Monday, November 30, 2009

Quiz Question

A family walks into a talent agency. It's a father, mother, son, daughter and dog. The father says to the talent agent, "We have a really amazing act. You should represent us."

The agent says, "Sorry, I don't represent family acts. They're a little too cute."

The mother says, "Sir, if you just see our act, we know you would want to represent us."

The agent says, "OK. OK. I'll take a look."

"First I come out, wearing a tuxedo, playing Brahms. Just as the music reaches a crescendo, my wife in an evening gown runs on stage and undresses me before dancing provocatively on top of the piano.

Just as I finish playing the song with my cock, my wife strips and does a backflip off the piano in a split on stage. Once her naked ass hits the floor, my 7 year old daughter and 13 year old son rush on stage juggling flaming lawn darts. My wife does a handstand and catches the lawn darts in her cunt, she then manages to queef them out, making her the third part of this juggling act.

The queefs force her to squeeze out a few turds, which I eagerly start smearing on my naked body, which arouses me quickly. Once I'm fully aroused my daughter and son take turns blowing me while my wife straps on a monstrous dildo and begins reaming each child while i ejaculate in the eyes of my offspring.

Once I cum, I run into the audience, shit-covered body still sticky with cum and grab my parents and in-laws to involve them into the act. I strip them all nude and instruct them to start a circle jerk while screaming racial slurs. So my mother and father-in-law start screaming, "Fuck the niggers" while mutually masturbating, and my father and mother-in-law begin diddling one another and chanting, "I hate spics and jews!" Once they reach a geriatric climax, my wife uses their ejaculate to lube up her fist which she uses to start fisting me.

As my asshole is violated, I start playing double dutch with my kids, and once they get tangled in the ropes, start a torrid 69. All the sucking and slurping cause my in-laws and parents to get aroused again and they start sodomizing and fisting one another.

My wife at this point has completely started dry-heaving, so she vomits all over my ass and my back. I line up each of my family members who take turns licking the chunks of spew off my back and out of my ass.

By now my children have to defecate so I tell them to shit in each other's favorite orifices. My son, ever the trooper takes a thick, dense shit in his sister's vagina while my daughter shits in my son's nose.

My young daughter also conveniently starts her menstrual cycle shortly thereafter, and the menses and boy-shit in her cunt make for great lube, as each of my in-laws begin fucking my daughter. My son, blinded in shit, heads back to the piano and does his best Stevie Wonder impression while my wife runs back into the audience to grab a toddler from the crowd.

She begins stuffing this child into her vagina, while my parents begin screaming how she's possessed by Satan and start performing a nude exorcism on her. The power of christ compels them to kill the toddler, which also makes it easier to cram into my wife's lovehole.

By now, I'm so horny and aroused that I start fucking the dead baby inside my wife while my young son starts licking my asshole and fingering his paternal grandparents. My in-laws finish abusing my daughter and start wrestling each other, which culminates in a huge powerbomb through the piano bench. The impact shatters my mother-in-law's hips, leaving her crippled.

The strain of the throw caused my father's bad heart to seize, and he collapses in a heap on the stage. As he gurgles and foams at the mouth, my daughter runs over and begins rubbing her shit covered pussy lips all over my crippled mother-in-law.

My wife grabs the wooden shards of the piano bench and begins playing her father's dying body like a xylophone. My son pulls his tongue out of my asshole and begins sucking his dying grandfather's cock.

I diall 911 and call for the paramedics who revive my father-in-law and then take turns fucking my daughter and eating the menses and shit out of her tight cunt.

Once he's conscious we all assemble in a large circle holding hands and chanting gibberish before launching into a rousing group impression of 'A Downs Syndrome' perspective on the horrors of the holocaust, 9/11 and the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

As we're moaning and screaming, my son runs off-stage to get the family dog. The dog runs over to my crippled mother-in-law and begins peeing on her. Once the dog finishes leaving her in a puddle of piss, my daughter stops blowing the paramedics to light the dog on fire.

