Kicking off a new segment on brilliance in advertising that really goes unnoticed most of the time. Given the size of the internet, I think this is going to end up like Gina's 'Amusement Calling' series.
Skipping the chit-chat, here we go.
Right, right... As opposed to...??
And before you people start asking, this was for work.
I love freaking out men who are supposedly secure about their sexuality by acting gay. Some of the reactions I've got are similar to the high pitched "Eek! That's a spider! Get it off, get it off, get it off!!!!"
But I've now decided just acting gay is not enough to freak men out. For a limited time only, I've decided to look gay as well. Guys, picture that face sidling up to you and saying, "How you doin'?"
I've had my days of doubt over whether I'd be okay living by myself. I mean, whether I'd be able to manage the making of food for self, keeping the place clean and all that. Now, I can be a lean, mean cleaning machine if I have a little music, so I was never worried about that so much. But I have always wondered about the rest. I mean, I can cook, it's not like I'm going to starve or anything, but, you know? Can I handle the bigger stuff? Will I survive in the long run? I've always been half afraid to think so.
But it's when you suddenly realise you're starving at half past midnight, after having just sent your mother off to sleep 'cause she was nodding off in front of the TV, and fifteen minutes later end up chowing down a triple-egg, mega cheese-heavy omelette, seasoned with oregano and pepper, shallow fried in purified butter till golden brown with chopped tomatoes, chillies, with multi-grain bread drowning in butter on the side, that you start to realise you're going to be okay.
I was sick this weekend past, so I was pretty much at home the whole time. This gave a couple of really old friends a chance to catch up. Seeing how they're such fun, I've decided to let the world meet them through my blog.
Throbber: This delightful little character is the most effervescent of the lot. I met him for the first time when I was something like 11 or 12. What he does best is to reach into my head, and almost by magic, gets these synapses there to dance in a wicked awesome wave formation. And they fire up well for him, too. Out of all the friends you're going to meet, he visits me the most.
Guzzler: This guy is a bunch of fun. Every time he visits, he leaves me slightly off balance. You'll see why he's called that. What he does, essentially, is stuff my brain in a cocktail shaker, and make sure the end result is the smoothest drink you'll ever down.
Bludger:Sorry, Jo, your copyright's just expired. Now Bludger gets his name for the simple reason that he likes to sit in my skull and bludgeon anything that moves, stays still, exists, or is an illusion in his head. He's rumoured to be the reason for my oh-so-pretty countenance.
Chopper: This guy's a real party animal. He has these awesome party tricks he likes to show me every single time we meet. He's got these meat cleavers, and he positively insists that I let him dice my brain up. It's really rather amazing how small he can get the pieces to be...
Emgee: He's one of my favourites. We call him Emgee 'cause he likes to take my brain and rotate it around like a mixer-grinder. A really, really powerful mixer-grinder.
DayGlo: Never one to back down from party tricks, this guy has one of the best. He can make a slight mist appear absolutely anywhere around me. He's especially good at high noon. He's often made it difficult for me to identify people sitting close by, and insists on hanging around, even at night, and particularly when Throbber and Bludger are around.
Hose: You have those friends who turn up at the worst times? Hose is one of them. He's my least favourite of the lot. He usually turns up right after Throbber, Bludger and DayGlo leave from one of their little parties. What makes him so irritating, you ask? Rather simply, he sticks around till the waterworks turn on. Cheap shot, b@$#@^d.
So there you have 'em! Now you know my bestest buddies in the whole wide world!
I've forgotten my Windows Live id password. It's saved on messenger, so I can sign in there just fine, I just don't know what it is. And so, I can't sign into my mailbox. I found this out when I tried signing in from office. So it tells me to fill in my id and that whole character recognition thing so that it knows I'm human and all that. I fill in the information just like it asks, and it shows me this message:
"Your password information has been mailed to your inbox."
I like cinema halls. I really, really do. I like going there, and sitting in the darkness, getting involved with the story of the film. I enjoy going to cinema halls with my friends, poking fun at crappy movies, pointing out errors in comic book canon in superhero movies. Most of all, I enjoy movies themselves. They're generally nice. You know, a nice alternate reality for a couple of hours.
The Dark Knight is a brilliant movie. I loved it. Chris Nolan did a wonderful job, Heath Ledger was par excellence, Aaron Eckhart did his bit as Harvey Two-Face, Christian Bale did no better than could be expected of him and his crappy double voice. The plot was great, if a little cluttered, characterisation was good, all in all, a movie I don't mind watching three times in a theatre, especially if one of those was paid for by someone else.
The first time I saw it, I loved it. It was great. I got to the theatre just in time to catch Dino Morea say how one could "go to F***, meet famous people and become famous". Phew. At least I missed the rest of the witty banter. Thankfully, the movie began soon enough, and I was riveted from the beginning. Thoroughly enjoyable despite the immature sports jocks (who were only really there to make out with their wannabe-immature-sports-jock boyfriends) shushing each other just for the f@#$ of it. F***'s (from what I've seen, I'm afraid I'll have to admit) "superior sound and visual quality, never before seen in India" (yeah, I've seen that intro film way too many times) more than made up for the a$$hole jerk-offs and their wannabe-wannabe-girlfriends. Plus it was my first time (yes, that term can be used in this context. Go see the film, you'll get it), so it got me real good.
