Ooooo tombstone piledriver. That was (is?) the Undertaker’s finishing move. One of my friends gave a tombstone piledriver to another friend while we were doing the normal 7 yr old thing of playing WWF on lazy sundays. Poor bastard.
I like the fact that most WWF moves require co-operation. Like in the tombstone pile driver, the other chap needs to wrap his hands around the Undertaker’s bum (yes yes I know what you are thinking….grow the fuck up). And for the chokeslam, the slamee has to jump at the same time that the slammer is lifting the slammee. The similarities between ballet and WWF continue to surprise me.
As I was telling my friend, as the autowallah putputted to “another” party (my social life is soh wondah ful daarhling), there is something absolutely wonderful about being driven around. Even if it is just a three-wheeler and even if the “chauffeur” is a complete asshole who is ripping you off, there is something nice about it. And as the auto screamed and spattered across the Moolchand flyover, I realised that this city might not be that bad after all.
Tabula Rasa is a surprisingly pleasant place down at Square One Mall in Saket (Yup, the mall behind the other malls). I liked the fact that it is open to the sky and that there is just about sufficient dancing space and you can tell the DJ what you want to hear and that the counter is just made for leaning on and watching the people drink the night away. Kinda expensive but ok-ok for Delhi standards (A pint was 175 bucks)
The song “ehvi ehvi ehvi” is totally rocking the radio in my head right now. It has also dislodged “Let her cry” as the Bathroom Song of the Moment.
Speaking of which, the neighbours dog makes this loud sniffing noise whenever I am about to open my house door. Which really freaks me out cause in the cold, night I suddenly hear this shallow breathing not unlike (what I imagine) a tharki old man might sound when he makes an anonymous phone call to that young STD booth lady whom he passes by on the way to work everyday.
DOES NO ONE GET IT????
Lastly, Regulation 4(b)(i) of the Consumer Protection Regulations 2005 states that no member of any Consumer Forum while presiding over the Benches shall “wear flashy dress or dress display any affluence”.
And the image in my head is of a group of harried Parliamentarians wondering about all the possible negative consequences of having a member of the Consumer Forum wearing a “flashy dress”. And of massive, beautifully structured debates on the pros and cons of getting people to restrain from displaying affluence and all that.
Someone asked me what is the purpose of my travel and I said that if it (the travelling) had a purpose than it never fucking told me about it. My “purpose” is an annoyingly invisible and super-silent baby elephant who secretly whacks apples when the thela walla is not looking.
My “purpose” is an amphibian dolphin desperately planning to steal the Queens necklace but hamstrung by a conscience which comes and goes.
My “purpose” is a delightful old drunk who trips over invisible caterpillars and dances naked to the tune of “Batmaan tanana tana nanana BAATMAAAN”.
My “purpose” is a 15 yr old acned, grass smoking rebel with itchy underwear and a dark and very real fear of snow.
My “purpose” is a sweet-looking, old lady with a twitch in her left calf and a never-diminishing urge to eat raw pigeons.
Ok the last one weirded me out.
Has that ever happened to you? You know, you say/do something and then you are like “Did i just fuckin say/do THAT?”….and then you feel like having a bath cause who the fuck knew you were that disgusting.
Highly over rated things if you ask me. I have been allowed to escape from bathing for a substantial fraction of my life. I don’t know how. My parents have placed surprisingly few restrictions on the way I live my life. One of them is to always shave with a new blade. Something my dad told me a long, long time ago and made sure that I knew he was being serious.
So…then…..what else? What is the up? How is the you?
Thats all for now.
Oh and of course: