Where we arch back and relax our shoulders

So the building ka gym has got this sexy new massage chair thingie. It is fucking amazing cause you can sit on it and it will do some shaking and vibrating (ya fuck you) and then the back rest will tilt back and you can rest your head and then it will go all squeeze squeezy.


Probably be the only reason I go to the gym. That and the steam room. Slightly shady place that steam room. I always feel that someone is going to lock me in it.

Death by steaming.

That sounds like a rap song.

Show me your genitals. Genitals. Show me your genitals.

You have been warned.

This site is not for children.

You have been warned again.

Fuck. Repeat warnings.

Dontchu worry dontchu worry chaaild, heaven’s got a plaan for you.

That is the song of the house at the moment. The SotH is what you sing when you are walking all nangu pangu in the house. Preferably in the morning and loud enough so your neighbours can hear you.

I dont think I would have joined the Civil Disobedience Movement, like I am not disobedient really. Am just mildly rebellious and (very) annoying. So my movement would be like this Civil Annoyance Movement and what we would do is put mobile phones near the mic so that high pitched sound is made during speeches. And we might cough loudly at comedy clubs, especially when the punch line is around the corner. We could also possibly make the default print command Cntrl + F and just not tell anyone about it

Wait. The last one could start a war.

Civil Annoyance Movement. I don’t know why civil got sucked into the political world. Like you have all these normal words, just hanging out and suddenly they are sucked into another dimension and made all serious and shit. Like rights. I mean what the fuck man, right was such a simple, ole chap (with some direction too! geddit geddit) and now suddenly its all about Rights and Rights of that and all that shit.

And then “narrative”. What a nice-sounding word. But those fuckers didnt leave it alone. Oh no. So its the First World Narrative and the Sub Altern Narrative and I am like why you motherfuckas stealing all our words man.

Aur kaisi ho? Gaon mein sab theek hai na? Gudiyan ko meri taraf se ek chaata maarna.

(Above line has to be read the way Rajesh Khanna spoke. In that cancer wala movie where he dies, “babu moshai”)

If I was ever cast in a 1970’s movie, I would be a guy on the cycle. Like an extra who is just cycling in the background. I don’t know why but I am pretty sure about it.


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