The dog yelps and howls before collapsing. My son runs over to fuck the burnt corpse while screaming, "White is right!"as my daughter begins goose-stepping around the stage, squeezing shit out of her cunt and offering Nazi salutes to the audience.

My father-in-law begins raping my father, claiming that he's doing it for the forgotten Vietnam vets and POWs. My mother puts my crippled mother-in-law on her shoulders as I put my wife on my shoulders and we play a game of naked chicken.

Once my son finishes fucking the dead dog. He takes the pieces of the piano bench and begins crucifying the corpse. Once the dog is hung like jesus, he begins weeping at the foot of the cross, saying, "Why my god have you forsaken me?"

My daughter mounts the top of the crucifix, using it as a wooden dildo. My parents, my in-laws and my wife join hands at the center of the stage and start singing "The Hills Are Alive With The Sound Of Music"

I grab the lawn darts and shove one up everyone's ass before heading back to the piano to finish off the show with a rendition of Freebird."

For the longest time, the agent just sits in silence. Finally, he manages, "That's a hell of an act. What do you call it?"

What's the answer?

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Deer Dicks and Ranbir Kapoor

No, those are not two of my favorite things. Just read on.

But before that, thanks for all the love showered on my humble blog after the last post. Your feedback always encourages me to keep working on becoming a better person each passing day.

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Got to know about this website through Vibhor. Mind-boggling stuff. It's difficult to choose between deer penis wine and hermaphrodite frog ovaries. They have this and every other fucking thing described as food! That very well ended up being a pun. Always a good reading accompaniment to my much less exotic dinners. Guess I will have to stick to Karthik's blog only for my dining out ideas. Pass me if you find something for Mumbai.

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I went to the PVR at Oberoi Mall each of the last two weekends and watched movies that I quite enjoyed. And others sitting around me seemed to do so too. But, even then, curiously enough, almost everyone that I met would say that they are bad films. The first was Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani, which I saw a day after it came out. I told a friend right after the movie that it'll be a hit. Sometime some things just connect with the audience without there being a clear reason for it.

And, well, despite my initial dislike for him, I have to admit it's fun watching Ranbir Kapoor. Especially when there's Ms Kaif for company. I realized the same day that I have seen all his movies on the big screen, not by any personal design.

Last weekend, I saw 2012. Like for the earlier film, the hall was house-full for a 10 am show on a Saturday morning for this one too. And I just loved the comprehensive manner in which everything is destroyed.

Hope Kurbaan, which I am looking forward to watching, because I like Dharma Productions films, makes it a hat-trick.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Bird Brained

An interesting thing happened over the weekend.

After the badly ventilated flat I had in Bangalore, I am fortunate enough to have one with two balconies in Mumbai now. It's awesome for the air as well as the light in the flat, and I don't need to switch on any lights till sunset.

The downside of these balconies is that I almost always end up being woken up in the morning by some pigeon's guttural sounds. And those idiots shit a lot too.

QI tells me that pigeons are the only birds that can suck. And they do suck a lot.

So, I have an AC carton kept in my living room balcony, which a pigeon couple had decided to convert into their own penthouse, despite all my acts of discouragement.

On returning from my Bangkok trip, I saw two eggs in the carton. Pigeon eggs are really small. So, I had let them stay for a while as I thought they'd be done with it soon. One of the eggs hatched sometime back.

Yesterday, I got angry with a friend and didn't have anything to vent my anger out on. So, I went and shook the carton really hard. The mom (I am assuming it was a 'mom' because she was sitting on the little pigeon chick thing) flew away in fright, leaving the kid behind. I shook some more and the chick bounced around for a while and fell down to the floor.

That was yesterday.

From last evening till the afternoon today, the stupid kid had shat all over my balcony, while the parents looked on perched on my AC. The maid hadn't come today so it was going to get even worse by tomorrow morning.

