of colourful cloth, a box full of frog eyes, 40 bullets and a huge Magnum G40.

I on the other hand had brought one piece of cardboard, and a kickass sandwich in my lunchbox.

While everybody else made complicated wallhangings, complete with the aforementioned beads, shiny SHINY little astragals, and colourful Govinda-like cloth..... I cut out two circles, a sqaure and a triangle, covered them by using colourful paper, and hung them on a rope with one tiny beed at the top and botom (borrowed the beads btw). That's all. As simple as that.

One Blue Triangle, One Red Square and about Two Yellowish-Green Circle. That was my wall hanging, and that's the last time I had glue and scissors around me at the same time.

Now, what I want YOU to know is that it is really not cool to shrink these tiny wall hangings into tiny little sizes and sell them as ear rings. Especially ones that look EXACTLY like the wall hanging I made.

Here, let me illustrate.

I think we both know which ones the more stylish, sophisticated and cooler among the two now, no?

Next time, how about you make your OWN wall hanging and THEN sell them, huh punk?!

Well that's it for today. And yes, it's also a marketing error to let SO many women inside one building at the same time. THAT much bargaining will lead to a huge loss, you copy amigo?

*Sigh*

I guess it's true. Men are from mars and woman are from Shoppers Stop.

Dominance.

2007-04-29T03:48:00.000+05:30

We give birth to one Australia every year. Yet we can't find 11 players who can play like them.

Well done. 3 times in a row. THAT'S how you spell dominance.

Bravo.

What Shape Are You?!

2007-04-23T21:16:00.000+05:30

Because I have a lot of spare time and because I am a retard, I bring you this random award winning quiz. Kindly get hold of a piece of paper and a pencil, and stab yourself in the rectum.

What Shape Are You?!

* When you walk in through a rectangular door, you….

1. Pass through without any problems.
2. The left and right sides of your body keep bumping into the door, hence you start bleeding.
3. You keep wobbling around and hence you can’t really find the door. And even when you do, only your head can get through the door.
4. The upper half of your body can pass through easily. But the lower half is a little bit of a problem. You, apparently, have a very VERY wide arse. (Any Tanmay jokes here will result in me throwing a fit.

* Your clothes are…

1. Long. They’re long and most of them look like trousers or pants.
2. They are equally proportionate. All sides are of equal length. Although my underwear seems to be quite a stretch.
3. My clothes are cute. They make my curves look sexy. Rrrrr.
4. My clothes are just downright weird man. My shirts/tops are super thin, with polo neck. Whereas my pants are just too huge. And don’t even get me started on that underwear itch.

* Which of these is your favourite character –

1. Sabu (Chacha Chaudhary’s sidekick)
2. Spongebob Square Pants.
3. Adnan Sami
4. Wide arsed Pooja Bedi.

* In the world cup…(BIG MASSIVE ANVIL SIZED HINTS)

1. I will support four sides. However, on further calculation I realise that one side is infact repeated twice.
2. I will support four sides. (Read below for reasons)
3. I support New Zealand because they have the most number of all ROUNDERS. Gedit? Rounders? Bwahaha.
4. I support 3 sides. One of them is a minnow. The other two have a strong, long, wide base.

* When you were a little baby…

1. People tried to use you as a stencil.
2. You were often mistaken for a photo-frame. Or a coaster.
3. You were used as a ball bearing for dad’s revolving chair. Now you know why you have that bump on your head.
4. You were of no real use. Really, what use could you be? (I should stop being a shape-ist)

Mostly A’s – You are a rectangle my friend. Your face and your arse are equally wide while your sides are equally tall. When you die, people will use you as a scarecrow. This has nothing to do with the fact that you are rectangular in shape though.

Mostly B’s – You are a Square ma man! You are of equal lengths on all sides and hence you have an extremely weird sex life. On the bright side, the tailor finds it easier to take your measurements coz he has to measure you on only one side. Ha, talk about convenience!

Mostly C’s – You are round. Spherical. Gol. If they roll you off a mountain, you will hold the guiness record for gathering the largest ball of moss ever. They paint your body and use it as a globe for decorating geographic exhibitions (Your groin region is Africa). You, my friend, are round.

Mostly D’s – You are a triangle. Yes, and I thought you GOT the hint about you having a wide arse. You are the weirdest shape among them all. You have a pointy head which other people use as a toothpic. Yes, that’s right, you have other peoples food on your head. Go wash up. Idiot.

Sooooo?! What shape are you?

Edit: ABORT ABORT ABORT! BOSSWOMAN ASKED ME TO MENTION THAT THIS HAS BEEN PUBLISHED IN JLT!!! KIND ATTENTION EVERYONE!! THIS HAS BEEN PUBLISHED!!! SO IF YOU THOUGHT THAT THIS WAS AN ARTICLE THAT WAS NEVER PUBLISHED IN A SUPER COOL MAGAZINE, YOU WERE WRONG! SO SO WRONG!!!

By the way, I'm very fat.

2007-04-21T21:48:00.000+05:30

I know I can be overwhelming when we meet at first. I know you've encountered roadkill that has a more attractive personality than mine. I know you'd rather swim in your own semi solid dung than meet me. I know all of that.

And it is this very knowledge that helps me be OK with the fact that people call me fat, epitome of hugeness, that-thing-that-wobbles-when-you-touch-it, Pompy Pompy Pearson, Fat Sluthead... and other such unpleasant expletives. However, what annoys the fuck out of my brains is when people INDIRECTLY try to convey to me that (they think) I'm fat.

Why I'm sure you've met these people too! People who think you're short/tall or people who notice your pimples ,that receding hairline or that booger in your nose and other such lovely little anecdotes that make up for those 20 seconds of small talk! Why these people have a much more intense sense of observation than that aunt you meet every 5 years and ALWAYS at family weddings!

The other day I met mother natures one such annoying creation. I was waiting for a friend (Let's call her A) of mine. She said she's getting somebody else (let's call her Annoying Whore) along with her too. It's all good, I said.

The two of them came, sat, when 'A' wanted to go to the washroom. Here's when the awkward moment starts.

Since I didn't know diddly squat about the Annoying Whore, I was just casually sipping on my glass of water. Annoying Whore of course was busy scratching her own armpit and making sounds which sounded similar to the sound that a Artiodactyl makes while chewing on it's own testicles.

Me: So, how do you know 'A'?
Annoying Whore: Oh, we both go to the same Book Binding Class. (I don't quite remember what class she said, but Book Binding class seemed like a good enough substitute)
Me: Oh, cool.

*Insert awkward silence here*

Annoying Whore: You know, my uncle is very fat too.

*Insert the most awkwardest silence, even more awkwarder than the awkward silence above, HERE*

Me: (I actually wanted to shout out 'NO, I DIDN'T KNOW THAT YOUR FAGGOT UNCLE IS FAT TOO', instead I said...) Sooooooo?! Book Binding, eh?

*Conversation ends here*

Thankfully, the very next moment 'A' returned after conquering the lands of the washroom.

See what I'm talking about? The Chimp could have asked/told me just about ANYTHING about me being fat. What do I eat? Am I doing something about it? Have I tried bounbing babies on my belly? ANYTHING! But noooooooo. She wants to talk about her dildobreathed uncle, who BY THE FUCKIN WAY, is very fat too! How nice of her to share such an absolutely useless piece of information with me!

However, I might want to give her the benefit of doubt.

Maybe her uncle is a gay old man living alone in the Himalays, who DOES chew on an Artiodactyl's testicles for leisure! Maybe she though that I too would find it quite interesting to join her uncle, who by the way is very fat too. Maybe she wanted us to start a club or something for other people who are very fat too, and name it 'BY THE WAY, WE ARE VERY FAT!' (Membership now for only 40$ a year!)

All in all, a fun meet though.

By the way, have you met anybody like this?

Snooze the schmooze schnooze shoes.

2007-04-18T02:50:00.000+05:30

The time displayed on my phone is two hours and fifteen minutes faster than the actual time. So yeah, effectively, my phone is set to the standard time of a middle african country called Uganda.

Why is my phone set to Uganda Standard Time, you might ask. You might also ask why I designedly burp in other s' unsuspecting ears. But I shall answer only one of those questions today.

The origins of this time abuse began in my first year of college. Being a student of ill repute, it is my duty to crib and shower expletives on the horrible HORRIBLE concept of having to apprehend education at 7 in the fuckin morning. Of course, in Uganda, it's at 9:15 a.m. The lucky middle african bastards.

Anyways, thanks to the fact that my phone time is set 2 hours fast, I get to snooze a lot. 12 times (10 minutes between each snooze) to be exact, before I actually have to get up. Anybody who is a practitioner of the fine art of sleeping would tell you that sleep is the worst when it gets interrupted at intervals of 10 minutes.

Ten minutes exact.

Anything more than that would set you in hibernation mode, anything less than that will just fuck your head and you will end up having a horrible pissed off day, which will result in you greeting every person you meet with the choicest of words like - 'why don't you just suck my balls, dick face'

Of course, there are other uses of this deviling little habit of mine. It's just wayy too much fun to see the shit-in-the-pants expression on your friend's face when he sees the time on your phone.

It's just one of those that only I get. Like, only I know that when my phone says it's 6 a.m., it's actually only 4 a.m. and I can still continue to watch porn for another 2 hours before I fall asleep.

Okay, now leave me props and tell me what you do that only YOU get, while I go back to watching Linda and Stacey go at it on their pink fluffy pillows.

Dear All,

2007-04-11T00:06:00.000+05:30

Just because I'm losing weight around the same time that Adnan Sami has lost his, does NOT mean that I'm inspired by him.

Yours non-copy-cat-ingly,

-Tanmay.

The Abroad Theory ©®

2007-04-07T00:38:00.000+05:30

Hello ladies and gentlemen!

On popular demand and due to the fact that I'm pissed off because coz half my friends have fled the country in search of alternative fuels, I bring to you The Abroad Theory ©®.

*waits till applause dies down*

You will be not surprised to know that a retard of my repute has never been abroad.

Okay fine, I have been abroad. But just once. That too to #%#*(% Nepal.

What?! I'm sorry, Nepal doesn't fit the bill of 'going abroad'.

People FROM Nepal come to India, and call it "going abroad". Of course, once they're down, they find the job of manning gates as a very VERY lucrative option, and settle down here.

This is where the theory comes in.

I would consider myself as somebody who has gone 'abroad' ONLY when the country visited is economically more developed than the one we are living in. Of course, if you're an optimist, that leaves us very very few years to travel abroad.

Call me a shallow dickhead, but travelling to a country, which is poorer than ours is not equivalent to going 'abroad'.

For example, if the people from say England, travelled to a country like Zambia or any of the other African countries, they usually call it a trip or more popularly as a Charity Tour. (Any Africans reading this, so SO sorry man) You will never hear any of those people saying "Oh, I went abroad, to that super cool country, Zambia."

