Interesting Times

It all started with a puncture. On Saturday morning, Meister had just started for work, when he realised that his rear tire has gone bananas. So he had to keep the Activa back and then walk to the autostand. On reaching the autostand, he was about to get into an auto when he heard some dudes calling him. Upon further investigation, it turned out to be a couple of guys in a car offering to give him a lift. Upon further investigation, it turned out that the Meister knew one of the guys - he is a local autowallah.

So, Meister boarded the car, and to his astonishment found out that it belongs to an MLA. Apparently the driver of the car and the autowallah are good friends and they were going to Begumpet. So, knowing where Meister works, they offered the Meister a lift. Meister, who being a cheapass, never says no to free stuff and thus he came to office in an AC car of an MLA. The minus part was that he had to listen to hindi film songs.

So he went to office, where he found out that there was to be free lunch as a farewell to a dude. What's more, someone mistakenly ordered non-veg food. (The Muppet acting as CEO usually only orders only veg food for office events) And what's even more, there was more food than what people could eat, so Meister got to bring free food home.

And once he reached home, he found out that Liverpool has been thrashed by Portsmouth. And as if that was not enough, later the same night, the Fulham boys thrashed and massacred and pillaged and plundered the foocking Manures. Great day eh?

But you know what, that's still not all.

Sunday, was Midas's birthday. So in the morning, Meister went to the bday party. On the way. he went to Landmark to buy gifts, and lo and behold (and other types of weird expressions which do not make any sense), he found a Chelsea calendar!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The best Christmas present ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He also bought a Stephen Clarke book, a book about Thugees and a book about Attila the Hun. And then he went to the party. And there was cake :-) :-) :-)

After cake cutting et all, everyone went out for lunch and again there was leftovers, so Meister got them as well.

You know what all that means???

It means Meister had loads of food at home.

So what did he do?

He invited his friends over for a night of food and games.

And so Don Violent and Sexy Anutie and MahaBOOB and OCD Man and Resident Bugger all came and they had good food and they played games (where Don Violent tried to cheat at Grand Prix but failed owing to the keen eyes of the Meister and his 100% success rate in that game.)

So you see, it was an uber interesting weekend wasn't it?

And the week was too.

For now, here's only 2 snippets from the week.

On Tuesday, Meister, being a bit of a Muppet, tried to heat his food in a plastic bowl on his electric heater, thereby successfully managing to burn the plastic bowl and conk out the electric heater. (In his defence, how was he to know that a bowl marked Microwave etc is not going to work on a heater??)

On Wednesday, after office, he went with his colleagues to a mess, which serves some really tasty food. What's more, someone else paid for the food. And once he came back home, he got invitation from Sexy Auntie and Don Violent to come over to PerennialyinjuredthungOvung's place where there was, among other things, lots of cake!!!! :-)

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Its one of them deep philosophical questions that have mystified people throughout the ages (and have also given them philosophical types something to do during the long winter nights). There is probably no clear and simple answer or solution to this conundrum (more or less on the same way that there are no clear answers to the questions -

Was there Atlantis?

Who built Stonehenge?

What is the purpose behind the existence of houseflies and Ayush Prasad?

Now you all know that Meister is not one of them philosophical types (you know the ones who talk about issues and use words like hegemony, imperialistic, parochial etc etc). Meister, being a man of the world, is more concerned about why the chicken actually crossed the road.

It all happened Saturday morning. Meister was going to office. He has just crossed the Sitafalmandi flyover, when it happened - the chicken crossed the road. The Meister was stuck on one lane of the road, a jeep/Bolero/Sumo was on the other lane. The chicken which was patiently standing on one side of the road suddenly decided to cross to the other side.....and its been bugging the Meister ever since...why did she do it?

Was it to go home?

or

Was it to escape from a patriarchal system dominated by some hegemonistic cock?

And they call the Meister a Chauvinist Mysoginist!!!!

Well, everyone knows that the Meister is a pretty laid back dude. Nothing really disturbs him (apart from Tasneem and cultural studies students hell bent on talking about "issues"). He certainly never gets disturbed about movies. He watches everything.......from Woody Allen to Michael Bay...well not really, he doesn't watch movies with deep philosophical insights which talk about important issues and which are made by Slovenian directors (with names like Polish goalkeepers) and which are favoured by certain "uber antels".

Some reasons the Meister does not see such stuff are that:

• He is certain that being a plebian (despite dictionary.com's insistence of attaching an extra e in the proceedings, Meister is sticking to this spelling) proletariat, he won't understand a single word/scene/issue/deep philosophical insight and the whole movie will go 25 feet over his head like a Bobby Zamora shot or a post-apocalyptic poem involving one armed men, hungry dogs, grass which grows in the dark and lava; at which point all them hoity-toity intellectuals will turn up their noses, look down upon him and start using words like hegemony (Meister always thought that the word meant earning money by designing hedges); at which point of time the Meister's foot will move of its own accord towards the posterial regions of said intellectuals

• As a disciple/acolyte/worshiper of the Invisible Flying Purple Spaghetti Monster, its against his religion to watch such movies. That and eating/drinking coconut oil

Now the Meister was recently taken to a movie called New Moon. Meister knows what you are thinking - you are thinking: Why Meister Why??? Well the reason was that it was a revenge by MS for The Hangover. As she put it like that, Meister really could not refuse (as he has a soft spot for the Code proposed by that fella Hammurabi). So he went.

