As I Sit In My Hotel Room

Yes. I’m in a hotel. I’ve checked into a seedy hotel and the room looks hauntingly familiar for all the wrong reasons. I think I’ve seen many a porn movie shot in this very room. I can’t be too sure about this, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Why the sudden turn or events, you might wonder. Why did a guy like me, who has such a lovely house in the suburbs of Mumbai have to check into a seedy motel at 9 in the night on a weekday, you might ponder. Well, even if you don’t wonder and ponder these mysteries, I’ll enlighten you.

It all began two months ago when my landlady turned stupid.

She noticed that the power company had failed to deduct the monthly electricity bill from her bank account, and being stupid as she is, she thought it was her good fortune that the power company forgot to charge her. Little did she realize that it was a major oversight on her part that her bank had stopped the automatic clearing of bills. She had the same ‘good fortune’ last month, apparently, and she was over the moon. She had saved so much money!

So, I come back home at 8 this evening, tired, drenched in my own sweat, reeking of the day’s exploits and turn the keys in my front door and enter a dark abyss. I turn on the light switch to no avail. I panic a bit. I turn on other switches all over the house and I’m still covered in a thick layer of darkness. I panic, stumble blindly from one room to another, screaming for help and trying to get the darkness off my body. No, I’mΒ exaggerating. I have a flair for drama and I get carried away sometimes. I get my torch and find out that the power company has ripped away the fuse and left a notice in it’s place. It’s a notice that’s in their letterhead and looks very ominous.

“Dear Cheapo,

Pay your light bill in the next 15 days. Or else…

Sincerely,

Power Company”

Or something to that effect. I call my landlady and explain the situation to her. She then realizes that her ‘good fortune’ was actually a serious blunder. She apologized profusely and told me a hundred times that she’ll rectify the issue tomorrow and begged me not to make a big issue of this. I reluctantly agreed and told her that I’d dropped the idea of driving to her house to spend the night.

So, here I am, almost in the middle of the night, checked in to the nearest hotel I could walk to, and I sit here on the chair, where I’m vaguely sure that many a pretty chick has done it doggy style. The creepy blue lights and a transparent bathroom add to the cheesyness.

Yes. The bathroom / toilet has a TRANSPARENT wall. Fuck you very much, landlady.

Transparent Bathroom
The Transparent Bathroom
Cheesy Blue Lights
Look Familiar, Porn Fans?

 

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Time Sheets!!

ecently, the concept of time sheets was introduced at work, and since then, it’s been utter chaos. Well, almost. We are supposed to document each minute we spend in office, fill everything out in an excel sheet, explain what we did and which client we worked on, and at the end of the day, send it across to the team leads. Well, I thought this was a cool idea, and would be an impetus for people to actually do some quality work. But things didn’t go that well with the others.

Some people are vehemently opposed to the idea of documenting their daily routine. One guy in particular, whose name I shall withhold for personal protection, claimed that the time sheet was the management’s way of “spying on us” and that he was “always a rebel and would continue to rebel against everything!” πŸ˜€

There was a huge discussion in office about this concept, with members from each team present and voicing their apprehensions and doubts and a few positives. I was sitting back, enjoying them argue and scream at each other. Here’s a little excerpt from the debate:

A: Hey, I think the timesheet concept is cool, and this will help all teams know where they are slacking and how many actual man-hours are being dedicated to each client.

B: No!! This is a disgrace!! I will not enter my time sheet!!

C: Why not?

A: Yeah, why not?

B: I don’t want to be spied on! I do quality work and I will show it in my outcome! I can’t sit and document how I spent my day! No!!

C: Well, I don’t –

B: And moreover, this is a creative industry, not a technical one or a log factory, where every minute can be properly accounted for. I will not do it!!

C: Actually –

A: Hello boss, listen. How will the management come to know that you’ve worked for the proper eight hours that you’re paid for? This is the only way!

B: No!! I will not do it!

C: In that –

A: You’re being stubborn!

B: You’ve seen my friendship, now you’ll see my hatred!!

C: Can I say something?

A, B: Sure

C: I didn’t pee today because I was standing near the printer thinking of how to get my work completed. Because of this timesheets, I can’t think straight.

…….