Maybe it's just the way we've been brought up. Everytime we hear an uncle say he's going 'abroad', we would hound him with a list of really cool things he could get us back from this enchanted land of great mysteries. (Notice how the only thing you EVER got when he returned were this big bag of chocolates and Snickers?)

I doubt you'll give that list to your uncle if he was heading to say, a Uganda. You don't want your uncle to get you a soft toy of a wild boar or wild-goat-blood flavoured chocolates.

That's it for todays lesson on The Abroad Theory ©®. Now now, no autographs.

Dear D.J. at last nights party,

2007-04-04T20:37:00.000+05:30

Dear D.J. at last nights party,

"Ho ho ho ho ho ho hoooooooooooo yeah baby hoooo! *spit spit, orgasmic sound*"

I understand that you will recognize the above words. You quite scrupulously yelled out those very sounds (sorry, those aren't words) in the middle of one of my favorite club anthems. What the fuck are you on dude?

You continued miffing everybody on the dance floor as you continued to blast out your monologue on full volume.

Don't misunderstand me man. I'm glad you're venting our your frustrations. I'd be lying if I said I know how you feel. Afterall, as a kid my mom did not drop me in a puddle of mud, only to pick me up and feed me some cow dung and then spank me for making out with the house pet, Piggy the pig.

I appreciate the fact that you wanted to wish practically EVERYBODY at the club a happy birthday. I also appreciate the fact that you did so in that funny half-baked Jamaican accent of yours.

Now, what I didn't understand is why you were carrying a Navneet Fools Fucking Cap Notebook. You weren't?! Nooooo!!! Surely you were reading off the entire bloody book! Nobody could remember THAT much stuff without reading off a book!

You spoke about the sponsors of that wretched night. You thanked the sponsors and continued to give them a Verbal Blowjob ©® (hehe, I know) like they fuckin own you. Then, you started doing this mouth-beat-thing with the mike, which sounded like a fat goat in labour. You expected us to dance to that?

Now now, don't misunderstand me. I'm not the dancing kind. You'll be appalled at my dancing skills. You'll also be appalled to know that I had to look up the spelling of appalled while I wrote this.

But you see, THAT is the point. Somebody like me, who would make Rambha's dancing skills seem like fucking J.Lo on speed, got pissed off. You managed to get on MY non-dancing nerves with all your 'PUT YOUR HANDS UP IN THE AIR PEEEEPS, LET'S SEE SOME OF THAT BOOOOTY SHAKIIIN, JUST REMINDING YOU PEEPS THAT THIS IS DJ. PRITAMJANAK IN THE HOUSE ROCKIN THE PARTAYYYYYYYYYYYYY'.

Oh. My. God.

Why would be put our hands up? Just coz you're asking us to? Are we playing chor-police all over again? And what sorta name is Pritamjanak anyways? Do you never want to get laid?

Please listen to me. Next time you're at a fucking 'partayyy', kindly leave all novels, books, newspapers, magazines and other legible literary pieces at home. Also, if it's not much of a problem, kill yourself by shooting yourself up your rectum.

Yours non-dancingly,

- Tanmay

Blog Update

2007-04-03T18:12:00.000+05:30

As you might have noticed, the blog has new bells and whistles. What's more, the New and Improved blog now gives you a much closer insight into the life and tales of The Tanmay.

Apart from the usual blog posts there will be random updates on the right side of the page. The updates will take place in the form of Random Conversations that I have with people. (You can be rest assured that since my definition of 'random' is quite wide, this will be updated more than often). Also, my current status (whether I'm dead or alive) will be updated regularly. (If it keeps updating every few days, I'm alive. If it doesn't update for a good few months, I'm dead. Simple, no?)

Anyway, keep visiting. Tata bye bye.

Quick Update

2007-03-31T23:40:00.000+05:30

Allright, so the vacations have kicked in and I've been doing absolutely nothing. Tomorrow, I'm applying for a government job. Hey, at least I'll get paid.

In other news, I had the esteemed privilege of interviewing Rakhi Sawant at the press con. for the launch of her new music album - "Super Busty Slutty Woman". Or something on those lines.

We spoke over sprite, about unproductive things, Mika, and about her upcoming show called - *hold your breath* - "Rakhi Ke Bouncers"

Then, I whipped out my camera to click myself a picture with her (Don't you judge me. It makes for a lovely conversation piece, you see) and the camera apparently ran out of battery. It was running fine UNTIL the interview. Then, when I stepped outta the place and tried working it again while I was in the rickshaw, it worked fine.

*@$&@)#@)#*()@#&#

But on the other hand, me thinks it was nature's way of keeping my social life secure.

Edit: PS:(The following sentences have been taken down. Make up your own joke here. Be careful though.)

Wow.

2007-03-26T20:15:00.000+05:30

This made my day.

He even got the pelvic thrusts right.

Aaaa, goli maaaar maar maarr..

Yeah, I did it too.

2007-03-22T00:24:00.000+05:30

Took not only a leaf, but an entire tree out of Veda's book and submitted mine for a review on Bloggyaward.com

Here it is.

Bleh, doesn't really matter, but I'm having a bad day and such things help.

*Sigh*

Resumé

2007-03-20T17:04:00.000+05:30

The other day I had the pleasure of being in the JLT office , where I made some acute observations.

I concluded that People can get very VERY anal while making their own resumé.

I've just completed my second year and it's that time of the course when EVERYBODY applies for a job. Which means that everybody in class *has* to make a resumé. Even if the application is for an internship, where all you do is get some coffee and get the odd photocopies done.

I shit you not, here are a few random things that I read in the past week on random resumés.

'Technical Skills - Microsoft Office, Microsoft Acess, Google, Wikipedia, MSN messenger etc.'

'Achievements - Won 2nd prize in Elocution competition in 6th Standard, Drama competition in 11th standard, took part in Inter-collegiate Mehendi competition and won SECOND PRIZE (please notice capitals) and participated in several other festivals.'

'Previous Experience - Wrote 500 word essay for the school magazine on the topic "A rainy day is SO NOT a dull day"'

Yeah, I'm planning to make my own resumé one of these days. You know, just for fun. Aaah, I can already see what it's gonna look like.

Achievements - Was Lemon and Spoon* racing champion in society function. Also won the Potato Race**. Along with this, I also won the Patriotic Song Singing competition in 3rd standard. ALL IN THE SAME YEAR! CAN YOU BEAT THAT!'

Skill - Can masturbate at the speed of light if gone 3 days without touching self. Can also make burping sounds at will and lick own elbow (you gotta hire me to be able to see that)

Previous Experience - Licked own elbow just yesterday.

Sooooo, what do you think about my chances of getting employed?

* Lemon and spoon race is a race where the participant has to hold a spoon using only his mouth, and balance a lemon which is placed on the spoon. Walk a distance balancing the lemon on the spoon.

** A Potato Race is this retarded race where you must gather all the potatoes one by one, and return to the starting line. Not to be confused with the Race for Potatoes à la the Race for Nuclear Weapons.

Obligatory World Cup Post

2007-03-13T22:33:00.000+05:30

All the channels are busy having an orgasm looking at the TRP's. Every second person has a friggin India Blue T-shirt. Virender Sehwag effigy is being burnt down by 4 year old kids.

Aaah, the World Cup is here. And it's insanely long this time. 47 fuckin days.

Here's a random list of 10 of my favorite world cup moments - (You can stop reading now)

1. South Africa VS Sri Lanka - World Cup 2003

Sri Lanka batted first and scored a bunch of runs. Rain interrupted play as South Africa took guard. Duckworth Lewis system came and fucked it up for SA. They needed a lot of runs in some overs. Boucher played a blinder and got them close. According to Boucher, they needed one run of the last ball or something to win the match by the D/L system. So he just took a run, thinking they have won the match. Rain poured down again, and totally fucked it up for SA. They actually needed two runs.

Apparently, Pollock read the parchment wrong. It said that they needed that many runs to TIE the game.

HOW CAN YOU FUCKEN NOT READ THE PARCHMENT CORRECTLY, BEING THE HOSTS AND ONE OF THE FAVORITES TO WIN THE BLOODY CUP %@&@($@$!

I swear to God, when I heard this story, I was laughing my pants off. They read the damn thing wrong! It cost them the world cup! And there was Mark Boucher with his head hanging low.

Bwahahahahaha.

3. Lance Klusener / Herschelle Gibbs

I can't choose between these two. Purely coz it happened in the same tournament.

First, Herschelle Gibbs drops Steve Waugh. Yes, yes, this is the one where Waugh went "Mate, you just dropped the World Cup".

It's here where I must ask Mr.Gibbs -

HOW CAN YOU DROP A CATCH AFTER YOU'VE FUCKEN CAUGHT IT!

*Makes note to self. 'South African Fuck Up #2.*

Then, in the Semi Final, Lance Klusener, the man who's blasted every bowler in the World Cup, makes a stupid mistake that results in a run out and the end of the South African journey at the World Cup.

Fuck Up #3. Keep up now, don't lose count. ]

3. South Africa VS Pakistan

Wow, I can't forget this match because of one man. (And the fact that this is the only time South Africa feature on this list without being laughed at)

Jonty Rhodes.

I don't know how many of you remember the run out of Inzamam Ul Haq. What. A. Run. Out.

Jonty, full stretch, knocks all three stumps down. Till date, it's one of the most popular cricketing spectacles. 4. 4.

4. Sachin Tendulkar Vs Shoib Akhtar.

This is obviously on everybody's list. Who can forget the memorable six over third man?

But what I consider to be pure genius of the Little Master was the shot that followed.

Akhtar, fires it in straight, middle and leg. Sachin, puts his bat down just in the nick of time, little follow through, (mind you, it's just a push), and the ball just races away to the straight boundary line. Just brilliantly sublime.

5. Aamir Sohail vs Venkatesh Prasad.

No list is complete without this incident man. Every cricket crazy Indian considers this incident synonymous with the 1996 World Cup.

I am not going to bother with words. To end this post, here's the video.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y1s3aORd5Ws

Of Ciggys and Butts

2007-03-08T23:06:00.000+05:30

I've had exams for the last 3 days, which is why I have gone drinking once, gone for a movie, eaten exactly 13 and a half packets of Maggi, spent more money than the Vatican on stationary and had the most random conversations with the friends and the mother.

Hence, in my quest to update, I bring you a tale, which will put to rest all the questions about why I am such a restless botheration.

As a kid (say around 1 or 2) I was very lazy. I know what you're thinking. Which kid does push ups at the age of 2?

Let me explain.

I was the epitome of laziness. My mum says I didn't smile for several days after my birth. I told her, maybe coz I was pissed off coz the doctor made me make the effort and come out of my comfort zone.

