The Goofy Express

Note To Self

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 16:40:00 +0000

You’re happy. You’re not judgmental. You don’t bitch, you don’t judge. You sit down and judge people. You strip them down. You think hard. This, that, what. Your thoughts become a documentary. You give them names. A is a pessimist. B is a sycophant. There is something fishy about C. D irritates you. E is an ignorant selfish fool. Hey! Rewind! I owe E. Thoughts cross the mind. Mind crosses the thoughts. E is an ignorant selfish fool. Hah! F is awesome. Forward! Why did F do that? I hate F. F is awesome. It’s all indolent. Black ink. The ink was the expectation? I look awesome. Hey, you look weird! Shoo! I look awesome (Shit, I look weird?). That chick there is hot. I’m not staring at the hot chick. Dude, see that chick? Oh, that one? She’s OK. I hate when people call me. Why is nobody calling me? I carry my phone everywhere. Sorry, my phone was in the other room. Shit, am I busy? I have nothing to do. I don’t have the time. What do I do with this time? I’m funny. God, he’s funny! Don’t laugh. I’m funny. How can you wear that? (Oh. Now that’s comfortable) How can you wear that? (Shit, it looks OK) How can you wear that? I don’t remember your name, (). I don’t have your number. I have it.

Fool? Whatever. He’s OK. Irritating? Whatever. She’s OK. He’s awesome. Is he? Whatever. I look awesome. Hey, you look weird! Whatever. That chick there is hot! Dude, that chick there is hot! And that one? Whatever. Hello? Kinda busy. Whatever. I’m doing stuff. There is much. There can be more. Whatever. Haha, that’s funny! Here, have this. Whatever. How can you wear that? (Oh. Now that’s pretty good). I’ll never wear that. Whatever. Hey, , remember me? Whatever. I have your number. I have it. Whatever.

Stop expecting perfection.

Insanely Asslol Post ... NOT!

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 19:35:00 +0000

Dulhe ki saaliyon, o hare dupatte vaaliyon...

Yo people, wassup? People? Helloooo-elloo-elo-lo-lo-o (Textual echo effect). Textual sounds so much like sexual. Ooh. Sexual echo is an interesting phrase. Someone needs to come up with a meaning for that. Well, I guess I don't have many readers left. I just hope I have more than Rannvijay's (Runvijay? Ranvijay?) HT City articles. I mean, all the guy speaks about is "How to get the guy / girl you want?" or his college days. He can so set up an agony aunt business (AAB). I bet none of you guys in Australia can actually correctly pronounce that. No I'm not going to speak about the racism. Enough already. It's about how you just can't pronounce an "a" as in an "a" from "A-pple" or the way Peter Andre says "Namast-A". What's with always wanting to stick your tongues out?

Okay, before I go any further, an apology is due. A huge apology, for forgetting my kid's birthday. Sorry, dude. I'm gonna make up for it soon. Very soon. Mon soon.

Ahem. Yeah.

So how many of you were intelligent enough to miss the Wimbledon final to watch Rajesh Khanna's man breasts at the IIFA Awards? It always makes me wonder if man breasts are a prerequisite for lifetime achievement awards. First Rishi Kapoor, then Om Puri, and then him. There is a certain weirdness about man breasts. They always make you visualize the subject running along a sea shore in small trunks. And inevitably, with a hairy chest. Yellow trunks. Speaking about hairy, isn't Neil Nitin Mukesh one hairy little lad? Although, in New York, he looked a lot better in scenes where he's clean shaven. Ah. New York. Disappointing movie. A stupid ending always kills the fun of the whole movie. Okay, yeah, Katrina was hot and John showed us more than 2 expressions, but the ending killed it all. Bleh.

It's so much fun to write. Seriously. After the hellish month I've had. Travelling 60 Kms a day just for a corporate training, and in this shitty heat, is an insanely asslol experience. It did give me a lot of time to think, though. And yeah, the training was fun. But the travel, OMG. Thankfully, my office was air-conditioned. I just wish they would take my suggestion of employing belly dancers for the trainee section by the time next year is around. There was a legend about the HR department. Sadly, I hardly got a chance to visit what they called the "abode of the ladies". But the probationers at the Danceworx (Ashley Lobo) class are more than making up for it. First class was like OMG. Standing in the last line does have its benefits after all.

So yeah. The training did make me realize how less time I had to indulge in my type of leisure before I became a routine engineer. So, for now, I'm trying to get as many things on my plate as possible. Horse-riding starts this week. Dance has already started. A trial class for kick-boxing is up next. And then there is the acting workshop and the play audition. German starts from January. I'm so gonna make the most of every single second of this year.

BTW, I recently realized how huge a Bollywood buff I am. I just can't get enough of the way Shahrukh Khan shows his tiny little (and, evidently, powerful) fists before beating the shit out of Parmeet Sethi in DDLJ, or the way everyone does a "chhuk chhuk, chhuk chhuk" after every line in "Waah Waah Ramji" from Hum Apke Hain Kaun. Awesome. Here, watch one of the awesomest songs ever:

P.S: Star Plus, you'll die an insanely painful death for skipping Hrithik's award winning speech at the IIFA. DIE!

P.S (2): What's so insanely FAIL with Opera + Blogger.Com?

The Rain Goddess is My Lady!

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Mon, 04 May 2009 14:27:00 +0000

I was mad. I admit it. I couldn't stand another person singing about the rain. Tweeting, exclaiming or even uttering anything related to the "Hailstorm outside their houses" or the "Sweet droplets falling from the sky." It was mentally excruciating as I sat by the window and stared at the sky. There was a hollowness in my skull, and there was plea in my eyebrows. Yet, I couldn't help but snide, my fists clenched. I knew I was being a jealous boyfriend, but it was justified. It was justified especially given the preferential treatment ever since my birth. And after all the faithfulness I showed, I so deserved it. But my patience was of no consequence. Or so it seemed. Suddenly there was a whirlwind of dust and a singular drop fell on the window sill. It stayed there for a while, looking at me in the eye, as if we were involved in a stare war. As if it wanted to say "Did you really think I would abandon you? Did you really believe you would be the one I would choose to not to love?" I blinked.

And then it all started. It looked as if the wet dust finally rose up from the ground to open its arms and welcome the downpour. As if the small stones and the pollen seeds tried and tried to fly up and touch the clouds, and always fell back, only to try again. And then I ran in slow motion (for the funsies and the effects) towards the door. The chair tried to trip me, the wall tried to shove me, but today was my day. There was a small moment between my opening the door and my running out under the open sky when I paused, took a breath, looked up, and smiled, only wanting to say those three magical words every cloud wants to hear: "Sexy Wet Bitches!"

I stood still for a while, now out in the open, with arms spread. I could make out how, once again, all the neighbors could do was peek from behind their curtained hellholes. How they got amused watching the "Crazy Rain Kid". But, once again, as always, I didn't give a hairy snake's ass. Then I started walking. First, I walked against the storm. It was fun, horribly cold, but fun! My T-Shirt and shorts were almost a part of my skin, and my hair was as much mine as the air's. An occasional bit of mud got entangled in my eyelashes. My slippers had now become so heavy that walking through the puddles seemed tougher than pulling an elephant from your eyelids. But, today, nothing could stop me.

I walked against the storm, I walked along it. I could see a solitary cat hiding under a car, gazing at me with its careful eyes, while the swifty dipping mercury had made it bury it's claws into the road. I went and sat on the grass, then lay down on it. Something in my pocket vibrated, only to make me realize that my phone was now as drenched as me. I did not care. Today, nothing could go wrong. I got up and walked out of the main gate, onto the main road, as the three guards watched me, wondering why I was acting so foolishly and not chosing to sit inside my station all cosy and dry while even the Gods were partying. I started walking in the middle of the road. I could see two headlights piercing through the falling streams of water, but they were far away, far far away. Rain has this certain quality of invoking extreme emotions. You can feel cheerfulness and dreariness, something filling you up, something draining you out, everything at the same time. It was amazing to see the dudes up there at work. I did not mind the guy peeing on the wall next to the pavement as he was being supernaturally pwned, or, put subtly, his stuff was being virtually flushed.