And he got disturbed, really disturbed.

Its not really the fact that its a bad film. Guus knows Meister has seen enough bad, cringeworthy films in his life (bloody Moulin Rouge comes to mind). But this movie was in a separate stratosphere of badness of its own. The film in itself was mediocre and lame - what got the Meister pissed off was the story.

To get to the bottomline, its a story about a girl who wants to change everything about her (and in the end changes everything) for the love of a boy. It doesn't matter if said boy is a menace/danger to other human beings.

So what do we have as the morals of the story?

1. Girls, if you really love a guy, then go ahead change yourself. Its no biggie if you have to go under the knife and get some plastic surgeries done, its all for a good cause, you have to get the guy don't you? Also, running away from home is perfectly acceptable.

2. Its perfectly ok to commit suicide.

3. Girls - the word independence does not apply to you. You always always must depend on a guy for help, for support, to get you out of trouble etc etc etc.

4. Nice guys always always always finish last.

Stories based on these lovely morals have now become a worldwide hit. What is pathetic really is the fact that apparently sane, educated, adult, independent women who would go apeshit on your ass if you say the same things that these stories are teaching are going gaga over this series. This is actually sickening and the worst form of hypocrisy.

Meister doesn't care what other people like. But whoever likes this series are hereby disqualified from ever uttering the words "male chauvinist" and "sexist" ever again.

Meister has lost all respect for women who actually like this stuff.

To Do

There's this football lingo thingy around. It starts with "To do". It describes some specific actions some specific guy is famous for. For example: "To do a Zamora" means hitting the ball 20 feet above the goal post. So, taking that "to do" thing and putting it to people whom the Meister knows, this is what is there.

To do a Satarupa - add family as friends on facebook / reject vehemently the theory that she is indeed an intellectual / try and find any molecule of intellectuality/deep philosophical insights in Meister's blog posts

To do a Sandy - obsess about LFCs / smoke / destroy the hopes, dreams, aspirations of Champs League finalists

To do a Mithila - disagree with just about everything fat, bald, bearded people say / disappear for months / not pick up phones

To do a Premankur - take your foot and put in into your mouth - repeat ad infinitum / lose all your important stuff on the very 1st day in a new place / eat only soup

To do a Runa - get drunk and start singing old Hindi songs / cheat at Monopoly and other indoor board games

To do a Mythili - get thoroughly drunk/high and then go around claiming to be the only sober person around / take only 1 hour and 55 minutes to get prepared to go out

To do a Mhadeno - get spooked/scared crapless by cartoon ghosts / get high on cranberry juice

To do a Benny - get scandalised about each and every thing on this planet / change football teams every 2 months

To do a Koel - fall off every available surface/place known to man / flirt with bartenders while drunk (allegedly)....also see Jonathan

To do a Jonathan - compete with Jimbo to see who is lazier / flirt with/hug/kiss/dance/get thoroughly excited in the presence of - gay men (despite being straight {allegedly})

To do an Oren - use quilts during summer / go absent after inviting people over / have the most pathetic excuse for a beard...ever

To do an Ipshita - think continuously about something someone said for 8 days and get thoroughly depressed / change mind every fortnight / buy furniture

To do an Avijit - keep having accidents / caary on, just keep having accidents

To do a Krishnayan - buy things from the net / play every free team selecting game known to man

To do a Pallavi - dream about getting married for just about every minute of your life / cheat at Name Place Animal Things

To do a Shahir - lose your way / be RHMs of CEOs

To do a Shailaja - be freakishly enthusiastic about everything / keep calling 1 friend with another friend's name / yawn when a particular friend calls

To do a Minakshi - work everyday of the week / walk out from cinema halls / love the most anti-feminist/sexist/chauvinistic piece of literature written in the last 150 years

To do a Souro - have OCD / write poems to Sirisha / try flirting with pork as subject matter / like, dream, obsess, have a fetish about - trains

To do an Ananya - don't talk to guys / dance at 3 AM

To do an Ayush - burn your balls - figuratively, metaphorically, literally / lose all self-respect or dignity

To do a Tasneem - become a correspondent for every gossip-mongering tabloid journal of this planet / to bitch about anything and everything / backstab

ohh how could the Meister forget

To do a Prashanti - be a selfish, egomaniacal, narcissistic, pampered, spolit slave owner/slave driver

The Eternal Conundrum

or the Horns of a Dilemna if you will

And this is one thing that women never have to face and never will understand

Here's the thing - jockeys or boxers???

This is not about the sportsmen but rather about underwear or more specifically which type of underwear to use. Both have their pros, both have their cons.

With the boxers the problem is that the carrot and onions are never where they are supposed to be, they keep moving this way and that, the advantage being that there's not much pressure.