Apparently, my sleeping habits were deadlier than the average kid. I would just eat and sleep, throughout the day. I mean, it's not that big a deal. I didn't exactly have a to-do list as a kid.

But you would not even play like all the other kids would, protested Mum.

Mums. You gotta love 'em.

And you gotta love 'em more because of incidents like the one I'm going to tell you.

Since mummy is a working woman, she once left me in the custody of the Fathership.

Now, I've spoken about my dad before. I'll speak about him again.

He's not the kinda guy you would want to leave your gadgets/money/keys/anything remotely valuable with. Leave alone a two year old lazy kid.

Now, the last time I left my cellephone with my dad, he dropped it 7 times and made 9 calls to Assam. He's probably misplaced the most amount of money, ever. I swear, I would've bought Google if we found all the money he's ever lost. He's lost the keys to practically EVERYTHING. Once on a vacation, he lost the keys to the suitcase lock. Needless to say that was the worst vacation I've had.

*Sigh*

Yeah, my mom left 2 year old me with him.

Everything was going smooth. I was busy pooping on the bed, minding my own business. Dad was watching the match, having a smoke. Enjoying his tea or something.

Now here's the deal. The ash tray was kept near me. No wait, let me rephrase.

The ash tray was kept near my tush. My soft, poofy, cushiony baby butt.

And guess what happens.

HE ACCIDENTALLY (WTF?!) POKED THE CIGERETTE IN MY BUTT, INSTEAD OF THE MOTHAF*$*) ASH TRAY!

And the funny part is, my mom says (Yes, my father is very glad my mom has a sense of humour), Dad didn't realize why I was howling. He handed me over to an aunt. Who discovered the big butt burn and never spoken to my baby-butt-burner dad ever since.

So, coming back to the point. Why am I restless?

Let's just say that everytime I am quiet, enjoying myself and minding my own business, I worry something hot will poke me on my butt that will have catastrophic epoch-making aftermaths.

Tanmay Times

2007-03-05T21:13:00.001+05:30

Hello ladies and gentlemen, this weeks edition of Tanmay Times features a look at the masturbatory habits of the rich and famous. Namely, Shahrukh Khan and co.

Discloses a close source, "Shahrukh only likes to shag at the Filmfare awards. Every year, he likes to go on stage, and shag his balls off. He says, it excites him to know that everybody present at the Filmfare awards likes to watch him shag, leave alone the other million people who watch him shag away to glory on their television sets".

As we witnessed a couple of weeks ago, King Khan did whip out his schlong and beat his balls away on stage. Several other joined him, including Karan Johar, Yash Chopra and Kajol.

The Filmfare awards, as we have known, is a shagging ground for the Chopra and the Johar camp. Year after year, the Chopras and the Johar camp like to get on stage and masturbate and bask in the pool of their own semen.

As Kunal Kohli rightly put its, " The jury members have always made sure that they make Shahrukh, Karan, Me, Mr.Chopra, Abhishek (yes, him too), and whoever else who has been involved with us, feel at home and special enough that we feel the need to sexually gratify ourselves in front of the others, who actually deserve some sort of recognition."

However, this year there were some exceptions. One jury member had not slept with Karan Johar, which tilted the balance towards the deserving.

"And the funny bit is that everybody LIKES to watch all these people get on stage, and beat their monkey, year after year after year" said an award winner, who wishes to be unnamed, but is proud that he won the best director award.

Shahrukh however was disappointed that he didn't win the Best Actor award despite having wanked his willy off on stage, for the second year in a row. However, he did take consolation in the fact that the award, as tradition would have it, went to yet another undeserving candidate, Hritik Roshan for his spectacularly overrated performance in Dhoom fuckin 2.

Soon, Hritik joined the party and wagged his undeserving phallus a little, here and there, and went off stage, only to be seen on Koffee with Karan the next day, again displaying prowess in diddering his hawkshaw.

That's it for this edition. Stay tuned for the next edition of Tanmay Times to see who is replaces Anna Nicole smith as the Ultimate White Bimbo TM.

Supreme randomness.

2007-02-27T18:41:00.001+05:30

You start to appreciate life and free time a lot more after project month is over. I now have enough time to pick my nose and to stare at random things without having to worry about the project due the very next hour.

It is during this very period of alleviation that one starts to notice things like mannequins.

So who makes these mannequins? And what is the thought that goes behind making these beautifully weird things? Do male mannequins have anything in the...well...crotch region? Like.... what' the deal, like?

Mannequins with no heads are a bi product of sexless mannequin manufacturers? They got *so* pissed off that they just refused to put a head to those things?

And what's the deal with the boobs? Have you ever noticed how EVERY female mannequin wearing a t-shirt shows off her nipples?

Oh, today I'm feeling horny. There, I'll just give this mannequin's mammary glands two gargantuan projections of sorts. There, that makes me feel much better.

*Sigh*

Exams are looming over the arse. Which will result in 67% growth in the GDP of local xerox machine guys and the death of four professors who refused to give notes.

In other news, I got the last ticket for the last show for the Russel Peters night at St.Andrews. All those years of not winning ANYTHING in fuckin Housie is paying back now. bwahahahahaha.

Hmm.

2007-02-12T00:48:00.000+05:30

If there was a planet full of boring planet, and if you were to land on that, and if you used the words 'Take us to your leader, we are from planet Earth', you would be escorted to me, the ruler of Planet Boredom.

Fuck, I'm so bored that I actually typed down that sentence. Just look at it. *Sigh*

Here's my following week Astrology isn't my thing, but I'm so sure it's going to be *exactly* like this. (Hell, it gives me a sequel to write about what *really* happened, next week)

Monday - Attended stupid college lectures. Fell asleep on bench. Later, I attended group meeting at Subway and discussed things out. We concluded that Chicken Teriyaki is indeed, the best sub that Subway has to offer. Then, we all left for home. Studied Organisational Behavior (100 mark test coming up on Tuesday) that evening but fell asleep on book just like I did on the aforementioned bench. Also, had wet dream about the aforementioned Chicken Teriyaki.
Tuesday - Fucked up royally in the test. Mostly because of falling asleep on The Cursed Bench again. Attended group meeting after test to discuss things about the Stereolithography presentation due the next day. We concluded that discussing about the Chicken Teriyaki is lot more fun. After meeting, headed to shoot location to shoot for retarded movie. Had severe attack of hernia after discovering that actor cannot move facial muscles.
Wednesday - Made retarded presentation on Stereolithography. Professor felt that we were not well prepared. We suggested that we make one more presentation on Chicken Teriyaki for next week. Professor declined and threatened to shoot us in our elbows. Attended group meeting to discuss things about Radio play at McDonalds. I suggested that we make a Radio play about a group of people who are obsessed with a Subway sandwich and ultimately get married to it and give birth to tiny little Chicken Teriyaki's. Idea was rejected. Was kneed in crotch by several group members. Later, we script a retarded radio play about AIDS AWARENESS. Today was a bad day on the whole.
Thursday - Went for retarded shooting whole day. Shot few scenes but forgot to open lens cap of camera. Decided to re shoot. Actor killed himself using the very tripod being used for shooting. Shooting crew decided it was time to look out for a new actor.
Friday - Made retarded Radio play presentation. Miss pronounced the word 'AIDS' for 'Chicken Teriyaki' (Chicken Teriyaki has no cure and you Don't get Chicken Teriyaki if you use a condom) and made several group members unhappy. Several knees came in contact with crotch. Severe pain is happening. Went for shoot. New actor likes to scratch armpit after each shot. Pain has travelled from crotch to eyes.
Saturday - Distributed questionnaire for Mass Media Research project. Several friends made tiny pornographic sketch on form which amused me a lot. Later, went for stupid shoot again where actor still suffered from disease which makes him scratch armpit every now and then. Friends and I worried about the camera lens cracking.
Sunday - Continued to irritate friends by sending them stupid questionnaire. Lost a lot of friends in that procedure. Spent day reminiscing about old times with the aforementioned lost friends. Went for shooting once again. Finished all scenes except one where actor has to touch female lead's arm. Female lead doesn't let actor touch arm after he scratches arm pit. Lot of time is wasted. Finally, we decide that touching of arm isn't a necessity. Finished schedule of shoot.

Yeah, I can see it right now.

*kills self*

Dear Mr. Taxi/Rickshaw Driver,

2007-02-09T19:12:00.000+05:30

Hi, how are you? Good? Great, now listen up.

Now, I understand what a socially deprived life you live. You know, cooped up that vehicle of yours whole day long. But then hey, you have your own share of entertainment too, right?! Watching couples fight, make up and then make out. You, sitting there getting that hard on while taking that hard right. Must be hard, right? (No pun intended) But entertaining, none the less, no?

Then please, tell me, what the *fuck* is it that makes you do this.

Everytime I run out of change, you clamorously ask me to fuck off and get change. Some of you do this a little politely by making a shit face and murmuring insults. Some of you have got yourself a little bit of a sex life going and hence you even volunteer to go make change.

But...what is it that prompts some of you to raise your lower torso, do a sort-of pelvic thrust whilst you are sitting down.... lit up your shirts to expose that hairy lower portion of your belly with a peeping underwear, put your hands through your pants and take out a billfold. All this, right in front of me, without any consideration about the fact that some of the onlookers have to sleep at night.

And when you have difficulty in getting the billfold out, you thrust your pelvic region, like that cockroach which has just lost it's wings. You keep on thrusting, and thrusting and thrusting away until you finally get hold of the money.

Then, almost like *nothing* happened, you take out change from the underwear-wallet and take out your underwear money change and hand it over to me. Like nothing fucking happened. And, well, after waiting so long and hard for the change, you can't really say 'no' to it, no matter how disgusted you are.

But we here at Tanmay Bhat's Rehabilitation Center For People With an IQ Below that of of 4.8 are dedicated to help people like you.

Just the other day, we helped a house helper called Sakku Bai realize that hiding her money filled purse inside her bra, on her left boob, isn't that effective afterall. She thought that it was the safest place to keep since nobody would be able to steal it from there. We taught her that if people wanted to steal her money, she shouldn't be offering her left boob as an added incentive, see? It's probably more tempting for the thief.

We also helped Paris Hilton realize that being a Drunken Whore is not an occupation and asked her to choose a new career. However, we think that she might be paying one more visit to us after releasing her debut album.

Now, coming back to you. You might think that it's kinda cool to shove your hand down your underwear to take out money. Maybe you like the feel of raw paper on your genitals. Maybe you think it's amusing, or it makes you feel magnanimous to offer people a hundred dollar bill with your pubic hair along with it. But, for a lot of people out here (including Miss Hilton), the sight of hard earned money with a random guy's pubic hair on it is not a turn on. We don't have statistical evidence of this, but we're fairly confident about what we're saying.

