a tag!!!

ok, i've been tagged by solitaire. been a while since i was actually tagged (the one i lifted off philip's blog was, well, lifted :)) i don't think i'll be tagging anyone, so whoever is reading, feel free to do this one :)

reading: 'kafka on the shore' by haruki murakami. bloody amazing, even though i'm just over halfway through. and also a lot of blogs i've bookmarked :) have a few books with me that i have to read though...

finished reading: 'dawn of empire' by sam barone. it was pretty nice.

listening: metallica, obviously! along with 9.3 gb of other stuff on my hard drive which i've randomised on my player.

wearing: having hols, and am at home. i'm wearing the first thing i could get my hands on just before i went to take a bath. *looks down* oh fuck, i think i'm losing it. wearing pale green shorts and a skin-brown tee :|

watching: the usual...some good movies, porno, n any channel i think has something interesting on in the 0.375 seconds it takes for me to switch from one channel to the next.

thinking: why am i so fucking depressed most of the time?!?

loving: the fact that i'm alone here, at least for the moment...

hating: that i'm stuck here for at least another year...

missing: the feeling you get when you completely trust someone and they do the same to you, when you come first to them, and they come first to you...a time when i didn't have to cover myself with a veneer of humor and sarcasm.

hoping: for anything that gets me somewhere near happy, which just doesn't happen nowadays.

craving: ice cold beer, scotch on the rocks, chicken tikka, ice cream with lots of nuts and chocolate chips.

movies that didn't quite make it

STAR FARCE

THE SEVENTH SENSE

STAR WHORES

Enlightenment

We have grown wiser and more mature than all our years, yes we have. We turned 20 today, are also very slightly drunk. Nirvana feels like this, no? Minus the running around naky and shit, that is. We wouldn’t wanna do that now; people would see our PHD and be astounded at the PH-ness of it. Anyhow, let’s get to the point…now what the fuck was it? Fuck that! In all of our matureness we have seasoned our ability to see points where there are none, and make up points when we seem to have forgotten or not gone through them. So the point is there need not necessarily be a point. At this point of time, we are feeling extremely mature and generous and shall infect the world spread the knowledge so that all the gullible morons out there the less benefited people around can imbibe it and transform their lives. Its arbit stuff, so learn well my children (<-- poorly constructed allusion to my PHD).

1. Bird poopies falling on one’s head is a sign of luck. We know a couple of people who have had it happen to them on the morning of a particularly difficult exam and gone on to ace it. We have also seen another person who witnessed both incidents, running around and searching for birds while holding their shirt out, also on the morning of a particularly difficult exam. They did not find a bird that wasn’t constipated on that day and royally flunked.

2. When exams start, mix some laxative along with the bird seed that you hold in your hand. For a more detailed explanation, see point 1.

3. If you have a little brother and someone in your house suffers from constipation, force him to taste everything he gives you to eat (especially if its something only you consume). If he shows the slightest bit of untoward hesitation, consumption of that substance will cause you to poop your brains out and not go to school for the next three days, during which time your best friend will call you up and you’ll explain the entire shitty (<--pun) situation to them and ask them not to tell anyone about it and then, finally, when you get to school, everyone knows about it and you have a new nickname which just happens to be the name of the substance which your younger brother liberally laced with laxative. We were the “best friend” in this lesson.

4. Sticking with poopies, since we’ve already started on that vast subject, it is theorized that bird poopies taste like chicken. This theory arose from an observation. We were sitting in a park and having lunch with some of our friends. One person was feeling very loquacious and wasn’t paying much attention to their lunch box, in which a bird proceeded to mark its territory. Obviously, we didn’t tell them anything as we were fervently wishing they’d take a look at it and shut up, or perhaps start cribbing about it instead of droning on and on about something vaguely as interesting as rubbing an acre of wooden floor with sandpaper. They shoveled another mouthful of the contents of their lunchbox and wondered why their very vegetarian meal tasted like chicken.