So, when the pigeons left for a while I lifted the kid on a magazine and threw it onto the roof of a car parked below my balcony. Was curious to see how the pigeons would react when they came back.

The pigeons came back in a few minutes and took some time in locating the kid. The morons then went on to nudge the kid off the roof on to the ground.

A dog came within moments and made a nice evening snack of the kid.

I threw the other egg down for the dog's dessert. But a crow flew in and ate it the moment it fell on to the ground.

This will teach the pigeons not to treat my balcony as prime real estate.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Bangkok Diary - I

Just got back from Thailand after a hectic four-day part-work, part-vacation trip.

The first impression, Thursday early morning, as we moved from the Suvarnabhumi International Airport towards our hotel in Bangkok was good. But it took a bit of a plunge over the next two days, only to go back up over the weekend.

So, in the end, it was a good visit. Enjoyed the place. People are extremely friendly, which is the most important thing. Staying at a fantastic hotel didn't harm either. Food is lovely, which is always a major plus in my books.

Detailed notes soon.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

The Strain

I had the scariest nightmare last night.

My dreams are normally quite awesome. Not exactly the way her sweet dreams are, but good fun. Even the slightly bad ones get nasty only to the extent of me missing an exam (yeah, I still have those ones) or losing a grade because of having low attendance.

But, this one was a proper nightmare. Where I actually woke up completely frightened and was spooked enough to not go back to sleep for a fairly long time.

I sleep very lightly and even the least bit of sound makes me wake up. Because of my sinus problems, I snore on some occasions if I am sleeping on my back (I always have to sleep sideways) and end up waking myself with the noise of my snoring. Yeah, it sounds funny even to me, but true.

So, last night I woke up partly because I was really frightened, but also because I could hear myself moan in sleep. That bad. And I could feel the physical pain I had experienced in the nightmare even after waking up.

What probably led to this rare occurrence was the fact that I had gone to bed reading the new book jointly authored by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan - The Strain. It's a fast-paced book, not very different from most other horror/thriller works of fiction, but this somehow got under my skin. And I would like to believe that it's not easy to do that.

On a (hopefully) unrelated note, I'll be in Bangkok for the next 3-4 days. If any of you are also going to be there by some interesting twist of fate, mail me and we could meet up. Would probably need some break anyway from all the presentations.

Monday, October 26, 2009

TOW I Crib Some More

I am typing with one hand again. But that's because I have a particularly gooey piece of chikki in my left hand. Had gone with my parents to Lonavala-Khandala a few weeks back, and all the chikki we bought had been rotting in my fridge. It still tastes awesome.

I am sorry for that fingers stunt. I was getting bored one fine evening, had just watched No Smoking for the fourth time, and this felt like a good idea. Thanks to everyone who bothered to comment, write to me or call. Apologies for being such a moron. And will try not to crack such 'jokes' again.

***********Warning - Serious Crib Alert************

I have been terribly low for the last few days, which has sort of been the general mood actually for most of the last few months. I know it's very boring reading someone crib like this but, well, at least I am not cribbing while talking to you on the phone! I am not exactly sure why I am not in a good or even normal mood, not sure whether there is a reason at all, but it is the way it is.

The fact that I am not exactly in love with my job is very clear to anyone who reads my posts. But it is a genuinely nice firm to work for, and I am not sure I won't regret missing out the chance of sticking around and seeing this firm grow if I leave soon. And there are quite a few days when I enjoy the work I do on that particular day. I feel satisfied coming home tired, having simple food, watching a couple of TV shows, chatting a bit with one or two people, and then lying down with a novel and falling asleep in a few minutes. I particularly love the falling asleep easily bit. Probably for the first time in my life, for an extended period, I have not had problem in falling asleep.