Let's have a look at your options, shall we?

1. Use wallet.
2. Don't put wallet down your pants.
3. Use back pocket/side pocket/dashboard for safekeeping of the wallet.

Once you take our advice, you will notice that this not only enables you to avoid the pelvic thrusts, but also prevents loss of eye sight for a lot of your passengers.

For any other queries, kindly get back to us.

Yours faithfully,

Tanmay Bhat of TBRCFPWIQB4.8

Yawn

2007-02-08T16:21:00.001+05:30

Been super busy making a movie for a college project. I need to make a movie in Sanjay Leela Bhansali style. I officially hate all cameras and tripods. If I see a camera, I will burn it using Johnson's baby oil and pour the molten remains over dogshit and make Sanjay Leela Bhansali eat it.

Name: Tanmay
Nickname(s): Tunnu, Tanny, Toon, Tum tum, tummy, tanya, Fat ass bastard guy, That Fat Fuck.
Single or Taken? Double, and available.
Sex: Male.
Birthday: June 23rd, 1987
Blood group: Red.
Sign: Cancerian.
Siblings: Two brothers, one sister (Cousins, actually. But they stay in the same society)
Hair color: Black
Eye color: Brown
Shoe size: 11.
What are you wearing right now? Black tee, black boxers.

Where do you live? Mumbai, Andheri.

Have You Ever:-
given anyone a bath? Yes.
bungee jumped? No.
broken the law? Jumped signals.
made yourself throw-up? No.
gone skinny dipping? No.
been in the opposite sex's bathroom? Yeah
eaten a dog biscuit? Yes. Tastes OK.
put your tongue on a frozen pole? No, but I've pole danced. And put other stuff on it. *looks at tree*

broken a bone? Yus.
played truth or dare? Yes
been in a physical fight? Yes
been in a police car? Yeah, once. For work.
been on a plane? Yes
been in a hot tub? YEAAAAAAAH
swam in the ocean? Yes. (I used to swim when water had the capacity to make me float)
fallen asleep in college? Yeah. Been awake throughout a lecture. Once.

cried when someone died? Yes.
flashed someone? Fuck no.
lied? Yes
laughed so hard you fell off your chair? No, but broken a chair. Not while laughing though.
sat by the phone all night waiting for a call? No.
saved e-mails? Yes
wished you were someone else? Yes
wished you were a member of the opposite sex? No. Then I'd have to have sex with boy, no?
been rejected? Every alternate Sundays.
used someone? Yes
been cheated on? Yes
done something you regret? Yeah. Sorta.

First Thing That Comes to Mind:-
Yellow: Mango. Govinda.
Blue: Water.
Happy: Home.
Autumn: Leaves.
Cow: Dung.

Have you ever had:-
chicken pox? Yes. Quite tasty it was.
sore throat? Yes
cold? Yeah.
stitches? Yeah. 3. On the head. Was partially bald for a good month and a half. By far the best haircut I've ever had.
bloody nose? No.
sex? What, today?

Do you:-
believe in love at first sight? No.
enjoy parks? No.
like picnics? Yeah.
like school? Very Very few memories.
hate anyone? Yeah.

Who:-
is the last person that called you? Mum.
makes you laugh the most? Hmmmm. It's usually the other way around. But if I were to take random guesses I'd say Tanny, the JLT guys, Rugved, The Delhi Retard,
can make you feel better no matter what? Mom.
was the last person you touched? Mom. Hair.
you hugged? The Delhi Retard.
you yelled at? Tatvika. DON'T FUCKIN DROP WAX ON THE DAMNED CAMERA!
told you they loved you? Kaashu, Tanny.

Do You/Are You:-
like yourself? Yes.
dye your hair? Once friends from college co loured it copper when I was asleep. I almost killed myself when I saw myself the next day.
have piercings below the waist? No, like seriously, WHAT?!
stolen anything over $50? No, never *stolen* anything. Flicked the odd 500 from dad's wallet, yeah.
like ice cream? Butterscotch, Mango and Tiramisu.
Which is your favourite flavour? Redundant question.
like cold coffee? No.
smoke? No.
have beer? And water too.
obsessive? Yeah.
compulsive? Yes.
depressed? No, surprisingly, not yet.
suicidal? Do I look like Divya Bharti?

Random:-
Prized possession: The computer, iPod, Books.
Last thing you said? "The shoot was fucked up. The Actor went to Delhi and we're fuckin fucked ya Ma."
What is beside you? iPod, Wallet, Bottle of water, college ID card.
Last thing you ate? McD’s McVeggie and large fries – their fillet-fish is fast diminishing in size!
Are you right handed or lefty? Right.
Favourite song: Loads of favourites. But every now and then I get obsessed with Rahman's songs. Guru, Dil Se being the dominant songs on the playlist. Also some stuff by The Dandy Warhols.
Worst thing that has happened to you this year: Was down sick for a month. Severe body weakness, blood pressure went high, low, balanced itself.

Time started: 1:10 am.
Time finished: 1:29 am.

Say Hello..

2007-02-04T01:53:00.000+05:30

To the quintessential Nice People. These are the breed of people that you just can't dislike. They're just....nice. There's not a single muscle in their body that can do *anything* wrong that will piss you off or make you think any less about them. They just have that quality. These are the people who you want on your foreign affairs ministry. They're just so aimable that you can never say no to them.

Know what I'm saying? You will, once you see the list.

1. Harsha Bhogle (I know he's probably on your list too)
2. Rahul Dravid/Sachin. (Yes, we call him *just* by first his name, no?)
3. Lata Mangeshkar/Asha Bhonsale.

4. President Kalam.

5. Jackie Chan.

6. Prasoon Joshi.

Hmmm, why was I so sure that there'd be a lot of names on this list?

2007-02-02T20:43:00.000+05:30

Brand Vibes

2007-01-30T01:20:00.001+05:30

I've always been fascinated with the amount of larded gibberish that a lot of these advertising/marketing semi-corporate guys give in their interviews. I mean, I'm an aspiring ad person myself, but SERIOUSLY..you gotta read some of the interviews by random creative directors or the marketing guys and just *read* the amount they bullshit to make their strategy sound smart.

E.g. - 'I think the presentation of the brand was represented well by the output value of the emotions inside the daily lives of the consumer in the market of innovative amphibian sharks' homeopathy'.

The other day, I had a rather interview-like talk with someone, who had done quite a bit of work in the marketing/advertising industry. And I found it absolutely funny that the person in question tried to make his idea sound so complex and fastidiously contrived that, quite frankly, I didn't buy. And I thought keeping it simple was the catchword.

I spoke to this person about one of the more popular detergents in the market and just how well the advertising has worked. Obviously, it was something I said that got this person sexually charged up or something that he started this hour-long monologue about how the market's demands and the brands strategy both were congruent and how it was so important that the brand realized the importance of being in touch with with its consumers and how the brandment (yes, he used that word) is important for an FMCG to work within the ICD of the TUB or else the main frame of the TG will not accept it's infringement into market yada yada yada.

Frankly, I've always believed that market strategy-schmategy is just a big bundle of that green stuff you get in your nose when you have a cold.

At the end of the day what attracts me to a brand is the vibe that it gives it. Fuck, even if it's overpriced, I will buy it. Purely coz it gives me that *vibe.* I mean, think about it...look at brands around you and think about the vibes that they give you. I think that's what makes them go off the shelves at the end of the day.

For example, I get an extremely You-Me-Poor-Brother vibe from Bajaj Scooters. Motorola, on the other hand, gives me a very 'I'm Chinese Algebra, lets see how you figure me out Einstein' vibe.

Colgate is like that old man you bump into every now and then (You know, the one who tells you to use a condom whenever you want to have 'sexual intercourse'). And then there is Reliance Mobile which gives me a mental image of a tractor-driving-villager every time I see one.

Ditto goes for Tata Indicom, except that the villager is now an ugly looking Ajay Devgan with a pregnant Kajol on his lap, and they're grinning like they have a fucking boomerang in their mouth or something.

*Sigh*

That's it for today folks. Lecture over. Go eat your tiffin boxes now.

Attention!

2007-01-28T18:46:00.000+05:30

Aaaah, finally! The site has new bells and whistles!

You can now recommend this site to your friends! The option is towards the left of your screen.

Presto! Begone! Go do your job! This site could do with a bit more traffic!

OCD

2007-01-27T00:46:00.000+05:30

Yeah, each one of us has certain something that other people think is a pain in the arse. And for us? The world seems a horrible horrible place to stay in if certain things aren't just the way they are. Here's a random list (Wow, you do care!) about stuff which annoys me if it's not the way it's supposed to be. (yes, it's SUPPOSED to be that way).

I need to have an empty, clear, plain, pleasing-to-the-eye desktop. I get a horrible itch in the underbelly if I have to use a computer with a flooded desktop. I hate it when people use their desktop like a jollyboard, tagging icons like 'Shortcut to Windows Solitaire' on their fuckin desktop. There's a reason why Windows XP has options like Quick Launch. And how long does it take for you to search for stuff? Which brings us to...
I *have* to have an organized hard drive. I feel like poking my eyes with a hot fork every time I see unnecessary files lying around, unnecessary folders and the worse of them all - a cluttered My Documents section. Everything must be neatly organized into proper, appropriately well named folders. Me thinks a computer speaks a lot about the kind of person you are. (Yes yes, so does the history of the websites you visited on IE) Funnily, this cleanliness pricky habit of mine doesn't go beyond the computer. In real life, my room is more messy and cluttered than the JLT office.

To give you a faint idea...

And my desktop...
I cannot, JUST cannot tolerate having Delivery Reports lying around like a little slut in my cellephone inbox. It bothers me to have sluts in my inbox. I go out of my way, even if it means risking getting caught in a lecture, to clear my inbox. This means that every time I send someone a message, I can't concentrate on ANYTHING else until I see a report that says 'Delivered', and then deleting that report.
When I walk, I can't step over horizontal lines. Like when I walk on tiles, I will step only within the lines of the square/rectangular tile. I will NOT step on the line. I can tolerate skipping tiles, but never EVER step on a line. I feel like I'm breaking a rule or something.
When I drink water, whatever I'm drinking from; a glass, a bottle, a conical shaped ice cream waffle (long story), I drink an equivalent of a fraction at one go. For example, the amount I drink must be either 1/3rd, 1/4th or 1/5th, or whatever fraction I estimate. I must get a feeling of mathematical gratification before I let go of the bottle. If I feel that I haven't drank enough or the proper amount of water, I will make sure I have one more sip, even if it means my belly bursting into tiny bits of fried fat, JUST to make things even in my head.
Those of you who know me, would have noticed that I always have at least one shoe lace open. Even if it's not fluttering around my shoe like nobody's business, they will be neatly tucked inside my socks or something. But they will be open. It's lucky. Or so I claim.
Everytime my hair is wet, (Everytime. Not just after a shower) and I comb it, I must shake my head violently to make my hair messy once again. It's like a challenge of sorts. Immediatelty after I comb it nicely, I must go and mess it up royally, just to do my hair all over again. Lets-see-if-I-still-got-it types.