5. Some people are tremendously funny. Not as funny as we are, but still. In the twelfth, when we received our English answer paper, one of our friends took it from our hands and went to the teacher’s desk. We got back in our hands a paper which, at the very top, read ‘atter phailure’. We found that incident tremendously funny and thought it would be worth mentioning.

6. There are such things as ghosts. We, for a long time, believed that our classroom was haunted. The ghost seemed to only come out when it was exceedingly cloudy and there was very little light outside. We came to this conclusion after, one day, we found a shirt (under which was a pair of trousers) floating in front of the blackboard, with a piece of chalk rising up from the desk and writing chemical equations on the board of its own accord. We had also seen the shirt turn around and a set of pearly white teeth suddenly appear, as though the ghost was giving us a smile. Ritual exorcisms had the right effect, but with a weird side effect. Our Chemistry professor who hailed from Tirunelveli left the school. We hear occasional reports of haunting from the place he is at now.

7. Drinking vodka in copious quantities regularly is known to cause erectile dysfunction. Drinking it dry has the same effect. We think diluting vodka with beer solves that problem and have also found that after a couple of shots, one stops caring.

8. We have discovered that mixing different alcoholic beverages causes people to act in weird ways, get sickly sentimental and/or say stuff which is beyond the realm of human comprehension. Vodka and beer caused one of our friends to say that we shouldn’t have been drinking and that ‘injurious consumption is alcohol to health’. It causes our father to say various things, from ancient songs to comments about politicians’ ancestries to stuff I don’t feel comfortable mentioning on here :|

9. Fuck! We are still a 19 year old, only a year older…

Now we will sit and ponder and start growing a beard which we can stroke when we are sitting and pondering or when we are pretending to sit and ponder. Unfortunately, we don't have that much facial hair. We are prepared to wait, however...

WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS!!!

UNITED for ever!!!

A first

I met with my first accident on a two wheeler, this Sunday. Embarrassingly, it was on a fucking Kinetic Honda. So now, I can go be a member of this tattooed die hard biker gang and be a part of their extremely macho first crash conversation…

Biker 1: Oh, I remember my first accident. Yes siree, it was on my very first Ducati. Don’t remember too much about what happened though. I woke up in the hospital and found my wife staring at me worriedly.

Biker 2: O yea, I broke my collar bone, my shin, three ribs and two teeth…on this very Harley.

Me: I remember mine like it was only yesterday, when actually it was on the day before. (I pause for laughter here, but get only uncomprehending stares). I fell off a scooter. Scraped my arm and my leg; here, wanna see?

At this point, it’d end with me running out when they’re rolling on the floor laughing their fucking asses off. Fuck, it’s so so SO embarrassing! To top it all off, it bloody hurts! Yea, that’s right, even though it’s only a bit (well, more than a bit, but not a lot) of skin that I, as my dad puts it ‘donated to the road’, it fucking hurts!!! Ma took me to a doctor yesterday because I was yelping around in pain any time a stiff draft came my way. The doc’s like

Doc: (bites his tongue) Yikes, skin wound eh?

(Me: Ya think?!?)

Doc: Its gonna hurt like hell. (To my mum) When it’s a skin wound like this, all the nerve endings will be exposed.

Ma: I told him not to bathe today.

Doc: O no no no he should have a bath. All the debris has to be cleared away. And it looks like you have a scab on top. That prevents air from reaching the wound and it’s gonna get all infected. You should go home, take a bath, and make sure you scrape off all that scab.

(Me: You ought to be fucking kidding me…scrape it off? It hurts when a fucking breeze hits it!)

At the end of it all, I took a bath, scraped off all of the bloody scab, scared quite a few neighbors while I was at it. Come to think of it, I was literally moaning in pain because I couldn’t scream. I hope they didn’t take it for something else. Fuck, that’s probably why they’re all looking at me funny now. O well, 19 has been a fucking bad year. Can’t wait till it finally ends…I just hope it’s done sodomizing me before it finally dies kicking and screaming.