But then there are days when I have this crazy, painful feeling that I am wasting time. I don't have any liabilities, my dad's in a good job and has got a fair amount of time before retirement, and my parents have saved a decent amount of money, my sister's got a job. I am healthy, with no illness. I don't even have a pet animal that could be dependent on me.

I still can't find the courage to experiment. And it's killing me. Or at least making me crazy.

I have been shutting people out with my craziness. I didn't have too many friends to begin with, but have been deliberately trying to lose the ones I did. I said some very hurtful things to a cousin I considered one of my best friends, and we haven't spoken for months now. I haven't called up some of my friends whom I used to talk with every few weeks. And I think was not very hospitable when one such close friend stayed over at my place for a weekend. And over the last few days I have come perilously close to losing the friend I value the most.

I can make things better. But then again, I can't.

Writing this here is just a way to see things better, as crazy as it may sound.

It's also crazy how much 'I' my posts are about. The rare moments when I give my self-centered self a break and look at others, I realize that others have got problems too. Real problems actually. But one's own problems, even if imagined, obviously hurt more.

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Added later: Maybe it's just a case of not getting enough sex.

Friday, October 9, 2009

fingers

i lost 2 fingers of my left hand yesterday in an accident. hurts like hell, and it is painful typing with one hand, so forgive the lack of caps. will be back with the story once the painkillers wear off completely.

Friday, October 2, 2009

You Do Get Jews In A Bar

Christoph Waltz, as SS Colonel Hans Landa, bites into his role with such delight and has so much fun chewing it that it's difficult for me to be able to write about anything else from Inglourious Basterds. Will have to watch it again sometime soon.

I saw the film last night, at a preview show, which should qualify as first-day first-show. Occasions like these when your expectations are met, and even exceeded, are rare, and worth cherishing. Tarantino's back in true form after an also-ran called Death Proof and aren't we fortunate for that!

They didn't show any trailers at the beginning of the movie at the multiplex I saw Basterds at. Which was good in hindsight, because it might have got me in the wrong mood for the beginning of the film. The film is told in Chapters, similar to Kill Bill, and the first one sets the mood brilliantly. Landa has a long and cheerful conversation with a peasant Frenchman, in which he also explains in delightful detail why a Jew is like a rat (reminded me of Maus), drinks some milk, and smokes the most interesting pipe I have seen, and one understands completely when the peasant, who is easily twice the size of the Colonel, starts crying at the end of it. You would not want to run into Landa in real life.

Unless, of course, if you are a Basterd.

After pages and reels of having seen those bastard Nazis taking it out on the poor Jews, it's the Basterd Jews turn to scalp their oppressors, literally. Or, in case of Eli Roth's Bear Jew, have a few shots at their heads with a baseball bat.

But, the title of the film is actually quite misleading. Even though it's fun seeing the Basterds having fun at the expense of the poor Nazis (that adjective isn't used with that noun that often), this film is also about a parallel story of a girl who lived to take revenge. She gets equal footage, if not more, as Pitt, and very deservingly so.

The climax, where multiple strands come together, is so unexpected and so relieving that the few moments in the film earlier that felt like a drag seem completely worth the patience.

Tarantino's trademark long conversational scenes ending in chaos or anti-climactic non-action are still there, and have gotten better in some cases. The bar scene with the actress and three of the Basterds is one of the most classic ones I have seen. And the first scene in the film is anyway beyond comparison.

Pitt has done better roles than this and I didn't like him all that much. His drawl actually got very irritating at times. The rest of the cast, an assortment of nationalities, is great, as they are expected to be in a Tarantino film.

I had never seen a Tarantino film on the big screen before this, and it's completely my loss. His use of music is legendary, but I hadn't realized how subtly it creates the atmosphere for just the right reaction from the audience till I saw this film. Even the camera angles are so much more effective on the big screen. It is like the big screen, or even the Dolby surround sound, was invented for Tarantino.

