Ever felt like you had something very important in your mind you just wanted to get out? Something that seemed to be of great significance that you just needed to share with the world?
Well, not me.
All I have is random rants, silly everyday quirks and a whole lot of shit, which just about sums up my life.
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Err.. No, not literally.

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Thursday, 24 November 2011

Bud vs. Kingfisher

Roses are violet,
Violets are red,
All the booze seems to have finally
Gotten to my head.

I opened the newspaper this Monday, only to see a huge headline plastered across the front page: 'Kingfisher Q2 loss widens to Rs468.66 Crore'. Almost immediately, a smile crept onto my face.
Does this mean they're gonna stop brewing that god-awful beer of their's? The one which tastes like someone had a Budweiser, threw up, bottled the puke and then waited a year before selling it?
On further reading, however, I realized it was Kingfisher Airlines that was being discussed, so for now, thousands of innocent people will continue losing their Beer-ginity (personal creation) to King-Pisser (copied from Twitter).

PS. As you guys might have noticed, my posts are getting successively shorter with time. That's cause I've realized its always easier to just shit a little than to try to squeeze out a huge pile of crap from your rear at one go.
There you go, now best of luck trying not to picture that.

Wednesday, 9 November 2011

When asked Questions, Mum's the Word

Last night, while I was studying, my mom suddenly asked me- 'Salil, are you sexually active yet?'

This was followed by an awkward silence, like what you'd expect if Baba Ramdev showed up at your gay cousin's wedding. Fortunately, the possibility of something like that happening is less than that of Arnab Goswami breathing between sentences on his show.

As I sat there pondering over how to give the smartest, most honest possible answer to my mum, I realized- I was no longer a kid, I was nineteen, a mature adult well above the legal age, I could think for myself, take my own decisions, and stand by those decisions too.

So I took a deep breath, looked my mum straight in her eyes and said in an extremely serious voice , 'I really need to pee mom, I'll talk to you later'.

*Whew* Disaster averted.

What's with moms nowadays? They ask the toughest of questions. Gone are the good old days when the toughest question posed by moms would be 'Beta, Butter Chicken or Paneer tonight?'

The other day, I came back home from a friend's birthday party, only to come face to face with my mum waiting for me in the hall.

The following is a real conversation, as real as India's hopes of winning the FIFA World Cup-2014:

Mum: Have you been drinking Salil?

Now this, is a rather dangerous, double-edged question.
My parents are aware of my drinking habits, if you call being woken up at 3am by a couple of family friends and being told I'm lying in the ER of a hospital as being made aware, but they've also told me to avoid drinking as far as possible.

Answering in the affirmative would most definitely get me screwed. And not in the good way, when its Megan Fox doing the screwing, but more along the lines of Paris Hilton doing the screwing while Nicole Richie stands on a side, waiting for those moments when you feel a little better, to suddenly flash you, leaving you writhing in agony.

On the other hand, answering this question in the negative might earn me some respite, but it would surely be short-lived, lasting only as long as the smells in the room managed to overpower the Smirnoff scented Air-Freshener that was my mouth.

So I chose the best way, the honest way out of this situation-

Me: Yes mom, I've had a drink or two, but I drank very responsibly. I know my limits and I respect them. I also know I have my family name to uphold, and that I must not tarnish it due to my irresponsible activities.

Sometimes I actually say such stuff like that..
And have a threesome with Megan Fox and Scarlett Johansson in a hot tub right after.
*Sigh*
But no, here's what really happened:

I puked all over the floor, the puke forming a huge puddle on the carpet, which, interestingly enough, looked like a Chihuahua's rear. Or Simi Garewal's face, whichever you find easier to picture.
On the bright side, at least I managed to evade the original question, which was less of a question and more of a test of my integrity.

So why are the questions our mums ask turning more awkward and tougher to answer by the day?
Is it possible that they are *gasp* ACTUALLY GROWING SMARTER?!

Excuse me while you ponder over that, my mum just asked me how often I watch porn and I really need to pee right now.

Tuesday, 8 November 2011

Engineering, BP and Hot Chicks

Disclaimer: I am obviously smarter than you, therefore any part of this article that does not make you laugh is probably just above you.
(LAUGH BITCH, LAUGH!)

So I'm an Engineering student, and like any *Normal* Engineering student, my academic life is in ruins. No offense to all those students who do get good grades, I'm only mocking you cause I'm jealous of you, seeing how I've been unable to master the fine art of stuffing a textbook as big as a Primary School kid's water-bottle down my throat and puking it onto my answer sheets.
So grades, as far as I'm concerned, are more elusive than intellectual jokes in an Akshay Kumar movie.
Now I have found a solution for this, a solution millions of Indian students have also found and swear by. Did someone say tuitions? Close enough. Yes, it does involve throwing away your money just to sit in a corner in a complete daze while the world seems to rush past you.
But no, I was talking about Blender's Pride.
Now BP, as my friends and I call it, has been my most faithful friend for as long as I remember.
Yes, it probably has let me down at times, such as when I passed out, ended up in the Emergency Room of a hospital and almost had a medico-legal case slapped upon me, only to wake up eight hours later, back home, with no memory of the night before. But that was just ONE incident, if you exclude the other three times I've passed out after getting drunk.
So, back to the original topic, college.
I study in ITM University. Its in Gurgaon. Yes, I feel your sympathy already. The college used to be called The 'Institute of Technology and Management' but they changed the name once they received University accreditation (or after a really drunken night at a Sahara Mall club), thereby leaving the 'I' in the name as defunct as a guest on Newshour with Arnab Goswami.
The college isn't that bad really, if you ignore the swarm of 'Jatt Boyz' that descend upon it in their SUVs and their BMWs and its not really that tough studying with all these people, as I've learnt after 1.5 years of studying with them. You might even still catch traces of my original, non-Jaat accent while talking to me.
Computer Science Engineering, I can now say by experience, has absolutely NOTHING to do with Computers for the first two years of college. Subjects like Maths and Physics, which I thought were now a thing of the past, came back to haunt me and make my life more miserable than a critic at a Himesh Reshammiya movie.
Thankfully, the girls in this college aren't like those found in most typical Engineering colleges, there are actually quite a few hot ones (In your face, IIT!).
Just the other day, I saw these two really hot ones, and her face wasn't that bad either.
Unfortunately for every hot girl in my college, there's at least 20 shitugly ones too.
That doesn't really bother me though, as I'm happily in a relationship with my girlfriend for over 3 years now. (Not written under any sort of mental duress, emotional blackmail or while having a conversation about how, if I wrote anything she didn't like, I wouldn't be getting any action for the rest of my life).
But it does make me feel bad for a couple of my friends, like Gibhu Vauba (Name changed, cause I felt like it and cause its my fucking article). The poor guy's been looking for a girlfriend for the last nineteen years, with as much success as Baba Ramdev has had wiping out the 'disease' of homosexuality through Yoga.
That's the thing with Engineering colleges and girlfriends, you either already have one before you get in or you wait till you get out before you get one, kind of like a Delhi nightclub and a bottle of BP at MRP.

Okay so we're back to talk about BP. That's my sign to stop talking and sign off before I end up in the Emergency Room again. Then again, the puking practice should probably help me out when I'm giving my exams.