The author of this blog is a complete nut-case and should not be taken any more seriously than a broken shoe hanging on the friendly neighbourhood truck's bumper. Any reference to person(s) real or imaginary is because of a multi-dimensional specie of super intelligent mice and therefore not his fault.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007


It's 2:20 in the night and I am still in the fucking office. I hate working. Fuck fuck fuck!!

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Crash and crash

Five days, 14/15 hours at work. Are we supposed to live this way? As Jar Jar here would say - "Meesa tired. Meesa want to sleep. Yousa understand?!"

The photo is sourced from www.art.com, Jar Jar Binks is a George Lucas character. None of it is mine.

Friday, September 14, 2007

Being busy on g-talk

This is my chat window status. If you noticed, of the 17 people online, 4 are idle, 4 are ready to chat and 9 are busy (myself included). Busy with what? Nothing! Ping any one of them and chances are you'll get instant response. I wonder why do we use that red dot. Maybe looks cooler... Phbbt... Pseudo jerks we are... (Even right now, the elipsis is to tell you I have more to say than I am saying. Bloody fake man!)

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Of marriages and whores

I've been working with my company for nearly 10 months now. Yesterday I was told that I am to be a full time equivalent resource (FTR) for a client. now an FTR happenes to be a person who works exclusively for a client. In the outsourcing model, if company X outsources to Y which employes A,B,C,D, the work of Y can be done by any of the A-D. However, in case of an FTR model, if A is an FTR for X, any work that comes from X will be done by A.

When I was told that I am to be an FTR, I was also told that the FTR relationship is like a marriage. Where you are dedicated and there is an exclusivity in the relationship. Now we come to the point of the post. Upon hearing this, I began to wonder, if FTR is a marriage, then is a non FTR relationship is one with a whore? Wow. That sure boosts my morale. Go team!

*Image not mine. If it inspires you to pay, pay the creators... bah!

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

They've goat it made

Not so long ago, in a galaxy not so far away, there is a country called Nepal. This story is about an airplane, a goat and divine intervention.

Recently, a Boieng 757 was grounded in Nepal for unspecified resons. Now the company knows that Boing makes excellent aircrafts so the possiblity of a technical snag was definately in the bin. So by some quick sleuthwork, the administration decided that it must be the meddeling gods; one Mr. Akash Bhairab in this case. To appease the mighty one, a goat was quickly arranged and executed. It is now reported that the aircraft is working fine. In the end, everyone came off well and nothing baad happen. Groovy.

Read the full story here

Monday, September 3, 2007

The bald frog with a wig

I was fiddling with the blog template and i came across the profile page. There i saw something called a random question box. Here was my question 'The children are waiting! Please tell them the story about the bald frog with the wig'. What I came up with turned out to be too long for the box. So here is my story:

The Bald Frog:

Once upon a time, on the mountain of sag, there lived a farmer frog named Knowhare Flaikatcha. So deep was he in his work that he had lost all his hair. One night the faery of mischief fark-ewe-bad came to Knowhare in his dream and told him that he will meet up with a beautiful princess and they may live happily ever after if he has long shiny locks to show the princess. Therefore the not so clever Knowhare went to his farm and borrowed the hair from a corn-cob and stuck them on his head using honey. Next day, the frog stood ready for his beautiful princess and the happily ever after. But before the frog could get his heart's desire, a swarm of locust came from no where and taking the frog for crop, ate it up. After a while when the princess came, she only found tiny frog bones and the dragon came and ate her up.

Moral of the story: Stupid frogs get no princess. They get fucked.

ps: The Flaikatcha funda is supposed to be a tribute to the great Basu. I am not ripping him off.

I, Snarky

You Are a Snarky Blogger!

You've got a razor sharp wit that bloggers are secretly scared of. And that's why they read your posts as often as they can!

Saturday, September 1, 2007

Pilgrimage: The Bookworm

I have decided that I shall write about the book shops in and around Delhi. I shall not talk about the ugly chains. Not about the Oxfords or the Om Book Shops or Crossword. I shall talk about the cozy little shops owned by people who care about them, the books they sell and the way the shops smell (believe me the little shops smell much much better than the faceless bland fare dished out at the chains). In brief, I shall talk about the shops around the corner.

So I start this with a small shop nestled in the madness of Connaught Place. In the same radial row as Plaza Cinema sits The Bookworm. The shop boasts of a neat little collection. Varied and refreshing. You will find your standard fare of Ludlums and Coelhos. But you'll also find other stuff to read as well. A fine selection of 'classics' a very good collection of non-fiction (Fromm, Hesse et al). It also has a second floor containing poetry, music, politics, children's books. The stuff there is not exactly to my liking (at all actually). But what makes the place most remarkable is the approach staircase. Its a rikety, worn-out spiral staircase, and as you ascend, you literally find yourself shoulder deep in books. The books there start right where the floor space starts and they are stacked right up to the roof!

Go there for the staircase if nothing else.

The Bookworm,
B-29 Connaught Place,
New Delhi
Ph: 23322260

How To Get There?
Get to CP, then get to Plaza. chances are you've already seen it.

Why Should I Go There?
First because I say so. Second for the spiral staircase. If you like books, believe me you'd feel like Alice when she might have felt when she poked her head in the rabbit hole.