I was bored…

I was bored…

…and wrote this:

What purpose does a deteriorating building, nay, an unhappy meeting of wood, stone, cement and mortar; serve being on the dockside of a busy seafaring town? One purpose at least was apparent from the uproarious sounds coming from within. The more investigative might notice the stench of ale, the fighting noises, and the sailors entering quickly, and departing even more so, seeing as they were mostly thrown out, and they might conclude that it was a bar of much ill-repute and favored by sailors who laid anchor here. The observant, however might reach the same conclusion by looking at a battered, worn-down sign on the place that said, “Happy Sailor Bar and Inn”.

In its present delapidated state it actually said “Hap y S lor Bar n In “, but that is neither here nor there. It existed in a symbiotic relationship with the whore house next door, whose sign, unfortunately, had long since been used as firewood. The resident occupants of said neighboring building made sure that the rooms above the Inn saw more activity than is usual for a place meant to rest the sea-wearied bones of sailors.

The bar itself was a purulent place full of raucous sea hardened rapscallions, who by the sound and looks of it, had no room for remorse or decency. It wasn’t a clean place either; the never cleaned floor and tables were home to life forms grown exclusively on old ale, and food gone bad. It was the kind of place no decent person in his right state of mind would even contemplate to enter. But it served the best damn ale in the entire quad-island region, and the whores were by far the least swindling. These facts, of course invited all sorts of bandits, pirates, and your general variety of ne’er-do-gooders.

A lone venturer entered through the smelly doorway, straight into the putrid stench that seemed strangely at home in this place. He sidestepped over people lying on the floor. Some inebriated, some wounded badly, most were both. Empty bottles, clearly thrown as a strong point in an argument, whizzed by as he ducked them. Slurs and insults involving his ancestors and livestock followed suit as he ignored them too. Strange and greedy looks followed the small parcel he hung with his sword on his waist, as he made his way to the bar.

The bartender, who was also the innkeeper, approached. He was balding man of short stature, his small deep-set eyes weary from all the years of tending to misfits. You could tell the maleficence of the place somehow had an adverse affect on him, despite his round, fat torso. He gave a humorless, unwelcome smile, exposing the shiny golden color of his teeth, and said, “What�s it gonna be?�

The man stared directly through the thick air into the barkeep’s eyes and slowly said, “Surprise me”. The bartender gave a smirk that told the man he knew this was his first time here. He moved briskly behind the counter, and started commixing a beverage. He returned in less than two minutes and set the dirtiest mug ever seen all of quad -island region, filled with a frothing, bubbling orange liquid, in front of him.

The man muttered a tiny “Thanks”, and set about drinking his drink quickly. No sooner had the liquid touched his tongue and the roof of his mouth, all the nerves, all the senses in his body started throbbing and screaming to his brain that this was not fit for human consumption. His tongue longed for the sweet taste of rat-poison as the vile liquid violated the synapses in mouth and…


The man spewed whatever it was he had drunk all over the bar. He turned to the bartender and screamed, “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?�

A disconcerting quiet descended over the bar as the bartender looked up. His voice or face showed no sign of humor as he replied, “A Surprise”.

I intend to do something more with this, though.

Its a turd… its a stool… its poopy man!

Its a turd… its a stool… its poopy man!

Every few hundred millennia, evolution leaps forward….

As much as I’d like to believe Prof. X, lately I seem to be surrounded by people who have NOT evolved in their intelligence beyond the Neanderthal age. And then they breed. Then there are more of them. I hate that. Then they ALL come surround me with their idiocy and try to kill me with brain blunting acts and their sheer disregard to the human evolution. I hate that even more. Time will come when extra terrestrial life forms will come visit us, see these people, and then bye bye earth! We need to obliterate you to create an intergalactic highway, and don’t you tell us we didn’t tell you, because the notice has been up at the office of….
Let it go, we all know of Arthur Dent’s misfortune.

Don’t get me wrong though. You see, I’m not saying I’m very bright either, but at least I’ve been potty trained. Ok, now is the time I warn you about potentially profane, probably gory and definitely dirty things that will follow. The sensitive among you will please stop reading, and go see these beautiful flowers. NOT for women/children/people with heart diseases/easily offended people/family. STOP READING.