I already feel like going back to watching Landa again tonight.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Machher Jhol

One of the reasons for taking a flat this far out in the suburbs - causing a daily 30-40 minute one-way commute to office, which everyone, including myself, keeps reminding me is very sane by Mumbai standards - was to be able to live away from the crazy congregation of humanity that is Mumbai. And it's been a good decision. My flat's balconies don't even open towards the road, but towards the greener, and calmer, backside of the society. Watching Mumbai's famous rains, with the balcony doors wide open, cool breeze blowing in, and reading a nice book, with music playing on my (new) speakers, is as close to heavenly as I have come since I started working.

Of course, one can't spend the entire weekend cooped up like this. One of my weekly engagements is a trip to Hypercity in Malad (W) to do my grocery shopping. It's about 15-20 away from my flat on a straight road, which normally has much less traffic than usual at the time I choose to go there (Sunday lunchtime). On my way back, feeling content with the world after having gotten through another week of boring vegetable-buying, I like to take a look around at the slums lining both sides of the road.

A good amount of space right next to the footpath is taken by these small shops, barely enough to fit two persons, selling all sorts of things from clothes and food items to phones and hardware. I rarely see any customer there. They are almost always occupied by some old man wearing a skull cap and kurta-pajama, very often staring at the road blankly. I always wonder how the shop-owners make a living. Who are the patrons? What are the footfalls like?

Today it reminded me of a similar shop I knew almost a decade back. Before deciding to go to Kota for my coaching, I had spent about 2-3 very painful weeks in Kolkata. I was staying on the 2nd floor of a guest-house, and one of the windows in my room opened on to a section of a road that had a small bakery/confectionery/something like that on the other side.

The person who ran the shop used to pull up the shutters sometime around 11 am, and by the time I got back to my room at 4:30 or so, they would be down. Of course, these were the days when he would decide to open shop at all, because very often the shop would be closed even on a weekday. I wasn't around long enough to figure out a pattern - maybe he took a leave only on prime numbered dates - but it didn't keep me from marveling what a leisurely lifestyle he had. As I got to know later, Kolkata abounds in such life-stories.

And even though I have often made fun about the lack of enterprise among a good number of people in Kolkata, I find myself wondering equally often these days if that is not the better life. Machher jhol and beer, and they don't cost much, should be enough for a good life.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Were The World Mine

Two posts in one day - don't know if I have done that before.

I have believed for a long time now that the theory about the heart deciding a lot of things for us is one of the few inarguable truths of our life. There are some people you meet, some things you see that you know would matter for a long time.

I saw a film like that just now. Had downloaded it several weeks back because I had read about it somewhere. Got around to watching it today. I had been seeing the same first 15 minutes or so and dismissing it as another cliched high-school story. But, I need hard disk space on my laptop (have left my external HDD with a friend accidentally) and decided to watch it today so that I could delete it. Am not deleting it for sure now.

Were the World Mine is one of those films that makes you realize how much English-language, or for that matter most non-Indian, films have missed by not making more musicals. Or at least us, the viewers, have. I last got that feeling when I saw Chicago all those years ago.

It's a film about a gay chap in an all-boys high-school, where he's fallen in love with the school jock, the best rugby player. The usual dilemmas follow, and I was growing tired, when suddenly Shakespeare drops in. This is an unapologetic tribute to Midsummer Night's Dream, one of my favorite Shakespearean plays, and the Bard of Avon would have been proud.

The lead boy is chosen in the school play for the role of Puck, and he discovers the love potion mentioned in the play. Craziness ensues, with the sports coach falling for the headmaster, the boy's mom's boss (who is also the headmaster's wife) falling for his mom, and the jock falling for him.

The point when the entire butch rugby team starts doing ballet on the sports field is hilarious.

The music and the acting is better than several high ranked films. When I see a film like this, I feel really bad because such films should be seen by more people. They are hugely entertaining, but show you a bit more of life too at the same time, without you realizing it.

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