The dragon called Vertex!

Gautam Sehgal.
That's the name of the stinkin', cowardly, ball-less manager in Vertex. You want to know why he ain't got no balls? Fine.
Saturday night.December 17th,2005. Private party for Vertex going on at Odyssey, Sahara mall. Restricted entry.
We arrive at Sahara Mall at about 11p.m.Mr. Junior goes into Odyssey for his party, me, JX and another girl go into "Last Chance" to pass time. a half-hour later we get bored of that DJ. we go upto the Odyssey bouncer, 200 bucks for each of us, a total of Rs. 600 goes into his pocket and all three are into the private party.
Now the fun begins.
One of the girls in our group gets molested while dancing, she went up to the Sehgal cunt and complained, he laughed and says, "I'll look into it." 10 minutes later, this girl gets molested again by the exact same guy who then pushes off from the party. The Sehgal motherfucker comes out, looks around briefly, and makes to walk back into the party. Me and JX got pissed off cos this girl is like a sister. So we confronted Gautam Sehgal's chikna ass. Part of the conversation went as follows:
JX: "Sehgal, I hate you. Vertex is one of the best places to work in, but it's people like you who spoil it."
Gautam Sehgal: "Sue me.I hate you also, and i don't give a shit what you think. you're nothing to me.
JX: "I know what you do in Vertex. All the data-fudging, screwing up people's performance ratings. Everyone knows what you're upto."
Gautam Sehgal: "Why don't you back away. Talk to me with respect."
JX: " I am. I am."
Gautam Sehgal: "You can't touch me, so just get out of here."
Me: "We can't touch you in here. come out and we'll show you."
Gautam Sehgal: "You bastard. Why don't you stay out of this."
Me: "Why are you abusing?"
Gautam Sehgal: "Shutup and get out of here.JX, get out of here before i fuck your happiness."
Me: "Right here. RIght now. Come to the parking lot."
Gautam Sehgal: "How dare you!!"
This is when he catches hold of JX's collar. Me and JX, both caught hold of his sweater, tearing it before some other guys separated us.
meanwhile, Gautam Sehgal's testicles had developed siblings who had surrounded him wanting to know what happened. one of these Fleshy Mounds suddenly jumped at us.
Fleshy Mound: "You guys don't know me. I'm a Jat."
I'm sorry, but we just looked at him. What the fuck is a line like that supposed to do?Cure us of constipation or some other body function?

Anyway, chat finished. JX and me head downstairs while Mr. Junior takes his girlfriend and the girl who got molested out to our car ahead of us. downstairs, in the lobby, JX recognised this senior guy and went up to talk to him.
Now JX is this really casual guy who has seen everything that life has to offer, from girlfriends, orgies, life-threatening accidents, birth, death,blood, dope, pain, gain, everything you could think of. So to see him this passionate about something means it's really big.
Anyway, i stand behind JX as he talks to this senior in the polished lobby of Sahara Mall. All of a sudden, Gautam Sehgal gets out of the lift with 10 other guys who surround us from behind. JX didn't notice and continued talking. Unprovoked, one of the managers called Xavier reaches out and slaps JX from behind. Before i can do anything, Gautam Sehgal walks up to me.
You've got to understand this is one of the ugliest, fair, fat, arrogant slobs you've ever seen. So i thought he was coming up to me to shout or something. He just reaches out and slaps me and as if on cue, 6 , yes, that's right, all 6 of his newly developed testicles pounce upon me. I started swinging wildly at any flesh i could reach but wasn't any match for 6 morons and 1 brain. the other 4 guys pounce upon an unsuspecting JX and corner him.
These guys have the advantage of numbers,so they overpower us and force us out of the lobby. meanwhile Mr.Junior(who had gone to drop his gf to the car) ran over and stopped those guys.
Those guys were such sissies that not a single punch was thrown. Bloody hell. 12 on two and we stillcame out with not a scratch. those morons of Gautam Sehgal didn't know how to fight. all they did was slap us like prostitutes repeatedly. If it weren't that we were outnumbered , Gautam Sehgal would have had the "Arse kicking" of his life.
We hung around outside Sahara mall uptil 4 that morning waiting for that mama's boy to come out, but there was no sign of his gay ass leaving the security of that building.
Gautam Sehgal, I'll tell you this much. You're one of those typical, corrupt North Indians who will resort to anything to make sure that you stay on top, at anyone's and anything's expense. You have spoilt innumerable people's lives at Vertex and ruined countless other's days on the job.

Your secrets out, asswipe. You're a marked man. If we don't break your face and rip you another asshole, you can change my name. We will get you and that's a promise. And when we do, what i'd suggest knowing what JX and Mr. Junior(state-level football players) have done to people, get in touch with those doctor's in France who did that face-transplant operation. 'Cause you're going to need one of those.

You stinkin' fat-faced, penis-loving, ass-kissing, ballless, selfish, gutless, brainless coward.
You're Fucked man. Big-time. and any one of us can screw you're happiness single-handedly.
Gautam Sehgal-Vertex's bastard.