Below is a poor recreation of the accident using Microsoft Paint :) sorry, couldn't help this 1 :P

On holy men and shit

Foreword: It is only fair to tell you that the author is a staunch atheist who finds it extremely irritating that his ma rubs religion into his face every single day. If your feeble minds can't stand a bit of religious mockery, you can go fuck yourselves.

“Oh fucketh! If I only kneweth, I could haveth fatheredeth more childreneth than the entireth fucking NBA Players Association. Eth!”

-PlayToe (Plato’s homophonic evil twin brother)

Dramatic recreation of actual events:

Lady: I have terrible headaches o swami.

Swami: Ah, I know just the cure…take off your clothes and let us copulate like hell so that your soul is cleansed by the holiness contained within my loins.

Lady: Ok o holy one. Whatever you think will lead to the cure

*a month later*

Lady: O holy one, the headaches have not ceased.

Swami: Hmmm…this is bad. The evil spirit that resides within you has maligned your soul greatly. I sense a disturbance in your aura that resonates with a growing evil.

Lady: My aura? Is that something like my kidney?

Swami: Umm…technically, o0o look, a birdie!

Lady: Birdie? Where?!?

Swami: Ahem! As I was saying, yours is a particularly difficult case. Do not worry my child, I know just the thing.

Lady: What is it, o wise one?

Swami: Let’s try a different position this time…one of them has bloody got to work. Or we’ll try sequencing them.

Now, seriously, how did this god-man shit get all out of hand? Take a look at this, for instance. It’s appalling to see that nobody fucking reported any of this. He’d have to have people to assist him now, wouldn’t he? No way are people so fucking stupid that they’d believe he was doing something legitimate with the truckloads of little girls that he took into his bedroom. O well, at least the police don’t need to raid any more DVD shops for a while – they have a stock of porno that’ll last them through the next three months. You must’ve heard about the swami who threatened to kill himself at the police station right? Then there is, perhaps, the biggest fish in the ocean.

Have people really become that fucking stupid? Anything that has a religious tag and the mob will gulp it down like anything. Wow, at this rate, maybe one should just stop cutting one’s hair, grow a fucking beard that extends from one’s chin to one’s crotch, preach peace and brotherly love while dealing with illegal arms shipments, be at the centre of a whirlpool of sex, pedophilia, lies, booze, videotape and drugs, shouting out gibberish occasionally, in a state of extreme stoned-ness so that one’s followers can interpret that as a message from god when one was in an enlightened state. All rightie then, one demands to be addressed as Swami Fraudananda from now on. Bow down at our feet, mortals, for we are the reincarnation of the one true god!

Prediction? What do you mean you need a fucking prediction? Oh, all right…we fucking predict that some guy named George who lives in the heart of Papua New Guinea shall die of extreme constipation at the ripe old age of seventy three. Now that that’s over and done with…all the ladies who need a cure for headache form a line in front of our palatial mansion please. We shall call you in one by one...

arbit stuff

why, you ask yourself...and its not the first time. its kinda hard to try to comprehend most of the stuff you do because you're never in complete control of what you think. every single fucking decision you make could've been different if you had been in a different state of mind. what makes it harder is the fact that you've been going down a road you know isn't the right one, but its the only choice that you're not blinded to. rather, the only choice that you are willing to see. you know it isn't the right one almost all the way to the very end of it. you stand there, in sight of the destination that you've been trying so hard to avoid, just trying to comprehend how utterly wrong you are. you've become so numb and distant that you no longer understand something that has been there with you your whole fucking life, something that brought you to a point that you were comfortable being at. its funny how you can warp and distort everything that happens/happened, just because of a single event. now you've distanced you from yourself, so much so that you try to hide behind a third person's point of view. wow, has it really come that far? i know i hate people telling me what to do, but i never realized that i've been so obsessed with that hate that i've come to a point where i am convinced that i should not do that exact thing. so do me a favour...don't fucking tell me what i should or shouldn't do. its my life, i'll fucking figure it out. i'm perspicacious enough to discern what's going to happen as a result of what i do, and i do not fucking appreciate it when you point it out to me. next time, i think i'll just say 'go fuck yourself' and be on my way. don't let it come to that. interpret this as you will, but just know that there are some of you i'd rather not lose.