You could see how the rain had affected each and everything around, be it the cargo-rikshaw-puller getting shouted at by his boss for getting the goods soaked, or the guy who had parked his bike on the roadside and lay on top of it smoking a cigarette, or the uncle standing under a single umbrella with his woman as she kept her head on his shoulder, or even the little street kids who were deliberately throwing stones in large puddles only to annoy the tarboozwaala (watermelon vendor) hiding under his shack, and get him wet. Even the DJ kid across the block couldn't help but put the Himesh tracks on a roll once again and come out of his house, despite the screams of his three dragonlike moms. As I listened to the faint sound of a guy crooning awkward lyrics from his famous nose, I wandered back to my earlier thoughts and could only laugh at my notions. How could I let myself believe I was the unwanted one for even a single moment? It was amazing to see how a mere twenty minutes turned everything around.

It was out. It was official. It was the writing on the clouds.

The Rain Goddess is My Lady!

You'll Pay For This Captain Planet!

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Sun, 03 May 2009 10:07:00 +0000

We're the Planeteers
You can be one too
'Cause saving our planet is the thing to do!

I saw Partner yesterday. For the third time, I think. And it was fun. Seriously. How can people not like such movies. I mean, even the emotional scenes had rhyming lines. Take "Ye Kaun Hai? Ye Uncle John Hai." for example. Brilliance. Partner reminds me, Spiderman has reached his puberty!! (Ta-ta-da-da-da-da-da) Yes, actually, what with all the hair in his armpits and, well, pubic area. And to think Stuart Little beat him to it (Nice work, small guy!). So now he officially is a Spider"Man". Beh. Really need to start monitoring his internet activity.

Okay, coming to more serious matters. Choosing my words wisely, and as written by Sir Anand Bakshi for the 1981 movie Rocky : "Kya yahi pyaar hai?". No, wait. Let's not jump to conclusions sooner than required. The situation is like this: You see, I'm a super-awesome fan of Hrithik Roshan as, I guess, most of you would know. So much so that most of my friends think I'm in "love" (weird finger gestures*). And what I always respond with is "I'm not in love dude. I don't love him. I just idolize him". But lately, as all of us have been seeing lesser and lesser of Hrithik on any (large, small, silver, gold, whatever) screens (WHY GOD? WHY?), I've been finding myself more and more empathic to the lyrics "Dil tere bin kahin lagta nahi, waqt guzarta nahi". And last night when I saw the video of Bumbro on 9XM, the strong longlasting smile was seriously not justified by plain, simple idolization. So, am I in love? Well?

What is love, really?

Hehe. I always wanted to say that out loudly. Somewhy, there is never an opportune moment.

It's election time people. It's the only time in five years when you can stand by your neighbor's window and shout as loud and for as long as you can/want. What are you waiting for? But wait! Do not (under any circumstance) forget:

Looting and polluting is not the way
Hear what Captain Planet has to say!

"The Power is Yours!"

*Weird Finger Gesture:

P.S: Again, NOT GAY!
P.S (2): Nah. Translating Hindi to English is a pain in the ass. Do it y-hor-self!

Aunty

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Sun, 19 Apr 2009 12:01:00 +0000

Words can be verbally satisfying too*. Take "aunty" for example. Or "custard"! I mean, what better an insult than "What A Custard!". Or "You Son Of An Aunty!".

Anyways, now that my first year of college is coming to an end, the last few days have had me pondering as to what my Cool-Senior-Handle should be. Now I definitely don't want to be a "Bajaj Sir"(Yeah. Seniors are supposed to be referred to as Sirs or Ma'ams here) or a "Toto Sir" for that matter. (Mental Note: Need to find out how the name "Chunni" came into existence). And my home-nickname is not really something worth sharing. (Mental Note 2: Make fun of the guy who said he either wants a "Talwar Sir" or a "Bobby Sir" (umm??)). "Abu Bakar Sir" sounds good, considering the name gave me the jitters when I was 4. Or maybe "Dr. Abu Bakar Sir". Will add to the respect part. Hmm. Do leave your suggestions.

Coming back to aunties, this other day a singular version really helped me out in staying awake through the horribly boring metro ride from college to home. You see, it's a big pain in the ass when you fall asleep, fail to get off at your station and end up at weird places (Jhilmil?). So this odd day when I was feeling horribly sleepy, all I could think of was to look for a personality interesting enough for me to stay away through the journey. And that's when (ta-ta-da-da) I met the Aunty From Heaven (ta-da!). People who talk on the phone in a volume so loud that it makes you wonder if they even need a phone always amuse you. But when (a) They put the phone on loudspeaker, so that you can hear the person on the other end as well (b) Their conversation turns out to be amazingly, well, "different", there is no better an entertainer! Although I could make no sense out of it, here's and excerpt of the telephone discussion (Names changed for anonymity's sake):

Aunty: Beta, Nisha aur Mini toh ek doosre se baat kar rahi thi
Guy: Toh main kya karoon
Aunty: Toh beta tum Nisha se baat kyun nahi karte
Guy: Mujhe Mini se shaadi nahi karni
Aunty: Toh shaadi matt karo, Nisha se baat toh kar lo. Mini bhi keh rahi hai Nisha roti rehti hai
Guy: Par Akshay toh aa gaya naa
Aunty: Akshay ka koi hak nahi banta
Guy: Akshay Akshay hai mummi
Aunty: Par Nisha ki bhi toh life hai na. Mini ko ab main kya boloon.
Guy: Mini ko nahi Akshay ko bolo.
Aunty: Par Akshay Akshay hai beta.
Guy: Theek hai. Main karta hoon.
Aunty: But kyun?

This was the part I managed to fit on my hand. And the part that actually enthused me to stay up for more. Can anybody please explain to me what any of the above meant?

There was a nice article in today's newspaper by John Abraham, about being Politically Correct. Although it was regarding a completely different issue than the mental process it started inside me. A day back a very close friend told me how being politically correct often makes the important people suffer for the sake of unimportant people. And I could somehow, easily relate to it, being a person who tries to avoid confrontations of any sort, and prefers remaining politically correct than giving people the judgement they deserve. But now I could see how it ends up creating tons of false impressions and pretentious relations, which, eventually, come back drowning my own self. So, I'm trying to be a little "Frankly Correct" from now on. Though I still maintain my stand on over-judgemental people. Dudes, everything is not right or wrong, or good or bad at all times. Grow up.

Oh, BTW, I found a nice book in my collection, something about which I had forgotten immediately after its purchase. It's called "India Unbound" and is about the economic and social transformation of India from after the independence to the current century. Although it primarily focusses on economic growth and criticism of the Nehruvian ideals of socialism, it does give you a view of the country's recent history, unlike our school lessons in history which always ended at 1947. Somewhy, the education ministry never found it appropriate for us to learn about the Sikh Riots, the Gandhi Government, the 1965 war, or the 1991 reforms. Or perhaps, it's still too early to feed us the "facts", which are really opinions.

I got my Learner's License made, by the way. After my first challan, of course. Contrary to what was narrated by my friends, I found the test to be an intelligent one. I mean, I could clearly see why everyone kept telling me "there was ambiguity in the choices". But, really, there was none.

And oh! I almost forgot! My first bike accident! (Mental Five! Whoop.....Tisch!). It was sweet! Gave my jaw quite a shocker.

Go Delhi Daredevils!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

PS: See. Told you I was turning sane. GERROFFME!

Bloggers Are Not Dead ...

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 16:32:00 +0000

... They are merely busy. Anyways, Hi. Again, (Put-your-hands-up) I'm back (and down)! Reminds me of my 4th standard Physical Education teacher who, now that I think of it (her?), strangely resembled a smaller version of Cell (Yes. No?), and yet we used to call her Tidda-Maindak (Dwarf-Frog, for sophistication's sake. Which reminds me of a recent sms which went something like:

"Q: What is the Height of Sophistication?
A: Drinking breast milk with a straw.")

Wait. She also did resemble that whatever-she-was-called tiny girl in the Chak De India hockey team. Only, a more canine version.

Coming back to blogs, bloggers and blogs. So my "I Will Write" plan tanked. Or let's say it almost succeeded. No, wait. My blog doesn't say "How Rude!". So, the plan tanked, and how! Only 7 posts in the last 8 months. And feed readers down to 11. 10 of which I'm sure are bots. And 1 of them, me. Beh.

