Inspired by Faking News
I have decided to jump into pseudo journalism. Keep watching this space for more.
Links
Faking News
The Onion
Links
Faking News
The Onion
Post # 800
Post # 800. I never thought I would reach here. I have this tendency to get bored of things very quickly but somehow, I have stuck on with War of Words. Its been more than 6 years now. Abhi kal hi ki to baat lagti hai ;p
April 01, 2010
Happy April Fool's day folks.
Like tons of other quirks associated with us mankind, have no clue why this day exists!
Here I am ...
Abruptly, randomly, for no apparent reason, while working, someone said Turn The Page.
I did.
I did.
Where have you been?
Been some time since I last updated this blog. Last time I wrote, I wrote a rather longish post. So what all have I been upto? Not much actually but still, a blog is a blog and I have to write.
So I have been shuttling between Delhi and Haryana. I do like 100 kms daily and more than anything else, its taking a toll on my car. My dad's car actually. And this also means that I dont have time for sgElectra (web, twitter).
A friend, after lot of cajoling (read 4000 phone calls) finally ordered a copy of Way To Go for me. For the uninitiated, way to go is the latest book by Upamanyu Chaterjee (of the English, August fame). The sad part is that since I am reading The Nudist on the Late Shift (by Po Branson) and Complete Letters of Bhagat Singh, I cant start with way to go. But then I am totally enjoying the two books that I am reading and
I still hate Samsung Corby. Its the most idiotic phone ever. Please do NOT buy it, if you ask for my opinion. I have decided that I am not going to buy any phone but Nokia. For a smart phone, I might choose some other brand but a basic phone has to be a Nokia. Come what may.
Apart from this, a very good friend got hitched. To a namesake. Personal life started moving again but as I write this, I think its going to come a halt.
Anyways, to end this, I got this email from CitiBank that I never subscribed for. I sent them a email requesting removal from their mailing lists and they sent me this as a reply ...
The copy reads
...
This is with reference to your e-mail dated March 11, 2010.
We understand from your mail that you wish to unsubscribe SPAM.
We inform you that the SPAM mail is sent to all Citibank employees by the Ready Cash Department.
...Welcome to customer care :D
Autobiography of Criba Shankar Pandey
Bade din sey crib nahin kiya. I feel odd. I can this negative energy affecting me. I need to blurt out. I want to write. I want to pour my heart out. On a public forum. I know every post I make goes on FB (atleast). I know most people dont give a fuck but there are a few who do take interest in what I have to say. And they are a large part of why I write. That one off comment, that random person writing in, it makes my day.
I know Miranda Warning (I have the right to remain silent. Anything I say, can or will be held against me in the court of law) holds truer for the Internet more than the real world. I know whatever I write today can be twisted enough in the future by some lawyer to seek higher alimony, or to make me plead guilty of a crime that I wouldn't commit. And I know I would be innocent. After all, as Red says, "everyone in shawshank is innocent".
Anyways coming to Criba Shankar Pandey ki dairy, today he is going to talk about things that ail him. Lekin before that, ye Criba Shankar Pandey hai kaun? Arey its my alter ego (the way Raju has Gajodhar and Karthik has Karthik). In short, its someone who I blame for all the fuck-ups in life. And it has served me well so far. And come to think of it, now that everyone including my maid, beggars and politicians have twitter accounts, how about a twitter account for Criba Shankar Pandey? @sgcsp :D
So what ails Mr. Pandey? Few things that he is really touchy about. He wants to believe that he is a good writer. And his first paid writing gig is a complete mess. Someone paid him good money to write content for a website. Our Mr. Pandey put in real effort. Effort as in e to the f to the f to the o to the r to the t. And now, the client says it was a "very mediocre" job. Nothing pisses a man off more than a frivolous comment on the only talent he has got. Sigh the bloody difficult demanding unsupportive rude world.
Then he cant seem to make any headway with his love life. The last girl that he liked hates him for the bottom of her heart. But our Pandeyji remain hopeful. Hope, is a funny thing. Andy says "Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies". And Red says "Let me tell you something my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane". Our Mr. Pandey, being a simpleton he is, cant decide which one to choose. And like all other fictional heroes, he doesn't have the luxury of the coin that has heads on both faces. Where to they make those coins anyways?
