Oranges have crept in the Meister's life lately (due to no fault of his own though)
It all started when the Uber Antel wanted a book about oranges and bananas etc titled Oranges are Not the Only Fruit. Meister, being a simple proletariat thought that it was a book about fruits and farming etc. So he ordered the book via internet.
Everything hunky dory so far.
But the book never arrives and the Uber started asking pointed questions etc etc.
Meister got really worried and scared. So he called up the booksellers. Those muppets said that the book has gone out of stock and that they will be refunding the money.
The Meister got really scared. He did not want to get shouted at. He started thinking of what to do.
Finally he got the brilliant brainwave (he is really smart you know....just a bit slow) of looking at other bookshops and sites. Alas, it was not there in any of the other websites.
Moreover, it turns out that the book is about lesbians......one of the censored words in office computers or something.
So he decided to browse through Landmark and Crossword. Alas, again - their websites suck. He tried looking at the British Council index but soon realised that like a dynamic dimwit, he had forgotten his password etc.
So he decided to call Landmark (Crossword website directs user to Shopper's Stop - foocking muppets).
So, Meister called Landmark
M: I want Oranges are not the Only Fruit
Landmark Employee: I am sorry Sir! We don't have oranges here. We don't sell fruits.
M: Nono, I don't want oranges or bananas. I want a book. It is called Oranges are not the Only Fruit.
LE: I don't think we have any books on fruits and vegetables right now Sir.
M: Nono, its not about fruits, its ablout lesbians.
LE: Eh?
M: Yep, it is a book by a lady called Jeannette Whatshername.
L: I am sorry sir but we don't have any such book at the moment.
M (in a rare moment of lucidity and on the spot intelligence): OK, what about your branches in the other cities? Do they have it?
L: If you place an order Sir, then we can get it for you.
M: Get it man, get it. Its a foocking emergency. No beard is safe!!!
L: Errr Sir? Excuse me?
M: Never mind, just get the book as soon as you can. Here's my number.
Couple of days later ,they called saying that they have found the book in one of their other branches and should they get it? Meister went: yeaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!
A couple of days later they again called saying Sir Sir we got it etc. Upon hearing it Meister rode like the wind (well a very slow wind as the max speed of his scooter is 25 km/hr) and bought it and later in the evening gave it to the Uber one.
In the meantime, on Sunday he was assaulted with a deadly weapon. Well, a semi-deadly weapon anyway.
Meister's lips have gone all bionkers....some thing about vitamin deficiency or something. When Meister told Uber this, she gave an evil laugh - thereby scaring both the Meister and the autowallah and then she brought out a jar.
And then she scooped some chemicals out of it
And then she assaulted the Meister. She pounced on him and before he could defend himself put them chemicals on his lips. It was petroleum jelly and it tasted and smelt like oranges.
Meister couldn't taste anything apart from oranges for the next 48 hours or so.
To put the cherry on the top, Meister got tea with an orange inside it at Pizza Hut - though he had ordered for lemonade.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Sisyphean Masochism
According to them Greek fellas, Sisyphus was a bit of a bar stud. He also decided to tangle with them Olympians (never a good idea in the best of times - look at what happened to that poor bugger Prometheus and that arsehole Tantalus) and pissed the crap out of Ares. He also had the temerity to rat out Zeus (father of all luj characters), while he was foocking some river god's daughter.
Result - Tartarus for all eternity, and not a jobless banishment, the dude would have to push a rock up a steep mountain, only to have the rock roll down....and this till the end of time. (well technically he did get a break once - according to that fella Ovid anyway...apparently he sat down and listened to the songs of Orpheus). Suffice to say that as far as punishments go, this is right up there as one of the meanest.
Ever since, pointless or futile activities which are doomed to fail are often described as Sisyphean.