Typical Madrasi

There once was a man from Madras,
Whose balls were made of brass.
When rubbed together
They produced stormy weather
And lightning flew out of his arse.



there was another man named Dave,
who kept a dead whore in a cave.
He said,"I admit.
I am a bit of a shit.
But think of all the money i save!"

The secret of the Muslim afterlife

Mohammed Mahmoud Mahmoud gripped the controls with a fervour that turned his knuckles a marbled brown. Beside him, his Brother Ackham bin Al'Din chanted loudly. The Quranic verses soaked through the cockpit with a strengthening power that was nothing short of magical. "We are changing history, my brother" he yelled, "The world of the infidel is at an end." As the looming grey face of the World Trade Center's Northern tower obscured his view, Mahmoud joined his brothers chant. He felt the shock of impact, then blackness. +++

Mohammed Mahmoud Mahmoud woke, but did not open his eyes. The subtle sound of a sitar, playing with a muffled twang as if from behind a curtain, fell to his ears. The soft scent of vanilla wafted over his skin and he felt soft pilows underneath his body. After absorbing the essence of relaxation, he slowly opened his eyes. He smiled. Couched before him, in a low pit, his gaze passed over the reclining shapes of dozens of gorgeous women. The embodiments of female beauty, each woman was clothed in the lightest cloth. The soft wind that carried the incense through the room fluttered their veils. "Allah be praised" Mahmoud whispered. "72 virgins!" The beauties smiled at him, and some began to crawl forward, oozing seduction. +++





God had his finger through the grip of a pair of scissors and was seeing how fast he could spin them around when the pitter-patter of sandals grabbed his attention. His door slammed open and he recognised his visitor just by the laborious way in which he drew breath. "What the fuck is going on?" yelled Jesus, wiping a thin slick of sweat from his brow. God spun around in his chair to face Jesus, and cocked an eyebrow. "What?" he intoned. "The pilot!" Jesus screamed, holding out his hands "the fucking pilot! You gave him 72 virgins after he killed all those people!" "Oh, did I?" said God, smiling, as if he had only just realised. "Don't fuck with me, Dad." warned Jesus, shaking his heavy locks over his face, "What is going on?" "Take a seat, Jesus" said God, patting the chair beside him, "I'll show you what happens to Muslim extremists and their 72 virgins". +++





1 year later, Jesus sat beside God and slapped his knee, spilling popcorn everywhere. "AAAAAAAAHAHAHAAHhahahahahahah" he guffawed. God picked up some of the fallen popcorn and popped it in his mouth. "See," he said to Jesus, who was trying not to choke with laughter. "Fucking hell, fucking hell, fucking hell, THAT'S FUNNY!" he roared, his face beet-red. "Not bad, hey" said God, leaning back. On the viewfinder, Mohammed Mahmoud Mahmoud was nearly in tears. In the background, two women were fighting each other while a third stood nose-to-nose with Mahmoud and screamed at his face "And if you don't clean up some of these pillows i swear... oh you just wait and see, Mister" A new noise emerged, that of a baby crying. Soon, it was joined by the screeching of what sounded like hundreds of babies. "MAHMOUD" the cry echoed through the small pit, "MAHMOUD I NEED DIAPERS" The voiced was soon joined by others, making a shrill cacophony that ripped the atmosphere like a blade. "Mahmoud i need baby oil" "Mahmoud, Abdul is hungry" "Mahmoud, where's my necklace?" "THIS IS NOT HOW IT WAS MEANT TO BE" wailed Mahmoud, pounding his head against the ground. With a small pop, God appeared in front of him. "Hey, buddy" said God, casually flipping a coin from one hand to the other. "Wha... wha... what is going on?" choked Abdul. "Well," said God, still flipping the coin, "for your crimes against humanity, i thought a fitting 0punishment would be 1 year with 72 virgins..." "Yes, yes" said Mahmoud, his face lightening "...then eternity with 72 women." God's laughter as he disappeared was masked only by Mahmoud's screams of absolute agony.

I am afraid of Britney Spears!!

Why I hate Rani Mukherjee.
She looks like a cow.
She's got the thighs of a banyan tree.
She's got the voice of a Siberian Husky(The kind found drawing toboggans through wintry Arctic climes on Discovery Channel documentaries.)
She's got the hair of a balding cocker spaniel.
She's got the cheeks of a double jointed mongolian pumpkin.
She's got the cheeks(facial) of a bulldong...sorry....bulldog on a high protein diet.
She's about as tall as Mini Me.(Think Austin Powers, people.)


For further entertainment, substitute above mentioned name with any of the following in any order.
Raveena Tandon, Tabu, Deepal Paw, Nipple Khanna, Madhuri Bigshit, Juhi Chawla, Preity Zinta, Urmila Machodkar, Laila My-arse, etc...etc!!

Du Hast!