Well, this went on for a few more minutes before B threatened A and C went to the loo. I was sitting there, laughing my ass off at this hilarious conversation! Ever since I’ve been working, I’ve had to do timesheets and so, this concept isn’t new to me. But, there’s a logic in all this debating – we are in a creative field, with more time spent on thinking new ways to service our clients, and there’s no way we can quantify creativity. However, I think there’s a limit to being a rebel. Rebelling just for sake of doing it is just being plain stubborn! But resistance to change is a lousy excuse, anyway! πŸ˜€

The Funny Guy! :)

I have recently been awarded the dubious distinction of being Mr. Funny Guy by my friends. I should be honored, and to an extent, I am. How this title came about and why I am not really satisfied with it will be apparent after you read this whole post. πŸ™‚

It was a dark and gloomy Wednesday evening, around six, when I decided to wrap things up in the office and go all the way to Yelahanka, where my brother was waiting in the police station after his bike had been towed away. I had to go there and pay the fine of 600 bucks to bail the bike out. When I left, the rain had just about abated and I made quick time in traveling the 30-odd miles to Yelahanka. We both got drenched on the way back, but that seems to be a minor point of little or no interest to the readers, who’re probably well accustomed to my bouts of bad luck. I met a few friends for dinner that night and decided to liven up the night with a joke.

“Okay, people! I am going to tell you a joke!” I announced. Everyone fell silent and listened intently, being aware of my reputation for spinning a lovely yarn. I was actually trying to impress my friend’s cute cousin who’d joined us. She was sitting next to me and seemed to be hanging on my every word. I desperately wanted to impress her and make her smile. So, I dug into my vast database of corny jokes and pulled out the best one!:D

“There was this scientist,” I began, “and he had just invented a biologically-engineered refrigerator. The fridge was so cool (no puns intended!) that it could order groceries online and make instant breakfast. It ran on some pretty cool DNA-computing circuits and was state-of-the-art! It was more intelligent than the most intelligent computers of the day. So, this scientist was selected for the Nobel Prize that year.”

I looked at the cute girl, paused for effect, and smiled. Everyone on the table was gripped. “The Nobel Committee waned him to fly over to Stockholm and demonstrate his bio-engineered refrigerator. So, this scientist rented a single engine Cessna plane and started his journey. Halfway through the flight, the single engine died and the plane began to crash. The pilot screamed, “Hey scientist! We are too heavy and the plane can’t handle it! You have to throw your fridge out!”

“No way!” screamed the scientist. “I have given my whole life for this invention!”

“Look, fella! If we don’t throw it overboard, we’re all going to die. It’s too heavy. You have your research data with you anyway. It’s just a question of assembling it again. Please understand!”

“So, this scientist, after careful deliberation, opened the door with a heavy heart and threw the fridge out.”

I stopped talking and took a sip of water and leaned back with a smile. Everyone on the table were leaning forward, intently waiting. “Then what happened?” asked the cute girl next to me.

“Nothing,” I said. “That’s the end of the story. ”

When they all realized that I had conned them, it was too late. The expression on their faces was a million dollar one. I started laughing out so loud that I drowned their angry retorts and groans and the hotel manager came up, glared at me and said, “Sir, please don’t laugh so loud. You’re disturbing the other guests!”

I continued laughing in a whisper and the other people around the table were ready to drown me in my tomato soup. “Okay guys, I am sorry,” I said. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll tell you a better joke this time and I swear on the graves of all the men, women and children who died building this hotel that you will not be disappointed.”

My reputation as a funny guy preceded me and they all agreed to give me one more chance. “Last chance,” said the cute girl next to me. “I’ll slap you if you do this again.”

I wanted to tell her that I would do anything to get her to slap me because that would mean she would have to touch me. Oh, she was so cute!! πŸ˜€

“Okay, get ready,” I announced and cleared my throat. “There’s this beautiful lake in the middle of nowhere and in the center of the lake is a small islet on which the most beautiful flower is growing. The lake is infested with crocodiles and sharks and piranhas and just about any man-eating critter nature has created. On the banks of the lake, a man and a woman are sitting, cuddled up. They are very much in love with each other. The woman asks the man to swim across and get that flower for her. He protests and says that he’s going to killed trying to cross the lake. “Is this how much you love me?” asks the girl, very depressed. So, the man takes offense and says, “If you want me to prove my love to you, then I will cheat death and get you the flower.” He strips down and starts swimming. He battles all the critters that come in his way and finally reaches the middle of the lake, plucks the flower and swims back, again battling nature’s fury. He reaches the shore and climbs out holding the flower. And then, right in front of the woman’s eyes, he dies!”