Which brings us to the Meister. Critics opine that his whole life is Sisyphean in nature. The Meister disagrees....albeit partially. There are only certain areas and aspects of the Meister's life which are Sisyphean in nature. The masochistic element comes in the picture because the Meister knows that these things are doomed and destined to fail, yet like a fool, like an idiot, like a muppet etc etc he persists in doing them anyway.
1. Falling in love
Let's look at this objectively .....girls like
And then there is the Meister - the exact opposite of each and everything on that list. So, its a foregone conclusion that those of the oestrogenic persuasion are never going to find the Meister attractive.
Despite knowing this, the damn fool went and did it anyway - the idiot fell in love.
Sisyphean masochism at its best.
There is some sort of fatality involeved here.
In the last few years Chelsea have lost in Eurorpe due to:
So, if you wanna see Sisyphean endeavours with a dollop of masochism, and you don't wanna go to Tartarus, look no further than our very own Meister
Ever since, pointless or futile activities which are doomed to fail are often described as Sisyphean.
Which brings us to the Meister. Critics opine that his whole life is Sisyphean in nature. The Meister disagrees....albeit partially. There are only certain areas and aspects of the Meister's life which are Sisyphean in nature. The masochistic element comes in the picture because the Meister knows that these things are doomed and destined to fail, yet like a fool, like an idiot, like a muppet etc etc he persists in doing them anyway.
- powerful guys
- smart guys
- intelligent guys
- handsome guys with good bodies
- rich guys
- tall guys
- guys with long hair
- guys with devil may care attitude
- guys with charisma
2. Dreaming
Statistically, it has been proven that none - not a single one - of the Meister's dreams has ever come true. So one should assume that the dumbass would stop dreaming shouldn't he?
Wrong
Showing extreme varieties and severe symptoms of masochism, the numbnut keeps on dreaming and hoping et for things to happen. He even makes plans etc.
Perfect examples would be him dreaming about and making plans for visiting London, Bangaladesh and Ajanta Ellora (which is slowly looking like the blood Grail Quest) - all of which have totally and utterly fallen flat due to various reasons.
And yet, now he is thinking of a trip to the mountains...which judging by past performance will also be cancelled.
Examples can also easily be fouund from his education and career.
3. Supporting Chelsea in Europe
There is some sort of fatality involeved here.
In the last few years Chelsea have lost in Eurorpe due to:
- Manager Claudio Ranieri making weird subs during halftime which comepletely ruined the balance of the side (Chelsea was leading at halftime); thereby letting the opposition score 3
- Luis Garcia of the damnfools getting awarded a goal despite the ball never going beyond the line
- John Terry - the captain- falling flat on his arse while taking the last shot in a tie breaker (Chelsea was ahead - the prancing show pony hermaphrodite's shot was saved earlier by Cech; had Terry scored, Chelsea would have been the European champions) and subsequently sending the ball as away from the goal as humanly possible
- The referee not giving 4, yes 4 penalties which would have sealed victory against the Barca boys (Chelsea was the only team i nthe world who stopped Barca from scoring for 180 minutes)
- Jose Mourinho, the Special One - a manager who Roman fired as the manager of Chelsea, and who in his first visit back as the manager of another team - Internazionale as it happens - plotted and made the perfect tactics and subs to eliminate Chelsea
So, if you wanna see Sisyphean endeavours with a dollop of masochism, and you don't wanna go to Tartarus, look no further than our very own Meister
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Moi Oyis Moi Oyis
Meister had pain in his oyis, so Meister went to the opthalm....optom.... eye doctor dude.
He happily went and sat down in the chamber and the doc asked him what's wrong.
Meister replied: "Moi oyis hurt". The doc said "hmmm" and then he asked the Meister about his profession, lifestyle etc. Upon hearing that the Meister is a wanker, he said: "you are a pervert you sick bastard".
Meister said: "naaahahaaa... I wank only at home in complete privacy, if you want to see a pervert, then look no further than Jonny Honey. We even have a song for him......