Next on is lack of greenbucks in his life. Once upon a time some random guy told him that he would never be rich. And he laughed on that random guy's face and asked him to wait and watch. And its been about 11 years since this face-off. And the random guy seems to be winning. And in all likelihood the random guy would go to his grave, grinning. Where is the money dude? How to people become millionaires and billionaires? And that too at such tender ages? Wait. Tender is politically incorrect. I meant young.
BTW as I am writing this for Mr. CSP, the world is celebrating the International Women's day. And the other half is busy watching the Oscars. I dont know which is more useless. I mean we have to award all the effort that goes behind making movies and we have to appease to all the feminists. What I dont understand is that how do all the women in the world settle with just one day? Take them to dilli haat and they cant decide what to buy and here they are, their entire existence summed up in one day. And they are actually happy with it.
Next on agenda is his idiotic habit of trying to do too many things at the same time. He clearly believes in sailing in multple boats. Its like playing twister, with each colored dot in a different boat. And since all the boats are independent and have different rowing mechanisms, he invariably falls. And the worse bit is that he refuses to learn from his mistakes. Reminds me of Sisyphus. Damn .. the damned rock is rolling down the hill again. Lemme go fetch it. I will be back guys.
And before I end it randomly, here a couple of links (from the same guy) - two of my favorite themes - Simpsons and Super Mario (bonus - flute + beatboxing and piano. More posted here).
I know Miranda Warning (I have the right to remain silent. Anything I say, can or will be held against me in the court of law) holds truer for the Internet more than the real world. I know whatever I write today can be twisted enough in the future by some lawyer to seek higher alimony, or to make me plead guilty of a crime that I wouldn't commit. And I know I would be innocent. After all, as Red says, "everyone in shawshank is innocent".
Anyways coming to Criba Shankar Pandey ki dairy, today he is going to talk about things that ail him. Lekin before that, ye Criba Shankar Pandey hai kaun? Arey its my alter ego (the way Raju has Gajodhar and Karthik has Karthik). In short, its someone who I blame for all the fuck-ups in life. And it has served me well so far. And come to think of it, now that everyone including my maid, beggars and politicians have twitter accounts, how about a twitter account for Criba Shankar Pandey? @sgcsp :D
So what ails Mr. Pandey? Few things that he is really touchy about. He wants to believe that he is a good writer. And his first paid writing gig is a complete mess. Someone paid him good money to write content for a website. Our Mr. Pandey put in real effort. Effort as in e to the f to the f to the o to the r to the t. And now, the client says it was a "very mediocre" job. Nothing pisses a man off more than a frivolous comment on the only talent he has got. Sigh the bloody difficult demanding unsupportive rude world.
Then he cant seem to make any headway with his love life. The last girl that he liked hates him for the bottom of her heart. But our Pandeyji remain hopeful. Hope, is a funny thing. Andy says "Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies". And Red says "Let me tell you something my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane". Our Mr. Pandey, being a simpleton he is, cant decide which one to choose. And like all other fictional heroes, he doesn't have the luxury of the coin that has heads on both faces. Where to they make those coins anyways?
Next on is lack of greenbucks in his life. Once upon a time some random guy told him that he would never be rich. And he laughed on that random guy's face and asked him to wait and watch. And its been about 11 years since this face-off. And the random guy seems to be winning. And in all likelihood the random guy would go to his grave, grinning. Where is the money dude? How to people become millionaires and billionaires? And that too at such tender ages? Wait. Tender is politically incorrect. I meant young.
BTW as I am writing this for Mr. CSP, the world is celebrating the International Women's day. And the other half is busy watching the Oscars. I dont know which is more useless. I mean we have to award all the effort that goes behind making movies and we have to appease to all the feminists. What I dont understand is that how do all the women in the world settle with just one day? Take them to dilli haat and they cant decide what to buy and here they are, their entire existence summed up in one day. And they are actually happy with it.
Next on agenda is his idiotic habit of trying to do too many things at the same time. He clearly believes in sailing in multple boats. Its like playing twister, with each colored dot in a different boat. And since all the boats are independent and have different rowing mechanisms, he invariably falls. And the worse bit is that he refuses to learn from his mistakes. Reminds me of Sisyphus. Damn .. the damned rock is rolling down the hill again. Lemme go fetch it. I will be back guys.
And before I end it randomly, here a couple of links (from the same guy) - two of my favorite themes - Simpsons and Super Mario (bonus - flute + beatboxing and piano. More posted here).