The very first thing that comes to my mind right now is updating you with the condition of my mental superiority to the humanity in general. It has shrunk. Yes. Much smaller in dimensions, I now find myself only an inch above you, and you. Umm..and as you can make out from the previous line, so has my superiority in unconventional speech. A commentator in my last post mentioned the "sanity of blogosphere", and, incidentally, touched a chord. And from all the analysis possible from my self obsession, I can easily conclude that (yes, fellas) I'm falling towards sanity (with all due respect to sane bloggers, whom I dearly respect, but have never idolized)(OMG. See?) and dumbness at the same speed. Now, wait. Let me elaborate.

I don't like being ordinary. Yes. Infact, I hate being ordinary. I hate the word "mediocre". I am not arrogant. But recently I've realized how I'm so very addicted to success. How I always need something up my shoulder which I can boast about. Something which I CAN BE arrogant about. And recently, all I've had is history. There is no hobby, no habit, no trait, no activity at which I'm "the man". I'm (post the first semester results) a below-average student in class, and suddenly (yet, not so) I'm not involved in any activity, be it in college, outside, or on the web (for the first time, as far as I can remember). Things I was proud of have degraded so much, I can't even properly be ashamed of it. My english, my math, my wit, my logic, even my sense of humor. Self-praise. I loved it. A friend told me a month back how I was the "Jack of all trades and the master of none". And yet, now even being a Jack seems far off. It's a state where I'm happy as long as I don't think about how happy I am.

Ok, let's come to more interesting topics. Mohawks, for instance. My new obsession. Aren't they so freakingly freaky? I mean, dude, for once (after long), I love my hairstyle! There is no better feeling than creating awkward expressions on everyone's (Mind you, everyone) face in the Metro compartment you are standing in, and then complementing it with an awkward expression of your own. OMG, it's so hilariously satisfying. Especially when you pair it with singing-out-loud sessions of Marjaani Marjaani or Love Mera Hit Hit. Oh wait. How could I forget. I seriously can't get enough of these lyrics: (I mean, no one can!)

Theek hai theek theek, sab kuchh theek hai
Paas hai sab kuchh, ab nazdeek hai
Rab ke hazoor mein kasme bikhari
Duniya ki auni bauni rasmein nibha di
Fir bhi naa maane koi to dafa kar
Maane naa maane naa maane toh bhala kar
Duniya naa maane khasma nu khaye, khasma nu khaye marjaani

Heeeheee. My gawwdd shahrukh is like you know like too much naa! And he's chhoooo cuteee!!!! (*Jumps up and down with teeth biting the index finger and cheeks blushing*). How chweeet bubba!

I Will Write

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 17:54:00 +0000

Okay. I'm just gonna type in everything that comes to my mind in the next 10 minutes. My first new year resolution, be active here. Now dad has a theory. He reckons discipline is the chaabi here. The theory says - If I schedule myself to write a post every, say, 5 days, and keep continuing this, even though some of the posts turn out to be bleh, I would end up writing effortlessly and regularly. And eventually, only good content would come out. This, the theory says. My theory says - Burn the museums, Wipe your ass with the Mona Lisa, This way at least God will know your name. Umm Yeah. Too much of Fight Club.

So my class got changed. Yes, that happens in college. It happens when you get upgraded. No, I'm not showing off. Yeah so..umm...my class got changed. So basically new class = new people. First day was pretty mundane. No wait. First day was hell. A kid explained to me (WHY?!!) how the classroom was wrongly designed and the acoustic impedance had not been compensated for. And that had the ceiling been an arch, the sound distribution would have been uniform. Or..umm..something similar. So no more of that kid. Wait. Yawn. Yeah. Okay, first day. So after the dunno-how-I-survived-the-three-lectures-cla...oh wait. I attended three lectures back to back. Funny feeling, that. Still thinking of it makes my stomach leap. Yeah. So after I survive the horribly messed up kid, this other thing hits me. Some random guy tells me I look like Tsshar (Oh wait. Tushar) Kapoor. Umm..

I got a haircut. No wait. I got bald. Yes. Precisely. And there isn't a moment of it that I'm not hating. Period. No more of hair. Touchy.

We got unbanned. Yayy! (Read *dramatic-society-banned-vulgar-play-ahem*).
Again, we got unbanned. Yayy!! :D:D (Moodkillers beware. Yes, you! YOU!)

So now the the fest play is on the cards. Ab seniors are toh...OMG. Did I just write in Hinglish?! OMG.

*takes some photos*
*hits his head with a steel rod*
*kills kalpana*
//memory reset

Hi. My name is Sneezy Melon.

P.S: A friend came up with an interesting concept of how Aamir Khan had a mass of infinity in the ending action sequence, so that every collision between him and a goon resulted in the goon's momentum being reversed. Yeah.

P.P.S: Don't you just love adding random new labels? I do! Seems like mine are completely Mangal-ed up (Oops. Mangled up)

Hair Moments [Slef]

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Thu, 01 Jan 2009 18:33:00 +0000

Bored + the GIMP + Slef Obsession + Umm.. + Bored =

Slef Slef Slef

Happy Birthday Me!

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 20:28:00 +0000

Yes. I'm 18. Hard to believe. And as the labels might suggest, I'm both sad and excited somehow. More on that later. For now, I couldn't let my baby be ignored on this special day, after I sidelined him for almost 3 months. So here's your present baby. You go ad-free, you get upgraded on anarcho-primitivism, and you get the best make over I could get you in 5 hours.

Happy Birthday Me :D!

Lolax!

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Sun, 28 Dec 2008 17:02:00 +0000

Yes. LOL sucks. It's like no chatbox exists minus LOL! So, to hell with you! I'd rather have my own word. Bleh. Eat this LOLCATS! LOLAX! DRUGS (For you, Kit)!

Quoted from the official Lolax page :

LOLAX

When you mockingly LOL at a situation and simultaneously stretch out your tongue and make it sound as Vulgar as possible.

It is an evolved interpretation of the term LOL.
Unlike LOL, it possess an amazing feature of Vocal Integration. It can be used freely in normal speech.

Pronounced as : "LOL-AXE"

Gaming :
"He Knifed him from behind!!! He didn't even notice!!! LOLAX!!"

Somewhere else (In Speech) :
A: *Laughs* Look at that guy! His fake beard fell off in the middle of the show!
B: LOLAX!
C: LOLAX!
D: LOLAX! Totally!

Digg it here : Lolax

Hoolloos

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 09:59:00 +0000

No. Don't worry. It's not another of those weird sounding chewing-gum craps (Hubba-Bubba? What the F? Oh. By the way, I got updated on college slang. So you can expect loads of What the F's) or fun-flips-fonies (phonies, actually. But What the H). Anyways, before it is already three months since my last post, let me continue.

College. I see my last post regarding college ended at the point where I was still having a tough time leaving the city. But as my immediate last post would suggest, I still am here. So no toffies for the one who guesses I'm in Delhi College of Engineering (Or Dilli Injeenearing Colle-z-e as my beloved RTV conductors call it). Oh, and yeah, I'm in Delhi College of Engineering, more commonly known as DCE. And although seniors would insist that "DCE: The Name Says It All" (Please please please stop wearing those t-shirts! Please please please! They stink!), all the name does for me is make me a 'Dicksite'. So no, I'm not really a proud dicksite. Now I know it sounded pretty much like "I hate my college" but let me clarify, it is not so. The fact is I don't even know if I do not hate college. So, besides the cold I'm having, we're almost in the same place. And I think the reason is that I've never actually been able to weigh out my possible answers. Let's try once more.

Why I Hate College:

1) No reservation jokes. You know you are ok with all casts and bleh-matters. You know casts don't matter to you. But you know you love making (Oh. Try reversing those two words!) cruel reservation jokes. Then you join DCE (sigh). You are walking down the road with your newly made buddy, who you happen to find pretty cool. He tells you he's here from (say) X quota. You're fine, you're fine. But are you? You walk further and he points out a girl (whom you happen to know to be an OBC). You react by saying "Beh. She's an OB..". But then that sad moment reminds you of the fact that YOU CAN NOT MAKE RESERVATION JOKES! And then you have to settle for "Beh. She's an OBESE girl!". Owing to the fact that the girl weighs something above 2 kgs, you get the laughs you asked for, but What The F!

2) No sarcasm. You ruled! You loved your sarcasm! You ruled! Then you join DCE (sigh). You say "OMG! You're funny!" and people actually start holding their heads high. Sigh. It isn't even worth talking about. Leave it. No. I said leave it!

