The Curious Case of the Meister in the Night Time

That paragon of dumbassness and resident of loserville was invited to a party. It was at a place called Treasure Island. Now the Meister had no clue whats going on. He saw an ad in facebook that there will be free drinks, so he was curious. Lo and behold he got calls from people asking him to come down for the party - including Don Violent who called him a boring old sourpuss and the bog monster Sir Paunchsalot (he had some ulterior motives, but it will be divulged later). initially the Meister was sceptical but after repeated discussions and subtle emo blackmail he decided to go. There was a promise of a striptease dance, but alas that never came.

An Innova was hired and at 7.30 the pickups started. The 1st ones in were Boggy and Don Violent followed by Meister. Then it was the Vowel Girl and then Gameboy. Finally it was the turn of Sexy Auntie, Mr. Pencil and Pauncho's gay partner AJ. These 3 were smoking hukkah in deli 9 and when the time came to pay the bill started paying in 50p coins (there's no other earthly reason why it took them so long to pay a bill). Well, with so many people in the mix, there was some readjustments in the seating arrangements - Pauncho went to the back where rumour has it that he started touching himself.

Anyway, after a refreshment stop at City Centre (where btw the Meister completely confounded onlookers by walking around with different beauties - one of the few times people felt envious of the Meister wuhooo), they all piled into the car and started the journey.

It was a pretty cool and enjoyable journey. The only noteworthy thing which happened was that Don Violent and the Meister both managed to see the shop with the best name in the history of shops , nay in the history of history - Mahaboob Communications. When Meister told it to the Potato, the Potato laughed for 6 straight minutes and then strated cursing, the reson being that now he wouldn't be able to look at Jellio without laughing if anyone calls her by her short name.

So finally they reached the place. A lame ass place by the way. They all took shelter in a hut kinda thing and went in search of the promised drinks. The Meister who was eagerly looking forward to free whisky found to his chagrin that there's only white rum :-(. Still, free drinks are good drinks. So they were drinking.

And then the cacophony started.

And all started dancing.

And soon Meister was the only one sitting in the hut, nursing a sore head - not because of the drinks but because he had banged his head against the roof (the mark is still visible).

And this continued for hours and hours and then at around 1.30, the gay mafia arrived. Don Violent and Mr. Pencil went to get them in. However, they wer absent for close to 45 minutes -(there is an unsubstantiated rumour going on that they forgot all about the gay boys and made out, but hey who knows)

Poor Meister, in the meantime got pissed off, tired, got a headache and finally had enough. He walked off to the parking lot and started chatting with the driver. He did not, however, forget to flick a couple of glasses before he left. He had a nice little chat with the driver.

The others all stumbled in after a couple of hours. The return journey started and they promptly lost their way and ended up in the middle of lake.

Anyway, after many small misadventures, (Pauncho opening someone else's car by mistake, dropping his inhaler, the ndropping his phone) all of them reached home safely. The funniest thing however, was Sexy Auntie claiming that she and Meiter were the only 2 ones not drunk - this despite the fact that she was almost shozzled.

Now for the chronicles of the gay hermaphrodite Sir Pauncho.

As stated earlier, he started off by touching himself. Once he got a little bit drunk, he started flirting with a bouncer. Also, once when he went ot the loo, he came back with a big smile on his face claiming that he had just made out with a guy. And he was ecstatic when the gay mafia finally arrived and he went and danced wih all of them. Well, as far as the Meister knows, he only danced, however, he was missing for about 15- 20 minutes when it was time to leave. Also, he was pretty out of breath on the return journey...hmmm.....

Few things the Potato learnt (got reaffirmed with) last week

1. Wimmin are nutters

Exhibit A: Sexy Auntie

Put on some weird concoction on her face. Rumour has it that its oatmeal. Now, why someone would put oatmeal on their face, instead of baking it into a cookie and giving it to the Potato is frankly mysterious and ludicrous. There should be a law against that. It was apparently as preparations for a jazz concert. It took her only 1 hour and 55 minutes to get ready to go out. 1 hour and 55 bloody minutes!!!! Its even more than the average extra injury time that the damn Manures get every match over at the Theatre of Screams.