crib zone

foreword: fuck!

what do you mean a foreword isn't a single word?!? you should start calling it forewords then. nitwits! i'm just having fun cribbing about stuff on here. it isn't meant to have any semblance of logic or coherence. its just shit i come up with from my own lil fucked up head...hm, maybe i should've just stuck with 'fuck!' o well, here it goes...this one is dedicated to the Invisible Pink Unicorn who nobody pays attention to just because its invisible and yet pink...

*zoom in*
mmmmm, invisible pink unicorn...

Owing to the tremendous advancements in the field of psychiatry, depression was something people could fight against. Na, scratch that! Hmmm, let me see…ah, here we go! Due to the tremendous advancements in various fields, the most important of them being p2p networks and torrents, porno was made much more easily, illegally and freely obtainable to people of all ages, including small little kids who hadn’t ever heard [of] Eminem and thereby hadn’t ever watched the rhinoceri humping each other in the slim shady video or gotten the idea of watching the Discovery Channel from the lyrics. Shit, I forgot what I was saying. O yea, depression! Right, major advancements in the porn [sharing] industry were finally turning the tide for the people. But unfortunately, causality rears its ugly head. Or, as Merovingian so aptly puts it, “We are all victims of causality. I drink too much wine, I must take a piss. Cause and effect. Au revoir!” Let me put it in layman’s terms. If something is done, something happens because the something that was done was done…cause and effect. For example, you drink a lot of alcohol just after you’ve had a heavy lunch, you puke. You don’t? Well I do, but I guess I’ll have to look for a more general example. Ah, here we go…you watch Ellen DeGeneres dance, you puke. If you don’t have anything inside you to puke, you die of pure unadulterated horror. The consequences of these advancements were dire. God got all bored and shit, what with people running around non-depressedly and stuff. So he [sic] decided to unleash a new wave of horror unto this plane [sic].

In the beginning, there were less of depressive ailments. God said ‘let there be reality shows’ and there were. After the first season(s), circumstances grew beyond god’s control. So he said ‘fuck, I’m out of here!’ and willed himself out of existence. And the world was wreathed in chaos and pandemonium, which initially came in the form of poor imitations of American deepthr Idol. To its credit though, American deepthr Idol did give us its share of moments, like weird banana dude and sounds-like-she’s-being-humped woman. Not to mention the poor imitations, which offered such entertainment as the I-wanna-be-Mariah-Carey-even-though-I-can’t-fucking-speak-english-but-I’m still-gonna-try-to-pass-off-some-randomly-assorted-syllables-as-one-of-her popular-songs-lady, on the Bulgarian version of Idol.

Needless to say, depression rates skyrocketed. Especially with the advent of such shows as Idea Star Singer or whatever the fuck it is that they call it now…now that was a truly horrific show, especially since parents and neighbors watched it with zest, volume all the way to the max, while the poor children contracted nasty ear infections caused by stuffing whatever the fuck they could get their hands on quickly into their ears.

Oh, it’s not just singing shows. There are dancing shows, survival shows, fear factor (this one yours truly likes…so sorry), cooking shows, fashion designer shows, pay-per-view porn (*drool!*) Whoops, how did that get in here now? Fuck, I need to reorganize my channels. On second thought, hold on…let me er…reorganize them right now.