I paused for effect. “Why did he die?” I asked, looking around at everyone.

They were all listening to my story so intently that one of them immediately said, “The flower was poisonous”

“No,” I said.

“Something attacked him!”

“No”

“He had a heart attack?”

“No”

The cute girl then said, “Tell me, tell me! Please!”

I couldn’t ignore her cries. Oh, and her voice was so sweet. So, I told them the answer – “The fridge fell on him!”

For two minutes there was complete silence and I inched closer to the cute girl and turned my head at an angle so that she could get a good whack at my cheek. But to my surprise, she burst out laughing and so did the others. They liked the stupid joke! I was so annoyed!

So, that’s how I got the title and that’s why I am not too excited about it! She didn’t slap me! Now, I don’t know when I am going to see her next. Damn! 😦

Cover me up, Scotty!

OutlookIndia has always been a very conservatively-confused country. No, that didn’t sound right. Let me try that again. India has always been a country with conservatively-confused people in power. Yeah, that sounds about right. Don’t get me wrong – I’m a politically-neutral, wardrobe-indifferent, optically-challenged, mentally-blessed, verbally-strong guy – but some things that these politicians do just baffles me and makes me want to stand them in the middle of a crowd, strip them naked and laugh at them all day long, like Nelson in the Simpsons, “Haw! Haw!”

Every sport needs cheerleaders – not only to please the weary sportsmens’ eyes, but also to appease the gawkers and the single men (and certain women!) in the crowd. Indian politics is very insecure when it comes to scantily dressed cheerleaders waving away those frillies in the air and showing off their generously endowed ..er.. wardrobe! (Does that sound right!?)

They allow these lovely cheerleaders to flaunt themselves one day and the next, they are banned and are ordered to “Cover up or Pack up!” The next day, they’re back, doing what they do best! Isn’t this a bit insane? Sticking to a decision is the hardest thing any Indian politician can do, and especially when it comes to near-naked dancing beauties, I’m not surprised by the vacillation! πŸ˜€

After all, who wants to watch a game of football or cricket without the goddesses of ..er.. (F)rock dancing and cheering the home side on? No wonder they charge entertainment taxes on game tickets nowadays! πŸ˜€

I know a lot of people wouldn’t have an opinion on this issue, but I just had to get it out – can’t hold back political jokes anymore! We’ve crossed the line! πŸ™‚

Haw! Haw!

Beers, Laughs and Wordpress Themes!

Thursday night was a blur – it was May 1st, Labor Day, and I was working hard in office till almost 8 pm. If that wasn’t ironic enough, then try this: I had to attend a press conference the next day and I was supposed to go in complete formal wear and be on my best behavior – so, I got drunk that night, celebrating Labor Day and went to the press conference in an unpressed shirt and carrying a mega-hangover! I know a lot of people will read this and judge me and call me an irresponsible jerk who doesn’t deserve to be employed, but in my defense, I didn’t plan on getting drunk and I don’t have formal wear! I wonder if this argument will hold up in court or if I’ll be thrown in a mental asylum to be evaluated. Hmm… πŸ˜€

Anyway, that night, I met Rags and Panday – two of my closest friends – and we went to this place called Tavern. The place was quite empty when we reached at 8.30 pm and by the time we ordered the second pitcher of cold draught, the place was overflowing and the music drowned our voices. We laughed and laughed and remembered all the strange things that have happened to each one of us, and wished time could stand still…

By the end of the night, this is how we looked:

Rags looked quite sane because all she drank was two mugs, constantly being paranoid about her health cehck-up as part of the Australian Visa thingy! And Panday is a regular fish-tank when it comes to booze, and we both gulped down most of it. I felt so buzzed that I decided to change my wordpress theme!!!

Ok, here’s where logic is thrown out of the window. I was high on alcohol and in that dazed state of mind, I realized that my wordpress theme looked gay-ish. πŸ˜€

I’d better change it!! So, here’s the effect! A new theme that’s here to stay, hopefully as long as my old, faithful Light did.

Akhil and Chucks, if you both are reading this, then we missed you both big time!

Cheers!!! πŸ˜€