Kuch Kuch Hota Hai
If Karan Johar can make Kuch Kuch Hota Hai and Javed Akhtar can write Kyonki Fighter Hameha Jeet-ta Hai, main kyon nahin kuch likh sakta?
Kuch feedback?
Hasratein hain. Khwahishein hain. Sapne hain.
Talash hai manzil ki.
Nikal pada hoon ghar sey. Bhataknay ko.
Sapnon kay pass. Apnon sey door.
Kuch hai to sirf ye door tak jaati lambi sadak.
Chal raha hoon.
Kabhi savariyon par. Kabhi apne kadamo par.
Kabhi kama kar. Kbhi udhaar par.
Raste main chand meel kay pathar mile.
Kuch acche lage. Kuch par main ruka.
Kuch pay log ruke they. kuch par logon nay roka.
Kuch nay kuch kisse sunaye. Maine kuch kahaniya.
Kuch der baatein hui. Kuch der chala silsil.
Kuch der baad fir kuch sapna aaya.
Fir chal diya.
Kuch der kuch log saath chale. Kuch der akela chala.
Kuch kahaniya yaad rahi. Kuch kisse bhool gaya.
Akela nikla tha. Kuch der kuch saathi mile.
Kuch kuch der saath chale. Kuch beech main kahin aur chal pade.
Bas rah gayi ye sadak.
Ye raaste.
Woh anjaai manzil.
Aur khoob saare sapne.
Kuch feedback?
Look Ma, Am Jogging!
Finally after 27 years of existence and denying that I need it, I was forced to start jogging.
People define jogging as the art of slow running, on a track, in the community park where members of the opposite gender are in abundance, done supposedly to stay fit, in reality, to ogle at all the eye candy around, hoping to strike a conversation and ending the jog with your latest "friend" at the juice shop. I have seen umpteen conversations starting with words as obtuse as, "hey your shoelaces are open" and as daring as "nice shorts".
Jogging is also the sport that was made famous by Forrest (of the Forrest Gump fame). Everyone remembers that "Run Forrest Run" incident. I am not as blessed or as talented as Forrest is but I do share some similarities. The love for Vanilla ice-cream. He was forced to. I do it by myself. Anyways, I dont know what I was thinking when I got into this argument about fitness with Neo. And since he is quick on his feet, he challenged me if I could lose 4 inches by his wedding. I, being myself, had to accept it without any thought.
So, one fine day, I was blissfully hogging onto french fries and sipping onto a diet coke at a McDonalds when I suddenly realized I couldn't breathe. I am 27. Been the sporty kinds. Have actually won medals in races and all that. I somehow fatafat stuffed all the remaining fries in my mouth and gulped the rest of the coke in one quick motion. And then I called for help. The call was more of a tribal dance and war-cries. And unlike the movies, no heroines were in sight. Not even the cleaner came forward. I somehow managed to stay alive. I eventually had to sit at a coffee shop and wash down all the food with a vanilla ice cream before I could start breathing normally again. And that was the day when I decided that I need to get fit. And win the bet. Wait, after I finish that ice-cream.
I started exploring options. I collected pamphlets, phone numbers and reviews for dance schools, swimming pools, tennis/badminton courts, gyms, yoga instructors, even Shilpa Shetty's DVDs, cricket clubs and organic juice shops. And then I started the process of elimination.
Dance classes - too far and too expensive. And average age of a participant was 13. Imagine being called an uncle at 27. Last time I danced, I was in college and I was thrown out in exactly seven minutes of warm-up sessions.
Swimming pools refuse to accept me as a member. I dont know why.
All tennis and badminton courts are shut because they are preparing for commonwealth games to happen. I mean why are they shut? Cant they come up with better excuses?
Local gyms are interesting but its difficult to be semi-naked around fat aunties who are more interested in checking out themselves in mirror than working out. When they are not checking out themselves, they are comparing their vital stats with other fat aunties and are looking for affirmation. And worse is that they insist that they are the only ones who have the rightful ownership of the treadmill, stepper and the bicycle. Dare you touch em.
Yoga is another interesting story. I dont mean to offend anyone but the instructor was getting too "touchy" for my comfort. I know who I am and my preferences are straight. As a rod.
The DVDs are interesting but I couldn't bring myself to spend that kind of money on watching a no good page 3" celebrity" do awkward poses in red tights. And imagine the horror of my parents if they see me seeing that DVD. Jayadaad sey bedakhal kar dete mere gharwale.