And he does that anywhere and everywhere
The doc became all serious and stuff and declared: "I am gonna test your eyes. So sit there." Meister sat, the doc ordered him to "open wide" - his oyis of course. So the Meister made his oyis as big as possible, upon which the doc poured some acid into them.
Yes, people, the sick son of a mongoose poured some acid into the Meister's oyis.
Meister started writing in pain and shouting "moi oyis, moi oyis" and "why doc why?"
The doc laughed in a theatrical manner and declared: "I am an agent of the Great Indian Chunkubaaz and I have been ordered to hurt you and torture you by the great one himself. I have been waiting for my chance for 5 years now. Now I will make you sumbit in the altar of the Chunku"
Meister shouted: "Neverrrrrrrr, you may take moi oyis, but you will never take moi....err....what do you want again?"
Doc said: "I want you to conced to the Great Chunku"
Meister said: "No way, do whatever you want, I dare you" - which on hindsight was not a smart thing to say, but hey what the hell, whatever else he might be, noone can accuse the Meister to be smart.
So, the doc started paper whipping Meister's oyiballs.
Meister started shouting: "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but paper whipping will only make my cry"
The doc got all confused and said: "Eh? That does not even rhyme!!"
The Meister replied: "Its post-modern"
The doc then said: "Hmmm, it seems stronger measures are necessary. I didn't want to do it, but you made me do it. Now there's no turning back." And he brought out a contraption which closely resembles an iron maiden (the medieval torture device, not the muppety rock and roll version).
He put the Meister's face into it and then started poking Meister's irises with a poking thingy and beamed compious quantities of laser stuff into his eyes to make him blind. He started shouting: "So, Meister, do you want this to stop? All you have to do is to declare that the Great Indian Chunkubaaz is god's gift to boudis!!"
Meister said: "Oi am a man of moi words. Oi have already declared that
He happily went and sat down in the chamber and the doc asked him what's wrong.
Meister replied: "Moi oyis hurt". The doc said "hmmm" and then he asked the Meister about his profession, lifestyle etc. Upon hearing that the Meister is a wanker, he said: "you are a pervert you sick bastard".
Meister said: "naaahahaaa... I wank only at home in complete privacy, if you want to see a pervert, then look no further than Jonny Honey. We even have a song for him......
"Some men like women
And some men like men
And then there's Jonathan
Who just goes around touching himself
Lalalalalalallalalla..........."
And he does that anywhere and everywhere
The doc became all serious and stuff and declared: "I am gonna test your eyes. So sit there." Meister sat, the doc ordered him to "open wide" - his oyis of course. So the Meister made his oyis as big as possible, upon which the doc poured some acid into them.
Yes, people, the sick son of a mongoose poured some acid into the Meister's oyis.
Meister started writing in pain and shouting "moi oyis, moi oyis" and "why doc why?"
The doc laughed in a theatrical manner and declared: "I am an agent of the Great Indian Chunkubaaz and I have been ordered to hurt you and torture you by the great one himself. I have been waiting for my chance for 5 years now. Now I will make you sumbit in the altar of the Chunku"
Meister shouted: "Neverrrrrrrr, you may take moi oyis, but you will never take moi....err....what do you want again?"
Doc said: "I want you to conced to the Great Chunku"
Meister said: "No way, do whatever you want, I dare you" - which on hindsight was not a smart thing to say, but hey what the hell, whatever else he might be, noone can accuse the Meister to be smart.
So, the doc started paper whipping Meister's oyiballs.
Meister started shouting: "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but paper whipping will only make my cry"
The doc got all confused and said: "Eh? That does not even rhyme!!"
The Meister replied: "Its post-modern"
The doc then said: "Hmmm, it seems stronger measures are necessary. I didn't want to do it, but you made me do it. Now there's no turning back." And he brought out a contraption which closely resembles an iron maiden (the medieval torture device, not the muppety rock and roll version).
