FYI (For your information) ...

This is my new blog.

http://technicallybored.blogspot.com


And, I closed my first PR today on Bugzilla. Whooohooo!

Bits to bits, bytes to bytes and a little dollop of chocolate sauce...

Yeah...the chocolate sauce makes no sense.

I am kinda bored of this blog. I am starting a spanking new one.

Will put link here soon.

I Bow to thee! I really and truly do!
Just check this out!

Scary...

There is this program on Discovery called 'Colors of India' that is going on. Nilekani and Premji are spouting shit about globalization and blah, the offices look swanky and hell...I am going to be one of those don't-care-a-damn-techie in 7 days from now.

And then there are thousands of folks in our very namma Bangalore who live in absolute squalid conditions.

Fuck...we are a fucking heartless bunch!

God save this country!

Read this!

I know the readership of this blog is pretty low and non-existent, but yet, I will make a small request to all you people who read this blog. So here goes...



I am attempting to compile a little book of sorts of stuff that people have written. Anything that you have written or read somewhere that other folks would like to read, please send them to me. Everything is good and you are free to be politically incorrect and rude. Just drop me a mail a bluebarnacle[at]gmail[dot]com. If you are from NITK, then all the better - write something about your memories here - no holds barred. 





Take care and play safe.



Subbu.

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Namastey London aka Why Katrina Kaif is so hot!

Ascribe it to the impending double disaster of a very expensive exam and the deadline for presenting my major(ly) (screwed) project or my capricious nature, but I ended up watching a fairly cuppax print of the movie that find a mention in the title. (In case you thought "Why Katrina Kaif is so hot!" is the name of a movie, then I suggest you go get your head examined. That, dear reader, is not something as inane as a title - it is a fact!)



So, I got my bum down to watching the movie. It did take a lot of effort. The last time around  when I was conned into watching a movie, with a fancy title that read 'Just Married'. Now, given the highly lecherous mind that I have, I figured that it would have a lot of...um..well...ahem...you know - steamy stuff that made the camera lens mist over. Sadly, it turned out to be a Bollywood flick that starred Fardeen Khan (who is cho chweeet according to several women acquaintances of mine and who is absolutely revolting according to me) and Esha Deol (who effectively has the face of an IFBB Pro - Ms. Olympia with a body that is bloody bloody hot). The two hours that I spent in the theater just to vasool the sixty bucks the ticket cost was among the worst two hours of my life - second only to the two hours that I spent watching Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna. If you are wondering, I slept through the remainder of the movie.



Coming back after that little digression, Namastey London is not really a bad movie. It is plain trash. It is a storyline that we have all seen so many times in setting other than London that it is almost a chance to sit and play a guessing game - predicting what will happen next (it should be, at any rate, more profitable than any guessing related to the ICC World Cup). If you came around looking for something emotionally evocative or addressed a social issue, then you came to the wrong movie. Please walk down to the next screen where they are screening 'Pursuit of Happyness'. Awesome movie, btw!



NRI girl born-and-brought-up in London has trouble adjusting to the fact that her parents are not comfortable with her attitude and multitude of boy-friends. Come to India on a trip and enter home-grown Funjanbi (no kidding! really...) who get hitched to her. She comes back to London and claims that they aren't married under British laws. Proceeds to marry a Brit with the most fantastic name of Charlie Brown. Of course, our Funjabi can't speak the Queen's language and proceeds to save India's glory with a very awesome speech peppered with facts and figures from the latest edition of the Manorama Yearbook. Oh, he also plays rugby and strips Brit arse in the process.



He then walks her down to the altar for the vows with Charlie boy, smiles and turns around and walks away. But, wait...that is not the happy ending that we all were waiting for. Predictably, he turns around yet again, walks back to the altar and in chaste...wait for it...English(!!!!) congratulates the couple and all that. She fumbles her vows and runs after him. Cut back to Funjab (now this, I made up) where they are happily touring the countryside on his khatara motorcycle. Finish.



Painful, but Katrina makes it all bearable. She speaks English with a very very sexy Brit accent and Hindi with an accent that is forgivable because she is so so hot. Akshay Kumar is out of his element and there is just this brief shot that is set way in the future when they are all old where for a moment he exudes the power and charm reminiscent of Nicholas Cage. Other than that Rishi Kapoor is as fat as he can get and owns a Spykar jeans outlet. If you haven't been to London you will get a decent tour of the city minus the names. Just the sights.



All in all avoidable, unless of course it is three in the wee hours of the morning and you are cursing your fate that there are no pretty women in your college.

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Today we die in hell!

It’s a frickin’ battle when you walk in. Accept it or get the fuck out. That is the rule. And that is the only rule. Read Rule 1 again.

Yeah…your balls are against the walls, eh? It pains, eh? What…say that again? Your muscles are on fire? Your head is pounding, eh?

FUCK YOU!!!! PUSH IT…BITCH! PUSH!

One more rep!
Fuck, I love pumping iron!

Wednesday's coming.

Yes...before you tell me, that was an attempted play on the famous song by Lynrd Skynrd. I can also see you groaning you rear off. But, please do bear with me. Or, beer.

Ok, dude...! I'll stop!

