Blog Archives

My Very Worst Roommate

I think I could write an entire FML book on the person I’m living with right now. She is a disgrace to community. Enough said.

I don’t think switching on a fan in the month of December amounts to being a big deal; what’s so ‘pragmatic’ about that!? It’s always summer time in Australia in December, surely people DO switch on fans at the time? Also, I would consider switching it off if her obscene voice didn’t drift all the way from the other side of the room screaming disgusting moans and god knows what to four different suitors at all times of the night.

It’s extremely easy to portray hate towards her because of her sheer stupidity. You could compare her voice to the sound of five trolls farting and you can only guess who’s going to win that melodious competition. She looks like a psychotic version of the she-hulk. (YUCK!)

It’s a good thing this house has many more rooms because I don’t plan on seeing her face ever again if I can help it.

She’s the reason I can’t even hear the voices in my head anymore because I’m so sickened by learning the various things one can do while being in the company of other people who you don’t even know.

Don’t even get me started on the cleanliness factor.

x EdgyShark x

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Things To Do: When Bored At Work

A lot of people that I’m working under at the moment, have a really decent sense of humour. You’d think the law doesn’t call for a joke, but ask a lot of these advocates, they’ll tell you it is one 😛 When I first walked into the office and asked them for the wi-fi password, a bunch of them began sniggering like baboons and I thought to myself, if I’d asked them something wrong. The senior then came to me and said, don’t worry, it’s just that the password is ‘pagal baba’. Like SERIOUSLY? 😛 They probably refer to the boss as a mad guy around here, but look at my last post, he’s pretty cool to hang out with.

Anyway, today again, most of the advocates have gone off to court, and I’m sitting here on my super shaped butt and not really in the mood to read anything more on the CPC. The junior associate just walked in and asked me what I was doing. I said reading the CPC, and he nodded his head and went away. But I’m going to now begin on the top crazy things to do when bored at work.

  • Say to your boss “I like your style,” and shoot him with double-barrelled fingers.
  • Knit a hedghog.
  • Run one lap around the office at top speed.
  • Leave your zipper open for one hour. If anyone points it out, say ‘Sorry, I really prefer it that way.’
  • At the end of a meeting, suggest that, for once, it would be nice to conclude with the singing of the National Anthem (extra points if you actually launch into it yourself).
  • At lunchtime, get down on your knees and announce, “As God is my witness, I’ll never go hungry again.”
  • In a colleague’s diary write: “10.00a.m. See how I look in tights.”
  • Carry your keyboard over to your colleague and ask “You wanna swap?”

Do you have more whacks such as this in mind? Comment and post! The world’s waiting 😀

x EdgyShark x

Math, I Hate You Too

Okay, I understand that there still are many people in this world that love you. But I for one, cannot understand what you’re made of.

Saying “You don’t let me do you” or “I just can’t do you however hard I try!” is going to spring misconstrued innuendos in your minds, I know what a weird bunch of people you are. Yet, you get the point, the war between math and me is of greater significance as to what perhaps Winston Churchill ever felt for his country.

So I’ll just go and groove to Justin’s Carry Out. And NJ, you continue studying it. I hate how you probably smile when you look at a problem. Disgusting. These math book writers should go and find girlfriends or something. Yuhuck.

x EdgyShark x

Stop And Stare. Don’t Care

Everyone makes certain friends and then it’s all about reading the contents of the book of regrets after the phase is done with. Obviously, this might happen once in a life time, and it happened to me too, a couple of years ago, a year ago, whatever.

Even though I don’t mingle with those beings anymore, and don’t pay attention to their existence, there was something I had written about a long time ago on this blog. What does one do with all that information related to them? No, I’m not so low, I wouldn’t threaten them by spilling their secrets, I’ll simply press the erase button in the confines of my mind.

I don’t have time enough to spend it on you. “Give them a dose of the creator’s attitude. Don’t worry, it’s a Royal Ignore.”

So really, all that information? I threw it away as carelessly as the morning trash is taken out. But if you want to go ahead and still make attempts to get back at me by spewing my well kept words all over, you can. Because if I’ve done nothing wrong, I don’t need to worry. And if I have, then I’ll get punished for it and get the hell over with it.