He put the Meister's face into it and then started poking Meister's irises with a poking thingy and beamed compious quantities of laser stuff into his eyes to make him blind. He started shouting: "So, Meister, do you want this to stop? All you have to do is to declare that the Great Indian Chunkubaaz is god's gift to boudis!!"
Meister said: "Oi am a man of moi words. Oi have already declared that
a. there is no god
b. the Great Indian Chunkubaaz is mother nature's gift to the hair gel industry
So, there is no way in hell Oi am declaring anything else. "
The doc looked at the Meister in awe and wonder and respect and said: I concede. Now I know why the Great Chunku is so scared of you. You are the 1st person who could resist the torture."
Meister replied: "This was nothing. Nothing Oi tell ya. Recently I survived an experience so horrible, so horrific, so horrendous, so hideous, so heinous, so abhorrent, so inquitous, so flagitous, so despicable, so repugnant, so execrable, so nefarious, so pernicious that after that everything else looks like breakfast, nothing on earth, hell, purgatory or Pakistan can even come close to that torture."
Doc asked: "What happened?"
Meister replied: "Oi had to look at and listen to Ayush Prasad continuously for 3days"
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
In the future
2000 years in the future....the world is a post apocalyptic barren wasteland. Humanity has been wiped off (probably because of something Ayush Prasad did). Some researcher from some alien planet comes to earth and does some excavations and digs up, amongst other things,
the Meister's pants
They see that it is a highly stained affair. They decide do an analysis of it, you know one of them forensic ones. Guess what they will find??
(stop thinking obscene stuff you people with dihtyy minds)
They will find some weird medical gel, mayonese(sic), sweet onion sauce, honey mustard sauce, tea, coffee, chocolate milkshake, some banana-blackcurrant milkshake, chicken curry, oil from fried potatoes, biscuit crumbs, cookie crumbs, some greasy stuff from mashed potatoes, coleslaw, some poshto seeds, some greasy oily stuff from some French food, some pastaesque soup whose name starts with an m, navratan korma, paneer mushroom curry and some thums up.
Yes people, Meister has been eating and spilling things on his pants as if there's no tomorrow.
Its all part of the Meisterplan - the one which involves him eating so much that his arteries and veins get pissed off and quit working.
Yes people, Meister is going to eat and eat till either the food runs out in the planet or his internal organs go ka blooey and he finally dies.
the Meister's pants
They see that it is a highly stained affair. They decide do an analysis of it, you know one of them forensic ones. Guess what they will find??
(stop thinking obscene stuff you people with dihtyy minds)
They will find some weird medical gel, mayonese(sic), sweet onion sauce, honey mustard sauce, tea, coffee, chocolate milkshake, some banana-blackcurrant milkshake, chicken curry, oil from fried potatoes, biscuit crumbs, cookie crumbs, some greasy stuff from mashed potatoes, coleslaw, some poshto seeds, some greasy oily stuff from some French food, some pastaesque soup whose name starts with an m, navratan korma, paneer mushroom curry and some thums up.
Yes people, Meister has been eating and spilling things on his pants as if there's no tomorrow.
Its all part of the Meisterplan - the one which involves him eating so much that his arteries and veins get pissed off and quit working.
Yes people, Meister is going to eat and eat till either the food runs out in the planet or his internal organs go ka blooey and he finally dies.
Kooky people, these doctors
Well, it was time for the Meister's quarterly visit to the land of the sickos. So Meister went to Yashoda.
And found out that his cardiologist has run away....... yes people facing the prospect of facing the Meister again, the dude just quit.
And so began Meister's bugging of the recpetionists et all to give him another doctor. However, whoever they called up seemed to be mysteriously either out or away or busy. Finally after what seemed like an eternity (15 mins) they found dude who was stuck in the ICU/ICCU.