3) Freakish Godworshipping Director! OK. I agree we got a little overboard with the "ashleelta" in the play. Oh wait wait. WHO ASKED YOU TO COME AT THE FRESHERS' NITE WITH YOUR UNDERAGE GRANDSON! HUH! HUH! So we dare to perform in front of the hellishly rowdy crowdss. I, for one, agree to wear a mini-skirt. We entertain everyone and are applauded at more than any other performances. We WERE the Freshers' Nite (It sucks. But yes, it was a freshers' nite!), for God's sake! But no. You have to go ahead and ban us because "tum bacchon ne uss mahapurush ka mazaak udhaya jisne duniya bhar ke rogon ki pushti ki hai" (read Baba Ramdev). Oh go watch some FTV dude! Go! Go!

4) Oh it's far!

5) Oh there are too many people who spit as they talk!

6) Oh!

Why I Love College:

1) Pratibimb. Yes! That's my beloved dramatics society. Don't ask me what it means. So it's basically some of the sanest people in the college. Except for some singular versions who remind you of sticking a spoon somewhere all the time.

Blast!

The Price We Have To Pay

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Sun, 14 Sep 2008 17:18:00 +0000

Blasts, injuries, deaths, destruction. And this time, it's Delhi. I really can't give an explanation as to why I wasn't writing a post when the same thing happened elsewhere in the country. But somehow, it affects you more when it happens in your city, your hometown, your neighborhood. Ten minutes after I left Karol Bagh, my cell rang merrily, only to inform me about the blast in Gaffar Market. And then again, about how more were happening. I was disappointed, to say the least. No, I did not complain about the police, the government, the authorities, anybody. I understand, sometimes there are human limits to everything. I was disappointed with the way of nature. How it is so unjust at times. Then calls and messages started pouring in as concerned family and friends acted desperately to make sure everyone was fine, despite the jammed networks. One friend was especially terrified about how she was exactly at the Central Park blast location only 2 hours ago. I couldn't react.

It's sad. I still don't know why these people are more interested in creating havoc than catching a train to their beloved Pakistan. It's not about the 30 dead. It's about the 30 (and more) families affected. Sad. Ugliest face of human nature. But then, there's a small price you need to pay to be India. Sigh

I wish peace for the souls of all those who left us. And I wish peace for the ones they left behind. I hope and pray peace is restored to everyone. And I know, soon everything will be fine.

Love

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 14:25:00 +0000

Yes, this is it! I am gonna openly talk about the two loves of my life. Finally!

I met the first one around a week back in Daryaganj. I could see her shining distinctly, even through the huge crowd. And once my eyes spotted her, I just couldn't stop staring. She was slim, tender and perfectly beautiful.

Heck! I can't do it. Ish may have done it with The lady in Red. I can't do it! No! Its a guitar, for God's sake!

Yes, I finally bought one. And I'm in nothing short of love with my new Givson Crown Standard (Heh. Pretty fancy name, eh?). I tried naming her Aditi, but that would mean stretching myself outside the limits of being straight. So lets go with Crown for the time being. She wasn't responding to Aditi anyways. Coming back to Crown, I've already injured her courtesy my antics. So now there is a broken string, and a hole where the tightening-pulley was supposed to be. I'm getting her hospitalized soon enough though. No don't give me that look! I was busy, goddammit! And whoever calls me a "badha aadmi" any more gets busted. Yeah, you heard it! Enough already.

Okay, so the 'learning the guitar' part started on the first day itself with a lot of the 'banging the strings hard' and a little bit of 'making some sense with the sounds'. I did learn how to tune it, by the way. And by the end of the day, even the 'exploring every possible way I can exploit it in' was over. So the next day started with experimentation. Here is a list of all the conclusions made, in chronological order-

1. No, the plectrum can't handle 500 straight swooshes. Apparently, string no. 6 can.

2. The belt is NOT meant for whipping around unless you want to get hit square in the forehead.

3. Drumming a guitar makes no sense. So do it.

4. Playing cricket does sound exciting. But remember, however much the guitar may resemble a bat, it just doesn't have a good stroke.

5. Givson is stupid. So take out your permanent markers and make it sound English at least. Go play with your e's.

6. Never, NEVER IN YOUR WILDEST DREAMS, try tightening a string to colossal limits. And even if you do, don't even so much give banging it a thought. Not unless you want wood and pulleys flying everywhere.

I do hope I am able to make a difference to the guitaring society with my this research paper. I wont be attaching an image as yet since I'm yet to click the 'Epic Pic' with Crown. And now she isn't speaking with me anymore. So next time, maybe.

Hopping on to my next love, as I mentioned four posts ago, she's suddenly (out of nowhere) jumped to the top of my 'Fav List'. Yes, Genelia again. Don't argue. You know you can't. She's just too good. And now with Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na, I'm loving her all the more.

Which reminds me, I watched Jaane Tu. You still haven't? What are you, still rooting for that Harman guy (Lets come to him a bit later), huh? Amazing movie, I must say. And perfectly apt for launching Imran (who was great too). The movie has got everything in equal mixtures- emotions, humor, reality, fantasy blah blah. Still reading? Go watch the movie, dumbass!

Coming to this Baweja guy. He can refuse all he wants to, but he just can't disagree to the simple fact that his DAMNED FACE WAS IMPLANTED ON BIRTH ITSELF. I completely don't see any other cause of his resembling Hrithik so much. And Harry (Heh. Son Harman, Dad Harry. WTF!) hasn't helped either by giving the movie exactly the same look as Krrish! Dude, you had to flop! As the review on NDTV aptly put it - "Harman Baweja was so busy at fighting, dancing, acting and doing everything like Hrithik, that we completely lost the Harman Baweja. As for Priyanka, all she did was flutter eyelashes and stick out her pout." Peace!

In other news, I was recently named "Chocolate Boy", a lady mistook me for a beggar and left my mouth wide-open, and a guy at PVR Plaza supposedly had a strong conviction that I was looking for black tickets. Not-having a haircut is going oh-so-greatly. And I'm loving it. Although I guess I should start using a comb now, before conditions worsen.

You think you're faster than me? No no no! I won't even give you a chance to ask. The college decision part is exactly where it was a month ago - in the khai (read ditch). The only thing that is irritating me is the thought of leaving delhi. For that matter, its irritating every single person I know. It is inevitable though, I guess. I've kinda started to accept it now. So my third love would probably be on its way soon, and so would be a post.

No, I wont tell you what it is.

*sticks out his toungue*

So chao!

*looks here and there*

*rushes off to play aditi on Crown*

Birthday Feature 2: Apoorv Khatreja

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 18:29:00 +0000

This post was guest blogged by the cranky Hashish consumer Apoorv Khatreja

It was the summer holidays in May 2007, when the whole 'social' writing thing hit us. Blogs, social networks – they were the 'in' thing. And plus Google was kind enough to provide us with an awesome free service in the form of Blogger. I started in April, and Sneezy followed soon in June.

The Goofy Express (TGE) started off as a daily diary-cum- 'spam' blog, where I used to get most of the updates for Sneezy's raunchy and exciting school life. I don't like the prospect of reporting each and every event of your life on your blogs, for the reason that it is mostly a waste of time, it is like reiterating every moment of your life, twice. But I did not give up on reading TGE, even though it became irritating – hearing the same things on the phone and reading it again in writing on Sneezy's blog, but the amazing writing style that Sneezy possesses kept me bound to it.

Then started a different phase – the rant + review phase. Sneezy started writing his opinions on things he saw on TV, articles he read in the newspapers, event he went to, current issue, cricket, politics, and most of all – RANTS!! For once in my life I could see that Sneezy, the happy-go-lucky guy I knew could rant too. He got angry just like all of us do, and wanted to voice his opinion. This was the part when I became a regular reader, and actually started waiting for articles from Sneezy. There was sarcasm galore in the articles, and humor too. The perfect blend of language, and that's what I liked in TGE. This was also the phase where Sneezy started changing templates frequently, most of which I hated.

Then in came the exam pressure, and TGE, like Hash, started decaying. Though the post frequency wasn't as low as Hash, but I could feel that Sneezy had started posting just for the heck of it. The life, the essence of the posts was gone. That was the part where I unsubscribed; and seldom visited TGE; that too from my browser.
Now that the exams are over, I feel that TGE is making a sort of comeback, starting with its birthday today.

