backstreets back, alright!
so throw your hands in the aaayer
wave em around like you just don’t care.
It is good to be back in Bombay. It really is.
Just this morning, Roomie, me and Bai stared at the pile of bottles under the kitchen sink. Where a gignatic rat (read puppy) had been spotted. Me trying to rustle the rat out behind the bottles with a broom in me hand. Roomie providing shit advice (“Rats don’t bite dude. Why will it bite you?) and Bai standing next to Rooomie, muttering away some random shit (kyu nahi kaatega, meri maaci ki ladki ki……..)
Three of us. Watching and waiting and being total phattus. Such fukin retards.
Turns out the Puppy had already made his/her escape.
Time to call the exterminators.
The puppy must die.
Just last week, a complex operation was performed involving a MotoG bought in the amreeeka, flown to Bangalore and then to Delhi. The Operation involved a total of four people. And a computer. Four people and a computer.
Un fucking believable.
Watched Life of walter mitty and what fuckin blowshit. Sala even my blind tatha could have seen the ending of that movie. But then it did have Wiig. Oh wiig, you sexily funny awesomeness.
It is difficult to pull off sexy and funny I suppose. Cant think of anything that is hahahha and oohhh at the same time if you know whattaya mean.
Clowns must have some weird sex lives. Wonder if some of them do it with the makeup on. Fuck, that would be a weird sight. Big red nose going all badonkadonka donk.
So there is this one skit in Monkey Dust which has this voice over guy. Like he has this rich, deep voice kinda like Elaine’s boss had. And he is banging his wife and saying the most disgusting things possible. In that same, deep, rich voice with a clipped accent. Funny shit.
So two of my dreams came true last month. One was travelling first AC in a rajdhani (I got a frikkin free upgrade, ken ya imagine ya?) and the other was staying (actually residing) in Broadway hotel. And the lovely bit was that both happened just like that only. Completely fucking random. Wah taj I say.
Then, then what you did.
Oh the train ride back had one proper Punju aunty in the neighbouring berth. Like as Punju as they get. With those massive purses (I swear those things are used like weapons) and tons of makeup and general, mis-directed aggression (she was yelling at the curtains at one point of time) and see-sawing mood swings. So much fun.
And then at four in the morning, I am woken to the sound of said Punju lady crashing onto of me. Fatty lost her balance suddenly and fell down. Tadoom crash doom doom. The last fuckin way you wanna be woken up is like that. I swears.