I’m pissed off with me getting pissed off at her pissing me off.
A friend three drinks down on his love life.
Tag Archives: friends
Feedback level: Petrified
24 FebGot this from a kind soul on a forum I frequent.
I read some of the articles in your blog.I must admit you have a great sense of humor.Please take good care of your health,As i’ve been seeing cases in my hospital for 3 years,There is a significant rise in alcohol related Morbidity.By significant i mean 1-10 cases/day/365 days.Prognosis is moderate/poor.My books say 160mg/day or 28 units for men for 8 years is a really bad thing.
Oh well. I guess the days of having all my drinks in a glorious coffee mug are over.
In defence of the Government
25 MayThe last couple of weeks have been an utter mess. Petrol prices went up a fuckload. The internet came under censorship, regulation and other assorted red tape. And at the moment, word is the lovely state of Maharashtra is looking to enforce an arcane law requiring you to be 25 years or above and acquire a drinking permit in order to guzzle down a cold beer.
Sure, there was and is outrage, drama and impassioned pleas from folk everywhere. Now I’m no political genius or master of governance to fathom the rationale behind such moves, but it seems that all the government is doing is exercising a fair bit of control (insert Captain Obvious remarks here). You know, the sort an overprotective mother indulges in. Instead of calling you a million times a day or forcing a curfew on you, you’re being told what to do and what not to do, in spite of well, being a democracy.
Which brings me to the crux of this blog post. We all crave control in some form or another. Be it snooping on your friend’s text messages, silently observing a family member’s online antics or simply being extremely overbearing to those around us. It’s human nature. A response to some warped insecurity or another. This isn’t wrong. It’s human nature which we’re perfectly fine with. Here’s why.
The government is just acting like that one alpha male/female in a group of friends who wants to control everything from where the gang go to eat to which cinema they watch The Avengers at. Being the civil polite people that we are, we rarely do tell Mr. or Ms. Bossypants to his or her or it’s face that his or her or it’s behaviour is appalling. We may however, bitch about said person on Twitter and move on.
What’s scary in this case is, we’re not doing anything about the scenario. We’re more than happy to be resigned to the fact that for the rest of our living, social existence, the terms and conditions of where we go and what we do is decided by someone else. We’re perfectly fine with it.
Having said that, we’re completely wrong, out of line and impolite for trying to tell our lovely PM and his friends anything. After all, we’ve been conditioned to deal with it in ways that don’t involve public outcries, petitions and other forms of protest. They’re just macro scaled a social aspect we’re used to. So deal with it, be nice and stay classy (read: shut up). Well, unless you want to be labelled a maoist.
Collaboration
24 MayHe: “Dude!”
Me; “Yes?”
He: “I called because I got suddenly inspired!”
Me: “Hmmm, that’s rare.”
He: “I know, I know. I got an idea.”
Me: “Okay…”
He: “I’ve been very inspired because I listened to Tenacious D! If you’ve read my status messages.”
Me: “Uh-huh… What status messages?”
He: “Oh that’s right, you don’t check Facebook.”
Me: “No.”
He: “I was thinking we should collaborate!”
Me: “…”
He: “You can write, I can come up with the music!”
Me: “…”
He: “It can be something like “Fuck Her Gently” or a one minute sketch. It can be entertaining!”
Me: “Hmmm…”
He: “C’mon man! It can be something like the liquor permit issue. Or fuel prices. It should be something I understand. So if you write about*…I won’t understand it!”
Me: “Um….okay.”
He: “It’s like what you do in your blogging!”
Me: “…”
He: “What’s the matter?”
Me: “I’m not too keen on collaborating. I rather work on my own.”
He: “Write what you want, I’ll just come up with the music to it!”
Me: *facepalm*
He: “I’ll get my acoustic over to your place! Let’s jam!”
Me: “Let’s see.”
He: “What’s the problem? You busy? At work or something?”
Me: “No. I just don’t think this is a good idea.”
He: “Oh. Okay. I’ll speak to you later.”
(*I took away my phone from the earpiece while he narrated this bit, so I have no idea what he said next)
Fed up.
22 MayToday marks the beginning of the realisation of a phase that I’ve been in for the longest time.
I’m fed up.