All right, I’m done watching reorganizing for now. Seriously though, what’s the point of poorly staged performances, bad actors and incompetent judges who assume attitudes handed out to them? These fucking bastards are besmirching the characteristics of classic porn, and making money off it without any actual sex! Well, sounds-like-she’s-being-humped woman being the only debatable exception. Just think of our children, think of the inspiration they’ll get to watch porn, think of all the condoms they’re gonna buy, think how expensive they’re going to be for you when you go get them at the shop next time around, and think of how many more children there are going to be when the price of condoms goes too high for you to afford them and you’re too scared to get your thingy *altered* and how many more condoms they’re going to buy. The very thought makes me sick!

The next thing you know, there’s going to be a reality show named ‘so you think you can blog’ and the expert celebrity judges are going to be Ellen I-dance-like-a-nerve-damaged-gibbon-juiced-up-on-acid DeGeneres, Barney the-pedophile-in-a-gay-looking-dinosaur-suit purple dinosaur and, well, Paula whee-I’m-in-a-world-of-my-own-inside-my-head-oops-I-go-poopie Abdul.

Hey, come to think of it, that isn’t a bad idea. Maybe I should market it and make millions and billions of dollars and stockpile condoms before they get frightfully expensive so I can sell a lot of them at exorbitant prices and make billions and trillions of more dollars. Damn I’m good…

Afterwords: Ok, this is verified fact...American Idol isn't the first one on the list. That credit goes to Pop Idol. Ellen DeGeneres can't dance worth a bloody fuck and yet insists on grinding her way through the braindead audience who cheer and drool and take off a good 10 years from their life. Idea Star Singer is a Mallu version of Idol, and it went on for as long as it takes a pair of three-toed sloths to meet, start dating, meet each others parents, plan the wedding, copulate like hell, travel around the world 63.674583 times and have a million kids. The second season is currently going on, and is expected to end by February 29, 2064

argh!

foreword: you won't understand a fucking thing until you read the blog i've linked to on this post. the post immediately below the ".gif" of the dancing guy i mean

shit, i've got internals starting tomorrow, and here i've been busy, well, not studying to say the least. so what's new eh? well, it all started on sunday, september 16, 2007. that's when the bastard decided to post something on his blog. he hasn't updated it since then, but i don't think that matters any more. i remember the very first time i read it. it seemed so typically, well, him!!! had a really good time reading it. the guy's damn funny. well, then it fucking hit me...right on the eve of my exams. right now its a subconscious examination-eve ritual - that's right, people, every fucking exam i have, even those fucking class tests some of the teachers who think we're primary school kids set for us - and its fucking driving me crazy!!!!!!!! last time, i messaged him saying i couldn't fucking concentrate because of his stupid post. the reply i got was 'thanks macha. that's the greatest inspiration a blogger can get' i ain't fucking telling him any more. wouldn't wanna accidentally inspire him again, would i? for all i know it could be something much worse that affected me at a much more inappropriate time. i shudder just thinking of it. shit, what am i supposed to do now?!?

FUCK!!!

woohoo

wow, the best damn day i've had in quite a while...especially since what happened last week happened :) it all started with the 5 of us - Sri, Guru, V, J and me. we were at v's house. a whole bottle of smirnoff and three beers later, everyone was feeling sorta good. we spent a lot of time on the terrace, laughing our arses off. plus, i got to drive a motorbike...well, two of them. we went to play basketball after our little er...dalliance. v couldn't take the heat and he got all pukey; we were all feeling pretty bad after that happened. the basketball court was quite a long way away, and we didn't want to let v drive, so i was given the job of taking him there on his bike. unknown to them, this was the first time i was taking a motorbike out on the highway :) well, i could drive! i wouldn't risk anyone's life or anything (mine, sure, but not someone else's). and so we went to the basketball court (stalled once along the way), played basketball, broke my sandals, sprained my neck. oh, and i got to drive a pulsar 180 after that. it was so amazingly awesome!!! i think i'm in love *looks up and reminisces* i do need a little bit more practice tho. on the whole, amazing day. plus, i think i'm building up my alcohol threshold. hurrah!!!

p.s. we might have another little get together next tuesday >:)