Of all the options, am left with Yoga or Jogging. Yoga is fun and all that but it requires you to get up at 4:30 (in the morning) and reach the place by 5. Do it for an hour with people who are on an average double my age. Am thinking, wont it be fun to get yoga guys and dance guys in one room and experience the generation gap live?
So I finally du out my running shoes and started jogging. Its been a week since I have started jogging. I havent noticed an iota of difference to my fitness/health/girth/stamina but I remain hopeful. Please keep me in your prayers. After all I have to win the bloody bet. Just over a month to go.
Written while munching onto an McAloo Tikki Burger at a McDonlads. And no, Ronald is not paying me for this post. It would be nice if he did.
People define jogging as the art of slow running, on a track, in the community park where members of the opposite gender are in abundance, done supposedly to stay fit, in reality, to ogle at all the eye candy around, hoping to strike a conversation and ending the jog with your latest "friend" at the juice shop. I have seen umpteen conversations starting with words as obtuse as, "hey your shoelaces are open" and as daring as "nice shorts".
Jogging is also the sport that was made famous by Forrest (of the Forrest Gump fame). Everyone remembers that "Run Forrest Run" incident. I am not as blessed or as talented as Forrest is but I do share some similarities. The love for Vanilla ice-cream. He was forced to. I do it by myself. Anyways, I dont know what I was thinking when I got into this argument about fitness with Neo. And since he is quick on his feet, he challenged me if I could lose 4 inches by his wedding. I, being myself, had to accept it without any thought.
So, one fine day, I was blissfully hogging onto french fries and sipping onto a diet coke at a McDonalds when I suddenly realized I couldn't breathe. I am 27. Been the sporty kinds. Have actually won medals in races and all that. I somehow fatafat stuffed all the remaining fries in my mouth and gulped the rest of the coke in one quick motion. And then I called for help. The call was more of a tribal dance and war-cries. And unlike the movies, no heroines were in sight. Not even the cleaner came forward. I somehow managed to stay alive. I eventually had to sit at a coffee shop and wash down all the food with a vanilla ice cream before I could start breathing normally again. And that was the day when I decided that I need to get fit. And win the bet. Wait, after I finish that ice-cream.
I started exploring options. I collected pamphlets, phone numbers and reviews for dance schools, swimming pools, tennis/badminton courts, gyms, yoga instructors, even Shilpa Shetty's DVDs, cricket clubs and organic juice shops. And then I started the process of elimination.
Dance classes - too far and too expensive. And average age of a participant was 13. Imagine being called an uncle at 27. Last time I danced, I was in college and I was thrown out in exactly seven minutes of warm-up sessions.
Swimming pools refuse to accept me as a member. I dont know why.
All tennis and badminton courts are shut because they are preparing for commonwealth games to happen. I mean why are they shut? Cant they come up with better excuses?
Local gyms are interesting but its difficult to be semi-naked around fat aunties who are more interested in checking out themselves in mirror than working out. When they are not checking out themselves, they are comparing their vital stats with other fat aunties and are looking for affirmation. And worse is that they insist that they are the only ones who have the rightful ownership of the treadmill, stepper and the bicycle. Dare you touch em.
Yoga is another interesting story. I dont mean to offend anyone but the instructor was getting too "touchy" for my comfort. I know who I am and my preferences are straight. As a rod.
The DVDs are interesting but I couldn't bring myself to spend that kind of money on watching a no good page 3" celebrity" do awkward poses in red tights. And imagine the horror of my parents if they see me seeing that DVD. Jayadaad sey bedakhal kar dete mere gharwale.
Of all the options, am left with Yoga or Jogging. Yoga is fun and all that but it requires you to get up at 4:30 (in the morning) and reach the place by 5. Do it for an hour with people who are on an average double my age. Am thinking, wont it be fun to get yoga guys and dance guys in one room and experience the generation gap live?
So I finally du out my running shoes and started jogging. Its been a week since I have started jogging. I havent noticed an iota of difference to my fitness/health/girth/stamina but I remain hopeful. Please keep me in your prayers. After all I have to win the bloody bet. Just over a month to go.
Written while munching onto an McAloo Tikki Burger at a McDonlads. And no, Ronald is not paying me for this post. It would be nice if he did.
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