Though you really shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not very clean and politically correct when talking to most people. In fact, I am the guy who takes interest in things like in-depth classification of boogers, and you know that.

Back to the discussion, WHY can’t these people follow simple basic rules of using male urinals in the office? They do things like try to strike conversation with you WHILE they are peeing! Uhhh I am thinking of right now baby, yeaaah! How’d you feel if I took my thing in my hand and start talking to you, turd? That’s right, not good! Then there are the ones who’d come stand NEXT TO YOU while you’re peeing, and then say things like, ‘boring meeting, huh?’. What do you want from me ass? You want me to turn around and face you, so that we can have a nice conversation, all the while soaking you with my pee? I am thinking NO. Then there’s buddy who walks up to the pee pee place, does his pee pee, and goes on out WITHOUT WASHING HIS HANDS! That’s right, he did not wash his fucking hands. And next time he sees me, he wants to SHAKE HANDS with me! Oh yeah? Well say hello to Mr. Namaste, moon turd.
You see this brick in my hand? It’s the brick OF JUSTICE. You see this head of yours? It’s the head OF EVIL. You feel this collision, where I smashed your skull in more pieces than Adnan Sami weighs in kilos? This is called EVOLUTION. And yours just stopped. Thanks for soiling the gene pool, fucker, now get OUT!

There, I needed to get that out. Okie, raise hands, all of you who did not heed the warning, read the post and got offended? You know, you should’ve listened. Thanks for all the fish.

Best Fest (bad pun)

Best Fest (bad pun)

Sam’s malfunctioning list of the best things in the year 2003(a year that stayed still, and refused to budge)

Best Restaurant: The Big Chill, ND. Runner-Up: The Nizam’s Club Mess, Hyd.
Best Big Screen Movie: X-2 Runner-up: Pirates of the Caribbean
Best Pirated Movie: The Two Towers (I just know it.) Runner-up: Kill Bill vol 1
Best Vacation I Missed: The second one to Hyderabad Runner-up: The nth one to Shimla

Best Butt: Minn Runner-up: Preity Zinta
Best Shape: Octagon Runner-up: Ellipse
Best Game: Call of Duty Runner-Up: GTA:Vice City
Best Console Port: Splinter Cell Runner-up: Halo
Best Marriage Hoax: Arunjeet Runner-up: Anshul

Best Browser: Opera Runner-up: Firebird
Best Bruise: Thyla Runner-up: Moi
Best Port: USB Runner-up: PS2
Best Camcorder movie: Communication Gap Runner-Up: Gamasutra

Best Kathi Rolls: Nizam’s, CP, ND Runner-up: Sawhney’s, JP, ND
Best Intestine: Small Runner-up: Large
Best Place To Buy Books: Daryaganj Runner-up: CP
Best Letter box: D1 Janak Puri Crossing Runner-up: DESU colony
Best Imaginary Hepatitis: Q Runner-up: Z

Best Name for a Band: Say Hi To Your Mom Runner-up: The Elephant Kashimashi
Best Book: Vernon God Little Runner-up: Masters of Doom
Best Place to Get a wicked Tattoo: Nathaniel’s, Palika Runner-up: Bubblegum
Best Homicidal Maniac: Nny Runner-up: Squee
Best Samrat Sharma: The geek who lives in ND and writes this stupid blog. Runner-up: The First Class Cricketer from Punjab

Take me to thine breast, for I am home

Take me to thine breast, for I am home

Sitting late in my office, I just came up with a brilliant plan. Now, listen to this, patiently… when I am old and am about to die, I am going to try my damndest to get a hard-on, hold my wang in my hand, start grinning like a complete idiot, and wait for Rigor Mortis to set in.

Now think about it… how cool would that be? My sons and their wives and their sons… they’ll have a blast explaining to other people how gramps died… ‘uh well.. he was just lying there and… uh..’
‘But why is he sitting up right?’
‘why is he grinning?’
‘who else was in the room?’