Don't ask.
I can't take wrinkled pillows. Just can't. That's why I get very irritated first thing in the morning. I see my wrinkled pillow and I get totally miffed.
The money in my wallet HAS to be properly organized into notes of five hundred, hundred, fifty, ten and fives. In that very order. Oh, and I like it when I have a lot of change.
I cannot use SMS language. Even while texting, I just cannot do without the commas, the fullstops and the capitals. It hurts my eye to see text messages without capitals and full stops or commas. In fact, I sometimes don't reply to messages just because it violates this rules too many times.

....Apache, Symbiosis, Fockstar- II

2007-01-25T09:00:00.000+05:30

From FTII, we headed our own ways to find accommodation in Puna, as the college left us and went back to Bombay.

We were a bunch of 40 odd students in Puna, without any faculty or anybody from college to answer to.

YEEEEAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEUAUUUUUUUUUYAHOOOO!

However, like obedient, nay, docile students we attended the first day of Symbiosis in full swing. Complete with seminars and discussions. The first round of Mr. & Miss. Fest O Comm took place on this day.

Now, here's the deal. I'm not going to deny that I am a *tad* too big on this whole festival scenario, but this was a different ball game altogether. A personality contest and Me...well... just don't mix. It's like asking a porno star to act in a play called 'AgniPariksha'. (Don't ask how I deciphered that). If it worked, it would be hilarious. If it didn't, well....

The initial eliminations were based on a questionnaire which was an assorted mix of questions directly picked from the Guinness Book of The Ultimate In Retarded Questions (Special edition now for $9.99!!!). I know it sounds like I'm exaggerating, but I'm not.

Example -

What is your aim in life - *Insert random Miss India Answer Here*

Aimless in life - _______________________

What a question. Just observe the sheer brilliance in the construction of the question. It's disguised as a statement, but underneath all the strata of pseudo witticism, hides a question of great stupidity. And to add to the dilemma, they've even done away with the question mark.

*Observes question*

WTF is anyone supposed to say to such a question?

Anyways, thankfully, I dodged that one pretty OK and got through the top 10.

In the second round, we were put through a pseudo roadies-format session with cameras hounding us from all corners. However, I managed not to be completely seen in one entire frame at any given time. We were made to give a one minute introduction, a three minute introduction, a 2 minute byte about ourselves, a one minute talk about my like and dislikes, a 20 second talk about what I am made of, my ideals, my shoe size and whether or not I like to pick my nose while watching reruns of Hyderabad Sultans vs Madras Lungis.

Being the narcissist prick that I am, I breezed through this too. Then there was this interview thing with the deputy director of SIMC. Now this guy looks like a cross between Ralph Fiennes in HP4 and an older version of Siddhant. Surely, concluding from the face he made, he hadn't wanked off for a very, very long time. My interview lasted for exactly 45 seconds. Post this, I was asked to get 5 signature testimonies of people who like Himesh Reshamiya or I could stab myself in the skull 56 times.

My head hurt a lot.

Clearly, I wouldn't have qualified. Clearly there exists a God who would save me the trouble of getting up there on stage and speaking the utter nonsense that I did. Clearly there is no chance in hell that I can possibly win this.

Thank you to the lovely people at Symbi for having built a strong enough stage that held me up there for two hours. Thank you for letting the judges think I am worth being Mr. Fest O Comm despite my beer gulping, endless burping, farting-at-inappropriate-moment, bad joke cracking wonts. Thank you for calling me a Fockstar (FOC Star, yes, don't ask) Thank you for answering each and every retarded question and queries that we put forth, thank you for Kailash Kher, Thank you for all the lovely gift vouchers, thank you for making me sing Aashiq banaya aapne on stage in front of 200 odd people and letting me get out of Puna alive, thank you for everything. We'll see you next year again, yeah?

Much was left to celebrate and when in Puna, no better place to celebrate than Apache (Banjara Hills).

The place has the best music, great beer, cute shot glasses, a tiny little TV Screen showing the match, a D.J who looks like a toad and some lovely french fries. All in all we gulped down enough Beer and Tequila to give us a mega hangover all the way back to Bombay. It's like Hard Rock cafe, minus the live band and the insanely When you're in Puna, make sure you go to Apaches.

I leave you with the choicest words from Puna 2007 -

"Mummy, it's only Puna, we're not in some desert place that there'll be nothing but sand to eat"
"Dude, I'm sure Biryani was made by a Sindhi. Gedit? Biryani? Birr-yaa-NIIII? Ha? Ha?"
*Hic* "I want to eat some coffee"
"OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD! I'M SOOOOO GONNA NAME MY TURTLE 'AKON'"
"Loookatmeeee, I can fart from my mouth... *phurrrrrrrtirrtr*"
"Cheers! The family that drinks together, pukes together!"
"Aids is a fuckin myth man..."
*While looking at a camels teeth* "Dude, you need a dentist. Hehe"
"The Pink Power Ranger is the most gay. It hits on all the other power rangers."
"Umaa Joshi Yay yay yay...

My mother told me 50 years ago,
There came a lady knocking at the door,
With a oooh, aaaa, I want some paaa (Wtf is a paa?)
The paaa is sweet, I want some meat,
The meat is sour, I want to go to Khar,
There's traffic on the way and Amar is gay.

*Long Pause*

Dude, that's not how it goes."

Pan Card Club, Apache, Symbiosis, Fockstar.

2007-01-24T00:15:00.000+05:30

We left for Poona on the 17th morning at the painful hour of 7 am. 100 odd people dragged their freezing arses to college, freezing every muscle of their body. I can safely say that if we were cows, we would milk brick-hard Vanilla Ice Cream.

The journey to Poona was much fun. We played Ghaati Antakshari, which is exactly like Normal Antakshari, except that you are allowed to sing only ghaati songs. What followed can be best described as...well...'Ghaati'.

I hereby publicly declaim that I am surrounded by the most ghaati 19 year olds to have ever walked this planet. I salute your sheer ghaatiness, your ability to disarm yourselves of all things 'normal' and even remotely 'sophisitcated', your sheer willingness to behave like (I quote my professor) 'Rowdys' or 'Roughnecks', your sheer power to thrust your chest in a fashion that will shame Govinda on his best ghaati-dancing-day, your ghaati prowess that makes Rakhi Sawant look like a graceful ballet dancer from Scotland.

We reached Puna in about 2039720387208937 hours, 2 hours later than expected. No wait a minute, this wasn't Puna. Puna is supposed to be a civilised city... with cars.. and noise..and pollution..and scooters (lots of them, more on that later)... and billboards in marathi which go like 'Aaamcha Puna, Fakta (haha) Aamcha'. But we were standing in the middle of a jungle, with huge Hollywood style billboard with the word 'Pan Card Club'.

Stuck on the outskirts of Puna, it's hot as hell, we stayed at Pan Card Club. We almost turned around, thinking we had reached a branch of Bombay Stock Exchange or something. But no, this was our hotel.

Pan Card Club.

Just.......look at the name.

When start my own hotel, I'm going to name it 'I Card Club' with the tagline of 'No entry without I-Card' (Oh c'mon, it's too hard to NOT make a joke on that one.)

The place was nice, cool. Swimming pool, in-house discotheque, the works. The only problem was that it wasn't... exactly...built to accommodate more than 1/5th of a person per room. My toilet is bigger than the room we got. No space to even walk. But on the other hand, who wants to take a walk in a room?

The trip to FTII was like watching a black and white Iranian movie about the effects of mixing goat droppings with hydrogen sulphide. Complete with Hindi subtitles. We had a guide called, if my memory serves me right, Mr.Muthuvel, who had an acute south Indian accent. (Zimble, wonly, ayyo fucks).

On the plus side, we saw Bela Saigal (Bhansali's mammoth sized sister, editor) dance to 'Beedi', which was...well...funny.

We concluded the day under the moonlight, singing songs, playing the guitar and having the time of our lives.

*Sigh*

Moments like these make every college trip worthwhile.

Thus ended our first couple of days at Puna. Will the students of National College survive the next 4 days? Or will the nightmares of watching Bela Saigal dance drive them insane? Stay tuned.

To be continued....

Poooooooooooooooooooooooooooonaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

2007-01-17T00:01:00.001+05:30

Tomorrow, The Class and The Tanmay are heading to Poona to pay a visit to the lovely folks at FTII. Post that, we are heading to the lovely lands of Symbiosis, which, I can assure you, is going to be one heck of a festival. Blurry, but fun.

Alchohol, maharashtrian pomphret, cheese paaplet fry...Stuuuuupid fattt hobbit must havess the fish!

Enough alcohol will be consumed to leave Poona thirsty for the rest of the century. O fcourse, post that the economic situation of Poona will be thirty times better than that of Bombay and they will demand to be a separate country. Kalyani Nagar will be the capital and Bombil will be the state currency.

POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.....

*jumps around with joy and causes gigantic tsunami that washes of several islands of the Carribbean.*

Oops.

I heart Dogs

2007-01-13T01:42:00.000+05:30

I love dogs.

The furry little asswipes are just way too cool.

And the funny thing is, the more furry they are, the cuter they get.

I love how they wag their tail, when they're happy. Transparency, we likessss ittts.

I love the innocent sad sound that they make. You know, you've heard THAT cute sound that they make when they make that face and hunker down and all.

I love the retarded way in which they play with balls (Ha-ha, 'balls', fuck you're funny!) and stuff. Remember how we as children just would never get tired of playing with the ball? (seriously, like, what's wrong with you?) Yeah, well, this is nothing like that. This is about twenty radical levels above the ebullience that we could ever show.

Try this. When your dog lies down, scratch it's belly. Watch how it's legs automatically move in the way that it normally scratches itself. Pure fuckin amusement happens.

And sometimes, when you take them out for walks, let them guide you. I love being pulled and tugged by those little beings.

I have such a hanger-in-my-mouth grin right now.

Mans best friend indeed...dogs, you gotta love 'em.

Phony fetish (Houston, we have a horrible pun coming up)

2007-01-08T22:25:00.000+05:30

Phones. What would you do without them? No matter how much you deny it, you just can't live without them. Well, at least I can't.

Infact, I actually sleep with my phone (Ha-Ha! Next person to make a joke about this gets a chokeslam). Oh, what would I ever do without that small rectangular piece of adroit genius! I love every bit of my phone. No matter how moth-eaten or painfully feature-less it may seem compared to 'em new fancy phones.
Don't you just love it when your phone gleefully declaims '1 New Message'? Don't you love the feeling when you see that delivery report, assiduously re-assuring you that indeed, your message has found it's destination? Or when dubiety fills you up, when you see '1 Missed Call'?