Yet another Valentine's day looms around the corner as Hutch (Vodafone owns it now) tries to get to me to take advantage of their Value-added services(VAS) and send either roses or play a song for my loved one. Tell him/her, (Hutch does not believe in discriminating based on sexual preference) how much I love them.

Thing is that I do not have sufficient balance to take advantage of all these nifty offers. Who wouldn't want to send flowers sitting in boring math class to one's girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse/whatever???


Sigh...I am also single. It is a record! 21 consecutive Valentine's day.

/*takes a bow*/

Of terrorism, credits and orange snow.

I was leafing through the newspaper today afternoon in the company of Tarun and Kiran. There was something about suspected Jaish-e-Mohammed militants being apprehended on the first pages. The jokers that we are, we went on a trip about why these buggers kept getting caught so often.

Now any sane college student who has a fair knowledge of current affairs and is not given to alcohol excesses would have said, "Why...our intelligence agencies are getting better. India shining...India poised!" Don't get me wrong, I love my country and all that, but I am given to being politically incorrect, irreverent and normally insane.

I figured that probably these militant buggers are getting bad at their stuff. They must be short on bakras up there to do terrorism, so the honchos out there in those camps decided to use solid marketing to sell the idea.

I am pretty sure they know what 'Friends' is and they probably fantasize about being on 'Big Brother'. It's like call-me-colored-all-you-want-but-watch-out-for-the-AK47. Which means that capitalism is out there making people spend more and want more. Think about it -

"Bored of the same old routine cruise or ski trip? Want some real action? It's dirt cheap...Jaish-School of Terrorism offers short term three-month courses in sabotage and fanaticism. Hurry limited seats only! Full meals and welcome chai included. We also have a water hole and desert for real-simulation."

Which hot-blooded beer-bellied forty-plus man wouldn't be interested in this? College kids would go crazy about it. Women would be salivating over the thought of getting rid of the guys and hitting all the party-spots in town without the fear of being leeched at.

Now, three months is only so much time. You can learn to run without tripping over, learn to cook up a bomb that fits you, riddle people with bullets and how to hold your piss during crucial missions. Obviously, this is much too less time to learn how to not make yourself conspicuous. It sure must take a lot of effort to keep from wearing the class t-shirt that they give away for free. Or hide the AK-47. I mean, not everyone gets to tot an AK-47 around - at least not if you are not a militant, in the armed forces or Sanjay Dutt. And plus, the referral program is hard to resist - ten-free days during the next holiday. You need to talk to people to get them interested.

The odd-intelligence guy who is traveling by train or bus sitting next to one of these dudes would have heard something and the rest is...well...you know...

In another interesting piece of news, there was apparently orange snowfall in some town in Russia. I am sure the place must look pretty gay by now. Reports said that this was due to the iron content in the snow being four times higher than normal. Authorities have advised people not to touch it or feed it to their animals...!!!! WTF???!!!

And as people are getting out their brightest pink, greens and reds to blend in with the current color scheme, the government is wondering whether it was the Nuclear Power Plant or the Chemical and Metallurgical Plant.

You guys stay safe and stop polluting the air. Who knows when we will land up with green clouds and pink soil?

Hmm...

I am missing out on amazing opportunity to immortalize my name in
a special edition.

I think I am going to....


Oh...Sod off motherfuckers!!! Kiss my ass!!

About me

The feeling of laziness that creeps in once I hit college is insanely crazy. Forgive the use of unsuitable adjectives and irrelevant nouns, but as someone said an average person like me have trivial pursuits in life – a monotonous existence that is thrown off track each time the bell rings. It’s pretty much like waking up…actually it IS like waking up considering most of my time is spent sleeping – in class and outside. The rare instants that I am awake are fruitlessly spent in proving my presence in class to the instructor in an attempt to satisfy the academic requirements of an institution that run on a clock that is ten years late.

The most interesting moment of my day is when I brush my teeth. The sight of foaming toothpaste and the noxious purple toothbrush that I own never fails to titillate my senses. There is very little that can shake me out of my constancy. Murders, engagements and proposals involving high profile actors, new movies, cheap movie spoofs with generous helpings of lewd obscenities or, for that matter, unfair trials and punishments. The occasional animator comes along once in a while and says something that makes me seethe and fume at the mouth and then ten seconds later I lapse back in pointless thought about ants and continue to twiddle my thumbs.
The failure and absence of all things romantic is a glaring mark on my otherwise gleaming record that boasts of achievements like eight shots of tequila followed by six of rum and the subsequent passing out. It is a truth that people bring up from time to time, much to my discomfort. Not because it hurts my feelings or anything, it is just that my friends have this nasty habit of speaking it out loud as opposed to just thinking about how they would speak it out loud. Their total disregard for making an effort at reducing noise pollution by staying silent is highly offensive. The effort to listen is tremendous and usually leaves me so fatigued that I have to sleep for the rest of the day.

After, ten long hours of disturbed sleep through the day, it is, indeed, a Herculean task to change and climb into bed for the night. The very act of having to fluff my pillows (they are stuffed with down…in case you were wondering) puts me to sleep due to the sheer exhaustion that it causes.

All this, at this tender age of twenty one is not what many men or women have been able to do. Give me credit. I really thi…..~snore~.