Where we try skipping, resulting in much mirth as bits of flesh and moobs are thrown all over the place

I swear to heyzoos. Like I was just telling this buddy of mine, if I ever made a video of me skipping and put the video on youtube, it would get a billion hits. Like in no time. Fuck man. There I am, all alone in the middle of all these super fit people and trying to skip. And with every jump, my left moobs goes in one direction, the right in another. The paunch (that fucker) jiggles up and down. And then the rope keeps hitting my shoes and I have to stop and then start all over again.

Sala kya chutiyaap ho re la hai beedu.

Anyway. I live and learn.

Which makes me wonder what most women think about their boobs. The few laadies I have chosen to broach this topic with have given me mixed replies. Wonder what the general trend is. Do they ever wish they did not have them? Is their pride or sorrow or anger? Fuck man, how can you be angry at boobs. I mean, surely, that is just not possible.

KSwahaahahahahahahha. Thats like being annoyed at something that is right under your nose. More or less.

“Hey you two. Stop it. Aarrghhhhhhh”

And the boobs going all, “Aye what man. What we did?”

ahahahahahaha. Talking boobs.

Ooooooo look at me, I am so mature. Oooooh. Sala.


So anyway, I took Bus No. 64 from Bombay Central to Chitra cinema the other day. Whattey ride I tells you. Crowded and sweaty till Byculla (or “bhai culla” as the lady on the local describes it) and then suddenly you have a place to sit. And then it goes ahead and takes a left right after the Zoo (jijamata udhyan or some shit it seems) and then goes here and there, past kalachowki and behind all those mills and down narrow roads with narrow buildings.

I love that route cause it takes you behind what you usually see if you take the JJ route.

And of course, you pick up on the different accents and the dialects. From the mozzy-ness of Bhaiculla to the manoos type near kalachowki. And the omnipresent Gujju bhais and UP ke bhaiyya log.

All working so hard. All looking for that step up. And another step. And another step.

Do you ever think that you are standing at the bottom of a staircase that stretches up and up? Or is that staircase pointing downwards and are their mountains and clouds all around you? Are their people who are willing to carry you up/down on their shoulders if you pay them enough? Are their stops on the way, where you can pick up a glass of cool nimbu paani and sit down and rest for a while?

You can travel so much within your mind you know. Just travel.

Had me some pao bhaaji down at Sardar Pao Bhaji chap at Tardeo. The special one which comes with even more butter. All yummy yummy and mopped up with the butter covered pao. And then you sip on the limca and hear the death rattles of half of your arteries.


I is going to rent a projector sometime soon. And watch all the movies that I want.



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