Everytime I get a call, I get this sudden urge to just press that damned green button and go all 'heloooo' (Note: Tone may vary with each individual caller). I hate, and I mean HATE to cut calls unless it's REALLY necessary. Even if my mood is FUBAR, the most I'll do is ignore the call by silencing the ringtone (Don't you just LOVE that feature?)

And when I'm bored, I bask in the joyful reverie of going through old messages. What makes message-grazing so much fun, I will never find out. Catharsis? Perhaps. The sheer felicity of reliving the moments of erstwhile messages is superduperfantasticofthegoodness.

And with excessive usage of the phone comes the obsessive need to be in possession of one ALL the time. And obviously, have phone, must fidget. Is it just me or do any of you guys keep locking and unlocking your phone just coz you want your fingers to keep active? *-#-0-6-# is a horrible habit and moreover, it's become incessantly nonvoluntary.

Phones can speak a lot about you. The contents of your phone (No, I'm not talking about your messages) can shout out your personality. For example, your phone book. Going through a friend's phone book and pestering his/her until his/her intestines choke him/her spinal cord brings about much merriment and joy to usss!

Who is Trupti?
And Goregaon Uncle?
Who the fuck is called Animal Husbandary?
Who is Anand Desai?
And.. umm.. Mom is like... Mom, right?

Of course, post the FAQ, be prepared to avoids being hit by random pointy object flung at the velocity of magnetic radiation in vacuum.

*Sigh*

And sometimes you lose your beloved in the most embarrassing way possible. Drop it in the tumbler while entering the loo talking to someone who's dialled the wrong number.

*Kills self by consuming gargantuan amounts of Lemon Iced Tea from Swades*

Question

2007-01-08T02:18:00.000+05:30

Can the Internet be a be a cause for low self esteem?

Hmmm....

Umm?

2007-01-05T11:19:00.000+05:30

Recently, a friend of mine got a call from this woman for a job interview. (And no, I'm not making this up) She asked him to come for the interview at this address -

Kings Hotel,
Beside Alfredo's, Juhu,
Room no 805.

Yep, you read that right.

I swear, I have seen porno which starts EXACTLY like that. Well, not EXACTLY.... there'll be kinky music up front, and the address would be a lot cheesier.

Kings & Queens hotel,
Beside Night Queens Restaurant,
Room no. *long pause* 69.

He went for the interview, he got the job. Woman named Ritu Sharma (name not changed) took his interview.

Of course, if he was a part of the movie that I saw, he and Ritu would have like totally done it in *long pause again* Room no 69. Of course, casting couch would happen, and India TV would barge in shouting 'AAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!'

In other news, I hear there's a Kids Gym opening up at Bandra.

Brilliant, just fuckin brilliant. I can see it right now... little lego dumbells, Pink fluffy treadmills with lacy frills ornamenting it. Trainers will wear G.I.Joe costumes and stuff. Brilliant, what a thought, a kids gym. Next I hear they're planning to introduce Botox for Children.

Edit: A frienda mine just told me that there IS a hotel called Night Queen in Andheri. Bwhaahahahhaahha

Happy New Year!

2007-01-02T02:09:00.000+05:30

Much slurring, juvenile pervy jokes, hi fives, 'I love you's, 'No not you, fuck you's, throwing up, laughing at people who are throwing up, making weird sounds while pointing at couples making out, calling random women 'Julie' and random men 'Prakash', kicking a pillow for not being soft enough, choking on a chicken lollypop, passing off a chicken lollypop as a vegetarian starter, calling the DJ a cocksucking whore, ghaati dancing and throwing fake money on random women on Beedi... ensued post consumption of the insidious alcohol at ze party.

Happy New Year Everyone! I leave you with a few of the last spoken words in 2006 -

*With random beaty track playing in the background* "WOOOOOOH LAMHEEEEEEE.... WOH BAAAATEEEEEEEEEEIN.....YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY...."
"Dude, like, stop shaking man..."
*Random Sean Paul track in the background* "Sean Paul should suck on his own dick to know what his music tastes like.."
"This is vodka? No?! Yes! Aaaaaah..." *downs shot*
"Dude, so like, I asked him for a lemon... and he gave me this small green thing..."
*Two drunk guys chatting* "You wanna go in the pool and get wet together?!"
"I WANT CHICKEN GUNYAAAAAAAAAAAAAA".... "Dude, it's Chickenlollypop man.." ...."Oh"
"Dude, this party is so cool like... I'm coming back here tomorrow.."
"Fuck man, no calls are going. Even my network is sloshed"
"THEY'RE OUT OF FUCKIN WATER! CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE IT! FUCKIN WATERR!"
"Dude man, who plays Linkin Park at a fuckin party dude.."
There were two bars. One for just the alcohol. The other bar had the soft drinks. And they both stood in opposite corners of the place. This obviously was subject to a lot of complaints and ridicule, funniest of which was this - "Fuck man.. *gesturing wildly* FIRST I get my alchohol at Andheri station.. THEN I go all the way to Borivili station to complete my drink.. THEN if I feel like eating, I go all the way to Bhayander..."
Bartender attending to drunk guy - "What do you want sir?" "I WANT A FUCKIN PANEER TIKKA! WILL YOU GIVE ME A PANEER TIKKA?! GIVE ME SOME ALCHOHOL YOU MORON!"

Taggingness is happening.

2006-12-31T00:35:00.000+05:30

The forewoman has tagged me. *In dobby voice* Yess ssir, Tammy will do ass said sir. Tammy will write tag, very well sir.

List of things that I've learnt in the double 'o' six -

I am an average writer. Thankfully, I have improved. Or so I think.
Hardwork pays. And the rewards are sweet.
The only way to continue working hard is to recognise the little, tiny elusive hints that tell you that you're doing the right thing.
I'm not an asswipe if someone calls me an asswipe. I'm not a fucktard if someone calls me that.
I'm not a genius if someone calls me a genius.
The higher you rise, the harder you fall.
There's no alchohol in this world that will give you as big a kick as earning your first pay cheque would.
When you stop being overtly nice to people, they think you're rude and whatnot.
The only thing that looks good on me.....is blue. *Yes, I read it in Bryan Adams song style too*
I enjoy being a leader, and me think I'm pretty good at being one too. *flashes nerdy grin, complete with teeth shining et al*
There's nothing more satisfying that leading a team to victory.
There's nothing more dispiriting than watching your team disheartened by a loss.
A lot of people bullshit. I've learnt to read between the lines.
Knowledge is not half as useful if you don't know how to use it.
Street-smartness is such an underrated virtue.
Damn me for being so clichéd, but what I repeatedly learnt throughout the year is that winners don't do different things, they do things differently.

I tag - The the-other-boss, the other-other-boss, the junior, Joeye (hehehe), Noopur and Mistry.

Tanmay's Random List That No One Gives A Fuck About (TRLTNGAFA 2006!)

2006-12-30T12:45:00.000+05:30

It's that time of the year agaiiiin! Lists! let's make lists! We muusssst masster! We xangans love making ze beautiful lissstsss!

Statutory Warning - My lists are a lot more callow than you'd expect it to be. But we must make the list! We mussst!

Favourite Song of the Year - (One's I heard this year, not necessarily RELEASED this year though)

Paathshaala - Who doesn't like this song?! Screw you if you don't! For me, this has been the anthem of the year. Right from the moment I heard it, I KNEW this was a Rahman track. The sheer bizarreness of the track just makes it so brilliant. Starkly outlandish, flaky, call it what you want, but me thinks it's this very off-the-wall touch to it that makes it work so well. AND THE LYRICS! I've always maintained that Prasoon is God (in terms of advertising, of course). But here he comes giving us such a brilliantly newfuckinfangled lyrics. It's brilliaaaant! The entire crew of RDB, take a bow!
Beedi - Take off your coats and bring on the ghaatiness! I don't know a SINGLE person who hasn't tripped the fantastic toe to this one. No matter how fuckin ghati you are or how-classy-swish-posh-urbane, surely, you must have shaked your uptight little svelte booty to this one. Whowudathunkit?

Special mention - Honey and the moon (OC Soundtrack). Just absolutely love this song.

Favourite Movie of the year - (Haven't seen a lot of movies this year, but among the ones I saw, These are my favorites)

The Departed - You don't need an introduction to this. I absolutely loved it. Everything just fell in place here. Just... did. The soundtrack too is effing awesome. I have always loved Scorsese. Loved Gangs of New York. Fell in love Aviator. And now The Departed..... To quote Frank Costello ... "Nobody gives it to you.... you have to take it.."
Casino Royale - One of my favourite Bond movies. I haven't seen many (this would be the third, to be precise). Though I prefer Brosnan, I can't help but like Craig. Craig's a lot more human, and a lot more bond minus the gadgets. Just loved this one.
Happy Feet - Call me a little girlie poo, but I loved Happy Feet (And March of the Pengiuns before that). I love animated movies and this one was bloody brilliant. Maybe the fact that I saw Happy Feet after watching Garfield made HF THAT much better. Just *maybe*. Hell, I loved everything about them ovie. Elijah 'frodo' Wood as Mumbles was great. Was it me or did that penguin actually start LOOKING fuzzy like Wood? Robin Williams playing two characters was fun. Also, all those songs, pure bonus. If you haven't seen this yet, go watch it.
Omkara - Bharadwaj's version of Shakespeare's Othello might not win anything apart from critical acclaim this year, but you have got to admit that my Bollywood standards, this was a great film.

Worst film of the year - (Wow, despite having seen very few films, I'm finding difficult to choose which was the worst)

Phir Hera Pheri - After thinking long and hard, I rounded up on this. Purely coz it is SUCH a dissapointment. The prequel is one of my all time favourite Hindi Movies... but now Neeraj Vora has totally fucked it up. *breaks down and sobs uncontrollably* WHYYYY NEEERAJ WHYYYYYYYYYY....Rubbish plot, rubbish dialogues. There's little Paresh Rawal, Shetty or Akshay Kumar could do to save the film. Stupid fuckin fuckall despicable ugly insipid piece of ca-ca. Phir Hera Pheri is a bloody mixture of the insides of a cows underbelly with ketchup peppered with rat brains and a BIG drop of shit toppled with some cum. And for the ultimate insult of all... *hold your breath*... It was ALMOST as bad as Fanaa or KANK. Yeah, that's what it was.

To Be Continued....

Plagiarism?

2006-12-29T10:13:00.000+05:30

Can you fucking believe this? Or this?

He's not only copied the posts, but he's actually changed the name from MTNL to Estaliatitsorwhatever. And changed Diwali to Eid.

Effing brilliant.

Merry Christmas!