Because it’s high time people began acting their age and not just proclaiming it on their birthday cakes each year.

x EdgyShark x

How To Choose …

  • A career
  • A bra
  • A microwave oven
  • A laptop
  • A life partner
  • A company name

I do this often when I’m chilling out with my laptop and want the world to just shut itself up. Today, I realised the humour I was trying to seek. These mentioned above were some of the highest chosen results on Google for “How To Choose ..”

A career, I understand, you can find a number of aptitude tests and things like that that make your mind go whizz and can occupy you for a couple of hours, looking at different options, jumping from website to website, going through brochures, getting excited looking at interesting institutions.

A bra? At first sounded funny, but then I came to terms with the fact that well, hello, you can check out different types and kinds and colours and well, you get the point. But even then, why would you want to choose a bra online is really weird. Unless they don’t have a Victoria’s Secret outlet in your country.

A microwave oven. A laptop. Not encroaching there.

A Life Partner?!!!! Hahahaha! Couldn’t stop laughing at that one, but seems like there are about 42 million people out there who’re desperately clawing on their own nails and typing this out on the text box of a search engine, than actually going out there and trying to look for someone!

As for a company name, if you want something hip and funky, come to me.

x EdgyShark x

Sucky Wednesday

Because I feel like the will in me has been sucked out by a ginormous vacuum pump while a troll does his rounds on my wickedly tiny skull. I hate human beings. Even more so, those “special” ones who MAKE me hate the entire human race. But anyway, since I’ve morphed my mind into believing nothing is really wrong, I should be thankful towards those morons to make me remind myself about the hatred I have towards them.

Thank you, but I hate you. And it really doesn’t make a damn difference to me if you feel the same way or not.

x EgdyShark x

Evil Overlord

There comes a point in your life when you just stop the car and think, “Hey, maybe it’s time I need some new comebacks to scare the world.” I think I’m feeling that time right now. Not that you can’t gather aid too.

1. You could try saying, “Thank you. We’re all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view.” to shut a smart alec up. Or even perhaps, “The fact that no one understands you doesn’t mean you’re an artist.” And if you want to top it with some lip smacking icing, “I’m already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth.”

2. No, my powers can only be used for good.

3. It’s a thankless job, but I’ve got a lot of Karma to burn off.

4. I see you’ve set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public.

5. At least I have a positive attitude about my destructive habits.

x EdgyShark x

Male Chauvinist Pigs

No, I’m not going to name the place, the person or the printing press. Whoopsie, there you go, you got a hint.

So there’s this one newspaper that thinks it’s the bees knees. Honestly, we asked the deputy chief manager or whoever he was, of the plant, and he replied, “Oh yes, we are the best not only in India but in the world.” Sir may I ask, if you’ve kindly heard the names of the Wall Street Journal or the New York Times? Or even the Harvard journal, which is probably selling to more people than you are.

Just because you have the name of the nation on you, doesn’t mean you’re the best. In fact, you’re nothing but a user friendly paper eater. Because out of the impressive crores that you spend on your machines, you print more than half of the daily’s worth of advertisements. Not to forget the enormous amounts of paper, you so happily waste.

We went around the entire plant today, and towards the end of the field trip, I noticed there were no women out there. No women in the working departments, printing, advertising, nothing. Not a single woman in the horribly unkempt garden, nowhere near the gates. Except for that one female who was literally dripping of perfume but I think she only came to drop her husband off.

Yes, you’re an exceptional paper, but why such a disbalance? Alright, we understand for whatever your reasons may be. But when asked, all you can say is that, “Women are not as strong as men. They cannot handle pressure, they cannot do the printing job easily. And it’s not safe at night for them.” EXCUSE ME?

Are you freaking kidding me? And you call yourselves the best newspaper, internationally?! At least your answers to our questions could have been a lot less moronic. “So sir, are the same set of people working 24/7?” “No, of course not, we work in shifts.” Yes sir, you work in shifts and yet there are no women. I understand if they can’t work at night, but since you’re working in shifts, they could have easily done with working in the daytime. But yes, I get you, completely. Women cannot handle the pressure.