Oh its beautiful! Of course if I die in an accident, or somebody kills me, this plan would fail… but don’t worry, its a long evening, I’ll think of something.

The saga collapses into a fetal position

The saga collapses into a fetal position.

Arun�s been taken to a hospital for examination after a police officer sees him trying to make out with an air hockey machine, slowly mumbling, �Fatality� Fatality��

The doc asks Arun a few routine questions�

Arun: It�s a fairly common misconception that you can�t make windows out of brick. Most people feel that brick is too soggy. I assure you it is a shoe.

Scientists have discovered that nine out of ten shoes are numb. This brings us to a disturbing question: Does Coffee bleed?

If in fact it does, then one must consider the possibility that all life is but a Giant Cake Mold. But instead of delicious, gooey cake batter, we are filled with� raisins.

Doc: Riiight� Drunk and Disorderly�

Arun: I am so not drunk.

Doc: Then count backwards from ten.

Arun: Q. No� Fuck!

Flies spread diseases so keep yours closed

Flies spread diseases so keep yours closed

I’m never at my best at describing things. At school, my report card generally read ‘Has little to no ability, but does his best’, or words to that effect. True, in the course of years I have picked up a vocabulary of sorts, but I’m not nearly smart enough to draw word-pictures that would do justice to events that deem themselves fit enough to befall me from time to time. I will endeavor to explain one such phenomenon now.

Well let me begin at the beginning. Two nights ago, I was coloring a cartoon at home when a fly started buzzing around my computer. Now normally this wouldn’t have bothered me, but this fly kept buzzing by my head like it had something against me. So I rolled up a wad of loose paper near by and when it landed on the wall I hit it. Then I hit it when it fell on the ground again just to make sure. I went back to coloring thinking that was over.

Then about 5 minutes later I hear a buzzing sound, I look down and the fly has come back to life and is flopping around the floor slowly coming back to life. I assumed that I only stunned it even though I knew I hit it pretty hard. So I stepped on it (to put it out of misery) and again went back to coloring.

Then Nature called and I went to the bathroom. When I got back I again heard a buzzing sound and there was a fly buzzing about the room. I looked down and the fly I thought I had killed was gone. Now I thought to myself “This can’t be the same fly” but I then I thought, “But that other fly just didn’t disappear”. So I kind of freaked out and became suspicious of this fly I couldn’t seem to kill. I waited and hit the fly again sending it flying against a wall and behind a shelf.

Then last night I come back and there is another fly in the room. Now this is either a long string of coincidences or I’ve come across some kind of undead or possessed fly.

So not taking any chances I’ve gone off to find a crucifix. I wonder if anyone knows where I can get some holy water or a blessed flyswatter??? Really, I’m desperate…

Also a nod to Andy for the title…

The Saga makes no sense

The Saga makes no sense

So Far:
Sam has smashed Aruns PC to build his ‘thing’. Arun’s been walking around thinking crazy thoughts.

Puneet sees Sam’s new ‘thing’, and walks over to investigate… he sees a pile of wood and Arun’s broken up comp…

Puneet: So… this is your… thing?
Sam: Of course.
Puneet: What does it do?
Sam: You can run it over with your car.
Puneet: But what… you… we don’t have a car.
Sam: They’re weapons.
Puneet: What?
Sam: Sure! You light them on fire, and then throw them at zombies.

Puneet: This is just a pile of wood.
Sam: With an ashtray.
Puneet: Is that Arun’s computer?
Sam: No, its a goddamn ashtray.
Puneet: I’ve never seen an ashtray with a video card.
Sam: It’s some high-tech shit. It can display… wood.
Puneet: So you’re saying this pile of wood is a digital projection…coming from your “ashtray”?

Sam: *blink, blink*

Sam: So lets get a car… and then run it over.
Puneet: Last time you stole a car I was SHOT. In the GROIN!
Sam: It’s not my fault you were erroneously punished.
Puneet: You POINTED. And said, “Look, HE did it”. And I was holding KEYS. They were MY KEYS. I was going to MY APARTMENT. HE SHOT ME IN THE GROIN AND TOOK MY KEYS.
Sam: Its not my fault you’re a weakling.