Of a certain K3G phase in life

(Warning: Long and a dimaag ka dal fry kar dene wali post, resulted as a side effect of overdose of an overnight thought injection, which usually I’m allergic to)

No, Aishwarya is not getting fatter and she’s still prettier and sexier than all the other ladies out there. If you are one of those people who think that her dayz are gone and Mallika Sherawat rocks, please pick your suitcase and get the hell out of here. And if you are one of those who are still in love with Aish, then get the hell out of here too, I don’t need no more competition. I’m already going crazy here and will tolerate no more Sanjay Datts out there trying to touch her here and there.

So I have decided that I’m going to run this blog wild, free and crazy. When mallika can run herself up that way screen, I can at least do it with my blog. For last few weeks, I’ve scraped at least 20 posts because my thought are going all haywire, itni buri tarah inspired by Kaante movie that they are killing all each other in a sunny deolish manner with ukhdo handpumps and all. I close my eyes and I see myself holding one big sword covering all the earth in a round shape and I’m moving in a train. If you happen to like Veer Zara, yaar bole to if your brain is the size of an amoeba, then mujhe samjhane de chirkut, I’m going all crazy kind of these days with my temper balanced on a mosquito, who is biting Amitabh Bachhan’s nose in Deewar, and is going to get shot in 2 sec by Big B himself. I’m all like dharma paji with his index finger in his mouth and “Kutte, main tera khoon pi jaaonga” kinda stuff.

It seems like I’m just trying to keep my ice cubes cold, where none of this matter. I get real meaning of Nirvana these days. By the time I get to finish my post, my thoughts already fly away to some distant galaxy and then the post doesn’t make sense even to me. All the money, job, internet, life, purpose, soul, all seem like non-fat milk. So just in case this post makes it to my blog, that would be a downright sixer, as if Jugal Hansraj is back into movies with a machine gun in his hands killing all the gundas trying to molest his girlfriend.

Now I hate to write salma aga kind of stuff. Stuff which makes you take your finger up your nose and kill the only few remaining and living brain cells, finally making a big cavity up in your skull stuffed with can food. And by a curious misfortune, this post is going right there to the smallest circle of sadness dart board. All I would actually like is to go to youtube to watch some movies, read some fundoo blogs whose links are on the right, watch some comedy serials with girls in mini skirts and keep my mind off things.

But that’s ok to happen. If you are dropped off on an island even some where in Hawaii all on your own, with nobody to talk to, and 40 ton per cubic inch work pressures, this happens. And some of the stuff is copyrighted itta zor se ki I just can’t let it out. I’m doing just like what most of my friends doing these days, having hard time with trouble to find good-and-not-half-boiled-chicken type food, lack of watching Akshay Kumar or Govinda movies, adwares attacking laptop from outer space, and people saying stuff like, “Nothing new yaar, even Aishwarya is getting fatter”. And lack of emails/scraps/comments adds up to the tension which I’m sure will someday cause India-Pakistan historic civil .. er.. nuclear war.

Blogging is one of the things which keeps my mind off. So here I go... happy blogging.

Although I know not many people read this blog, but even if you are, then no need to feel anything for me right now, it’s just a phase, I’ll make it go away. Leave a comment if you want to, may be it will make me feel better. I deserve at least a comment since I made you come this far and you actually had to scroll once…;). If you feel like scrolling on a blog to read it down, that post is good enuf. Most of the times I’m not like it, believe me.

And I know that I’m just writing bullshit, which I should actually try to make funny, but I just can’t these dayz. And believe me, even if I only by mistake read this post twice, its going to recycle bin too. But I’m in desperate need of a post to blog, even though I’m having a real hard time writing this K3G type stuff.

And In a true Vijay Dinanath Chauhan’s mummy style, agar bhagwan kahin hain aur ye sab likh raha hai, then I definitely need a copy of the document for my records because what he should be writing is, “Just a phase”. If he’s writing anything else, folks, count me in for an atheist. I really mean it.

I’m really sorry for all those whom I made read this post, if this one makes it to my blog, I will personally meet them and throw in a super-cut chai party with parle g buiscuit for you to make up. If you are a single girl and reading this post, I want to assure you that I’m not a classical case of broken heart; I’m way past it by years now and now I’m really cheery. So you just need to drop in your phone number, even if you are reading this post many years later. For your records, I have a decent salary, good career and a rocking life ahead, no kids and no kidding...;)

Chal dhakkan, ab bahut ho gaya sorry vorry, ab nikalta hoon yahan se. Aaj Friday hai, I just want to party… yeay…

I guess I just need to loose control (Amir wala), bahut ho gaya loose-control (bole to dheela wala).