The journey till now has been wonderful, the race for making money from our blogs, constantly comparing statistics.
Apoorv : "Aaj Hash pe 70 hits aaye!"
Sneezy : "Hah! TGE pe 72."
Apoorv: "Meri PR 3 ho gayi!"
Sneezy : "Meri 4!"

One thing that constantly bugged me was Sneezy's unnecessary dependence on God (Just to remind you that I am an Atheist). I don't have anything against theists, but blaming an unknown force for your problems or submission just because you can't see an immediate solution to a problem is weakness, and not belief. We have had endless discussions on this, with no apparent solutions. I also tried to search the word 'God' on TGE, Hash, and RutSum. I would rather say that the results say it all.

Results on TGE

"God thank those who created tabbed browsing."
"……..God! Am I even a boy?? Am I supposed to talk like that??............"
"…..God! I still don't know his real name!......."
"New faces! Thank God! Somehow I had a feeling that the photographer in the first studio would've found his new job here. Relief! But looks like God just doesn't like me being happy for long."
"……….God saves me in the form of a disaster of an interview."
"And now, God can't even let me use the internet in peace!!"
"……..and God knows how much time it would take me to post this."
"…….GOD HELP ME!!"
"……..Now only God can save me."

Results on Hash

• References to God from the movie review of "No Smoking".
• "………….and those bastards start telling kids about God, how everthing is already written, nothing can be changed,……….."
• "I being an Atheist, am disgusted when I have to sing Hindu God praises."

Results on RutSum

"My Dad would say this is a sign from 'God', and 'God' wants me to study rather than spend time online. Guess I have no choice but to yield. So long, folks."

This was a major point of difference in our opinions.

In the end, I would just like to wish that Sneezy keeps on blogging and keeps on boring us with his stupid sense of humor!

P.S. - I hate to do this (its totally lame), but Sneezy asked me to do it, so - Happy Birthday TGE!

Birthday Feature 1: Ish Sahiba

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 15:20:00 +0000

This post was guest blogged by our very own Ish Sahiba.

The Bajajs dominate Bloggywood just like Khans dominate Bollywood. One of the three Bajaj's that I've come to know in my life is SneezyMelon Bajaj. Yep, that's his name. I don't really remember how I discovered him, but it was probably from somebody's blogroll. As soon as I visited his blog, I could see that I was gonna like it. There was no way I couldn't. It had all my favorite ingrediants, especially the guitar in the header image which happens to resemble the guitar of one of my favorite singers big time. Surely a guy with a guitar in his header's got to be cool, right?

And cool he was. He doesn't post very often, but I shouldn't really say that because neither do I, but when he does, it tends to be nice and hilarious. He's intelligent (damn), computer savvy (yay), gay (Lol) and resembles Tushhar Kapoor (Lol+Lol). He's self obsessed and his hair is not his best friend. He keeps jeopardizing them. Once he did that with his Ghajini cut and now his eyebrows decided to ditch him and make him look like an eunuch. Not my words, mind you. I told him already - itna mat padh, baal jhad jayenge. But meri sunta kaun hai? Ab bhugto. :/

A staunch Delhi Daredevils supporter, he's ready to lay down his life for taklu Sehwag and Dukhi aatma Gambhir. Told you he was gay, didn't I? :P Oh, and did I mention he's self obsessed? No? Okay, I'll do that now. He's so self obsessed that he makes videos glorifying himself. One is already torturing people on YouTube and two might hit it soon. So, yeah, if we sum up, He's an intelligent-computer-gay-tushhar-ghajini-eununch-daredevil-self obsessed guy. Yep, him.

Today is his blog's first anniversary and so he told me to write a feature post for him, in shudh desi-ghee waali Hindi. And write I did, and though I think I've managed to make him come out like a weirdo clown who'd pounce at you without even the slightest provocation, he's a good guy. Good as in good generally, don't take it to the other side of things. Main aisa nahi hoon, yaar. :P

So, I wish him and The Goofy Express luck. May Lalu Prasad Yadav's hand always guide you. And I wish you and me luck for The Indian Blogger forum and hope that it manages to become something big. Very Big. Bada waala big.

A Year Of Blogging

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 14:49:00 +0000

Its been a year! Whew! To be frank, I never thought I would sustain for so long. It all started as a casual hobby, which I had expected to last for a few months. Then, I started enjoying it more and more. And here I am. With my one year old baby. And here you are. Still reading. Despite all the dumb lame irritating things I keep posting. Congrats. And thanks.

The journey’s been truly enjoyable. Especially all the comments you guys have been pouring in. Accha whatever. To hell with formalities. Here’s how it went-

I came to know about blogs when Apoorv started his Hash. I was fascinated. All I kept doing day and night was search for Indian bloggers and read their posts for almost a month and a half. Then I put the second step forward by starting my own blog. I was still unsure though. Unsure whether I would be able to write posts and unsure whether I actually wanted them read. So I started writing quietly. No one knew about it. Not even Ishani. I can’t forget the infinite precautions I took to not be discovered. So much so that for a month, no even had so much as a teeny weeny hint. God thank those who created tabbed browsing.

I was too excited. All I thought, all I saw, all I did, went on my blog. Day and night, I kept playing with templates and titles. I remember how at one point of time The Goofy Express was "Life On Earth". In the first 3 days itself, I came up with 10 posts. All I usually posted about the tormenting school exams and studies (1,2,3,4)

Then came July. The blog was still hidden. For a bit. This month, however, posts were not all studies. Yes, there were a few(1,2,3,4 and more). But as I said, they were only few. There was the amazing song on Hitler’s Testicles. There was the best Dragonball Z fight ever between our very own Vegeta and Goku. Then there were the posts about Taj Mahal’s wonder effect (1,2,3,4) and the wonderfully lame attempt at describing myself. I went on further to post about the hilarious comic strips (1,2,3,4,5) by Rajneesh Kapoor and explain stupidity and my hatred for it. And yeah, the sweet rain (1,2). The excitement was still not over. I managed 38 posts in the 31 July days, and that along with my exams.

August was a bit on the lower side(post-count-wise) owing to the SAT preparation. All three posts (1,2,3) were somewhat comprehensive though. There were additions to the list of stupid incidents and there was the demise of my favorite comb.

Then, after a hiatus of about two weeks, I came back to blogging, two days before the SAT. That was perhaps the only period when I had considered shutting the blog down and starting other hobbies. There were posts about the Ig Nobel Prizes, the visit to Banglasaheb, and the whole Tata Indicom-Ajoy Eric Lal controversy (1,2). There were my woes with Photobucket (1,2) and, obviously, more of Rajneesh Kapoor. Next in line came the SAT results, which, I must say didn't fail to act as arrogance boosters. Oops. Not arrogance, confidence (:P). I discovered GTA San Andreas Multiplayer, which later went on to become one of my most visited posts, and my blog jumped to a Google Page Rank of 2. By this time, I was starting to understand the importance of Search Englne Optimization, but was still a newbie.

November and December were equally exciting. The SAT 2 scores, the amazing winter carnival, the lovely Jab We Met, the accidently-discovered Childhood diary, the last week of school, every experience was great. And then there were some shades of darkness - The bad haircut, the awful Bhool Bhulaiya, the School Stationery Shop Scam, the black horse, and the near suicide. Yet, these two months turned out to be the most memorable periods of my blogging history. Also, it was during this period that I finalised this (ahem. legendary) template for the Goofy Express.

January made a happy start, with my explanations for the obesity, three new Rajneesh Kapoor's, and the Happy New Year wishes. February and March were happy periods as well. The "emotional stress" (read two posts down) had still not seeped in. The farewell party was great, and so was Adventure Island on the last pre-board day. Soon, I became more random by posting about how random I was. I started writing about the reflections of Neruda's poem. Movie watching wasn't over yet. Both the Simpsons and Return of Hanuman were good. Jodhaa Akbar was amazing, and so were Shah Rukh and Saif at the Filmfare. And then there was the oh-so-exciting bet I won.

Suddenly entered the morose April. Although, the April Fool's Day was great, I suddenly started posting about weird things including cutoffs. The phase ended soon, anyways. There was the list and the rain which added hope. Then burst is May. With a pool of ecstasy, a thrilling IPL match and one of the longest posts ever written by me. It somewhat acted like rehab and brought back the self obsession with a movie!

And now four posts later, this.