So off Meister went to the 4th floor and met the doctor (nice lad) who took one look at the Meister and shouted "lose weight you fat bastard". he also told Meister to undergo a plethora of tests. A dispirited Meister trudged back.
Next day, with encouragement from parents and curses from his boss (Meister had to take a half day) Meister went back to get his tests done.
After paying what seemed like the GDP of a small nation, they allowed the Meister to proceed to room 1 where a muppet took a bigass syringe and plunged it straight into Meister's veins and drew a few litres of blood.
Then they kicked him out.
So the Meister was loitering around the hospital pointing at sick and injured people calling out "muppet" etc when a nurse came and gently and firmly took him into a room, ordered him to take off his shoes and shirt (not his pants...noone wants to take off the Meister's pants...sigh poor Meister), lie down on a bed and then poured about a litre of gel. The Meiter, utterly bewildered and feeling like the Great Indian Chunkubaaz's hair, was wondering what the hell was going on when this dude who looked like a wrestler came up and started navigating all over the Meister's chest with a joystick. Apparently, they were taking a picture of the Meister's heart or something.
Why anyone would want to take a picture of the Meister's heart is flabbergasting.........
Weird people these doctors.
Anyway, once they finished taking pictures of his heart, they dragged him to another room and this time poured a litre of gel on his tummy. Meister was highly indignant and was shouting at them to stop messing around with his tummy. They ordered the Meister to "shut the foock up fatso" and told the meister that they are going to do some Renal Artillery Doffler.
Meister got scared, artillery activities inside the tummy are never a good idea. The Meister was about to protest vehemently and quote the Rights of Man when they explained to the Meister that it's not Artillery but Arterial. They told the Meister that they would take pictures of the Meister's kidneys and renal artreries etc.
Strange people, these doctors.
Anyway, then the nurse left and brought on reinforcements in the form of a lady doctor. She also came armed with a joystick, but she took one look at the Meister's exposed tummy and ran away shouting for mummy etc.
So now it was the turn of a really senior doctor. He came with a joystick and immediately ordered the Meister to hold his breath and started to poke and prod his tummy. Apparently the apparatus etc couldn't see anything because of the presence of an immense quantity of fat. So the docotr rolled up his sleeves and decided to really have a go. It was borderline grievous bodily harm (a certain Uber's speciality).
The Meister is sure that irrep....irrev....irre..... some serious harm was done to his kidneys etc.
Anyway armed with the plethora of test reports, Meister went in search of the doctor. He found the doctor hiding in the ICU/ICCU. Upon seeing the Meister the doctor again shouted "didn't I tell you to lose weight you fat son of a mongoose". With a weary sigh and incessant grumblings et all the doctor looked at the reports and prescribed a plethora of medicines and ordered Meister "to take these medicines untill and unless he felt like he is dying.....upon which he should go and jump into the Hussain Sagar."
Peculiar people, these doctors.
And found out that his cardiologist has run away....... yes people facing the prospect of facing the Meister again, the dude just quit.
And so began Meister's bugging of the recpetionists et all to give him another doctor. However, whoever they called up seemed to be mysteriously either out or away or busy. Finally after what seemed like an eternity (15 mins) they found dude who was stuck in the ICU/ICCU.
So off Meister went to the 4th floor and met the doctor (nice lad) who took one look at the Meister and shouted "lose weight you fat bastard". he also told Meister to undergo a plethora of tests. A dispirited Meister trudged back.
Next day, with encouragement from parents and curses from his boss (Meister had to take a half day) Meister went back to get his tests done.
After paying what seemed like the GDP of a small nation, they allowed the Meister to proceed to room 1 where a muppet took a bigass syringe and plunged it straight into Meister's veins and drew a few litres of blood.
Then they kicked him out.