The second time was with cousins, at Asia's largest waste of expensive air conditioning that comes through the screen. This is the one I didn't pay for; my cousin has a tendency to still think of me as 12, so she insists that I pay for nothing. This time, we were late by five minutes (my bad) and missed the opening scene completely. However, after the whole "I'm not wearing hockey pants" farce, the movie picked up. Particularly enjoyable was my li'l cousin sis jumping out of her skin every time there was an explosion or loud, sudden event on screen, and her even younger brother, utterly unable to decide whether to relish those same moments on screen more or her reactions. Then, Dome-boys decide that their projector has to f@#$ up. The image slows down and comes to a halt on a blank white screen. Little kids get up dejectedly and swear at the projectionist. The less-comically inclined among the audience decide that it's the interval, and concurrently proceed to go out and get some popcorn. And while they're out there, the movie resumes. When they come back in, they audibly say (despite the presence of their own bloody kids), "F@#$, it's started already!". Then, moments later, just for the bloody goddamn crap of it, behind the Gotham skyline, the words, 'The popcorn is waiting for you!' are flashed, and just like that, mid-dialogue, the skyline disappears and the interval begins. After the damn interval, to add insult to f@#$%^g injury, they cut important dialogues just so the movie can fit into their convenient little time slot. Didn't hear of them doing that with Jodha Akbar, though. Gah. There's one place I'm not returning in a hurry without suffering from amnesia.
This next one is the clincher, though. Watch out. It's long. And abusive.
Well, as they say, third time's the charm, eh? My girlfriend found out that I went and saw the movie with my cousins and immediately decided to get mad at me, 'cause she wanted to see it with me. Not, a problem, I said, we can still go watch it. And with that, we arrived at a theater whose name is one letter away from one of the words in the title of this post. I got there a whole 15 minutes early (yes, Kannu, that's not a typo), so we got into the practically empty theatre. The lights go dim, the movie's about to begin. And then it happens. Screaming, running, disorderly, what seemed like a hundred, but was probably closer to fifteen, eleven year-olds enter the theatre. And I groan. I know I'm going to hate this right away. Come 11.30 and the movie begins. Immediately I know something is wrong. Despite having seen the movie twice, I'm struggling to catch the dialogues. And then an explosion happens. Now I know what's happening. The speakers for the dialogues are all the way at the front of the hall, and the music and sound effects are at the rear. Woo the bloody hoo!! It was like watching The Dark Knight enacted by mimes. Aaaaaarghh!!!! To top it off, more kids arrive at 12, searching for their buddies in the dark, in their seats immediately ahead of me. And a loud, eleven year-old argument ensues: "No, I want to sit here!" "Kubir, go sit there!" "No, what are you doing?" GAH!!!!! Ruined the Joker's scene with the mob bosses for me. The rest of the first half continues miserably, and I'm punching the armrest to keep myself in check. Now a man walks into the theatre (it's 12.30), and finds his friend directly behind me, and with utter disregard for anyone and anything, starts conversing, above music level, about what he's missed. That's it. With the rugrats, I stayed my hand. I'm not sitting tight about this. I turn around and say, "You mind? I'm trying to watch." The guy looks at me and says, "Oh, sorry." When I turn around, he says to his newly arrived buddy in an undertone that could still f@#$%^g be heard above the music, "I think he wants us to talk quietly..." Dude. You should be in, like, The All India Braniacs Association or something. And then the interval hits us. Brilliant timing, too, just before the interrogation. I stay in my seat, as the rugrats leave the hall to go get their popcorn. I notice with glee that they come in a minute or so late, sans said popcorn. And then my glee turns to horror. Once again, they start squabbling over seating arrangements. That lasts another five minutes. I was supposed to be holding her hand and all that, but I gently ease away so I can clench my fist and bite down on my knuckles. Finally, they settle down, and the interrogation is just about heating up. Woo hoo! A good scene, and I might just get to enjoy it. Really? Did I really think so? How could I be so self involved? Four, yes, f@#$%^g four attendants walk in with trays laden with popcorn, and the two rows in front of me explode. They f@#$%^g stand up, all of them, and start yelling, "That one's mine!" "I ordered caramel!" "Uncle, what about me?" If they bloody wanted popcorn, they could've gone to the damn beach. I put my head in my hands and give up trying to catch one of the best dialogues in the movie. The movie proceeds, and we come to a point where the music all but fades away, and an important emotional dialogue is on. And the only thing I can hear is the munch-munch of popcorn all around me. I believe I've made my views on audible eating pretty damn clear. This is the point where I was barely even bloody looking at the screen anymore, but the kids piped down for some reason once they had their stupid popcorn. With ten minutes left in the movie, I figured, heck, let me try to enjoy this, at least... But no, the wonderful, loving theatre decides, these dialogues aren't important, let's just play the music and the sound effects. And with that, I step out of the theatre.
And the kids are all going,"Oh, what an awesome movie!" "I want to see it again!" Didja see any of it, even? Goddamn punks. People, understand this. The Dark Knight is not a children's movie. It's not an inspiring superhero story that your kids should see. They won't even f@#$%^g get it for another ten years, minumum. It's a dark, scary movie. It's not a fun family outing. It is especially not a movie you send twenty eleven year-olds to watch, alone. Please. Do your bit for the community. Give back to society. That's all I ask.
P.S. Maniak, I think I've been reading your blog too much; this post is uncharacteristically like most of yours.
Disclaimer: To women out there who thought my blog was interesting and have changed their minds based on my orations about children here, let me clarify. I love the little brats. They're nice. God willing, I'll have my own someday. But I will f@#$%^g teach them to respect other people's money spent on good movie tickets.
Eternally eight years old, grammatically grave and prettier than any man has a right to be, I have a beard that doubles as the Asian Paints shadecard for brown. If you're looking for me, google the following keywords:
neurotic, ADHD, schizophrenic, pyromaniac, jumpy, restless, childish, immature, weird hair, skinny, irresistably sexy.