Anyways, I know all that text above is crap to you. It did make me nostalgic though. Beh. Whatever. Here are some stats (starting from December)(Click To Enlarge)-

Happy Birthday, Child :D

H-U-M-O-N-G-O-U-S

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 08:21:00 +0000

IMPORTANT NOTE: This Post Is Boring!

Or humungous. Whatever. Choose what you may.

Its been a month. More than a month. I'm ashamed to say that even Amitabh Bachchan (No. I wont link to you, you pathetic irritable old fool!) has been more frequent than me. And he says he's busy? Phoof! A famous man once said holidays were the busiest periods of his life, even as he lay eating chips and watching Prison Break. In case you haven't noticed, I'm still asleep.

OK. Don't give me that look! Its not like all I've done for a month is lying around. There's been lots going on! And half of the lots is college talk. In fact more than half. I don't know.

Anyways, I have three words for all of you who are thinking this post would be done away in a "I'm back! And I'll post more frequently" - 'YOU ARE MISTAKEN'. You think I've had no urge to post in these 36 days?! Oh no no. As a matter of fact, I did post on The Wayfarers some time back. And I have been posting constantly. Only, in my small tiny notebook. So all I need to do is buy an Optical Character Reader and copy-paste. Unfortunately, I'm being forced to resort to labor.

This post is gonna be huge. Perhaps even larger than Booloolooolalalalaoolooolala. So I wont mind if no one reads/comments. I've done my bit to help, though, and have broken it into sections, so that you can read whichever part 'appeals to your eyes'.

Beh. Whatever. Here goes.

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DIE HARRRRRRRRRRRRDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!

Have you seen Die Hard? Yes, the first part, the 1988 one. Okay, don't answer that. But if you really haven't still seen it, I guess you haven't shouted "DIE HAAAAARDDDDDD" at the top of your lungs into the neighborhood, yet. And believe me, not having done that, you don't even know what satisfaction means. No. Don't argue. Just buy the DVD and watch the movie. We'll speak then. DIE HAAAAAAAAARDDDDDDDDDD!

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Eye-Brr-Oh!

Yeah, you heard that right. There's a special section for my eyebrow. The right one. Left for you. I've suddenly acquired a stupid autoimmune disease called Alopecia Areata. Don't bend away. Its not contagious. So now my body apparently believes my eyebrow is my ass, and not an area to be growing hair on. The cause for this new stupid eunuch-y look? Emotional stress. Now literally mere baal jhad gaye padhai kar kar ke.

The pic is from the result day, by the way. I managed a meager 89.2%. I'm not happy though. All I asked for was a 100 in Computer Science. As for English, there's something terribly wrong somewhere. I've tried out-of-the-book answers in Std 10th. I've tried textbook answers in Std 12th. But all that seems to matter is my handwriting (Okay whatever. Call it an excuse. I just can't have my English insulted!).

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The Bollywood Saga

This section might perhaps be the largest. Lets start step by step

Yes, Kareena has been replaced. Genelia D' Souza (left) is my new favorite, now all thats left of my lovely Geet is an anorexic Kareena. And could you actually believe Saif saying on Paanchvi Pass that - 'I saw a small cute girl on a shoot one day and was told she was Karisma's sister'. Dudes, how can you still be dating each other?! Yuck. Shahid was so much better. I hope Kismet Konnection is a hit!

Coming back to Genelia, she's got the looks, the acting, the smile and the charm. So thats four on four. And yes, I watched Mere Baap Pehle Aap. And I liked it! You see, I have this philosophy of liking all movies (minus RGV products of course. I'm still normal, people!). I'll explain later.

Kya Aap Paanchvi Pass Se Tez Hain? How can a section on Bollywood be complete without our very own (*drumroll drumroll*) KING KHAN! See, you can be a Hrithik fanatic, you can be an angry critic, you can be a miffed news reporter for all I care. You can do everything. Everything but not love SRK. TRPs may be falling. Who cares? Amitabh may be frustrated. Who cares? Salman may be hosting a show elsewhere. Who cares? (Okay. We'll discuss that later.) All I, and as a matter of fact, you and everyone else, care about is the smile Shah Rukh always manages to round up our faces into. I love the show! Although I don't remember having known half the answers until Std 5th. What the heck. I love it!

I don't get this Amitabh guy. I mean, haven't 40 years in the industry taught him anything? Not even a single bit? Or is the guy getting more irritable as he's getting older? I don't know. But all the guy has lately been doing is scraping any and all news articles/comments about him and cribbing, cribbing and cribbing. Grow up, dude! You're a celebrity, for God's sake! There is suppose to be such news about you. You don't have to shout back everytime someone calls your name. And the post you did on Shah Rukh's "Paanchvi Fail"? What the hell? You actually want people to believe you were approached for the show first? Beh. Has Shah Rukh ever so much as even pointed a finger at you? Ever? And you go all blabbering about his so-called failure. Go wash your face. I guess all the industry has done is convert an angry young man into an angry old man.

Dum Da Dum Da Dum Da Dum Dum. Dum Da Dum Da Dum Dus Ka Dum. Yeah, pretty innovative lyrics. Whatever. You may think what you want to, but I'm liking the show. He's a brat, he's got fake accent, he can't act. But the fact is- the dude's got ishtyle. And nothing can beat that. I've loved Sallu since always. And more so since O O Jaane Jaana. And no comparisons please. SRK and Sallu are great apart.

-----------------------------------------------------
The TV Show Saga

FRIENDS. I finished watching the last season only a few months back. And believe me, nothing on TV has ever made me as sad as the thought of losing Joey, Chandler, Ross, Monica, Rachel & Phoebe did. I mean, how can they end the show?! How?! I guess a million people would have been going through the same 4 years back. Life without FRIENDS seems empty. Lots of voids. Even the specials on Saturday Night Live and with Jay Leno & Oprah Winfrey managed to cheer me up by only a teeny weeny bit. Sob. I hate this.

Prison Break. I was introduced to this one by Apoorv during my sad phase after FRIENDS ended. Lots of intense eyes, high-pitched drama, and masala suspenses ala Ekta Kapoor. So, although its no match to FRIENDS, I'm liking it. Enter the Writers Guild of America strike, and Season 4 gets postponed to September. Hell!

----------------------------------------------------
IPL

No. Its not Eye-Pee-Ell. Its Eee-pul. Yes, you were terribly mistaken until now. The Indian Premier League has been a helluva ride. And I'm shocked I haven't yet posted about it. My team? Why, the Delhi Daredevils of course. I'm no traitor, unlike some other people-who-need-asses-smacked (read Sanchit). Despite having lost shamefully to the Pajasthan Poyals in the semi-finals, I'm still satisfied with my team's performance. But they should win next season. And Sehwag needs to learn some bloody discipline for that! Gambhir was awesome though. Oh come on! Even you can't deny that.

---------------------------------------------------
Other News

In other news, I recently finished shooting for another of my movies, I'm starting to learn playing the guitar and I'm pretty much still confused with respect to college decisions.

I'll postpone the memes to next time. Chao!

8 Things Me

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Sun, 18 May 2008 08:55:00 +0000

Now that I'm bored and I have actually nothing else to do (Nothing at all! Nothing! Null! Zero! Void!), I think I'll get back to the tag Kriti passed on ages ago. Eight random facts about me? Let's make this a bit more interesting. I'll come up with eight facts which, I believe, none of you know. Here goes-

1) I think I'm Italian. Don't ask me why. I just believe my great-great-grandfather was a Romanian Emperor. Or maybe his dad was. I just know my origins are somewhere back in Italy.

2) I hate dogs. Pups are cute, dogs are yuck! I have this long history with them. Long history of mutual hostility and enmity. Whenever I see one, I feel like kicking it. Or hitting it with a stone. Go on. Call me cruel. I don't care. Dogs are bad. They've done bad things to me! Ironically, almost all my closest friends have dogs. OK, all dogs are not bad. Most are.

3) I daydream a lot. Especially when I'm supposed to be studying. You see, as far as learning something is concerned, I just can't focus if I'm not interested. So I proceed to open the book and daydream. About superpowers. I tend to recall situations that went bad and dreamake them. And I add the Hindi movie touch. Yes, that makes me happy!

4) I can manage time very very efficiently. That's one thing I can happily boast about. And that's one thing that helps a LOT!

5) I'm not a geek. I can play with codes a bit, I can be online for many hours during the day, I can easily complete the toughest computer games ever. That doesn't make me a geek. You should really meet one if you still think so.