Also, she has around 26 pairs of shoes.

Exhibit B: Jellio

Went to see an animated film - Christmas Carol by that depressed Victorian fella - and promptly got scared crapless by the ghosts in the movie. Rumour has it that she was so scared that she was shaking like a bamboo in a tornado. Apart from her ability to get scared by cartoon ghosts, she also has the quality of massacring perfectly good vodka by adding such silly stuff as lime (tons of it) and cranberry foocking juice. Apart from all this, despie being a Naga, she puts coconut oil in food.

Exhibit C: Don Violent

Obsessed with cummin seeds

Exhibit D - Ayush Prasad

OK, technically, he ain't a wimmin, but since he ain't a man either, he can be used as an exhibit. Its not exactly him who is the exhibit though, its the fact that all girls (at least the weirdos of Ciefl) seem to really like him.

Why women like Ayush is one of them eternal mystery thingies - at par with why Stonehenge was built, Atlantis, Nessi, Mary Celeste, Bermuda Triangle etc.

2. There is a French dude going around in CIEFL/EFLU called Hippo.

3. Coconut oil is a crime against humanity/menace to society.

Potato has a theory of why Mallus use that stuff

a. It is multipurpose. What the Mallus do is that they take that stuff and pour it over their heads while keeping their mouth open - they use it for different parts as it moves, drips downwards - thereby using the same stuff as hair oil, make up oil, body oil and food and drink.

b. The Mallus knew that the only way to save themselves from foreign invaders was to use coconut oil. Not a single race/group of invaders have ever managed to live in MalluLand as they could not bear the

1. smell (oh the horror)
2. the taste

All the invaders/foreigners either died or ran away.

4. Jimmy Mistry has the worst Hindi accent in the history of Hindustan. Ronald Emmerich has no clue about how Indians speak English.

5. Wearing trousers sucks

Meister has now lost his cell phone and recently his keys, all while wearing trousers. Its those big ass pockets. Stuff keeps falling out. There must be a conspiracy somewhere.

6. What goeth around cometh around

Well it does not do that for the Meister. In his case, what goeth around, keeps on going all the while waving its hands in air while shouting "tata", "see u in hell" or "foock off baldy". But in the case of the Irish, it certainly does. The Potato's whiskey drinking, golf playing, skirt wearing Scottish friend Hamish McSpud is of the opinion that because the Irish defeated Georgia through a handball, they in turn lost because of a handball. Something about karma being a bitch and revenge being a dish best served with potatoes.

Potato's Day Out

The Potato recently went on a day's outing with SS - to Purani Haveli and Chowmahallah Palace. Yes, the same SS who does not remember the Meister's name (although the term she uses is a sure indicator of one of them slips as propounded by that Swiss fella), calls him a member of the Singularis Porkus family - a greedy member mind you, and lists ditching the Meister as one of her principal hobbies.

They were both very excited about the outing, and observers have said that they made various plans. Since rumour has it that SS can't distinguish north from breakfast (or for that matter east, west, south et all), the Potato even did research and got maps and even printed the maps. What he got in return was the comment - "show off".

Well, talking of sense of directions, SS is definitely not the worst one here. The 1st Nawab was from Iran. He wanted to go on a pilgrimage to Mecca, so he got out of home and reached India. Legend has it that he was using a compass made in China.

Anyway, since this is the Potato, the night before the trip his boss (the racist bar stud, not the muppet) told him that he had to come and work the next day. Since the Potato has no physical or metaphysical conundrum in telling his boss "up yours" (unlike some other people who shall remain nameless who goes off to shopping sprees with their bosses, while ditching the Meister of course), there were some negotiations and it was finally decided that Meister would do the work, Potato would go for the trip.

So the big day came. The Potato went out and smacked into the 2nd Bermuda Triangle in the form of Koti.....none of the auto wallahs wanted to go there. Well, obviously someone did but that was after 25 minutes of 'nakkos, ledus and kadus'. This dude had no qualms about going to Koti, nor about taking shortcuts, nor about going in opposite direction in an 1 way street, nor about going through a lane full of shops selling women's underwear.

