Yes, Twitter and non-believer in the same sentence - sue me! And the ultimate reason for our ADD.

What in the world is Twitter anyway? Every morning I come to work and as a reflex sign into my Gmail, work email, facebook and well, twitter. Once done with the rest, I stare at Twitter. and I dont know what the fuck to write. I mean seriously, what could be happening? At every moment?

I'm completely missing the point. The stuff people write on Twitter, is meant for who? Themselves? Followers? Is it soliloquy? Who's reading my shouts anyway. And it's an ongoing stream of links and disjointed and disconnected conversations one after the other, after the other.

Like imagine this, you're sitting in your living room and there's the Ninja Blogger, the Ms. I'm from LSR-you idiots dont know literature, there's the local rockstar who thinks he's made it big with 700 followers, there's me - the I dont know I have nothing really to share person, the insane vagina lover blogger I follow like a maniac, there's the Indian TV reporter whose name rhymes with Marka Mut.

Wokay, so great y'all, glad to have you all in my conversation streams.

Me: Morning! Friday already! I love it!
Marka: Government should set up a collegium. Representatives of govt, opposition and two -three eminent citizens shd be part of it.
Me: Umm, ok.
Ninja: " Behold all is vanity and striving after wind" Ecclesiates
Ninja: Just ordered some of my pics from last year's Boulder Marathon. See all my pics here http://t.co/Bze3iEr via @brPhototweets
Me: Yeah, about that...
Vagina Chick: Each time I remember that Gossip Girl isn't on again until APRIL 18 I feel so much irrational anger. Also filed under: THAT KISS. GAH. HATE.
Vagina Chick: @spitts27 Totally agree, they're awesome! Email me your address and I'll send you one :) nicole(at)coleismuchbetterthanthat(dot)com
Me: What the..
Vagina Chick: YES, THE FIRE ALARM WORKS. STOP TESTING IT. AH. DEAF.
Vagina Chick: Don't keep your email open all day. Don't keep your email open all day. Don't keep your email open all day. #trainingmyself
Me: Dude, seriously calm down!!
Me means LSR: @dramoli I agree though- since data collection in villages thro health/ anganwadi workers is questionable - we may not fully know incidence
Me means LSR: Factual Evidence shows that women who read are way better to cope with life threatening situations than men. (Men? Shit, did anyone say that M word? I hate Men? I'm gay.)
Me means LSR: @MEN you're all sick rapists. Let's fight. Yes, thats why they teach us at our college, how to pick fights with anyone of oppsite sex, at the minutest of your inconvenience, oh that and verbal vomit.
Me: hehe.. I totally made that up. No, they dont "actually" (admittedly) say that.
Rockstar: Life is overrated. I like suicide. Seems the way to go for us all to be dead famous.
Me: Dead.. hehehheee.. you're funny. RT
Rockstar: I'm playing at Blue Frog tonight. come! And check out my pic with seven chicks totally ready to give me all www.twitpic.com/1245
Me: Yeah, you see, I'm at work an..
Rockstar: and here where I was at the beach, shaking my booty..oooohh yeah!!! www.twitpic.com/5677
Rockstar: And here - I had to show you that I "actually" know all these people! bit.ly.667/pic5 arre see to the right, that boxer shorts with "bum main dum" facing backwards, is mine!
Me: SHUT THE FUCK UP

Ok, I'm now tired, but you see, this is a completely frustrating conversation - for anybody! I think people tweeting are running their conversation in mind and just dont give a shit for what is actually going on. And so many links, jeez, link to my blog, link to my eleven thousand photos that I now take since I have an iphone bitches, link to my rest of the post since i dont know how to write in 140 characters, link to my site, link to my contest, link to this post from some totally random guy just cause I think its RAD! NO. NO. NO. NO. You've got it totally wrong. Lets repeat once again - I did NOT sign up for spam. Did. NOT. Did not. And twitter is like spam on acid. And I will not contribute. Will. NOT. Will not.

And what are these hashtags that you randomly create and think the world has thoughts on the same and one fine day they'll all be collated and you'll be the guy who bought it to light. #pukeonmycouch #HoHoHellNo #sickbastardmustdie #kittykitty #myparentsroom #stomachflab #chotachetan #kaminikabmaregi #charliesheensinning (the last one was me, oh! come on! I think it's funny). No but seriously, these are not topics of public interest, or one where we all have a say in.

If one of you smartasses is now reiterating the same old - it's for me! and what I wanna say regardless of anyone hearing. Well, then this is massively confusing. So you wanna write things for yourself and not for others, but you want to say it on a public forum all the same. TIRED AND BORED. Still confused.