6) I don't have best-friends. And I don't have enemies. For me, you're either friend, family or people.

7) I don't resemble Tushaar Kapoor. For the last time, NO! I don't know why everyone keeps saying that. But that's wrong! Farce!

8) I'm not gay.

I'm supposed to tag 8 more people to this. I think there's hardly anyone left who hasn't done the tag as yet. Let's see. I tag-

Apoorv (who, I'm sure, will not waste his time on this)
Sanchit (who might)
Perx

Yep. That's it. BTW, 8's my lucky number :D

P.S: Fuck You Mr.Shoaib Akhtar!

Injury-Pinjury

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Sat, 17 May 2008 09:10:00 +0000

Before you run off to check your dictionary, swearing under your tongue, let me clarify- there's no such word as pinjury. I just happen to be a fan of the Hindi phrase- injar pinjar toot gaye (all possible parts are broken).

Some phrases just can't be converted through languages, eh? They lose their "feel"! (OK, now my slang needs to be checked. Circumlocution, Bloviate, Flabbergasted, Assanine, Condescending! There you go..) I mean, how can one possibly get the satisfaction on saying ab aaya oont pahaad ke neeche by any other method?! Or bandar kya jaane adrak kaa swaad and chhor ki daadhi mein tinka for that matter! Sorry. I'm not gonna go translating each one of them. Same is for English. Saying "a bee in my bonnet", "a bad egg" or a "bull in a china shop" almost makes your day. Anyways, that isn't the case here.

So, as I was saying, my injar pinjar are in really bad shape these days. (Another reason why you shouldn't play too much while you're still not fit to) Currently three of my body parts are severely injured and thousands of others (yep! I'm huge!) are literally moaning. And I'm not hating it at all. On the contrary, rather. That's part of the Rocky-effect (remind me to explain that later).

It all started two weeks back when a hard kick fired at a football was revenged by a rebound almost breaking my left thumb into two halves. Down went the first victim along with a horribly large blood clot and a surprisingly faint "ouch"! The next day meant a bloody bruise for the knee. And the routine continued. You may think I'm mad, but I was constantly kinda enjoying this. I can't seem to imagine playing without bruises and bumps. It feels empty. Bruises make you feel heroic! And I love that.

By the way, my foot got burnt. Oh throw that look away. As if you didn't know that already. Stop feigning! For the people who did care to ask how that happened, here goes- (And you! Close your eyes!) (And no! I was not burning effigies!). You see, there's this huge park in the center of our colony. And at the edge of this park is a huge wall of bushes that separates us from the neighboring plant nursery. Now some foolish bloke had set fire to a pile of leaves right next to these bushes. And while every other damn guy kept laughing about it, the fire had spread itself, almost penetrating into the nursery. I don't know if it could and would have been a huge accident had it not been controlled, or not. I certainly had my doubts. And I certainly couldn't stand it. So I went along with a small boy (who was the only one serious and willing to come along) and doused the flame by pushing the pile into a nearby pool of water using a hose-pipe. Somewhile during the pushing, apparently a spark got in contact with my shoe and set it afire. Only when we were done extinguishing the fire completely, did I realise the burning sensation in my foot. Unfortunately, by then some damage had been done and my sock was almost engraved onto my foot (which got all itchy and irritating). The pain only intensified with time. And the next morning, I felt I had gotten up in hell. One good thing was that this was my first "getting burnt" experience. So there's another point off the list.

Lately, my schedule has been too tight. Consequently, my title-draft-spree is back. I'm so glad I finally did manage to find time to write this post. Feels good!

4 Steps to Making a Self-Obsession Movie

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Fri, 02 May 2008 11:29:00 +0000

1. Be ultra-bored.

2. Be alone at home.

3. Be self-obsessed.

4. Be ultra-bored.

Sneezy Melon's Self-Obsession Movie

Booloolooolalalalaoolooolalalaoooloo

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Thu, 01 May 2008 07:13:00 +0000

And I actually know how to pronounce that. Sounds pretty much like the lingo at the IPL Delhi Daredevils vs. Bangalore Royal Challengers match at Feroze Shah Kotla, Delhi. You could also try shrieking at the highest pitch your throat allows.

Yeah, I was there! I remember how I had posted sometime back about the carnival being an all out riot. Well, lets just say, compared to the show put up at the IPL, you could say it was nothing more than an all nun tea party. Let me start from the beginning.

The day started normally with the mundane jog in the University grounds. Although, I was pretty excited about the IPL plan. Sanchit was to arrange four passes as a birthday treat. At around 1:45, we reached his house after the confused rikshaw-waala went past A block four times before finally finding B block. Actually, we didn't even reach his house. We got stranded near some tiny park with ancient jhulas from where he picked us up. Then, after meeting up with two more friends, we went for "The Ex", which turned out to be as stupid as a movie can get. I mean, have you seen convincing an angry wife about how her ex is a cheater get over in less than five minutes? And have you seen overacting at its peaks (if you haven't yet seen Main Prem Ki Diwani Hoon already that is)? No? Then go watch the dumb movie. I wanted so much to see Shutter. Anyways. The second half was so small, it didn't even last the nachos. They were good, though. At least until I found the hair and got my appetite killed. Later we went to Barista (which was full of clicking-empty-table aunty/uncles and Google guy/girl freaks) where, again, I didn't have anything (read above). Then we went on to eat (or drink or lick or whatever) chuskis from the roadside (after a long long long time). And it was paradise. Seriously. Last time was way back. I don't even remember when. And considering my roadside-eating standards, that's pretty bad.

Next, we tried our bargaining-skills-that-don't-work on the taxi waala. They didn't work. So we had to take it because auto-rikshaw was not option unless we wanted to be 3 hours late for the match. And that's only as long as it lasts. Nonetheless, the already-irritated taxi waala pulled over in the middle of the road and asked us to get out when I asked him if he had any extra IPL passes. Dunno why that was so bugging. I think it must have been Sanchit's manually checking if the meter was actually out-of-order. So we had to get an auto finally. And the auto driver being partially blind didn't make things better. Now the problem was- there were two passes, and three people. Karan almost killed Sanchit with the constant swearing. So this whole time passed with intermittent calls being made to different people and trying to arrange another pass. After what seemed an eternity and a long metro ride, we reached Sanchit's home. Technically, of the 7 hours since I had left home, 3.5 were spent in travelling.

Anyways, I had been praying until then that this was a practical joke (something I thought I would never do). It turned out it wasn't. And there was the confusion. Now some guy called and told us that free entry had started at some gates. Although this wasn't humanely possible in a city like Delhi unless half the crowd gets stamped-ed by the other half. We started for the ground, however, with the teeniest bit of hopes in our hearts. And we sweared a lot on the auto ride to Kotla. At anyone and everyone we saw. So much so that even the auto driver started calling every vehicle blocking our way a #$&(#^$& or a @!@#&^*&#. After what seemed and what was an hour, we reached Kotla. At around 8:10.

Now came up another problem. Stupidly enough, mobile phones were not allowed inside (and camera were). And we didn't have anyone to give them to. So (*tone gets embarassed*) we stuffed them in some inappropriate places (I dont know why I am still writing this). I can tell you, before you start judging, it was either that, or stand outside till midnight. 'Cause going home at 10 without even entering the stadium would mean lots of mocking laughter and pity smiles. And I didn't want them. Nobody does. So we stuffed them and, yeah, it was uncomfortable. Damn uncomfortable!

Let's move ahead. Forget what's written above. Now we got past the security check and were standing outside the Ticket Checking Counter thinking about what was to be done next. No, there was no free entry. Suddenly a huge crowd of people came running with passes in their hands. I must say, never before in my whole life, had I thought the huge population in Delhi was good, in any way. I do now. Sanchit, the tallest of all, took the passes in his hand, holding them high and dived into the crowd. We got in behind him.

umm..

That doesn't sound hygienic if you know what I mean.

Let's say we got in the crowd too. One guy did try to bhaisaheb out Karan. The crowd got to him first. And we ran. We ran like never before! And we got in! And we screamed! And we shrieked! And we got all freaky! And people started staring at us! And we started dancing! And we started laughing! And we had to drink water to calm down!