The entire presentation could also have worked a whole lot better if you didn’t spell out the letters F-L-I-R-T in bold while interacting with young girls, skeptic about the actual process of a day of printing.

Of course it’s not safe. “We had some 4-5 girls in our batch,” he says with that silly smirk on his face, “But you see, they couldn’t handle it.” He laughs. Yes sir, of course they couldn’t handle it. If you keep on your coquettish airs and don’t learn to be professional, no woman’s ever going to put on those pants and get inked.

It’s people like you who make it unsafe for women. Heard of call centers? Women work there throughout the night. And you’re supposed to be the best newspaper in the world.

Yes sir, please print that on the front page of your early edition tomorrow. Well, Brutus said you were all honourable men.

And in Scrooge’s words, (slightly abridged) “Every idiot who goes about with ‘Women can’t do this, women can’t do that’ on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!”

x EdgyShark x

Five Steps To Tying Your Shoelaces

Because I’m bored.

Step one: Put on your shoe. Oh, but then that can’t be a step because the shoe’s not part of the shoelace. Or wait, isn’t it? Whatever it is, stop pondering over this thought and put on the damn shoe already.

Step two: Hold your laces. (I don’t know how this fits in but soup sticks with butter are just yummy!)

Step three: *Looks above* What, you expected more on step two? If it takes you one entire paragraph to put on your shoe, then you deserve nothing more than one entire STEP to just holding your laces.

Step four: Stop admiring those laces, silly.

Step five: Are you just reading this or actually helping yourself with the shoes too? You know what? We’re out of steps. And if you were actually reading this in order to achieve shoe lace tying enlightenment, then my friend I can’t help you either because it’s something you should have learnt when you were three.

x EdgyShark x

A Visit To The Doctor

You know your doctor is extremely hotshot and funky-ish if he gives you an appointment three months earlier, at one thirty in the morning.

I was made to sit patiently in the cold waiting room right from eleven o’ clock at night. My mom gave the amazing idea of carrying her laptop so that I have the internet to amuse myself for sometime. So after I exhausted the limited battery life of the technological apparatus, I was back to twiddling my thumbs and getting annoyed by strangers coughing all around me.

It was one by the time I was left with nothing to do, so I decided to go outside and walk the city streets, while the hard wind blew my hair across my face and sent chills down my back. But my dad being my dad, obviously wouldn’t let me venture out alone because it’s Christmas season, so you have all these drunk seventeen year old hotties wannabe guys all standing outside nightclubs and screaming “I had forty pegs of vodka and I’m still good!” To which Pa’s like “Yeah, right.”

So my dad and I, we walked down the road in search of coffee. And everything surprisingly, was shut. So we walked back to the clinic and I offered to plop myself outside on the steps while I checked out Violette.

And Violette, being a silly fragile thing, had nothing to give to me. Alright, not really her fault. But I think I’m going to sue all the eleven radio stations around the city for not playing a single decent song at that time. It’s peak hour ya! Either they play nice old hindi songs, or nice new ones. But no, they play all the weirdest nonsense ever made by mankind. Animal noises, stupid RJs saying whatever the hell they feel like… blu-blah.

Again, lame attempts to sit on the steps, click self portraits for my Godfather, and hoping really hard to listen to one decent song, I kept waiting on the white marble stone steps. Finally, my turn came at some time around two.

I walked into the doctor’s chamber and the first thing, I looked at my mom and went, “He looks like Jack Nicholson!” “Shush!” my mum whispered back. (I felt like Tom Cruise being confronted in A Few Good Men.)

Jack Nicholson and a Half.

Checked my weight, my knees, my back, my bones, my MRIs, my diet etcetera, and he goes, “There’s nothing wrong with her. Other doctors have just been making her into a guinea pig.”

Yeah, Mr Nicholson, I waited three years, one long night, and what feels like a bazillion rupees, to hear that. Thanks anyway.

Obviously, I wasn’t satisfied. So I dragged my parents and my half asleep chauffeur to take me to Azad Hind, where they comprehensively ripped our wallets off for a couple of rolls.

Back home, and nothing feels better than my warm blanket. Wow, so there’s actually nothing wrong with my knees? Erm, I’m taking up karate or kick-boxing starting next month then.

x EdgyShark x