Before I begin, I HOPE you people have caught on to http://www.fakeiplplayer.blogspot.com/, if not, shoo. scat. now.


Which brings me to last night's match between Kolkata Knight Riders and Rajasthan Royals. Lalit Modi, the guy who practically is the Father of The IPL, was seen shouting in the last over "Hope for a bowl-out, guys!". Now, if some random guy-on-the-street said it, it could still make sense, but hasn't it been light years since the bowl-out was replaced with the Super Over, to decide in case of a tie! And This Guy, of all the people, SHOULD know.


Anyway, the drama continued..

Over 19.5 - Ganguly gets out, obviously disappointed
Ganguly: fug, oh fug, fug fug
Camera pans to Shilpa Shetty who obviously has no idea what's going on
Shilpa: Yay. So I can see our players rejoicing. We won kya?
Last Ball. Ishant Sharma grabs a run.
Shane Warne: Get it done with quick, I gotta go home to the chikas.
Ganguly: fug fug
Shilpa Shetty: Somebody tell me what's going on! 20 overs done, why is nobody moving?
KKR manage a measly 15, with RR in, Yusuf hits a couple of sixes
Ganguly: fug fug
Shilpa Shetty: Ah, finally something I understand. A six is good, hai na, Raj?
Match over. RR win.

Then, I was being yelled at, to shut down the TV and let everybody sleep, so I have no idea what happened next. I am sure of one thing though, for the next few days-
Ganguly: fug fug

***

There was a time, when I was around 7, I aspired to be the 'coach of the Indian National Cricket Team'. Me. The epitome of laziness. And yes, am talkin about the men's cricket team. No, not because I had the hots for anybody there, I am not too fond of sports people, they sweat a lot, and smell a lot. Plus, the bunch of guys in the Indian Cricket Team can't frame one proper sentence in English, and THAT is a super turn off. I just thought that the coach's job was to give pep talk, and I believed I was good at that. Anyway I was eight. At eight, I was planning to marry a south Indian ladka so he could cook dosas for me, which evidently, at that point of time, I loved. Also, my other career prospects at various points in time, have widely ranged from a maidservant('cause she was allowed to "play" with water and I wasn't) to um, a Miss India. Now the latter is not a career, but hello, I was 4, and I guess you are allowed to be dumb then. Anyway, what was I saying? Uh, forget it.

***

Oh, and I took this quiz at Facebook which said:
wattt is the best part in your face???! quiz and the result is lips
ha a born good kisser,,obvious..okay yur jus very good at partyin n adjustable,, hav dumb attitude buttt ppl can handle it nott many,,.. anywayyy yur style is simple n yur a born singer,,.. yur lucky colours are,,..peach n pink

Why, oh why do people write like that, I can still tolerate the 'yur's but whattttt innn thee naammme offf thee devilll isss thissss styleee of writingg. Reminded me of those random creeps on orkut, who would go, hiiiii....girlllll...wannnnaaaa fryy withhh meee??...lettt me knowwww...dying for replyyyy.... And I am not joking.

***

PS: Baichung Bhutia reminds me of a crush who's already taken. And so I can't bear to watch Jhalak anymore. Actually, the crush. The one, and the only one. Who seems to have found his One too, but it isn't me. And all my life, I have to live knowing the fact that somebody else is married to my husband. :(

*Last line taken from When Harry Met Sally*

Cheers.

Random-astic

My CompaqKeyboard has the following golden words written on it:

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WARNING

To reduce risk of serious injury, read Safety & Comfort
Guide provided with productand at www.compaq.com/ergo

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Just how can a keyboard be a source of injury, though, is beyond me. Unless of course, somebody intends on falling asleep in front of the PC, and accidentally smacking his face onto this apparent WMD, or then of course, good ol' disconnecting it, and you know, kisi ke sar pe fekna.

*stares at her feet in the awkward silence*

Ok. I thought it was funny.

My two precious followers *beams*(yes I have a new one, apart from the pakka loyalist cuppycake choo-yash!), please don't disown me. Yet.

Tangential Note: The wizard of Uz, my Second Best Friend(this first second third best friend shit makes me feel like a baby, but I have a compulsive need of listing everything), "by mistake" *rolls eyes* deleted the first post of this blog, which somehow feels quite absurd, like wearing a dress without the undies on(!), but I can't do anything about it now, or can I??

-->Does ANYBODY know? Can we get back an old -deleted- post???<-- Passing thought: If while walking with my parents, I were to slip and fall, and yelled fug instead of shit, would they scold me? Being the quintessential good girl has its own demerits, Uz and I get our highs by saying fug in hushed whispers. In private. When nobody's listening. Maybe its the see-I-can-be-a-bad-girl-too thing. Do I talk like some pseudo-angelic-puppy-eyed chika? Its not pseudo darlings, look closely, and you can just catch the halo. Just went through what I had written. Ooh. Meet me at 1 am in the night, and your goldfish will seem to make more sense than I do. But then, my friends say they feel so even during the day...! PS: Yay Vasudha. Everybody hail, the tattletale! I heart your blog, and am excited crazy to have a follower who is not linked to me by blood, bench or bribe. :) Do update, its been eons.

When I post, I do so in pairs

Everybody, and I mean, EVERY BODY, needs to check out this
song!!

Bulletin-II

I got my saree!! Its an orange-and-pale ochre chiffon one, and I think it looks beeyootiful(Of course, that's why I bought it in the first place). But it was fun, the whole shoppin' spree, they always are, but today's was better, with everybody fawning over me as if I was the bride. There's this one guy who drapes anything you even remotely like around you, while the other guy goes 'Didi, ye bahut unique piece hai, aappe khilega'. He even said 'Aapka to safed rang hai, sab jaega'. SAFED?? I am wheatish in kind words, but white?? Hello, even my mother wouldn't say that! And, oh yes, my mum was all 'thoda english colours dikhana, you know, pastels'. Lol, he knows pastels, alright. And as I write this, another War of the Words with the TBF. What is this salty thing on my right cheek? Oops, a tear.

Bulletin Board

Bhai getting married in May. Mom wants me to wear a gown. I detest. It'll be too much of a scandal for the poor Lucknow-ites. Reminds me, Uz wanted me to wear a strapless one(sometimes I wonder if she's straight), which of course, I can't 'cause its going to come crashing down taking with it all my supposed izzat and my 'standing in thee society'(Zoya factor, anyone?). And am already wearing lehengas for two other functions, so leaves me with the national attire, shopping of which I am supposed to do today. Oh, by the way, I fought with my third best friend. Again. And we are not talking. Again. And this "childish" decision was taken by me. Again. I repeat the whole 'Lets not talk' chorus over and over so many times, I wonder if it matters to the Third Best Friend anymore. But whatever, I don't care what the TBF thinks about me. I think. I hope.