What followed was three straight hours of scream-swear-sing-on-top-of-your-lungs. Akshay Kumar was there. Katrina Kaif was there. Booed Bangalore supporters were there. And then there were Delhi guys. Guys who know how to enjoy. And there was lots and lots and lots of screaming (how many times exactly am I gonna repeat this? Lookup exozillian. That's as many times as it happened). And I'm smiling right now. And there's gonna be lots of "Ands" till the end of the post.

Now Sanchit spotted some chick in the second stand who was supposedly some didi of his. So he and Karan went on screaming her name as hard as they could. Didn't make much difference except that the crowd got all confused why they were shouting Akshita when Gambhir was the one hitting fours. Then there were lots of phrases which I thought I would never hear or say. Like ye to apna hi baccha hai when we told the crowd how Tejaswi Yadav was Laloo's son and a junior in our school. And Sanchit asking me if I could shout a name for him. You see, I'm pretty famous for my yelling. No no, I dont yell all the time. That's my sister. But when I do, even the largest of thunders can seem quieter than mouse-squeaks. That reminds me of The One With the Screamer. Well, I did. And she (read Akshita again) looked down. I still dont know if she was actually Sanchit's didi. From her expression and reaction, we were apparently only some random Delhi guys trying to tease-a-girl-and-get-away. Glad that we did get away. And she didn't look down at all after that.

The second stand also had Akshay Kumar, Katrina Kaif and Fatso Mallya who were clearly visible. Kaif did try to quash the boos during Bangalore's batting. And then, Kumar got up, stood on the top pipe of the grill and raised up his hands. The roar that followed almost made him fall down. Katrina got much quieter.

Kallis got a lot of Hindi gaalis after his little spat with Gambhir. More so when he was standing near our side of the ground.

Then there were Mallya's agents. The semi-nude cheerleaders who tried their level best to sway the faith of the crowd. And half the people in front of the cheerleader stage were clinging to the grills and drooling the whole time. Didn't work on us. Did work on a few. The few got booed. The effect washed out.

Then there were the sixes. The crowd simply refused to return the ball. Not until at least 5 long minutes had passed. No ball came our way, sadly. Many players did. Praveen Kumar was the only one, of all the players that fielded near our stand, who could understand Hindi. And did he get booed like hell? Oh Yes! Some people did try to ruin the spirit by throwing paper balls into the ground (which I must say has never been this green and good, at least not since I last visited it). No could do as even they got booed down by the thousands of people. And the best part- WE WON!!

Believe me, what has already been written is less than half of what actually happened. I'll stop here, however, before mom eats me up. Go watch an IPL match for God's sake! I tag you to it!

Gauti! Gauti! Gauti! Gauti! Ga...

(Had to actually add another label for this post. Amused just doesn't seem enough. More pics below)

How Gay Am I?

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 09:00:00 +0000

Now she thinks it is because I act like one. But I'm pretty sure that it was my supremely developed acting skills, convincing voice modulation and carefully maneuvered body stances (yeah! I can be pretty self-supportive at times) that helped me force my sister into believing I was gay. And so seriously that she actually believed I was going to slit my wrists, only untl I burst out laughing though.

Now you would be thinking why anyone in their sane senses would find pleasure in doing something like that. I confess it was no extended April Fools Day joke and was only a product of a sudden spurt of mischevious thoughts while I was randomly cracking a gay joke. Nor do I myself know why I went about with it.

As for April Fools Day, once again I managed to fool only a handful of people. Dunno why I always fall into fits, even while the joke is still taking shape, and throw away the cover. Though one of the several planned pranks did work pretty effectively, so much so that it forced the victim into getting all red and lashing abuses to anyone and everyone who could hear him. I have decided not to blog about it though after much consideration. Here's how the phone conversation went with Apoorv Khatreja (at 1 in the morning)-

Sneezy Melon: Hey buddy. Wassup

Apoorv Khatreja: Reading random blogs

Sneezy Melon(*shocked voice*): Damn! You know..

Apoorv Khatreja(*butting in*): Dont you think we're too old for this?

Sneezy Melon(*frustrated*): Fuck you!

Outdoors

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 08:05:00 +0000

I love outdoors! Fresh air, green trees, mud, rain, sun, moon, birds, grass, flowers, sky, breeze, calm, noise, people! I remember how, when I was small and we used to be travelling in the car, I would lower the window, stick my head out as far as I could, close my eyes, and "eat" the air, even as everyone else would keep complaining about the AC's effect getting diluted.

And then there were those frequent trips to Simla for dad's work. Hillstations almost make me lose myself sometimes. Although I must admit, those one-rupee video game parlors at the Mall Road were a rather large part of the ecstatic experiences.

Next came the Astronomy Club outings which convinced me it was 5000 bucks well spent. Not that the hell lot of extra knowledge and free premium softwares they provided us meant nothing. Yet, sitting on cold sand at 2 in the morning next to some lake on the outskirts of the city and gazing up at the beautifully amazing open sky was pure bliss.

You see, even thinking about outdoors made me float away from the actual objective of writing this post. OK, let's get back on track.

Playing outdoors has been my favorite hobby since forever. At one time, during the 10th Board examinations, when I played for almost 10 hours a day, I had been conveniently named the "aawara baccha" by the colony aunties, something which irked my mother too much. Then came 12th. It had already been too difficult to manage the three-times-a-week-ly coaching institute classes along with the inter-colonial football matches. On top came the SATs and broke my flow. The next four months were spent in books and, well, more books. And to satisfy my own self, I forcefully inserted the false program into my brain that equated the kids playing cricket with hideous greasy monsters.

That's when everyone became tensed. Parents started worrying. Cousins started worrying. Friends started worrying. Everyone reckoned I had taken things a bit too seriously, and must get back to the old me. It irritated me a lot only because I knew they were right. Come 29th February 2008, the day before the horribly dreary (I'm really running out of adjectives here) Board exams started. I couldn't take anymore. I threw away all books (not so melodramatically though) and went outside. And I loved that day. It was like sunshine piercing through me.

Finally, bit of me is now coming back. There is time assigned for playing, painting and reading as of now. Must also look into daily work out soon. As for blogs, I am actually going to read each one of those 246 posts lying in aKregator today. Thoroughly!

Keep reading The List

Sorry

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Thu, 24 Apr 2008 19:40:00 +0000

Time has been really short for me over the last few weeks owing to the everlasting competitive exams, studying for which has also kinda made me duller, less cheerful and lazy. I must apologize to the blog for not writing much often, something I would love to do. I must also apologize for my temporary drift from blogging ethics where I leaned towards monetization, which I can easily attribute to friendly de-inspiration.

More so, I must apologize to all my blogging friends for not communicating more often, not producing readable stuff and not leaving comments frequently. Although, I am following everyone's blogs through my feed reader regularly. Rather, it is one of the only few sources of entertainment in these days of darkness (beep! beep!). Will try to get back as soon as I can.

So...sorry!

By the way, I met some actor (I'm told) named Harman Baweja today shooting for some unnamed movie with some unnamed director and unnamed actresses in Rithala. Must say, didn't look much different from any of those gelled-hair stubbly bandana-wearing biker weirdos.

UPDATE: Just read my last three posts! Yuck! Extremely sorry for inflicting the horrors!

IIT JEE 2008 Cutoff

noreply@blogger.com (Sneezy Melon) — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 13:56:00 +0000

The JEE 2008 took place two days back on the 13th April. I have already posted the IIT JEE 2008 Solutions earlier. After you're done with calculating your marks, comes the anxiety to know whether IIT would be the place for you. Here are the facts-

JEE 2008 was, as unanimously agreed, tougher than JEE 2007

The cut-off in 2007 was 206 marks.

Reservations, however, have reached a figure almost double that of last year.

Maths was commonly observed to be the toughest part of the examination.

Many aspirants found paper 2 easier than paper 1

Man Mohan Gupta (read VMC) reckons the cutoff could be around 190. He has also posted an interesting analysis at the 100Percentile Blog.

I, on the other hand, would like to differ. Considering people in my study circle have reported an average marks of not more than 200 (and here, I'm talking about toppers from VMC, FIITJEE and Narayana Institute), I would expect the cutoff to be in the range of 170-180. Perhaps, even lesser.

Predicting cutoffs right now is only like throwing arrows in the open air. It would be only 46 days from now, on the 30th of May, that 3.2 lakhs of aspirants would realize their futures. Wanna discuss more about cutoffs, visit the thread at GoIIT Forums