A wee bit of magic

For the uninformed, Senate Hall, right here in Trivandrum, is playing host to a so-called international magic conference, Vismayam 2008. Ma procured a couple of ‘hard to get’ passes. Since I enjoy freeloading as much as the next person, I went. And so it was that an extremely-irritated-owing-to-a-dreadful-may-day-and-lack-of-nicotine-and-alcohol g-man made his way to Senate Hall. Upon entering the hall (it’s a pretty big one, with a balcony n shit) yours truly was given the option of sitting anywhere in the last 12 rows of seats. Apparently, the 1000 seats up front were reserved for ‘delegates’. ‘Delegates’, here, literally meant any person related to one (or more) of the magicians or members of the Magic Academy who were there to attend the conference, the relation being not in any way more distant than an umpteenth cousin, thrice removed. Obviously, there was a lot more than just 1000 people who came in that category. Thankfully, I was sitting in a seat where I could see what happened on stage, unlike the poor people whose view was stymied by three giant camera crews, bang in the middle of the central aisle. Later, I would wish I was one of those people whose view was stymied or even one of those cameramen so that I could throw one of those huge, bulky cameras that blocked everyone’s view so that their view would no longer be blocked and they too would be prompted to throw something huge and bulky and dense on to the stage. But we’ll get to that later on…

The ticket said ‘Be seated by 6.15’ and so we (dad and I) were. After a seemingly interminable 30 minute wait, huge hairy guy (let’s call him Bear) walks on stage and goes all EmCee-ish on us. He did speak pretty good English though. And, he introduced the first act on stage, a Japanese magician by the name of Fukai. He did some pretty neat umbrella tricks. But after a while it got so boring I started composing parodies of bad nursery rhymes. It was like

Old Jap Fukai had an act

E I E I O

And in his act he had umbrellas

E I E I O

With an umbrella umbrella here and an umbrella umbrella there

Here umbrella there umbrella everywhere umbrella umbrella

Well, you get the picture right? There were big ones and small ones and medium ones and really small ones. It was almost as if he had umbrellas stuffed up every stuff-able place in his body and attire. After a while, one started wishing it would rain indoors so that he’d conjure up a big one, hold it over his head, and haul his umbrella-stuffed butt out of there. And finally, with a flourish of umbrellas, his 10 minutes came to an end. Not before he conjured an Indian flag out of thin air. That one sure got the audience going.

Then, Bear came out again and initiated the inauguration ceremony. It started way later than scheduled, obviously! The reason was quite guessable. The chief guests were all politicians, including the Chief Minister himself. After a long, drawn out speech session, in which each of the three Ministers spoke, in bloody Malayalam. One thinks they were under the impression that every single er…delegate in there (described as coming from all over India and also the world – outside the world, actually, as said in the inauguration ceremony) had a universal translation unit clipped to their ears. Twenty minutes later, the speeches and crap were all over. Or so one thought…Bear came out again and announced that they had some entertainment for the magicians.

Then came a long, drawn out program, organised by none other than Soorya Krishnamoorthy himself! It was pretty interesting at first…the chenda group and the two Kathak dancers with giant head dresses. But then they kinda lost me with the gay-looking people with parted moustaches, dressed up, I think, to look like kings (they had crowns anyways), hopping and prancing about (I don’t even need to say that this part looked gay, do I? Aw c’mon!!! Grown up men with parted moustaches dressed up in pink and blue and green and purple shiny dresses, jumping about to an ancient mucho gay Tamil song!?!). All of this went on like forever. Then there was a Kathakali scene – Draupadi’s vasthrakshep. It was all well and good, but there’s a time and a place…just try to imagine this…people who’ve come to see some magic sitting there from 6.15 up until 8.15, and they’ve gotten just 10 minutes of it. To no small wonder, quite a few people just left at this point.