PS: If any of you actually clocked on those links for those pictures. Seriously, sympathy, you have a lot of time - get on Twitter. Oh and respect, for your general interest and curiosity in random people and their pictures.

Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini

Naah, this post does not have pictures. In fact, I don't HAVE a picture in Yellow Polka Dots Bikini. This is just song I sing to myself when I feel like calling out FTS (Fuck that shit for the uninitiated) to every other thing and set off for a island retreat. Alas, not happening anytime soon.

Since I have nothing significantly life changing to do at work, I'm on to Second Life. Finally. I’m so excited. It’s been couple of hours and I’m, well, still stuck on the login page. I can’t decide on my second life name. I’m sure this is important stuff. I mean – I would be this person for all my second life. This is gravely serious. You know I’ve read that a person’s name hugely shapes their personality. Huh. This is stressful.

I had couple of options, I love that actress Kiara, so I wanted to take that as my First Name, but I don’t know it’s not personal. Anywho, my colleague suggested Sara, but Sara doesn’t go with the personality I want to have on my Second Life. So yeah, we’re still stuck there. Suggestions are welcome.

I want to be just travelling in my Second Life. Go to all the exotic places in the world Cancun, Athens, Fiji, Rome, Cape Town..aaah. And I want to wear High Heels, even to the beaches. Because god knows that I cannot survive those even for an evening. It’s not just the physical discomfort, but I have more personal reservations against it. High Heels, if you walk on the floor like the one we have in my office, are like your own arrival announcement tool. It’s crazy, the constant tick-tock attention grabbing, power breathing vindication - that I’m here – and now I’m going to the bathroom. Or that now I’m heading to the lunch room, which are basically plastic takeaway boxes, which is from a place called Maji Sagar. Umm.. I’d pass, no thanks. So after trying those for two days in my new office, I’m back to my flat greek chappals. Eh, us mortals (or non-modely). Which is good, because my darlings the rains are here.. take that high heel suckers.

So continuing this post after a couple of days now, today especially is driving me crazy. I've downloaded endlessly, I've seen everything since the morning from economics professors to Climate Control Talks, to effective Supply Chains, to how Schools kill Creativity to Mathemagics. Nothing, nothing is inspiring me. Nada. Zilch. I feel pathetic. I'm in such a crappy mood I feel like House. Really. I wish I could just snap nasty comments at everyone around me. And feel like a stud. I just want to feel like a guy. I want to be a guy. But I have work to do. So yeah, whenever I do find the time later today, I will be depressed. Stay clear.

Bus Rides, Peeing Problems and my Brother’s Girlfriend

So I took a bus ride home. And oh my god, did I feel like somebody shoot me already or what? (Ok, fine, read god with a capital G, hate the stupid Microsoft word) Anyway, where was I? Yes, the Bus ride home! I had two sleeper tickets. Not sitting, not one, but two sleeper AC tickets, all to myself. No internet, no TV, and I couldn’t be happier of finally having the time when I have nothing to do after some 6 fucking months, but no sire, nature don’t know no happiness. Only that night, it decided to bail out on my good health and go all wanting to pee all the time crazy on me. Not fun, when there is this paunchy white vest clad bus driver only to your rescue. So I woke up at 2:30 AM wanting to pee. I though, hmm, what the hell, I’d just wait it out and the feeling will go away and I’d sleep away to glory. Yeah, that didn’t work. At 3 AM I decided to do something (?). So I went to the river’s cabin, and jeez, middle of the night, in his sound proof driver cabin in the front, my ears were attacked with the monstrosity of music – “dil deta hain ro-ro duhaayi kisi se koi pyaar na karen”. Wow. That woke me up, and apparently made me want to pee even more. So we stop at one gas station aka petrol pump, yeap those oldy sidey looking pumps owned by sardar community (Beeba, if you're reading, yeah whatever). And after he halts, he says, "jaldi se kar lo" ( do it quick). Yes, I don't know if you get it but I'm not really lets hang out with the truckwallas at petrol pump types. Anywho, to my gross bad luck, the only bathroom was locked. So I come back and tell my driver its locked find me another one, and here's what he asked me - "Emergency hain kya?" (is it an emergency). I dont know what to answer to that, really. Firstly, I wont really want to admit to such a thing to a bus driver, and now I'm sad, wanting to pee like crazy and totally embarrassed. But I said yes, "haan emergency hain". And the next thing I know, he stopped the bus in a darky place, told me to get off and do it here. That's right, and two hoots to all the prudes and to my dignity, integrity and all those insincere and vaguely described and quite questionable human traits, I pee-ed on the road. Yeah, pulling pants down, squatting and pee-ed on the fucking national highway. It was an out of body experience. Haah, now that I have that out of my system, I can pee again, umm, breathe again. Yeah anyhoodle.