Just found out that one of the guys who hired me as a copywriter in this agency hates my guts. And Why??Cos i turned out to be not as creative as he thought i would be. HELLO!!!Creativity is subjective, u tit.
Or maybe you didn't realise that. I should've guessed. It's probably because of those pants you wear. Research has proven that if you wear your pants too close to your nipples, the fork cuts off circulation to your dick, and increases the blood flow to the chest cavity, thereby inhibiting your sex life as well as prohibiting proper brain functioning. Also, when you pull the pants way upto your chest, you look like a clod which will result in unusual cravings for bovine feed such as grass and plastic bags.
It also tends to drive away all forms of female life in the vicinity-- as in the only other female in the agency, who resigned because of you yesterday, as well as your wife, with whom you have yet to bear child despite being married and horny for the best part of the last 28 years.
This style of dressing does tend to appeal to wannabe Art directors, who copy the moustaches of more famous and successful people such as Piyush Pandey, thus qualifying himself to be know as the next Pandu.
Caution: sending above two mentioned characters for nude calendar shoot will entail untold misery and harassment for the agency.
You have been forewarned.(Now i've got to get the agency guys to read this.)

Fatboy Slim is Fucking in heaven!!

stupid fucking people. everyone's fucking stupid. fucked up bloggers with their penchant for writing poetry. crazy fucking poetry. all those fuckers are just wannabe cabaret dancers...trying to get anyone to take a good look at their fucking goods...in the hope that some fucker will like what he sees.stop writing motha fucking shit. no ones gives a flying fuck. we're not all fucked up voyeurs. we ain't gonna read it.
i don't know why the fuck i'm going on with the "we"??it's just me. i don't wanna read your fuckshit. i want to flush it the fuck down the toilet. it's boring. it's stupid. and it's not got no fuckin' content. who gives a volcanic fuck if your friend died?or broke up with you to sleep with your foster mom?who just had a sex change operation??fuck this shit!!get a fucking life. unlike me.

cos all i do if go to fucking office and come the fuck back. sit on the net till it's too wildly fucking late and then i don't get enough fucking shuteye to get up in time for office..which starts the whole fucking cycle all over again.
everyone. everything. including this fucking post. life's a bitch. it fucks everyone. no one dies a fucking virgin. which means that sex is fucking overrated. cos whether you do it with a guy or a girl, with an animal or machine, you'll still get some almighty fuckin, whether you like it or not. whether you're prepared for it or not.
MORAL: one condom is better than two. but chocochip icecream rules the whole fucking planet.

P.S. read this and fuckin' weep cos this post's cummin' off as soon as i think up something to post.
Fuck the peace.

thing's i'll never do/see/whatever!!!

1.Watch another Hindi movie in a cinema.(or anywhere else, if i can help it.)

2.Listen to another Hindi film son.(or any Hindi song for that matter--love songs, all of them[sic])

3.Play professional football for a state level club.

4. Drive a Formula 1 car.

5.Meet Aishwarya Rai.

6.Swim.

7.Weight over 65 kilos.(try as hard as i might)

8.Be a big shot creative director at a big shot ad agency.(i'm trying a variation on reverse psychology here.)

9. Stop finding people's discomfort and pain funny.

10. Get over my fetish for women's noses.(not boobs, not asses nor legs.)

11.Ever stop liking Third Eye Blind.

12.Stop liking cricket.

13.Go to G.B. Road.

14.Be able to finish a whole quarter bottle of vodka.

15.Play in a rock band.(how i wish that weren't true.)

16.Be able to love Rebecca the way she does me.

17.Ever get in touch with Nitya again.

18.Have Brett Lee's perfect bowling action.

19.Watch Them Clones at Glastonbury...live.(Ever!!!)

How's it going to be?When you don't know me...

The Guys' Rules
At last, a guy who has taken the time to write this down.We always hear "the rules" From the female side. Now here are the rules from the male side.These are all numbered "1" ON PURPOSE!

1. Men are NOT mind readers.

1. Learn to work the toilet seat.You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.

1. Shopping is NOT a sport.And no, we are never going to think of it that way.

1. Crying is blackmail.

1. Ask for what you want.Let us be clear on this one:Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work!Just say it!

1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.

1. Come to us with a problem ONLY if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.

1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 Days.

1. If you won't dress like the Victoria's Secret girls, don't expect us to act likesoap opera guys.

1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us.

1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one .

1. You can either ask us to do something Or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.

1. Whenever possible, Please say whatever you have to say during commercials.

1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, NOT A color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.

1. If it itches, it will Be scratched. We do that.

1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," We will act like nothing's wrong.We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.

1. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, Expect an answer you don't want to hear.1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear Is fine...Really.

1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as cars, motorcycles, shooting or our hobby.

1. I am in shape. Round IS a shape!

1. Thank you for reading this. Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight; but did you know men really don't mind that? It's like camping.

Pass this to as many men as you can to give them some guide lines.Pass this to as many women as you can to give them an insight to the truth. Not the truth as it exists in their twisted universe, but the actual MALE truth.