I’m bored. This is a pointless post. You’ve been warned.
To all the people who took the courtesy to respond to my previous post – I’m tired of arguing – if you want to construe that as not having anything to argue back with, so be it. I have more pressing concerns “write” now, than the all out Libertarian Cartel-”I’m a Typist/I Support Free-Markets-But”-ist Cartel War raging away in the blogosphere.
Page 3 of Blogging
I have been called many things by many people lately.
The Times of India, that esteemed and venerable old publication called me an Elite Blogger (and if the TOI said it, it must be true. I just wish they’d put me in their “December Babes” section).
The GreatBong called me The Recurring 2.49999999
Vulturo has given me the Best Ranter of the Year award.
A woman going by the alias of Small has christened me Curfew Boy (and she thinks I have big cheeks). Bugger.
Jayesh (of booletpoints) called me the Page 3 of Blogging, and a New-Generation Indian…
A blogger who shall remain nameless (not Dilip D’Souza, this time) has said that I am a “crapblogger”, who has trouble forming cogent arguments, and who swears too much…
I would just like to address the last name-calling by saying that… YES – I AM A crapblogger Art and Stuff
Went to the DLF GOlf Club on Saturday for a little ‘Wealth Management’ party. (Not my wealth, my dad’s….)
Australian-Indian woman, going by the name of Manasi Scott tried to entertain all the old fogies there. She tried to get them to sing along with her when she started singing ‘Kaisi Paheli Zindagani’ from Parinita…you know like walking off stage and going to tables and stuff…then she switched to Walking In Memphis…surreal… Anyway, while I was there, they had this little art exhibition, where the best of the best had put their stuff up. Now when it comes to art, I know exactly 2 things:
1) That MF Husain wanders around barefoot
2) That Paresh Maity proposed to my sister a long time ago when she used to work for Art Today (she refused).
So I saw this painting by a woman called Sabia called “Chess”, which had a woman kneeling on a chess board (the picture will come up soon. It’s cumbersome to transfer stuff off my mobile phone…). Somehow I want to get a copy of that pic and put it up on my wall. I’ve lost my mind, I tell you.
Mini Blog Meet
Anyway, I had nothing to do this weekend (which should be clear by now) so when Saket called me, I raced off to NOIDA to share a pitcher of beer with him at Geoffrey’s… Talked about this and that, and then we were joined by Aanchal and a guy called Gaurav, who is a close friend of Aanchal’s… so you could say that the Elite Blogger’s Cartel had a meeting, but we were missing River. Anyway, we just talked about this and that, and I had to strenuously deny a few rumours and things.
Happiness (and Freedom) as it turns out, is driving/tearing down the NOIDA toll bridge at 120 Km/H (75 Mph) singing “Don’t Lie” by the Black Eyed Peas and “Yellow” by ColdPlay at the top of your voice – so loudly your voice breaks and you end up with a sore throat… ahem.
After that, I went and had dinner with Nishel (the woman in the picture I put up 2 weeks ago) and Colombian woman A and American-Indian woman S, all of whom have been mentioned on this blog before. Beware folks – when 3 sexually-liberated women get together for a conversation, make sure you’re not eating anything that looks even remotely like a phallus….you will be sure to lose your appetite..
Another type of Paralysis
Snogalysis: n. The inability to engage in a conversation with a person because the only thought going thru your head is: “Growl! I wanna make out with you!”
Was there a point to this post? No.
How to discretely compliment a woman, and end up looking like an ass:
Update – More Page 3 of Blogging (and, coincidentally, art)
Went to an art-exhibit today. Who’s art? It was Anoushka Shankar’s ex/not-ex boyfriend’s(N) younger sister’s art exhibit.
So we’re viewing the art (me and Tango), along with N…and then Anoushka herself shows up.
I’m crushed. She’s so not attractive in person. Argh. She could literally pass fer any other woman on the street. They do some sort of make up or something in most of her news photos. Argh. Fallen idol and all that.
Anyway, so she comes up to us, and she’s met Tango before, but I’m new, so I shake her hand and say “I’m Tarun, and I know who YOU are..”. Awkward smile and laugh (probably thinking “Okkkkk weirdoooooo”), she mutter’s “Hey” back, and then she wander’s off to talk to N’s parents.