Also, I was eavedropping on all my little brother's conversations on the phone, and totally fishing his computer for fun pictures (porn?), and here's my dilemma. There's a girl, lets call here X-e. And supposedly X-e is my brother's girlfriend, who is so scantily dressed on his birthday, you can be devirginized just by looking. And, to that, X-e gets I'm all over you piccies with every boy in the party, which just gets me thinking, who's girl is it anyway?

Now I'm back in Bombay, resigned from my old job, look forward to new beginnings and all that, like at least presence of the other sex in my workplace for a change would be good, maybe I'll start to dress better then, and shower everyday, even Mondays. You all do that, stop rolling eyes and acting all "oh god! you're filthy!" surprised. Now, it's a Sunday morning and I was just time passing waiting for my paper. Sorry about being rude, but gotta go. Ta!

The Thin & Diminishing Line Betwixt Being Free & Being Busy

My work which in my eyes is very ordinarily challenging takes away most of my time. I feel like my personal life is up for a spin, funnily enough though, this is only occurring to me now. How I unquestionably hate working Saturdays. And how I'm so taken by my work and its limitations, that it spills over to my all other sides. I haven't written anything exactly significant in more than three months. None too great a literature read, and no drawings made. I need to get all my creative energies together in something other than creative ways to make incredible excuses for a chaotic and utterly unorganized life.

So I have quite a few work woes, and I'm not ready to look at them like others, as in, the school of thought of 'nobody really likes what they do'. Because I for once, don't want to spend 40 hours per week of the best years of my life doing something I don't like. So as much as I really want to voice my woes and get things rolling, I never really know what is an acceptable work difficulty to express and which ones to manipulate extensively. Anyway, I don't think some of my difficulties make either of the cuts. Like how would you feel when you come in to work one day and there's a snake. A fucking snake. I mean, shit! What kind of a fucking work place is that!? Jeez. Anyway, I'm told its commonplace thing at IIT and we just need to learn to live with them. For which, I say - No.

Strange very very strange things have been happening, in the lines of finding snakes at your work place ofcourse. Like your Mom asking you if you've ever seen a boy stripping? That's freaky shit dude. She also very recently acquired the added skills of SMS-ing, so now whatever I tell her about my life all through her overtly frequent phone calls, she tops it with an SMS to go along with it, right after you hang up. So, they revolve around Aal iz well type-y jokes, to you need courage to live type lines, to sardar jokes to friends are forever to dirty jokes. Yeah, dirty jokes. Eww.

Also, I recently moved to a new place and don't know fuck about making new friends. Like what the fuck do you say, "Hi, you don't know squat about me but we're gonna sleep in the same bed and eavesdrop on each other's personal late night conversations from today. Of course, fucking awesome meeting you". Also, there are so many uncertainties. Like how tolerant are you with swear words, do you expect me to ask you for dinner when I go out? Do you like music in the background? Are you going to judge me if you see fleeting scenes of nudity on my laptop screen (Courtesy: Califorication, damn good show btw), and what's the protocol on dressing up? You dress in the shower or the bedroom? Or I don't know. It's just weird. And I now also have the headache to set up a new internet connection at my place, jeez. And a brand new bank account, because seriously SBI is a little too much for one life.

Salut!

For the love of God, God…

…we need some H2O here. Like really, it’s not even funny anymore. Ever since I have moved to Indore, I haven’t showered. I mean, we have that balti and mug and all, but flowing water with bubbles and pressure remains a distant dream. So does using conditioners. And bleep bleep, after bleep after bleep, has happened to my swimming pool plan. Due to acute shortage of Water, our club people, which FYI is supposed to be the nicest club of the city has closed all the showers but two in each Mens and Womens locker rooms and the two so called active showers have had some more than passive turnout with water pressure, so much so, that there is a queue to it. It’s not a fun scene there, I especially loathe the flabby auntyjis chit chatter of Bridge while they shrug their shoulders and flip their receding hair in black skirty swimsuits in the shower queues.Thanks, but no thanks. I utilize less clothes, I utilize less utensils and get frustrated all day thinking of how much water we used to have in New Bombay! Oh also, there is no warm water. You’re smart, you know why.

I don’t freakin give a shit anymore if its Taai, Taaya, Mamu, Chote Bhaiya, Chacha Sasur or whoever jagat bhaiya wants to run my city. But I want the damn water for my hair oil days.