So finally, Potato reached the place. Naturally, being a member of the intelligentsia, SS was a wee bit late. {on an aside there is an Ashoka Stambha beside the Koti Woman's College gate...those of you asking why there? would get the cunningly created response of why not?}

So, with vim, vigour, enthusiasm, lots of water, and a map, SS and Potato finally met and hailed an auto. The 1st autowallah they hailed blandly told them he knows the way to Purani Haveli.....thus making the whole map making thing an exercise in futility. After passing through one of the world's most depressing rivers, some very old buildings, a terrorist hub and Princess D (don't ask the full name please) Hospital, they reached the place. Its a very old building built by one of the Nizam's sons. Nowadays, there's a museum on the 1st floor and a school everywhere else.

Only in India would you find a museum on the 1st floor - with expensive gold and silver stuff with a 161 year old guard who looks 232 - and physics and chemistry laboratories on the ground floor.

After buying tickets, and paying 150 bucks for camera permit (150 bucks!!! daylight robbery), the 2 climbed the stairs and went into.........................the biggest foocking wardrobe/closet in the world. Actually the biggest. Its bloody huge. And it has lots of clothes and shoes and hats etc of all the ole prince.......who judging by the clothes was a midget and a bit of a wanker...which self respecting male wears pink. No wonder all the intelligent or rich Telugus go abroad...who would want to live in a state and look up to the ruler who wears pink...disgusting.

They passed the closet, and went to another hall full of things which the princeling had allegedly used...his bed, stool, dressing table, pens, mirrors, religious stuff, chamber pots etc. At this juncture they got a guide dude. He was a very enthusiastic dude and took great pleasure in pointing out stuff to them. From this hall, they went out and came upon an ancient hand pulled elevator. The prince being a prince (and a lazy bugger) used to use this to come from the ground floor to the 1st floor). The lift is still working and both the Potato and SS took turns in pulling it.

After this, they entered into another hall....this one full of interesting stuff. Worth mentioning are all the silver models of the different buildings established by the Nizam - Osmania, MuzamZahi, High Court, Public Gardens, a Dam etc, lots and lots of letter cases - not silly ass envelopes, but actual intricately designed cases - and utensils. 1 particular utensil caught the Potato's attention. Its a big plate with grooves in it. The guide explained that it was specially designed so that all the ghi in the biriyani could fall in the grooves and the eater wouldn't have to stuff himself with ghi - apparently an old health measure...ingenious.

Overall, it was a lovely place and both Potato and SS were happy. Well at least Potato was, you can never tell with women. Anyway, they hailed another auto and went to Chowmahallah Palace. For those of you who have never been there, its a big ass complex with 4 (or were there 5?) palaces. Each palace had numerous old pics, furnitures, memorabilia etc. There's also a clock tower. And there's also a big ass fountain - cue muppets disguised as college girls posing in front of it and taking pics...numpties.

From the pictures it became evident that the Nawab family had some of the worst looking people in history. As ugly as...err....well at least as ugly as the Meister. There were also a few monobrows around. However, being as rich as Bill Gates, one of the Nawabs convinced the Caliph of Turkey to get his daughter married to him. That lady was beautiful, as was her sister, as is her descendants. The moral of the story being that there is absolutely no disadvantage in being rich. [So hypothetically speaking, if the Meister suddenly becomes a multi-billionaire, even he will become attractive in ladies' eyes....well nah not really there isn't enough money in the world that will make that pug ugly antithesis of Brad Pitt attractive.]

Back to the story. There's also a big ass clock - probably the cousin of the one in Salar Jun Museum. The palaces also contain a huge collection of swords, daggers and shields. A few axes also but alas, no maces. There's also an area where there are a number of old chariots, old cars and 3 old bikes - including an old Harley. Its almost 100 years old and dilapidated but still looks better than the Hero Hondas. It was in this area that some kids from an adjacent school waved at the Potato. It led to a revelation of epic proportions.