2006-12-25T18:54:00.000+05:30

Christmas eve was bought in rather merrily and in an obvious manner, drinking copious amounts of alcohol. The folks over at Pop Tates have them happy hours that makes us the very very happyness *hic*.

9 pitchers of beer among six people meant that each person consumed enough beer to get the Vatican drunk for a week. Therefore, in pure hedonic-juvenile manner, we sang songs, dropped cellaphones, clicked pictures of each other kissing the Kingfisher logo, wishing each other Happy Diwali etc etc. A lot of fun it was.

Then, my bladder decided it was time to let go and test my state of inebriation, at one go. So I somehow managed to hobble my way to the loo, pee, and come back to the seat, all the span of just 15 minutes. Except that I was surrounded by 20-something year olds I didn't recognize. For about 3 minutes, I was sitting at the wrong table, sipping on someone else's beer. Finally, once I realised what a sin I was committing by consuming a lesser known brother's beer. I apologized (and slurred, a bit) only to be shooed away in nice fashion, by a legion of aviating peanuts.

Oh, fun times.

And today, I spent half the day teaching my 6 year old cousin to play scrabble. The little genius learnt it pretty quickly. Of course, when you're that small you start experimenting. And while he did that, he accidentally spelt out the word 'Fag'.

That's swell.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Random things that annoy me. In no particular order, of course.

2006-12-23T17:25:00.000+05:30

1. One early morning 7:30 lecture on Saturday. Yes, just the one. On a Saturday.
2. People who refer to all South Indians are 'Madrasis'. WTF?!
3. Pseudo professors who go like 'I am not your professor, I am your friend'. No, I have enough friends. What I don't have is a decent professor. Now do your fucking job, will you?
4. People who think it's cool to be dumb. (Yeah, there are people like that.)
5. People who call a peon a peon, a waiter a waiter, a driver a driver, on face.
6. People who can't handle a blank or a used CD properly. Do not ever, EVER, touch the functional part of a CD in front of me. I'll kill you. Seriously.
7. People who type 'ma' for 'my'.
8. People who hold up their tiny finger to ask where the loo is. That's how small your wiener is?

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

2006-12-21T18:50:00.000+05:30

I got a new revolving chair for my computer. It's red, soft, has a nice, long back support and more importantly, it doesn't make squeeky sounds when I sit on it, like all the other mean chairs do.

I swear, my ass has never felt better.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. *sits on chair* Ohfuckinghellthisfeelsnice.

Now, I know, multiple questions of grave curiosity must have arisen in your head. Questions like, What took you so fuckin long to get a computer chair? Where the fuck was I sitting before the chair arrived? Is the thing that you were sitting on dead...? Yada yada yada.

I was sitting on this tiny little puffy sort of a thing, crouching and stuff. And no, it's not dead. Tattered, a little bit, surely.

*Wait's for sighs of 'Ohh the images' to die down*

I can now perform random tasks that I could never do before the arrival of The Godsent Chair TM.

1. Rotate at the speed of 35 rpm. Any faster than that, I get flung outside the window.
2. I can bend the chair back by 15 degrees. They say if I do this 600 times a day, I might lose some calories.
3. I can play bouncy bouncy on it. *bouncy bouncy bouncy bouncy bouncy* Now I know why children like to sit on my belly.

Okay, that's all. Now, if you may excuse me, I have to go and celebrate this officiation by consuming copious amounts of alchohol.

Edit: With Xanga Premium, you get a monthly weblog archive - every month you can download a complete copy of your weblog and store it on your own hard drive for safe keeping... phew.

Aaah, finally a competitor for the 'copy-paste' function.

I heart Cricket

2006-12-18T03:34:00.000+05:30

I'm a huge Cricket fan, and I have no qualms admitting to that fact. Despite the fact that the Indian team is doing miserably, I still don't mind spending the odd-afternoon in front of the television, watching Harsha Bhogle and co. taking me through the days play. Of course, today wasn't just the ordinary afternoon.

Today, ladies and gentlemen, the most irritating fuckwit in international cricket got clobbered by a revered new comer. Reminded me of the 1996 World Cup clash between India vs Pakistan. Yes, you know what incident I'm talking about. Fuck, I love it when such things happen.

Andre Nel : You *spit* got to have *spit*heart to play *spit* it man. You don't have it. Spit spit spit spit.

Sree-Santh : Andu gundu thanda pani. (Blah blah, fuck you)

*Insert brilliant pant-shitting-jaw-dropping six by Sreesanth HERE*

Sreesanth: WHO'S YO DADDY! YEAH BABY, WHO'S YO DADDY! YEAH YEAH, THIS IS HOW WE DO DA WOMEN IN MADRAS BABY! *Does incredibly rural pelvic thrust* WHO'S YO DADDY YO ANDRE YO NEL! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Fuck, I love cricket.

Kapil Dev

2006-12-14T21:39:00.000+05:30

I attended my first press conference yesterday, at The Hilton Towers. It was for the launch of The Official Perfume Of The ICC Cricket World Cup - 2007, West Indies. (Aaaaye Maaaaaaaan)

And guess what's the perfume called?

*Hold your breathe*

*Okay not so much, you'll die*

Trophy.

Yes, the perfume is called Trophy.

And did I mention that it's the *official* perfume of the CWC? Wow!

Also, Nataraj Pencils is now the Official Stationary of the Cricket World Cup. Yes, that's right. You see that tiny little pencil that the umpire uses to note down scores and number of overs bowled and stuff? Yes, THAT and other such paraphernalia will be sponsored by Nataraj Pencils.

Anyways, the press conference was fun, except for the 4 hour delay. Then, Kapil Dev and Ram Gopal Varma's resident whore, Nisha Kothari finally made an appearance. Kapil seemed quite guitar faced, having to deal with 93802489720389723 photographers. After the initial gimcrackery, the Q&A session finally started.

During the entire half hour-ed session, not a single reporter asked Nisha Kothari about anything. It was like she wasn't there. Well, except for a little part of her boobs.

That's when I had my first brilliant epiphany.

Nobody gives a fuck about you, while you sit beside a cricket legend. Cleavage, or no cleavage.

I finally got a chance to meet him in private, later on.

I told him about this little incident that happened when I was 5. The former India Captain had come to my society, to meet somebody. My dad is Kapils biggest fan, and watching him enter the building made him.. well... excited, to say the least. And of course, for some odd reason, my dad felt that a 36 year old asking for Kapil Dev's autograph, was a crime of great catastrophic nature. So, what does he do?

He uses his son, a 5 year old slave boy, to get him his autograph. Oh, I mean sure, I was cute as hell, so using me was an obvious choice. And once he got his autograph, he gladly drops coffee on it the next day.

However, this time I got my own autograph. Following which I gladly ate a LOT of food, free, courtesy the Hilton Towers. Following which I came home and had self-cooked-home-food. And I swear, I almost choked and died that night.

Ok bye now.

Yummmmmmmmmmmmmmm

2006-12-11T22:29:00.001+05:30

Homemade Sandwich, Glass of Milk, Samosa Pav, Masala Dosa, Maaza, Center Fresh, Shared glass of lassi, Shared Chicken Frankie, 1 entire Chicken Schezwan Fried Rice, Bowl of Ice Cream, 3 Pure Magic Biscuits (exactly 3), Masala Dosa (again), Shared fried rice, Banana Milkshake and finally Dal Chawal.

All in a single day. I'm in a fuckin food coma.

*burps and dies*

Edit:

I was telling this to a female friend (who obviously went all haaaaaaaaaaaaaw on me.)

She then proceeded to tell me that she's been binging for the past two days too. (This ofcourse has been of grave concern to her) We both were having a hearty laugh about how we could combine our days food and throw a feast for the entire country of Albania on new years, when presto! She started faffing about how her body has this magical metabolic malfunction which actually MAKES her look fat every time she binges. She doesn't put on weight, but she can actually SEE herself in the mirror, getting bigger by the day. And everytime she goes for a jog, she can actually SEE herself toning back, even though her weight bears no difference.

Oh, so that explains it. I'm not fat. I just LOOK fat. It's my magical metabolic malfunction, that's all.

*wears size 30 jeans and walks away*

The Ice Cream Guys

2006-12-10T00:50:00.000+05:30

I have always admired the guys at the other end of the counter at ice cream parlors.

Not only do they not drool all over the most magnificent little gastronomical inventory of all time, but they also manage to serve it to young, hungry, deprived boys and girls, with a smile on their face. I would never fuckin part with any food lying in front of me.

I SERIOUSLY don't think I could have pulled it off.

Plus, I can my bet my ass that everytime someone answered "Cone" to the question "Ma'm, cup or cone?", I would go like "Ok, Madonna!" and go into little hysterical fits of laughter.

Seriously man, those guys are fuckin plucky.

Cup or Cone?

hehehehehehehehehee.

Technochallenged

2006-12-05T01:47:00.000+05:30

You gotta love 'em technochallenged people. Especially when they're either your Mum or Dad.

Now, my mum and dad are by far the most technologically challenged people I know. And I mean that in the nicest way. Like I swear, take two rooms. Put my dad in one with a cellephone and ask him to learn how to use it. In the other put a Cro-Magnon man with a super computer and ask him to program a new Operating System called Synax 2010. If you've got the gist of where I'm going with this, you'd know who finished their task first.

The other day, I was heating something in the microwave. My dad carefully walks up to me, and silently observes what I'm doing as his leery eyes followed every move I made. Random nods of the head ensued. Throw in a few soft murmurs of 'ooohs' and 'aaahs' and 'bugger-go-slow-with-that-thing-I-can't-follows'.

Then, just when I thought Dad dearest probably got how The Microwave works, he handed me a bottle of water and asked me the weirdest question.

'So Tanmay...this microgas thing... can it make this bottle of water cold fatafat just the way you heated that dal ?'

Oh Dad, you crack me up.

And let's not get started on my Mum. I love teaching her how to work the computer, but I love it more when I watch her try on her own. It's downright hilarious.

She'll sit in front of the computer. Silently. Without moving a muscle. Observe what this great big box of magic conjugates. In fact the other day, I swear I think I saw her stroke the monitor in awe.

Anyways, then, she lifts both her hands and does a quick check of the keyboard, almost to check if all the keys are still intact. Then, after some soul searching and key scanning, she finally touches an alphabet. Then, silence follows, as she scans the monitor to find the given alphabet. After spotting the alphabet on the top right hand corner of the monitor, the same procedure is repeated. The scanning, the silence, the soul searching. Each and every step repeated until she finally gets bored and asks me to type down the thing.

The other day, the funniest thing happened. Mum and I paid a little visit to the local mall. I was excited about going to Landmark and buying myself some new books. Mum was excited about the escalator.

