Politics of the Terrace

Prima facie a terrace is just some, of the very few uninhabited square feet of a building.
It is also where cats take dead pigeons to eat, and hobo's frequently make their home for a couple of weeks before being discovered and discarded.

But, in a housing society a terrace is precious - Strange, considering the animal kingdom is at its wildest there.

Recently I found that the lock I had secured the terrace was broken, and a new one was put in its place. On further investigation I found that 2 ex-lawyers (at ages way beyond the scope of Viagra), had put their lock on it.

Lawyers !! Damnit !!
They just have to meddle with any status-quo they come across.

(one lawyer to the other)
L1: Hey.. Look, in the park, they look so happy. I dont think we'll get any business out of them.
L2: True, lets file a PIL for the closure of the premises, slap them with a quo warrano and go cetris paribus on their ass.

Similarly,
L1: Look, all the youngsters in the society are so happy. They go to the terrace - drink, smoke, and get women
L2: Women... whats that?
L1: You fool, lets put a stop to this.

The question is where do we go?
It's not fair. Everyone should have access to public places where they can drink, smoke and pass out.
(Fundamental Right: Part3, Article 19 : Freedom to assemble peacefully and without arms)
THATS RIGHT ..!! No one said anything about vodka.

It must be made clear that the terrace is a forum for free exchange of thougts and ideas.
Kid 1: Dude, I think the hot chicks, curtains are open.
Kid 2: Dude, Its a man and you are drunk.

Its also the place where many of us grow up.
Me: So you wouln't mind if I kis...
Her: (((SLAP))) !@#!#^!#

The point is that the terrace is a very important place for many of us. Its where I've gotten to know my best friends, and where the secrets of the universe have been unraveled.
It is where you can enjoy a binge, and also where you can say your goodbyes to a friend (going to America.. where else), over some Cointreau.

It is magical, and has an uncanny ability to make two people connect.

It should not be locked. There is no point, no gain, and no evidence in the last 10 years to show that it may be used for suicide.
(the last one was 11 years back)

An Ode to the Terrace: ..As easy as 1. 2. and 3.

So we got a hammer and smashed the fucking lock.

Uncle Chips Sells Out !

Uncle Chips Sells Out : Lays chips, has bought out Uncle Chips.
It is indeed a sad day for us all.

---

…That's one small step for PepsiCo and one big-ass retrograde step for Uncle Chips.

1:

I can imagine how the events must have played out.
Some Yankee sitting in PepsiCo's offices in Atlanta must have picked up the phone and said, "ssup homie dogg, gemme the number of Mr. Uncle. I just found out that my wife is blowing the neighbour and my therapist says I should let out mah feelin's by takin' over another dude's company".

2:
But where does that leave Us? Don't our sentiments matter?

Pamela Anderson couldn't see her feet for different reasons. But here, in India, for us, it was Uncle Chips. I take one look at my huge tummy and get this warm fuzzy feeling, knowing fully well that Uncle Chips is responsible for each for those 52423668557 Billion molecules of saturated fat. That's right !! An Indian chip.

Where is the Hindu right-wing when you need them the most?
Where are all the Indian products?
I mean what's next in line?

Today:
Doodh si safedi,
Nirma se aaye
Sabki pasand Nirmaaaaa…
Washing Powder Nirma .. Nirma !!!

Tomorrow, we got Britney Spears endorsing Nirma in push up's:
Romp in the hay – all night – all nii-iight
Nirma is Just plain Right !! – plain rii-ight
Cos there ain't nothin' better…
PPS. Join our war on terror

3:
Wherever I look now-a-days:Tide, Surf, Pepsodent, Harpic, Lux, Bata, Timex– All foreign brands.(though I don't feel bad about using Harpic – comes in handy cleaning shitpots).

But then, this is globalization. Unsuspecting foreigners trying to get their cable TV to work dial a local number and get connected, to an Indian sitting in Pune, halfway across the world.
And, and unsuspecting housewife buying the new Tide detergent, only to send a part of the profits halfway around the world.

Peace.

So what got YOU into Rock Music ? (Part 1/2)

Let me just start by saying that I never, never let an opportunity go by when I can tease my sister about something. It usually ends with her stomping off - actually not so much of a stomp, as a tip-toe. She must be 22.5 Kgs... women these days, I tell you.

About Tonight:
I came back home at about 12:00 AM and she opened the door. After exchanging grunts, I headed to my room. Somewhere between then and now I heard the delicate strains of Nirvana's Lithum playing in her room and her friend was staying over.

I could'nt resist.
Me: "So, Nirvana and all huh"
Sister: "So"
Me: "Wow... u guys are so cool and all"
Sister: "HUH !@#%!@%"
Me (on a roll now): "2 angst ridden teenagers... Find a common soulmate in the raspy voice of Kurt Cobain"
Sister: Slams the door.

I walk away smiling, knowing fully well it was I who got her into rock music and the wanton rebellion thats included in the package deal.
And knowing fully well that somewhere behind that door was a quivering new subject for my sister to work on. A fresh sacrifice that must be taught the wicked ways of the rock underground.

She should be able to tell the mainstream metal (Metallica) from the new age kids stuff (Linkin Park), the classic rock (Deep Purple) from the elitist rock (Dream Theater).
She should be taught how to barf on instinct at the very mention of boy bands.
How to pretend she likes it, before actually liking and loving it.














*sniff* ...Smells like teen spirit

Corporate Whore, No more.

It's that time of the year again.
Seasons change, the leaves wilt and fall, people catch colds thereby making snorting noises all day long and I ... and I, make a post on this rusty ol blog.

Except this time it's different. There shall be more posts, and more shit hurled at you - the unsuspecting reader - from my Samsung keyboard. (hoping for sponsorship here)

It's only fair that I tell you what prompted this. As of this moment I would have quit for 26 hours. Thats right, I quit. I showed them who's boss.

In my exit interview I talked about St. Tropez, The French riverera, Books and how scantily dressed famous people would do wonders for Goa's economy.

True, No more hi flying consultant.
No more Jet Airways boarding passes littering my room.
No more stealing staplers from office, but SO WHAT !

I feel like my 2 friends in the pic below. Much'fucking'Better.

"I need some TP for my Bunghole" : Bevis