They met an old couple who were resting, and who for strange reason wanted to talk to them. The old gentleman talked about his gargantuan eating habits and his wife was very proud of it. SS got so distracted by their story that when she found a parrot feather, she happily picked it up and was about to put it in her hair when she realised that it was pan stained.

Anyway, overall it was a very satisfying and pleasing trip. Whilecoming back, Potato innocently asked SS what part she liked the best. She told him a few stuff which she liked. And then she told him what she really likes - young boys...or more specifically young boys in school dress.

u guys have dirty minds.....she meant the young kids waving at them and generally being all enthu

Muppets here, Muppets there, there are Muppets everywhere

Or at least everywhere in Hyderabad. Its true.

And its not only about the Meister's boss who is Kermit the Frog in disguise. He, after all, is the same guy who rented an office which did not have water or electricity or a parking lot...the imbecile.

No there are more, many in fact.

Not least of them are the idiots from ABN, who have put up some huge billboards with pics of Bhagat Singh, Netaji, Che and Jesus...yes the correct expression at this point is WTF!!

The poster-boy of non-violence in the same page as these cut-throats??? Why?????????? Who comes up with this stuff...the imbecile.

[On a separate vein, Jesus is the original Muppet of Christiandom, think about it...this dude who is his own father and also a ghost comes to earth as a Jew, befriends such lovely lads as Judas {what a numpty} and gets his arse kicked by those luj characters...if that's not a Muppet then nothing is]

Anyway, there are other Muppets in Hyderabad as well. They have now infiltrated that bunch of menace to humanity - the autowallahs.

Meister knows that calling them Muppets is an understatement, but what else are you going to call someone who asks the way to Secbad rail station, in front of Keys High School!!! A new person in the city he understand, but a foocking autowallah!!!....the moron

Now we come to the Muppet extraordinaires...the Hech Har people. One member of this species recently mailed the Meister saying that he doesn't meet the criteria of what the company is looking for (this after the Meister had kicked arse in both rounds of tests). There's nothing i nthe rejection....the Meister has been rejected by all and sundry, he is almost a professional reject. What is Muppetesque however, is the fact that the same dimwit called up the Meister a few days later and told him that it was all a mistake and can he still come for interviews. Then this dynamic dumdum compounds the muppetpsity bt telling the meister that the interview will be at 2 and the ntelling the interviewer that it will be at 2.30....the dingbat

The main Muppet, however, according to the Meister, is the Meister himself. As a result of his immense depression, frustration and overall tiredness, he has recently shouted at 2 of his subordinates, and has even threatened to fire one of them. Although it worked, and since then both had cleaned up their work consideraby, the point here is that Meister has done something which he himself hates, and thus has become a hypoocrite....ergo a Muppet.

The Meister is now well and truly scared, mortified etc....Is he slowly becoming less and less of the p word and becoming more and more of the b word???!!!! Is he becoming a corporate honcho, despite hating those bar studs??? Is he displaying boss like properties??? Has the power gone to his head???The mind boggles...

Cue more depression

Socks, socks, his kingdom for a pair of socks

Ok, technically not a kingdom (Meister belongs to that group of people whose name starts with a p and the mere mention of whom makes Don Violent blow her top and threaten GBH to the Meister)

On an aside, don't you think that the phrase 'blow her top' should be sued for giving a wrong picture to a dude's mind?? A dude upon listening to the phrase, would picturise a girl actually taking off her top and....well doesn't really matter what else..girl taking her top off is enough...., but instead would actually get the modern equivalent of bloody Boudicea. If there ever was a case of false advertisement....

Anyway to come back to topic, Meister needs a butler desperately or someone, anyone who can pair socks. See, the Meister can do a lot of things. He however, cannot do even more things....simple things which other people seem to manage......say for example oiling your boss/guide, or acting/pretending that someone is someone's best friend and then stabbing them in the back or even bitching about them behind their back....or pairing a sock.