After that whole thing got over, they finally moved on to the actual show. We had another guy who came on stage and introduced the magicians. He performed some pretty neat tricks, and he was funny too…too bad the bloody audience had no idea he was even making a joke! I laughed though, causing the lady sitting next to me to stare at me with a mixture of bemusedness and ‘shit, of all the people, I had to sit next to this paranoid moron!’ O well, the rest of the show was pretty eventless. We had two more performers performing kiddy magic – an American dude in a purple dress, who kept displaying the word ‘ice’ everywhere, and saying it was ‘hot hot hot’, talking to the audience in a barely audible mutter, and a Russian dude, who conjured cards from thin air and magically joined up three separate necklaces to make a really big one. All thoughts of wanting to be one of the cameramen had vanished by this point, and one was left wishing that one were in the Atlantic coastal forests of eastern Brazil, watching a three toed sloth climb up a really tall tree for a couple of weeks. But by 9.05, it was all done, and we were asked to haul our butts out of there.

Having sat through the entire torturous 3 hours of it expecting some Criss Angel-esque performances, one was left dreadfully disappointed. The feeling was the same as that experienced after watching 10,000 BC a few months back…it was one of ‘can I get a refund for my free pass?’

P.S. The author is still suffering from a serious lack of alcohol and nicotine. Invites and/or contributions to ease this delicate situation shall be wholeheartedly accepted. I'd like to say, for the record, that i like vodka, and i prefer Davidoffs

mayday

Firstly, pun intended. Its supposed to be p(h)unny even! Today was May day…we didn’t have college, and we didn’t have to do our stupid project thingy (which has been eating at my neurons more than ever of late) so I was looking forward to a nice peaceful day. So the call from Sri-Sri was more than welcome, when I got it :) Actually, he just gave me a missed call and I called him back, but who cares about that now. Well, the conversation went like this

Sri: Dude, you wanna maybe get together today?

Me: Oh, sure, who else is gonna be there?

Sri: Call up V and J too; they’ll be there for sure…

Me: Fine, I’ll call them up.

Sri: We’ll go in the afternoon, so call me up sometime then.

Me: Ok, will do!

I was looking forward to it. Afternoon came, and I called him up.

Sri: You called them up dude?

Me: O shit, I’ll do it now. Hold on!

Tried J, he wasn’t answering. I didn’t bother calling V up, because he’s currently out of action with a slipped disc in his back. So, I called up Sri again

Me: Man, J isn’t picking up. I think he’s asleep. I’m outta cash anyhow, so we’ll shift it to next week? I’ll get my allowance then :)

Sri: No probs, I have cash. The two of us will go?

Me: Wow, ok, sure, where do we go?

Sri: *says the name of some bar I’ve never even heard of*

Me: wtf?

Sri: Just wait near the old Coffee Beanz place and I’ll come pick you up.

Me: Sure, when?

Sri: NOW!

So I tell dad I’m going to meet Sri, and jog all the way to the extraction point ;) Let me brag a bit here, I jogged a mile in 7 minutes. He got there around a minute after I did.

Sri: @#$* place is closed today man…

Me: Crap, where do we go then?

Sri: I don’t know, this is your neighborhood, you tell me!

Me: How about that place we went to the other day?

Sri: Sure, we’ll check it out…

We went there (checked out the Beverages Corp. building on the way, but it was closed too) to be greeted by the shutters. Sri tried yelling for someone, but there was no response. Swearing at bars that closed on May 1 and didn’t have open back doors, we went over to a juice shop next to it and got ourselves a couple of pink lemonades. Sri dropped me off a lil bit away from where I live.

And so, irritated and un-inebriated, I walked in and got on here. I decided to do a little bit of research on May Day and grandly oppose it with an extended philippic. As it turns out, May Day celebrates the achievements of the labor movement, which was initiated to better the condition of workers. It’s hard to be against something like that. So I think I’ll just go ‘Whee, I learned something today!’ Maybe we should plan more bar trips, especially on holidays. I might end up being a genius or something :)