The Simpsons

So, Cafe Coffee Day it was. Me and M walked in there hand in hand. "Ah! This is so much better than BurPista, won't you say?” she nudged me. "The Darjeeling tea there is when you have to mix together a plastic envelope containing too much sugar, a small ceramic pot of something which is not milk but has curdled anyway, and a thin brown packet seemingly containing the ashes of a cremated mole. This place smells better.""Oh come now", she retorted, " At least it is better than that dishwater called the cappuccino: at least it doesn’t have dried smoldered vegetables". "Ho hum". We found an empty table, and sat down.
The place was partly crowded. We ordered our Irish coffees.

There was a big TV screen, in front of us. Part of a video jukebox. Enrique-something was mooning. "Isn't he hot?” she whispered. "Huh? He looks like his neck threw up!""Shut-up!!""Now come on", looks aren't everything, in his case - they aren't anything! “One more word from you, and I will hang you, and kiss the mistletoe!! SHUT UP!""MMmPHhhh!!”

Then they came. And they came as a herd. Because of the lack of space, he had to squeeze his enormous bum, between me and the pillar. We held out breaths. The chairs creaked, as he made his way to the other table. "THAT is so big, that I can park my bike in the crack", I whispered. "You'll get us murdered", she whispered back, " Hold your breath, and try not to open your mouth". He was followed by the woman. We huddled closer, holding our breaths. I risked a look back. "THAT is a misplaced mountain range...Aaaa..!!". M had dug her nails in my arm to keep me quite. The other two followed suit. "At this rate, the chair is going to have stretch marks", I said, my face almost pinned down on the table. "Phfut-Fup" M mouthed, equally pinned down. The last of them passed by, like a whisper. I turned back. The guy was like a whisper. "I am sure he uses his tie as a blanket." We straightened up in our chairs, and took the sight in.

He was big. In the ass and face. He definitely looked like one who has a passion for collecting chins. He had three of them. The hair on his head stood like he had combed them with an eggbeater. The eyes were so close set, that you'd have trouble making out which one was which. As if he'd been watching TV in stereo. His chest had slipped a bit, so it was held back by a tight belt around his waist, in a puddle. The woman next to him was hairy. Almost like a chimp with a sweater on. Naked, her tits would look like coconuts. I bet she beats her chest after she has had sex. Her face was blank, almost helpless: much like a marigold after you sprinkle it with DDT. The other woman was apparently a sibling. She was like a psychiatrist's dream, only he would make her lie with her face down on the couch. Medusa, had competition. She was dressed the same was as the other woman, the only difference being; she wore a bright red scarf around her neck. I suspect that was to hide the chest hair. The last guy, in the troupe was so thin that he gave me a complex. So thin, that if he turned sideways, he'd disappear. He wore the tightest pair of jeans, and a paratrooper's jacket. He and the fat guy made a perfect figure of ten.

The chimp in the sweater got up, and parked herself in front of the video jukebox. Then she started molesting the panel. We waited with bated breath. "Oh no! She is making a play list!" M whispered. "They look Punjabi by nature"; I whispered back, "be prepared". The chimp hopped back to the sofa where all of them were sitting, and high-fived the sibling, the other hand on her waist. "That’s, what I call a primitive mating dance", M said. "Yes, but I bet the strap-ons go soft, when they are at it." You are gross".

Daler Mehendi came on screen. With his flashy clothes, and the turban to match. I turned to the Simpsons. Their faces were contorted with ecstasy. Damnit, they even know the lyrics, I thought. The chin-collector was doing a mini-bhangra jig, on his seat. It was not a pleasant sight. Eyes closed, gyrating, he looked like a Hippo, getting his first taste of chewing gum, only, the gum was in the wrong place. "I am sure it is their orgy anthem", I said.

"Do you have a pen and a paper? I want to draw the chin collector. He is very drawable". M handed me the notepad, and a pen. I started drawing. I was adding the detail to the nose hair, when I felt a shadow looming over me. We both gasped. The chin-collector was looming over us. He peered close, his shadow was heavy too.

Chin-collector: "Drawing, are we?"
Me: :Uh...hum...well...
Chin-collector: "A hobby, is it?"
Me: "Uh. sorta. But I also believe that there is a fine line between hobby and mental illness."
Chin-collector: "That looks familiar".
Me: "Sure is. Do you watch Simpsons? That is Homer's cousin, Bummer. He came in the re-run show, in 2001, late evening. Are you a homer fan too?"
Chin-collector: "Ye simpson kya hai?"
Me: "Uh. It’s a series of documentaries on the behavioral pattern of displaced orangutans, in the rain forests of Botswana. Very interesting. You should see it sometime. Full family entertainment.
Chin-collector : (jabbing at the sheet) "Par isne to jacket pehen rakha hai"
Me: "That is the fun part. They actually put the orangutans in an enclosed, man made environment. That’s why the show is called Simpsons."
Chin-collector: Heh heh. (Waving to the herd) "aree dekho ji dekho"

The three of them made a half circle around us, peering close. M shifted, poked me in the ribs, and held her breath.