Now ma, there's nothing to worry about the escalator. They're just like stairs. Minus all the effort. Just be careful, ok? Jump on 3, okay? 1...... 2..........

She jumped.

What followed was a wierd gesture where she almost fell backward, then forward. Then she grabbed the railing and looked back at me and gave me the biggest grin she could manage. Little did she know that this was only half the battle won. I quickly got on board and joined her, as she saw the world move downward all around her. It was now time to get off the escalator.

Now ma, just walk out okay? Don't worry about the stairs. When you see the exit, don't wait until it reaches your feet, you might trip. Just walk out. Okay?

But nooooooo. Mommy dearest waited till the last moment and therefore jumped *cough* tripped *cough* her way across. Oh ma, when will you ever learn?

This is how CL's get fucked over.

2006-11-26T18:21:00.000+05:30

"Hello, where the fuck are you? Your event starts in 10 minutes!"

"Oh, I'll be there, don't worry."

"Are you anywhere near Churchgate? Dude, seriously, 10 minutes, okay?"

"Yeah dude, don't worry. I'm in Andheri. I'll be there in about 5 minutes"

"....."

An average weekend

2006-11-21T00:19:00.000+05:30

Direct a drama, arrange a dance, write 3 articles, confirm participation of 50 odd people, attend lectures, shoot music video, edit music video, call 4 other people and beg them to make 4 other music videos, doctors appointment, school re-union, watch porn.

All this in 3 days?

Roger that.

*Takes plunge*

The Retarded.

2006-11-16T23:09:00.000+05:30

Ok, I fuckin admit it. No matter how repelling the name is, Orkut is friggin addictive if you have the right people. Also, if you have a penis. So then you don't have guys called Romesh asking you for fraindship.

Anyways, the other day, I scrapped a random junior asking her to call me as I needed help. Subsequently, I left my phone number.

She replied back saying "Thanks".

*Shoots self*

The Prince Of BMM

2006-11-11T14:57:00.000+05:30

The staff over at the BMM department at college have called it quits. Everybody except for Pramod (peon, brother) are leaving. Now, we shall be governed by new found dictatorship. Except that the new found Co-ordinator Dictator (quick, say that 17 times and then feel your tongue swell) is called Prince.

Professor Prince. hehehehehhehehe.

I just refuse to use the words 'Professor' and 'Prince' in the same sentence. Unless the sentence is 'You &$&$! Make a choice! Professor or a Prince?!?!'

Like seriously, how is he EVER going to get any respect from his students with a name like THAT.

Random Prince jokes are now vagabonding around the foyer.

I can almost SEE my Head Of Department being called 'Queen'. Pramod will now be known as Butler Pramod. He will wear gloves and bring the daily attendance register on a shiny majestic silver plate. He will also use words like 'jolly' and 'git'.

The professors will be the 'Ministers' and the students will be the 'Royal Subjects'. The Department will now be labelled as the Buckingham Palace. The classroom is now The Great Hall. And for leisure, we will all play a game of polo and then feast ourselves on some Shepherd's Pie and some Tea.

This semester will be jolly good I say!

1

2006-11-11T08:47:00.000+05:30

This blog is a year old. Actually just a little more than a year. Thank you for making this what it is!

Cheers!

Hathway to the rescue!

2006-11-04T00:36:00.001+05:30

So, for the 2 people (true story that) who read my last post , heres what happened then.

The next day I called Hathway Internet Services to ask them if they could help me get me my por...er..ehem...internet back.

This guy called Bakulesh came over in like 3.2 minutes, I swear. They seemed more desperate to give me internet than myself. It was almost like they WANTED to make me watch porn ASAP. Clearly, Hathway has an all-male Board of Directors.

I smiled. (BTW, not making a joke on the name Bakulesh is the hardest thing I've ever done in recent times.)

Bakulesh came over the afternoon and did the wiring for the internet connection.

I smiled.

He told me that the wiring thing would get done the next day. Cool, I thought.

The next day, Bakulesh was back. This time he was armed with a Modem and adapters and wierd tools of sorts.

I smiled. Internet was THIS close. Life would be good again.

He did some more wiring. Tick tock, clickety clackety, bada boomp, bang.

He then took out the modem. It was shiny, and black, with tiny little lights glowing.

I smiled.

He conected the modem to the computer and almost like God had it all planned, the two beautiful little computers flashed their divine green lights at the bottom right of the screen.

*Insert orgasmic sound here*

I had tears in my eyes. Fuck man, internet was here! A start of a new era! I could meet all my old friends again! Ares, MSN, Yahoo, Xanga, YouTube... and the rest of the guys.. we could like hang out together again! It would be like old times!

And then, God heard my exclamation of joy and shook his head and said... 'Nuhuh. Not yet sonny'.

Bakulesh got up, disconnected the modem, and said...

"Sir, internet chalu hai. Engineer baadme aaake aapko modem dega"

("Sir, internet is working just fine. But I just want to see that desperate constipated expression on your face again, so i'm going to leave you without the fuckin internet. Hee hee.")

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Don't go Bakulesh! Pleeeeaseeee! I didn't even make fun of your name! Don't leave! We've had such a lovely time together! What did I do wrong! Don't goooooooooooooooooooo!

And then, he decided to sprinkle salt on the twitching earthworm.

'Ek aur baat saaahab... kal se Diwali hai... tho shaayad engineer do teen din baad aaayega...'
('One more thing sire, we here at Hathway want to see you die due to lack of internet. So, the engineer will take his own motherfu*kin time and come after 57 days of Diwali')

I cried.

Internet Chronicles, Part I

2006-11-02T11:39:00.000+05:30

I shifted back home about a month ago, you know. New stuff in the house. New TV, new AC, new furniture, new wierd-ass-nipple-impersonating tile in the middle of the room. I had it going cool. But it just didn't feel right, you know?

I mean sure, you can gimme the diddlysquat about how it normally takes time to adjust to a new house and stuff like that. But thats not the case here. You just NEED certain stuff to be in the exact same way that you left it. The house is just not complete without it, know what I'm saying? Like for example...in my old house, I had a drawer where I used to keep all my stuff. Now, I have a New drawer where I can keep all my New stuff. Like I said, some things gotta remain the same. Except that it's new. The N word. The big N.

And if you know me well, you'd know that the most important thing in my life (after food, sex and fluffy pillows) is the World Wide Web. And it was almost a month since I had no internet connection. I swear to god, I've fallen sick twice this vacation and I have no idea why. You do the math.

So I tried to get a good broadband connection from MTNL. And all I did was realize how Fucked up MTNL really is.

Day 1.

I enter MTNL office, happy, smiling and hungry for an internet connection. They give me the Form From Hell (FFH) that was used in the concentration camps during WW II. After 4 hours of form filling and remembering every little detail that the motherf*ckin form asked for…

*In mock baby voice*

Du yuuu hav a PSU BOT LAN Ethernet Personal Computer In Built Monitarised or Plaguirised or Iodised Card?

Iiiif nott, wvuud yyuu WANT to get a PSU BOT LAN Ethernet Personal Computer In Built Monitarised or Plaguirised or Iodised Card?

Name the choice of the internet connection –

Do you like Mettalica?

Would you sleep with a kangaroo if your life depended on it?

There were just so many questions, I swear I was expecting one that goes like this..

Dyuuu yuuu hyavv a compyuuter?

And when I went to submit the form, the guy at the counter says it’s lunchtime. And since it’s a Saturday, the office is not open after lunchtime. Come tommorow.

Ok, fair enough. I can understand the importance of lunch.

Day. 2.

It’s a Sunday right? So I figured office would shut down early. So I somehow managed get up before 9, and drag my sleepy arse all the way to the office only to realize that the guy who handles the Internet connections is not in office yet. He should be there by about 12, you know, since it’s a Sunday.

Ok, fair enough. I can understand the importance of sleep.

I come back at 12.30, you see. And NOW the guy says that the Internet connections guy has taken the day off. This is the part where everybody at the MTNL office should have got bloody kneecaps. But an Internet connection is far more important. Even if it means I have to curb all my natural instincts.

Day. 3.

Today I went to the office AGAIN. The watchman thought I was a new employee and offered to sleep with me. I however declined. Since I was not an MTNL employee.

Now, what I am going to tell you is absolutely and 100% true.

I went to the office with my form and all the necessary documents like a telephone bill, electricity bill, Metallica CD Covers and stuff. Everything was there. Finally, when it’s my turn at the counter, the lady looks at my form, types down my telephone number on the computer and yells out… in total court-room drama style …. ‘PAR.. PAR..YEH PHONE NUMBER AAAPKAAA NAHI HAIII!!’

WTF?!

I then calm her down. I tell her, see lady, it’s obviously not MY phone number. It’s in my dad’ name. I direct her to the page where you gotta give in details about the number’s owner. But noooo. Court-room lady has her own plans.

She tells me, see fat-boy listen, it says here on the form that your dad’s name is Arun Vishnu Bhat. See? Now, when I type down your phone number on the computer, it says that the number belongs to some *hold your breathe* ‘Ozrun Ozhishnu Ozhat’.

WHAT THE HOLY MOTHER OF GOD! I can understand a minor spellin mistake here and there. Rahul could be Rahil. Rohan could become Roshan. Hell, Anish could become an Anisha man, but my dad’s name is NOWHERE close to 'Ozrun Ozhishnu Ozhat.'

I tried to tell them, look lady, just change the spelling. Obviously the computers messed up or this is some psychopaths crazy-ass joke for April Fools day.. changing my dad’s name on all his documents. Just could you please… change the name and accept my form. (See at this moment, I still cared about my net connection. Hell, I never call my dad by his name, so this didn’t really bother me that much).

But nooooooooooo. Lady says, look flubber, you gotta write 3 more letters in blood and submit them to the department upstairs. Then you must hump a cow and eat the spleen of a dead rabbit. And voila! You’ll have your name changed AND an Internet connection in a months time.

So I did the sane thing and called Hathway. (More on that post later)

I heart Jackfruit.

2006-10-03T17:26:00.000+05:30

So whats with Apple? What's so special about the fruit anyway? What's with it poking it's overweening little arse everywhere?

You're the APPLE of my eye.

APPLE iPod.

Apple Paltrow. (Or whatever the name of Gweneth's kid is anyway).

What is so goddamn special about the Apple? Its just your average ripened reproductive body of a seed plant after all. And it's not even that big. Like Jackfruit. Now that's what I call a healthy, powerful, sinewy fruit. Other fruits should bow down to the Jackfruit. If Jackfruit was a man, he would be more like Arnold or Chuck Norris. With a lot of pimples on his body or something. So ladies and gentlemen, support me in my endeavour to be fair and just to fruit kind. From now on it is...

Adam's Jackfruit.

How do you like them Jackfruits?

You're the Jackfruit of my eye.

A Jackfruit a day keeps the doctor away.