Tag Archives: friends

In defence of the Government

25 May

The 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 May

He: “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 May

Today 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 Mar

Around 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 Dec

Okay 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 May

It’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 Mar

Sometime,  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 Feb

Work 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

Why Women Can’t Be Ninjas Part III

4 Feb

The final part in this epic saga of awesomeness. Maybe.

Sherrie: ahoy hoy

slackerninja: hey sup?

Sherrie: you have the funniest convos

slackerninja: totally

Sherrie: btw why exactly can’t women be ninjas?

slackerninja: THEY CANNOT! THEY DO NOT EXIST

Sherrie: what tha???

slackerninja: It’s like trying to say people get drunk on wine and white chocolate exists

Sherrie: but manga tells us otherwise!

slackerninja: or Lady Gaga is female

Sherrie: er, yes drunk on wine…

slackerninja: in your dreams

Sherrie: but i’m just saying, women are generally stealthier than men?

slackerninja: no…fatter doesn’t mean stealthier

Note to self: I still wonder how I survived that particular conversation, think it had something to do with  my copious consumption of Absolut Raspberry. And cranberry juice.

Insert appropriate The Departed reference here.

Now Listening To: Spoon – Got Nuffin

Freshly Pressed!

21 Dec

It was a dark and stormy night. The winds were sending a biting chill down his spine howling at him to retreat home, the clouds conspired to rain the heavens down his wretched body and road was well, non-existent in this part of the world.

Nevertheless he persevered onwards with nothing but fire in his belly, effervescent hope and music on his iPod. Actually just music on iPod , the other two were actually his stomach growling and his conscience rebelling at being forced to wake up so early.

After all, he was just heading to work and it the weather wasn’t as murky as it sounds, it’s just that he’s plain delusional. Always happens when you’ve to trek to Mumbai’s equivalent of Mordor (read: Andheri East) to get to your job.

The sight he saw on arrival was anything but the usual delusion (battling undead warriors guarding the entrance of Mordor). Hoardes of his co-workers were stuck in the office compound and weren’t exactly pleased.

Alright, they’re close to undead warriors but not quite, he thought as he trudged on smiling which stopped the moment he realized that he along with his office crew were displaced for reasons which only beings of a higher power could fathom. And in that very instant he had the most astounding revelation. An epiphany so deep and meaningful that it seemed to materialize itself from the very womb of the origin of inspiration, also know more widely as “shit happens”.

December sucks.

How did he of all people come across this astounding insight you readers (well, reader as far as i know…unless there are more lurkers, c’mon you know who you might be, i think)might ask? He used his powers of deduction which are awesome. Like unicorns puking rainbows. Except they’re not puking rainbows they’re puking, well…puke. Yes his powers of deduction are that awesome.

Digressions aside this is what he puke..err..deduced. First up he attended a marriage which was fun, at least in theory. Not in practice because dressing up made him feel fat and weight conscious. Also dancing at a wedding was embarassing to say the least. The very definition of clumsy and embarassing which topped this little 2005 incident of his and laughable enough to be understood by the aliens who’d be watching it when they conquer our planet years from now.

Secondly he realized where he stands with people who he felt he was close to which apparently wasn’t the case (yeah he’s that delusional it seems), felt like being impaled with a bed of nails which is a tad better than feeling fat and conscious (weight or otherwise).

Thirdly he felt his work was going unrecognized and his talents being flushed down the drain being stuck in the 1st level of hell (the oldies called it, for some mad reason, limbo, we know it as “middle management”) which made him made him insane enough to believe that going to work was akin to making a daily commute to Mount Doom.

Fourthly everyone he knows is either prepping up to be the next Meryl Streep with drama so excessive that it could make the passing of gas an epic saga of love, betrayal and ultimately vengeance of the stomach who finally got to say, “I told you that pizza was bad for you.” in the most visual, craptacular way possibe. I shit you not. Oh wait…

Then again it might have something to do with the lack of caffeine, excessively stupid workload and scant respect from humanity or the fact that he really needed to stop wearing shoes that are uncomfortable for his feet.

So yes, December sucks. All his ten toes, even the one with the mauled nail concurred with him in unison which made the stray dog at his side scurry away with its tail between its legs.

Perhaps it has to do with the weight of the entire plumetting down on his uneven shoulders in one fell swoop? Is it because he really needs to buy a pair of shoes that aren’t of the corn yeilding variety? Or was it because Avatar was good enough to put him to sleep? Suddenly Mordor transformed into something regal, like it was a scene out of the set of Dynasty minus Alexis Carrington which was a bit of a downer but it would do. Out of nowhere he heard the sound of an announcer…

“Find out more on the next thrilling episode of… life…of this random dude who’s making me pause dramatically by showing one elipse too many. Same place and unknown time.”