Some time back, someone I no longer remember tagged me with the 25 things about yourself thing. The objective of this game is simple: you write 25 things about yourself and tag others and they, in turn, tag others and this goes on till the whole world knows 25 useless things about everyone else. Then we all realize how completely pointless our existence is and mutally agree that Pakistan and North Korea should jointly blow up the entire planet and erase our miserable 25 point history forever.
So here goes.
1. Right at the top : Metal and Manchester United are the only strings that loosely hold the remaining pieces of my sanity together. Without them, I would have been a world famous spiritual leader who spews pearls of wisdom like these. No, I’m not that right now.
But pray tell me, what is that thing he’s wearing on his head? It seems ribbed for extra pleasure too. Pope-at saala.
2. Books that I read recently : Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams and Famous Five – Five go to Demon’s Rocks by Enid Blyton.
3. Oh yeah, Famous Five totally kick ass.
4. I am 100% sure that Georgina grows up to become a lesbian. Short haired, tomboy, not attracted even to a guy named Dick(!) – think about it. Better yet, imagine it.
Eww, you’re freaking sick, aren’t you?!
5. Five songs that instantly lift me up (in ascending order):
- Cry of the black birds – Amon Amarth
- Comfortably numb – Pink Floyd
- Fade to black – Metallica
- Rime of the Ancient Mariner – Iron Maiden
- Hallowed be thy name – Iron Maiden
6. I hate food. All my taste buds have died a brave but violent death.
7. The last time I embarrassed myself :
I was in the lift alone, earphones blasting Metallica’s The Four Horsemen in my ears. As there was no one else around, I got a little carried away and started headbanging and playing the riffs on my air guitar.
Guess what happened next, will you?
The door opened ever so slowly, revealing around 8-10 shellshocked people who looked as though they had seen a headless horseman themselves. Sheepishly, I wrapped up the air guitar and hurried out of the lift.
I will never forget that explosion of laughter behind me.
8. While referring to me, people have used words like “pagal“, “irritating creature”, “psycho”, “I hope you die”, “goddamn pervert”, “sicko”, “weirdo” and very recently, “stupid fuck”.
As you can see, I’m not one of those well-mannered-Reid-and-Taylor-suit-wearing-polished-gentlemen-from-an-English-county, generally referred to as “His Nobility Sir Suckingham from Herfuckshire”; the ones who always bow before women and say things like, “Top of the morning to you, Mrs. Deshpande! Don’t you look like a bouquet of fresh daisies today morn!” and “That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing Miss Chandiramani. The fitting distinctly brings to my mind the beauty of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 in 34 Double D major.”
Also, I do not own a stable full of purebred horses that I race at the Sunday Derby or a cellar that boasts of fancy vintage French wine imported from Bordeaux, Burgundy or Bhayandar.
And I certainly do not give a shit about Renaissance art or twisted poetry or the power of democracy or faggot rights.
In short, I’m a purposeless soul.
9. What, asleep already?
10. Ok, think about Georgina and Anne again. What “adventure” would they go on next?
11. Move over Holocaust survivors, I’m a Kerala meals survivor (So far, so bad).
12. I love watching bad movies. Relishing the assault on senses has become an enjoyable hobby for me.
13. Clarification : Bad movies mean movies like Kidnap, Ghajini, Karzzzz, Quantum of Solace and any movie with SRK in it. Not the ones “starring” Georgina and Anne as the lead “actresses”.
14. The last act of craziness:
It was election time in Kerala and the entire city was plastered in posters depicting candidates with varying degrees of ugliness.
But this one candidate particularly stood out. She’s this grotesquely ugly, morbidly obese lady who smiled out of gaudily coloured posters pasted across the entire city. Curse my luck, I couldn’t avoid them as the walls of the lane leading to my home were covered in her face.
At one point, I felt something snap inside me. It was as if her ugliness had touched me at a deep, spiritual level and made my soul vomit out in disgust. I lost it and ripped out every poster I could and stamped the rest with my shoes.
Onlookers might have mistaken me for an opposition party supporter. But no political motive behind it, I swear.
15. I love Mumbai for its soul. I hate Mumbai for having sold it a long time ago.
16. Big fan of Duck Tales, Talespin, Flintstones, Jetsons, Scooby Doo, Johnny Quest and 2 Stupid Dogs.
17. Sapiosexual.
19. Weak at Math.
20. The following list will give you an idea about the categories of people who activate my gag-reflex, the severity level and a brief description:
- Category – Hopeless romantics : Severity – Medium : Description – The kind of people who always smell roses, look towards the sky and smile like retards. The kind who fantasize about meeting their soulmate on a wondrous fairy tale night – complete with lovemaking on a secluded beach – under a starry sky, a full moon and a 93 piece symphony orchestra playing Micheal Bublé songs in the background.
Erm, 2 things, pal – 1. Shiv Sena 2. That guy in the orchestra isn’t exactly blowing his trumpet, if you know what I mean.
- Category – Kewl peoples : Severity – High : Description – Fake accents and hip hop culture. Hideous accessories and ridiculous slangs. Inflated egos and diminished IQs. Puppets of commercialism and victims of marketing. All of them and their mothers.
- Category – Faggots : Severity – OutOfBoundsError : Description – There’s a reason why spiked baseball bats were invented.
This is the only right they deserve.
21. There’s nothing wrong with guys who sing in a whiny, pansy-like voice. It’s totally acceptable and arouses wild desires in the hearts of men.
That is why guys like Enrique Iglesias, James Blunt, Chris Martin and Moron 5 turn me on.
But still, I pray to God to grant them some balls one day and make them sing like men.1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 or even 7.
22. That was my age last year.
23. My updated age this year.
24. I love THIS woman! Her sense of humour + intelligence + childlike innocence + unabashed goofiness + dropdead gorgeous looks = my dreams.
25. Every morning when the day begins, I thank the Lord for all He has done. Every day is a new opportunity to go out and live, with a new hope and a new purpose.
In the wise words of Dr. Cox,
Molly: Perry, no one’s pure evil! I mean, yeah, some people have a hard outer shell, but inside, everybody has a creamy center.
Dr. Cox: There are plenty of people here on this particular planet who are hard on the outside and hard on the inside.
Molly: So they’d have more of a nougaty center?
Dr. Cox: Lady, people aren’t chocolates. D’you know what they are mostly? Bastards. Bastard-coated bastards with bastard filling. But I don’t find them half as annoying as I find naive bubble-headed optimists who walk around vomiting sunshine.
Cynical, who me? I’m as positive as a healthy 1.673 × 10−27 kg proton.
So let’s all scatter flowers from our baskets and sing the songs of summer and celebrate life in all its glory! Whoop de doo, was that the Lazarus phenomenon I just felt?
—-
As a rule, I have to tag someone.
I tag Sir Winston Churchill. You’re damn right, Sir! We’ll never surrender!
EDIT : My bad, I didn’t know that I had to tag someone who’s ALIVE.
In that case, I would like to tag Uday Singh, my building watchman. All we have to do is to wait for him to become literate, buy a computer and a net connection, discover my blog and then create a blog for himself.
The optimist that I am, I believe it isn’t impossible. After all, impossible means “I M possible”. Ugh.
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