The Meister is completely incapable of this simple task. Its some block in his brain or something. It was ok in school as all the socks were white. But now, its a massacre. the Meister has about 40-50 socks, none in pair. The Esteemed Nutter of the Maternal Persuasion matches them up whenever she comes down, but once used and given to the maid, they all come back as a whole and not as pairs. The Meister's sartorial extravaganza now doesn't reach his socks. You can see him wearing a navy blue and a black or a navy blue and a brown or a black and a brown together. In those rare cases that you might find him with 2 socks of the same colour, they will inevitably be of different sizes and designs. There's even a grey one, which the Meister is pretty sure he has never bought...mysterious you know.

So, the Meister needs a butler......on second thoughts no not really.....given Fate's, Life's, Destiny's and Mother Nature's endearing habit to continuously kick the Meister in his bollocks, it is better not to have a butler. The guy would probably steal all of the Meister's socks.

Myths

Well, the Meister has recently been as sad, depressed and drunk as a skunk in a funk.

In one of these moodes, he started thinkin about mythology - you know the stuff with gods and demons and heroes etc etc. So here is what he thought.

Christianity: The belief that a cosmic Jewish Zombie who was his own father can make you live forever if you symbolically eat his flesh and telepathically tell him you accept him as your master, so he can remove an evil force from your soul that is present in humanity because a rib-woman was convinced by a talking snake to eat from a magical tree.

Barring that, what we have is basically a lot of seriously cool stories involving lots of drinking, wars and sex, one great thing about mythologies is the characters - esp the animals.

Greeks: Chimera (1/3rd lion, goat and serpent..who thought of that?? seriously thats one of the coolest creatures ever), 9 headed Hydra, Cerebus, Minotaur

The Phoenix is a bit of a traveller and keeps popping out in many myths - Egyptian, Arabic, Chinese and Japanese (not to mention Harry Potter)

The Norse, on the other hand were not that into animals. True they had that giant snake and that giant wolf, but apart from them it was mostly men and women. However, what they do have going for them are the Valkyries.

Picture this, you go fight, if you win you get gold, cattle, women; if you die some big boobed woman will come and carry you off to Valhalla where you will spend the rest of eternity in a party with neverending buffet and alchohol. I mean this is the perfect win-win situation if there ever was one. No wonder those dudes were so fearless and all. Its the best after death scenario ever.

Talking about death, lets compare after death scenarios in some other cultures.

According to them Greeks, you die, then you go to the underworld where you have to pay Chiron to take u across Styx or Acheron, and then you get judged and depending on the result, you are sent to Elysium for the blessed, Tartarus for the damned, and Asphodel for the rest.

Everyone knows about the Egyptians and their morbid preoccupation with death. In their case, it is the baboon/ibys Thoth who judges the soul in a balance with a feather.

I am leaving out the Mayans and the Incans. Those bloodthirsty dudes were more interested in the deaths of their victims than their own.

Now we come to our very own Hindu myths. You die, you go to th underworld and you meet whom - another bloody clerk/ bureaucrat!!!!!!!!!! Bloody Chitragupta with his bloody ledger. A prime area for corruption if you ask me.

For that matter, look at our gods. The most powerful one is a pothead who kills his wife when she nags him too much (not cool dude, not cool). Another of our main gods in a geriatric married to a young lady - who is supposed to be the god of wisdom and learning - you married a geriatric lady, how smart was that? and we are supposed to follow your example). The 3rd of our main gods is the grandfather of all loose characters - the dude goes around marrying/seducing hundreds of women and as a kid, goes and hides the clothes of ladies when they are bathing thus forcing them to walk naked in front of him!!!

On the plus side, we do have some pretty powerful goddesses and pre-incarnations of Buffy so to speak - you know all them demon slaying goddesses et all. We have the world's 1st multi species transplant involving for some weird reason gods and eleophants, we have nuclear weapons, flying chariots, shapeshifting demons etc. Some of our gods are even green you know, they recycle themselves and come as different avatars.

However, they are some mean bastards - they regularly make the asuras do the hard work and then they steal all the good stuff and kill the asuras.......hmm doesn't that remind you of the modern day bosses?