scribbles from seattle V

This world we live in is a funny place; in fact an extraordinarily hilarious one.Every moment is a riot and I am not talking about the ones where a few somewhat angry gents decide to practice their throwing and pyro skills.Honestly, there are times when I am just walking down the street, minding my own business, ogling at the stunning Seattle ladies,listening to some obscure(and obscene) 80's glam rock group (its def leppard) and I just crack up for no good reason. And no I am not sane, but thats not the point.

The fact of the matter ladies and gents is that we all are 'hella' corny!

Just like the girl with the Mark Knopfler underwear, who sits behind me in class( about time I talked to her, I love the Dire Straights) or the dodgy barista, who offered to put extra whip cream in my morning americano, with remnants of shaving cream on his face and ears.

But enough with these dismal attempts at humour. What with Sachin Tendulkar's orgasmic innings, Craig Ferguson's twitters, Ferderer's constant endeavours to become something more than the greatest legend ever, Tiger Wood's sex drive( am I the only who is more jealous than outraged by the whole issue), the British economy(talk about being funny),George Clinton and the Funkadelic crowd (still making booties shake like no one else does), the IPL (Lalit Modi= 100 Kerry Packers + so much more) and America's love for sports that simply baffle me and thus, cannot be cited in this opening crescendo that so typifies the drivel that I constantly subject my extremely limited readership(Tiger probably has slept with more women) to. Lackadaisical E. is back, much more delayed but with a bigger bang (insert a Tiger joke in this space).

Now I know in the previous version of the entries ( I can't believe I am actually assuming somebody read it and more over remembers it) I talked about writing more frequently and what not. But there is a reason why these entries are called Lackadaisical (common, i even spelt my blog's url wrong) and its my job to stick to the theme.

But enough with the narcissist scribbles. The real bones of contention are my erroneous sleeping habits (its 3 am as I type this). But more seriously, terrorism. Now one of the highlights of this quarter is that during spring break I will be on a short and sweet (10 days, thank you quarter system and your daft short breaks) trip back to India. Ofcourse the other highlight was my 21st birthday, but due to a lack of memory of that fateful Friday, thats all I can possibly share. In fact ,if on the 15th of January 2010, you saw a funny looking and a very drunk Indian walking around the U District, please contact the writer and share your account.

But coming back to the point about terrorism and my prospective journey back to the motherland. It really bothers me that because of the inane and insane behaviour of a few zealots cunts(the terrorists and their cretin leaders), folks I call my countrymen cannot enjoy even the smallest pleasures of life like sports or music.

Lets talk about the IPL, the glitzy and quite amazing domestic cricket league that dominates headlines in all cricket playing nations. Its a festival like no other in sports, for about 45 days India comes to a standstill. People go to the gym and just stare at screens; lifting up their expectations instead of weights,discussions in various corporate offices tend to vary between De Villier's last innings or the length of the Bangalore Royal's cheerleaders skirts, even the debates in the Parliament tend to get heated up if the team from the capital city loses and more than anything, it makes India believe in itself and its possibilities. An event of this magnitude and quality is a first for this overpopulated and still largely impoverished nation. And to host it, indigenously, is a matter of pride for millions of people.Lalit Modi, you are a self obsessed and a over confident megalomaniac, but take a bow sir. This cricket fanatic salutes you! But terrorism strikes again and security concerns after threats from many of the aforementioned cunts, has meant that the event is under a cloud. The same goes for the Commonwealth Games and our prospective Olympic bid for 2016.

I would not like to go into details about terrorism and its threats, but its an issue that is personal for every Indian (or for that matter everyone who has suffered from it). But the need of the hour is the belief and the desire to go on with the plans as scheduled. To give up would be a victory the for the cunt- side.

As the vivacious and brilliant Harsha Bhogle wrote is his column:

'In spite of it all, sport needs to exist, to flourish because it is one of the few things that brings a smile through honest efforts; whether it is football in Africa, or cricket in Afghanistan.'

But despite all these slight discrepancies, I am really excited about going back home. Spending Christmas, Diwali,New years and my birthday( pre bar hopping at least) wondering about whats being cooked back home or my dad's next bad pun, makes it momentarily that tinier bit harder (and the next thing you know you wake up with a terrible hangover, in some random girl's bed, smelling like a bottle of jagermeister). But home!

The last winter break of the last decade taught me many things. A few select realisations included that Manhattan is much better explored after 5-6 pints(I get lost there sober, so why not?); for exploring Brooklyn, 7-8 pints( and Grimaldi's pizza, highly recommended); when alone on Christmas eve in NYC with a bottle of wine and left over pizza, watch Lost in Translation; bums in the Bronx are far more fun than the bums in Seattle; when Seattle mistimes the new year fireworks, start a massive rendition of the Bohemian Rhapsody ( makes you less pissed off at the culprits); and well, that the dodgy looking barista at the cafe I have been frequenting for over a year, might be using shaving cream instead of whip cream in my morning americanos.

But all in all, as I look back to the past decade and look forward to the current, I laugh.And you might wonder why? Well that just means that you skipped the beginning of this piece, you cheeky bastards. If not, keep laughing.This corny yet hurting world could use more of that. This fucked up yet hilariously enumerating journey continues...