No, it’s not the job, that’s pretty sweet. It’s not the daily grind of commuting in a city befitting the status of a war zone and it’s not the standard of living in the shadow of a dystopian, scumbag government either. I’ve made my peace with these elements a long time ago. After all, what else would you expect from someone who wakes up each morning anticipating an alien invasion?
I’m fed up of people. I’m fed up of listening. I’m fed up “being there” for them. I’m fed up of hearing their sordid tales of their daily existence. I’m fed up of being accommodating of their idiosyncrasies. I have had enough and I can’t have any more. I’ve reached a point where my relationship with people is borderline toxic because I’ve had it with being the foil to everyone’s drama and I want out.
Having said that, I’m in the process of culling the unnecessary whining and noise. So don’t be surprised if you don’t see me on Facebook, have access to my tweets only due to retweets from others, and can’t view me on Foursquare, Instagram or the social network of the du jour. Oh and don’t get appalled if I don’t reply to WhatsApp messages, texts, emails or even pick up the phone.
It’s funny how the dynamics of modern day communication make me want to crawl into my shell rather than be more open to listening. Good thing the block and report as spam buttons exist. It seems like the best way to clean out the mess I’ve gotten myself into thoroughly. Fun.
Now listening to: Bonobo – Kiara
Champagne Conversations and Double Standards
24 MarAround 0100 hours, Saturday, March 12…
He: Dude, I can’t believe I drank so much!
Me: What did you have?
He: I had…*hic* four King Fisher Strongs!
Me: Yeah given your tolerance, that’s a lot.
He (slurring and stumbling): I also had, 4 glasses of champagne!
Me: Dude…
He: Yeah man. I couldn’t help myself, she was telling me to. I couldn’t say no.
Me: *sigh*Idiot.
He: Boss. Try to understand, it was her birthday! I couldn’t refuse. I rarely meet her.
Me: What does that have to do with getting sloshed?
He: I…I just….just couldn’t say no to her.
Me: Given your previous experiences with women, I’m not surprised.
He: Shush!
Me: So on a scale of one to ten, how’d you rate her?
He: Hmmm…an 8!
Me: Not more? You seem to have had a good time.
He: No man, I can’t. She’s a friend from school.
Me: So what’s stopping you?
He: No! She’s from school. So no.
Me: That was like, 10 years ago man.
He: I can’t look at her that way!
Me: Ass, you already have, giving her an 8 and all that.
He (shouting): Yeah but she’s from school! Else she’d be a 10!
Me: *facepalm*
Stuff I hate
29 DecOkay so maybe hate is too strong a word. Or maybe it isn’t. I can’t make up my mind. Or can I? Either way, read on and tell me.
1. The Sound of Music: A World War 2 movie without Hitler, occult or zombies? No blood, gore or gibs either?! Sounds preposterous. Then I realized it won big at the Oscars. Hilarious for a movie that has actors that can’t even pronounce their own names, let alone act.Which leads me to believe that the Academy Awards is run by a bunch of trolls. Except for the year LOTR won big.
2. DSLR Users: Dear Camera Newbs, just because your great grandmom’s cat who passed away pawed you into its will doesn’t mean you’d waste that ill-earned money by buying a sophisticated piece of photographic equipment. But being the ignorant pile of turd that you are, you definitely will. Heck blowing a wad of dough on one of them seems fine after we discover that all you do with it is hang it around your neck like some ancient Egyptian fertility symbol in the hopes of getting laid. That and taking 20350346436 pictures a second of a dog pissing.
3. BlackBerry Boys, Butches and Bitches: Before I get flamed for hating on what is apparently the most awesome device of the century, I bring before you transcripts of what went down at Research In Motion before they launched the mother of all annoyances:
Scientist 1: Hey let’s create a phone with superlative email support.
Scientist 2: Sounds epic! Let’s do it.
Scientist 1: Let’s add IM too!
Scientist 2: And our own variant of it usable to BlackBerry owners. Let’s call it BlackBerry Messenger. That’s always on!
Scientist 1: Yes, and you can’t switch off but only uninstall.
Scientist 2: Perfect!
Scientist 1: Dude, I think we’re on the verge of creating the ultimate stalking tool…
Scientist 2: Nonsense! Marketing will spin it so the fools will think it’s the discrete way to get booty calls.
