50k – The Art Of Getting Drunk! :)

drunkThe scientists at the MirrorCracked Labs wish to thank all the esteemed readers who have carried this blog past the 50,000 hit milestone. Since it’s humble beginnings in March of this year, it has taken nine months to reach here, and every single person who’s read this blog is much appreciated.

Being the brains behind this outfit, I have decided to dedicate this celebratory post to all of you. We, at the MC Labs decided to get drunk on Saturday night to celebrate this milestone, and in the stupor, made a few life-altering decisions.

Every person has a threshold value when it comes to drinking, and it follows a close relationship with the person’s body mass. If you weigh anything less than the chair on which you are now sitting, then you’ll get high by the fourth mug of beer. I weigh close to a thousand pounds, and it takes a lot to get me drunk. πŸ˜€

It all started with a simple phone call – I was bored to death at home when my friend called me and said, “Nikhil, you’re getting drunk today.”

I was a bit confused. “I am?” I asked.

“Yeah. Purple Haze. Kormangala. 2:30. Be there.”

So, that was it. I knew it would be a crazy session, and with the blog stats crossing the elusive milestone, I had a reason to celebrate. So, off I went, despite bad traffic, dirty roads, terrible heat and a reluctant bike.

Slowly and steadily, I built up from a large shot of scotch to 4 large shots of scotch and 5 beers, and promptly crossed the borderline of being tipsy and being punch drunk. I started talking nonsense, screamed out the songs that the DJ was playing, swayed dangerously on the bike while driving and threw up thrice in a coffee shop.

Yeah, I threw up thrice. My friends had dragged me to the coffee shop for some hot, strong black coffee and one sip of the bitter fluid, and I rushed to the men’s room and… well, you get the picture. πŸ˜€

So, don’t bother opening the champagne for MirrorCracked’s success – I did that already and then some! πŸ˜€

Thanks everyone for giving me an excuse to get drunk! Cheers!! πŸ˜€

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The Day I Almost Died…

Well, not exactly. But I came dangerously close to losing my life. πŸ˜€

I live a dangerous life. My job takes me all the remote corners of the city and more often that not, I end up rubbing the wrong people the wrong way. No, I don’t give back rubs for a living, but something close. Whenever I fail to make my clients look like God’s gifts to mankind, and end up looking bad in public, they scream bloody murder and run behind me with guns, knifes and swords, baying for my blood. A few days ago, I almost regretted being in this business. πŸ˜€

Everyone would probably agree that the word “jobs” does not mean “people”, literally speaking. This schism between the two words is enhanced if they are used in a sentence like this: “We’re offering jobs…” and “We’re offering people…” πŸ˜€

Journalism is losing its charm in this country and when this happens, the quality of people entering the field drastically comes down. Exceptions aside, all the new kids in journalism are very green, with loads to learn, starting with the difference in meaning between the two sentences above! When a multinational company’s CEO is quoted as saying, “We’re offering people…” I tend to get a bit nervous and fear for my life. The moment I read this quote in the paper that morning, I gulped and crouched under the table, and sure enough, ten minutes later, the hits started pouring in. πŸ˜€

“Whom do we offer PEOPLE to??”
“We offer PEOPLE??”
“What sort of a joke is this??”
“Where do you stay??”

and so on…

The CEO wanted me killed. The mafia had a gleam in their eye, wondering about who it was that encroached on their human trafficking business. The MD of the company wanted me killed. My friend, whom I was doing a favor by promising him a quote by the CEO of the company (it was technically his client) wanted me killed, fired and then shot. The bloody journalist was “not reachable” on his phone. πŸ˜€

This is the last time, I thought to myself, that I help out people outside my clientΓ¨le. I’ll stick to my own circle and face the music on my own, with the number of people baying for my blood reduced by half, well under the panic limit. πŸ˜€