Little Black Book

So considering how disastrous my first two attempts at podcasting were. I managed to convince Sheila to lend me a helping hand. I think we lost about more than two hours of our conversation as I tried figuring out this skype recording conversation bit which is a pain in places where the sun don't shine. But I managed to salvage some of it and whatever there is, it is funny. At least am laughing if not for you lot. Oh! And if you lot know of any good, cheap, marwadi way of recording skype conversations do let us know. Hope you enjoy this one. ps: We are after all bunch of n00bs. She has the boobies and I bring the nerd. So do leave your comments behind so that I can use that to get Sheila to do one more of these. pps: Oh! And don't forget to tell us what to do to record our conversations on skype without losing out on some massively hilarious stuff. ppps: we seem to have lost the entire review we did of inception and salt. That I think was THE most hilarious bit. So... d...

So I decided to give this podcasting malarkey another shot. Niall helped me out with the quality issues but suffice to say it wasn't enough to audio photoshop me voice into something Barry Manilow. After hearing this podcast, me chances of getting laid plummet from zero to -infinity.

Listen!

I was in 7 th grade when Ajit Agarkar came into the limelight. It was around the same time when Ajay Jadeja had just been given a call for the Indian Test squad after his delightful performance in the then recently concluded One Day series with Sri Lanka and I read about it in the newspaper with the file photo of Ajay Jadeja talking on the phone. This was in and around the infamous scratch the head instead of giving the decision umpire fiasco .   I believe the year was 1997, I was about 12 years old, on the verge of puberty, my voice had to yet to break into the Donald Duck meets Sylvester the cat voice it is now, I was so young that the biggest swear word I knew then was 'Bastard' in English and 'Saala' in Hindi.   Ajit Agarkar came into the news around the same time when I was coming to terms with the situation at home, which seemed to be going down like a crack whore blowing for her fix.   Life is never pretty for a kid when he is asked to grow up real...

It has been a L O N G time since I have been this excited and proud to own something. The last time it was the Zippo and before that it was my first pair of Nike. Anyway... Ladies and Gentlemen. Hold your breathe and your pee, because I present to you 8 posters of awesomeness. Duly bought and framed and to be hung as a badge of snobbery. My personal favorite as you would by now be knowing is Rocky. After the infamous calling my hostel mate gay night of 2nd Jan, 2003, where I lost my Rocky IV poster, I believe this more than makes up for it. I also absolutely love the Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Now the real problem is that these posters are mighty huge and I am not sure which posters are going in which room. But those are just details at the moment. For the time being, I am getting me knob polished by the awesome light being reflected off these beauties...

Disclaimer – This post is in no way meant to hurt sense and sensibilities of people, especially the woman who got caught in the cross fire. But! If it does… well… don’t look at me… go deal with it… Well this post is ironic on some many levels that empire state called to get some of them back. Well for starters, I am still writing about what conspired in the last week of the last year. Yes! The same old sodding 2009 which I had tried to best recount and recollect and regurgitate. But, apparently it wasn’t enough and there was still some levels of lethal booze left in me system.  Anyway, on insisted demand, recap of the last week of the last year. Dec 25, 2009 – Friend’s “sangeet” function. Was kind of okay, till the end, and then courtesy some kick ass music and awesome sportiveness from my friend’s dad and mum the night took off, as they danced to the tune of “Mere Angne Mein” from the Amitabh starrer Laawaris. Dec 26, 2009 – Since there was no booze in the “sange...

If my report card came out in the form of a greeting card, this is probably how it is going to look like -----> This is worse than the infamous incident of the broken pencil, 1999. True story.