With the jockeys, everything stays where they are supposed to be like a well disciplined regiment. However, sometimes there is too much pressure on the family jewels (or in the Meister's case the useless pieces of family trinkets of only sentimental value)

In summer its not that big a deal coz well you can always go commando, but in winter, if the weather's chilly, then you need all the protection you can get otherwise the doodahs shrivel up like a frightened tortoise in the middle of a pack of eagles. So, you need to wear something but what to wear - that is the question

Why?

The Meister, having finished his office work after working like a dhobi's gadha continuously for 2 months (due to muppety colleagues, idiotic bosses, moronic clients and the Great Indian Chunkubaaz), had a free day on Tuesday. Well, it was courtesy the Potato, as when the office had called, he had picked up the phone and had told office to foock off and leave them alone for a day.
So, with a free day in hand and noone to talk to apart from the Potato, the Meister soon got bored and started thinking.

An idle mind is Lord Fergie's workshop etc etc.

Well, he thought a lot of football, which he is pretty sure none of the readers want to read about. He also thought of women, which he is sure all the readers are interested about. More specifically, he thought of 2 aspects of women.

Aspect 1- Make up

The Meister had had the misfortune of editing a course on women's makeup recently. It can safely be said that it was the weirdest piece of literature the Meister had ever read. And the most boring (keeping in mind the fact that he has just finished editing a Statistics book). Having only seen the Esteemed Nutter of the Maternal Persuasion (who as you can realise from the name is a nutter) put on makeup, the Meister was of the idea that its an idiosyncratic thingy. But now after reading about this, and after exposures to Sexy Auntie (food waster) and Lady Frustratedalot (cowdung wearer), he has come to the conclusion that all women are nutters.

Women put on chemicals on their face and body and then they put on more chemicals to remove these chemicals - all of which begs the question why put on the 1st batch of chemicals in the 1st foocking place anyway????

They actually go and pay people to massacre their eyebrows!!! What d foock is up with that!!!!!

They also put boiling hot wax on their legs to remove hair!!! Well, apparently, its not only on their legs, they also go for something called bikini wax. shudder!! horror!!! nightmare!!!!! And what's worse, some luj charcters and disgraces to the XY chromosome also go for that. These are the same luj charcters who probably shave of their chest hair and paint their eyebrows and pu on makeup. All these guys should have one side of a rope tied around their bollocks and the other side of the rope tied to an F1 car, and then the car should go around a circuit for a couple of laps. Metro-foocking-sexuals.

Hot wax on any part of the body is bad enough but the very thought of hot wax near the bollockal region makes the Meister break out in sweats.....this looks like something dreamt up by that Marquis de Sade fella.

Aspect 2 - Ayush Prasad

Now there are many unsolved mysteries in the world - you know like the presence of Nessie, the Loch Ness creature, who built Stonehenge, whether Lord fergie is really the son of the devil, the significance of the letter S in Jughead's shirt etc. Another 1 to add to the list is why women like Ayush Prasad. This is a man (and that's a term loosely used in this case) who has no dignity, no self-respect and no shame. And yet, the ladies like him.

Why? Why? Why? What is the source of attraction?? What is it that gets him all the loving and liking from the ladies while on the other hand the Meister gets saddled with complaints, accusations, snappings and recriminations????

Why?

To the Ladies in my Life

Sorry for taking up your time. Won't take more in the future, this is just a short message.

It seems to me that at some point or the other in 2009 I have pissed off, angered, disappointed, disgusted, disgruntled, scandalised etc almost every woman that I know and regularly interact with. Quite a record eh? Quite a lot of these things happened due to my blog or because of comments that I have made on facebook or while chatting.

Now I know I am not politically correct, but whatever I say or write, I do that in jest. I thought that anyone who even remotely knows me knows that. Clearly I was wrong.

I have tried to never ever deliberately hurt anyone (well though my mother and Mithila would probably disagree....and believe me when I say that I am sorry for all that I have done; they may have forgiven me or forgotten about them but I haven't and never will).

Anyway the point here is that if I have inadvertently offended or hurt anyone, then I apologise. However, I am not going to change my style or my humour for anyone. So there are 2 courses of action from this point onwards that I have decided on.

As of today morning, I have stopped commenting on your posts or statuses on facebook. As far as the blog thing goes, I am deleting you from the mailing list since I do not want you to feel that I am forcing you to read my trash. I will keep on writing the same kind of stuff though. If you want come to the blog and read, if you don't want to read then everything's still hunky dory.

This year has brought me the news of what is wrong with me and I have realised that my life is "literally" too short to go around saying sorry you know. Not only am I tired of saying sorry all the time, I am also just tired of life. The only reason I haven't committed suicide so far (and believe me the temptations have been strong and frequent) is because that would kill my parents and so I am waiting for them to die before I do.

In the meantime, I will live each day as it comes, I will try to enjoy football and food and books etc. And I will write because it makes me smile.

I wish you all a happy life and all the best with all your endeavours.

Bishwaksen Bandyopadhyay

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.