And that my friends, is why your friends have themselves surgically attached to their CrackBerries at every possible instance. I rest my case.
4. F.R.I.E.N.D.S. : Rachel isn’t hot. Phoebe isn’t funny. Ross is a whiny little bitch who should blog (ironic yes?). Joey is a female bimbo (yes you read that right). Monica is psychotic. Chandler is okay because he likes Fallout in real life. Oh did I mention that the show has been off the air for almost seven years now? Indian TV channels please note. We don’t need this filth still polluting our airwaves. One generation of people spewing “Smelly Cat” memes and sporting the “Rachel” hairdo is enough.
The world would be a better place without these things. But who cares about that? If these didn’t exist you wouldn’t have a blog post from me would you?
Now Listening To: Feeder – Descend
*sigh*
10 MayIt’s 5: 22 AM.
By the time I’m done typing this post, it’ll be close to 6 AM on a Monday morning if not already past it.
Needless to say, things are pretty messed up if you find yourself in front of your computer screen in a post-sleep, caffeine and Gatorade fueled haze in a vain, almost cursory attempt at trying to be coherent on a blog that has been, of late a dumping ground for perverse jokes and randomness instead of doing the 24465476879346322154667799 other things that do matter in a life span that’s relatively short and useless relative to the great scheme of things in the universe.
Read that last paragraph? 4 lines. One sentence. Good-bye coherency and sense, I barely knew you.
Then again, it joins the ranks of seemingly important, high priority entities that I’ve lost a grip on. I feel directionless, burned out and on the verge of , if not already in, some sick, twisted form of misery and depression.
Amazing isn’t it? Close to 2 years ago I thought I won the proverbial lottery in the most literal sense possible. I was in an industry I loved working on things that mattered and making a difference. Or so I thought.
Right now everything leading up to this moment seems completely disjointed, a rambling Frankenstein-like specimen stitched together by delusions of self-worth. Everything seems to be colored in monotony. Waking up is a chore, getting to work even a bigger one, surviving the day, the biggest of all. And it makes me wonder.
You know that in superhero flicks and comics there’s a prolonged period of struggle before they finally manage to find a way to defeat their villains right? This period of my life seems like those 5-10 pages or the odd thirty minutes of celluloid struggle. On constant loop. A rerun of cheap satire that’s probably keeping some alien race entertained as they’re watching from high above, a comedic filler giving their aspirations of galactic domination a massive boost if this was an indicator of how the rest of humanity pans out.
I’m just tired. Frayed. And seven shades of shit rolled into one convenient package that’s prevented from hitting the fan due to a heady mix of music, video games, anime, coffee and alcohol. But for how long?
There’s only so much an IQ of 160 severed by a dominant right-brain can do. Couple that with a personal life that’s as healthy as a dead person and social life where the high point is getting sloshed on a Saturday night leads me to believe that I need a change. A change of everything. A change from everyone. A change absolutely wholesale.
I need to find a way out. Before life becomes the death of me. Until a suitable solution is found I’ll be busy helping stone golems discover who they were before they became well…stone golems.
Stone Golems. Making hating pigeons cool since forever.
Oh what do you know? It’s 6:40 AM. Am I Nostradamus or what?
Now Listening To: Queens of the Stone Age – In the Fade
Harassment
4 MarSometime, just around quitting time, February 18th.
Her: Would you like to see my niece?
Him: How would I see them? You’re wearing pants.
Slackerninja: *facepalm* Dude, that’s actually grounds for sexual harassment.
Him: The parts for harassment are above the knees.
Her: Whaaaa?
Slackerninja: *double facepalm*
Character Representation
23 FebWork could be a fire-breathing dragon, except spewing shit out instead. Women can end up being evil enough to give Skeletor, Hitler and Lucifer an inferiority complex and the best friends you have would never take the advice they so sorely need doing their best Anne Frank impersonation in the process.
However even when everything is a glorified clusterfuck of historical figures and mythological beasts you can always come home, pop-in some sweet music, kick back a few vodka-cranberries and the world is suddenly a better place. Which it always was. You just realized that things have never changed.
Just people.
Now Listening To: A Red Season Shade – Ghosts & Clouds
