The demon and the dork

And a knife to drive into the dork.
By the time she's back
The dorks off.
Nothing the table lacks
The dinner be so waited
is far off unbaited.
So is the story of the demon and dork
An if she comes back
pitch your fork.
For the demon will be back,
And she may eat up the dork.

Bro's Before Ho's

(Written way back. Reposting coz many of the bro's have still to implement this. Ladies do not feel bad about this as this is not intended to be disrespectful to you. Intended to be disrespectful to the Bro's ...)
So often has the article one been quoted in the travails of history than I care to think about.If you have any doubts then you can enlighten yourself by reading the Bro’s code.

St. Barnabas Stinson said so and there ain’t a exception to the universal rule.As has been seen so often lately, the article one has been loosely interpreted and thus I think a few clarifications have to be added.

1. At no point in a binge drinking night out can a bro leave another bro in the lurch without a cheers. It is considered to be a cardinal sin to leave a bro waiting destitute.
2. At no point during the above said night out a bro is supposed to talk to the ho for more than the time required to empty half a peg or three gulps of beer. The time in waiting for the other bro’s should be suitable compensated by buying the next two rounds of alcohol.
3. The bro with the ho is not supposed to talk about the emotional disposition of other bro’s to the ho. The only exception to the rule is if the ho is a prospective bro and wingman.
4. A bro is allowed to take the side of the ho in case the ho is present. Under no circumstances is the bro allowed to take the ho’s side in case two or more bro’s disagree on the same (in absentia of the ho duh)!
5. On no account is the bro to sideline a bro’s plan that involves multiple bro’s to just be with the ho. This violates article one in the multiple.
6. In case the bro has to go pink for the ho, he is not to expect another bro to recognize him till the course of the pink interval of life has ended. Understanding emotional patches is not the bro’s job. It is our job to get you drunk and get hooked up. 
7. A bro is not supposed to spoil pink. Pink as in the color, so beloved on ho's. Period. (The only exception to the rule being, if the bro is supporting a cause like breast cancer)

PS: the above is meant for the people that are comfortable with the bro's code.In case you find this offending the planet of Venus would welcome you for cuddling.

PPS: Ladies are advised to take the content in moderation and are welcome to call this indivizual a misogynist pig. What ho!

Population control ...

For a nation of a billion people , to have reached that number , imagine the effort, that we Indians put in to create so many naked frolicking tiny Indians. And we still can't teach our kids sex?

    They say the cat has nine lives.Coincidence that the human gestation period is nine months? To put the things into perspective our watchman's wife has been pregnant whenever I have seen the poor lady.And from the human sizes rolling all around the floor, it seems; they have been at it for a long time.What bums me out is how and where ? Not to get too crass about it but, we Indians as a collective soul would certainly crack a record for being at it. Indian culture is all about having sex and not having to talk about it. World take heed ! If this phenomenon were ever to made public a lot many disgraced westerners with their post-renaissance intelligentsia would die to take the proverbial nine lives in India.Freud, I think just rolled over in his grave. 
  
   What bums me out about us Indians is; for the extremely large populace so much enjoying sex, how do we let the women be pregnant for lot of the time? This basically limits the time, the dominant male populace can enjoy.If someone can batter the fact into the woolly hare brains of pastoral India, that I guess would be the best contraceptive India can ever think to have. That might seem sadistic on my part to suggest such a gross measure but I guess giving multiple births might not be as good. And I guess if the women weren't pregnant all the time, there would be little lesser collateral damage.( I actually disgusted myself there. Whew !)

  The weirdest thing that comes out it seems India needs to have more sex to create less babies. Logic eh!

One night at hustler's Part 1

I concede I feel tongue tied with the irrational female species of humanity, but vocal infirmity is a new low I may have to contend for myself.Here we are acting normal in a not so normal place.The heights of ineptitude is trying to look not like a person who frequents this place.In the due course I was proven to be a Hustler virgin due to being normal.Huh that's a nice epithet to get from a girl who seems to take joy in my condition.She didn't give me moments of respite throughout is needless to say.


Okay here I am with my JD and ice, acting non-wide eyed with the girl gradually undressing at the pole.How normal ! Acting interested in the folk who goggle wide eyed would label me something unwarranted.So I am forced to gaze on screen.'Your friend seems quiet',drifts into my aural sense.Thank goodness I can listen!Too happy with the achievement I miss the rest of the conversation. That smile puts me back to my peg and ahem my place.Hello give me some more time.Time I mean without you on my knees with a most comforting view.Easy tiger!(Tiger huh ..what an inspiring name)


She drifts off and I find that I can breathe too.After so scintillating a encounter, other scantily clad , well versed specimens come parading.I am at my devastating best.Crude and brunt replies are what I pride myself in.So the first wave subsides.But relentlessness is something we need to learn from our better halves.The next wave makes me wonder.Here comes the alter of Socrates.The artificiality makes me sick.The fake lines.The praise of grisly creatures.But hello Socrates , if you wanted a fair conversation why not try out a normal place.I feel enlightened.Buddha must have felt the same; on an entirely different plane though.

So I have decided to take the plunge.My arch nemesis is back.This time talking buisness.For heaven sakes damn you girl.Don't you realise with your clothes you make me so uncomfortable ! I decide that talking with eyes would be the safest option.I nod my head.Anyways I was pretty unsure of my vocal chords responding to my distressed call.I choose another girl.Did I choose or went with the flow.Heh that is for you to decide!
Hand in hand or should I say cheek on cheek i march to the temple of insanity or should I say ....
To be continued.....

Western urinal and Indian Weddings

The concept of a western urinal is good. Provided you don't happen to be anywhere near to a Indian wedding and morbidity has taken toll of you to such an extent that you have decided to wear something resembling a Indian Kurta. For such matters western urinals and Indian weddings are a disaster in the offing.

Imagine you are the urinal trying to do what the gods have ordained for you at this importune moment.The bladders are loaded to the point of detonation with a very short fuse.The concept of automatic discharge with your pants on has been obliterated the day you passed the potty sessions back in infancy. Decency says you have to do it the naked primal way with due adjustments to your hang. And you hit the first roadblock.

Ground check to see whether the person beside is more interested in his life or is looking around.Then you proceed to pick the kurta to an extent where anndiems cannot discharge a heady and smelly patch on it, all the time looking funny like a kangaroo with an up turned pouch.

The next logical steps would be to untie the umbilical cords of your pajama. For some hellish reason, you wish you are a sailor adept at knots. Also you wish you hadn't tied that knot looking at that gorgeous picture of whoever adorns the dark walls of your sanctum .In the mean while you are enlightened on the joys of life , about karma and crap IE basically how it feels to be happy.

With the success of all your endeavors you loosen the knot. Now with a careful estimation lower you pajama so as to avoid butt exposure to the nosy bastard who came behind you at this very moment. The levels of estimation is the one thing one feels that beats the heady astrophysics. And then the karma, the absolute nirvana , the action that liberates the chained and maimed soul from the manifestation of Lucifer himself.

That done and thank heavens for that the same reverse engineering works wonders.Think of the lass of your sanctum, mess up with the knot and close the exposed parts of the bodice. Run out of the purgatory and sincerely hope you never wear an Indian Formal to Indian Wedding with an western urinal.