So the Meister was loitering around the hospital pointing at sick and injured people calling out "muppet" etc when a nurse came and gently and firmly took him into a room, ordered him to take off his shoes and shirt (not his pants...noone wants to take off the Meister's pants...sigh poor Meister), lie down on a bed and then poured about a litre of gel. The Meiter, utterly bewildered and feeling like the Great Indian Chunkubaaz's hair, was wondering what the hell was going on when this dude who looked like a wrestler came up and started navigating all over the Meister's chest with a joystick. Apparently, they were taking a picture of the Meister's heart or something.
Why anyone would want to take a picture of the Meister's heart is flabbergasting.........
Weird people these doctors.
Anyway, once they finished taking pictures of his heart, they dragged him to another room and this time poured a litre of gel on his tummy. Meister was highly indignant and was shouting at them to stop messing around with his tummy. They ordered the Meister to "shut the foock up fatso" and told the meister that they are going to do some Renal Artillery Doffler.
Meister got scared, artillery activities inside the tummy are never a good idea. The Meister was about to protest vehemently and quote the Rights of Man when they explained to the Meister that it's not Artillery but Arterial. They told the Meister that they would take pictures of the Meister's kidneys and renal artreries etc.
Strange people, these doctors.
Anyway, then the nurse left and brought on reinforcements in the form of a lady doctor. She also came armed with a joystick, but she took one look at the Meister's exposed tummy and ran away shouting for mummy etc.
So now it was the turn of a really senior doctor. He came with a joystick and immediately ordered the Meister to hold his breath and started to poke and prod his tummy. Apparently the apparatus etc couldn't see anything because of the presence of an immense quantity of fat. So the docotr rolled up his sleeves and decided to really have a go. It was borderline grievous bodily harm (a certain Uber's speciality).
The Meister is sure that irrep....irrev....irre..... some serious harm was done to his kidneys etc.
Anyway armed with the plethora of test reports, Meister went in search of the doctor. He found the doctor hiding in the ICU/ICCU. Upon seeing the Meister the doctor again shouted "didn't I tell you to lose weight you fat son of a mongoose". With a weary sigh and incessant grumblings et all the doctor looked at the reports and prescribed a plethora of medicines and ordered Meister "to take these medicines untill and unless he felt like he is dying.....upon which he should go and jump into the Hussain Sagar."
Peculiar people, these doctors.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Ignoracne is Bliss
Yesterday/today morning (Meister gets confused by time) the Sexy Auntie flew to LA LA Land, which btw is slowly getting filled up by sexy female linguists from India (and that hirsute fella).
So hearing that she is leaving, Meister went to wave tata to her at her place.....and guess what happened?
She banged the door on Meister's face even before he could enter.
This after a week when the Meister got dumped for a party (that Meister can understand - parties generally being more interesting and better than the Meister) and was politely informed (after an invitation to come visit mind you) that if he does come then he has to loiter around on his own as the hostess will have much more important (and naturally better) things to do
Sigh, nobody wants the Meister to come.
Except Meister's dear friend the Count Luigi di Jimborghini or Jimbo as he is commonly referred to. Although it might be because he is a stupid bastard, but the look of joy on Jimbo's face and the frantic circular movement of his tail more than makes up for the looks of disgust, disdain and exasperation that inadvertently/deliberately comes to people's faces when the Meister turns up at their door.
Ah the Meister - loved by animals, hated/disliked/barely tolerated by mankind
Unfortunately, Jimbo's expression of joy often manifests itself through his bloody nails as a result of which the Meister's hands are now full of deep and profound scratches.
Anyway, after the Meister begged entrance to Auntie's place, Auntie gave him some Japanese drink, unfortunately and evocatively called SUSU. It tasted awesome. Those damn Jappies are good at making everything - electronics, cars, bikes, animation, films, porn and now drinks.
However, if SUSU is indeed made up of the susu of any animal, then please refrain from pointing in out to the Meister - in his case ignorance is bliss. After the last couple of weeks that he had had, he does not need to know that he had gone and drunk something just 1 organ away from crap.
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