Chin-collector: "Bhaisaab is artist. Works for Discovery channel"
Chimp with a sweater: "Haiiiiiiin? Sachhi? How sweet ji. Mere to ghar main do hi channel chalte hain: BBC, aur Discovery. Aap kis time aate ho?"
Me: " Oh. Actually I am a research scholar, working with the channel. Our goal is to make the world a better living place, for Chimpanzees, Baboons, orangutans, and the likes."
Psychiatrist's dream: "Maine bhi dekha tha woh waala program. Aap kahan the usme?"
Me: Oh? U missed me by a whisker. I was behind the old orangutan, in the blue t-shirt, and bandar-topi. We have to mingle with them jee. To avoid suspicion".
Chin-collector: " Can you please aa-to-grap this sheet, with the drawing, and give it to me? I collect.
Me: I know. It shows. (More poking in ribs from M)
M: (suddenly) "Oh? Its 7PM!! We'll miss the flight to Cape town." (Grabbing me by the sleeve) Lets go!"
Psychiatrist's dream: "Hehe. Just like the Maruti Advertisement. How sweet."
M: "X'cuse me?"
Me: "Never mind. Ok guys; catch me on Discovery on Wednesday, 2 am sharp. Just remember that the program has adult content. Make sure the kids sleep before you collect".
Chin Collector: "Hain? That we will do jee. Nice meeting you jee."

Footnote: M dragged me out, before we could exchange more pleasantries. I could not even tell him my name, and about my next project in Burkina Faso. M has forbidden me to say the word Discovery and monkey in public forever.

How to be a Blog Bimbo

Following are some tips to successfully become a blog bimbo.

Choosing your Blog Name:

1) Name your blog after your name. This tells the readers that you are an open book, and you have nothing to hide. This also inspires prospective matrimony seekers, to leave comments like, “Beautiful name!”, or” is this your real name? Wow!!”, or “ I always wanted to know someone by that name, and there you are! Unbelievable!”
2) If you are feeling a little shy, leave out the real name. Be adventurous, and think of cute names like “Pyara Dost”,or “Misthi Dohi”, or chamakta sitara”. This will send out the message that you are chilled out, and are easy going.

Blog Header:

Call it your shrine! Make a declaration. Start with a phrase like “ These are my personal memoirs, and I’d like to share them with you people. I know that there is a “chamakta sitara” in every one of you.” DO NOT forget to mention, that you are writing it for yourself, and its like a therapy to you, AND that you DO have a life beyond blogging. Believe it or not, people DO take it seriously.

Layout:

Decorate your page, by putting up a billion pictures all over. Leave no corner untouched!! Afterall, it IS your personal space, and the blog-host is paying for it, not you! You can try any of these combinations: Winnie the pooh, Mickey Mouse, Tarzan, Jack the ripper, or Archie, Lovebirds, Waterfalls, or meadows. Or all of them together. Leave all these pictures unoptimized, you WANT the page to take time to load. The longer it takes, the better the intrigue. What you write, will always come later.

Links:

1) Now this, has to be a LONG list. The reader should be able to scroll down to the entire length of the page, and the list should still be going on. This will show that you have been a busy bee, and you have read ALL, who really matter. The reader will be awe-struck.
2) Finding the links is no rocket science. Just visit the blogs under the “HOT” category, and copy all the links these poor buggers have put them on their respective pages. This might also include somebody’s personal family picture homepage, or the New York Philharmonic website, but that really doesn’t matter. No one will ask questions, they’ll just believe that you have a wide intrest.
3) Try and find out the first names and locations of these bloggers, and link them by those names. This gives the listing a “personal” touch. It also makes sure that these poor shmucks visit your blog atleast once a week. Believe in numbers!

Tag Board:

1) Let them see your wackier side. Name it something like “deep-throat”, or “mouth to mouth”, or “Tongue me”. The perfect seductress.
2) Flood the tagboard under your own name. Plead innocence and tell them all that you can’t see your own messages. Soon, it will be flooded with “hi’s” and ‘hellos” from these unsuspecting bastards.

Golden Tip: If you are low on imagination, fear not. You are a wannabe blog-bimbo for nothing!? Eventually, some hobgoblin will confess his undying love for you, and design it all by himself. Patience, child.

Content:

a) Since you have already declared you are an open book, and you have nothing to hide, and life has been nothing, but a sea of pain, writing comes naturally to you. You, and no one else is the master of this art. It is a mere extension of the excruciating thoughts which torment your brain. Naturally, by writing, you are venting it all out, AND sharing it with a zillion like-minded people. Keep in mind, that you are basically reaching out to them, and touching them – in places they still have to discover!
b) The first blog entry should be – has to be a complete bio-data of yourself. Your name, your age, your qualifications, the name and location of your workplace, and the position you hold- you have earned it the hardest possible way, and THEY have to know, exactly how. This also does not leave any doubts about your honesty and modesty.
c) Hit those trustful buggers with the memoirs of your traumatic childhood. Drunkard parents, WHAT you wore on your first day of school ( that is VERY important) –and how you were teased about it to the point that you peed in the classroom, how the classmates envied you because you were the prettiest of them all (A MUST!!) , and the time when they pasted a “kick me, I am a bimbo” sticker on your backside. Leave nothing. Every small little revelation will earn you an amulet of sympathy. Generous use of words like “ cried”, ‘tears”, “sad”, “hurt”, “pain”, and “heartbroken” is encouraged.
d) List the names of all your past and present lovers/boyfriends, and how you met each one of them. The list can go from 6 to 69. The names should be chronologically arranged. You can also put in subtle details about time spent with each. No, it dosen’t tell the readers how promiscuous you are, it just merely confirms the fact that you are a large hearted bimbo.
e) SEX!! Write in harrowing details about when, where, and how! Won’t the readers just love it? Home-grown porn, and totally legal!! And free!! Feel free to draw inspirations from Mills&Boons, and nancy Friday. Sex sells- you have been there, and done it all! The page hits will quadruple in a coupla hours.
f) You are a gentle, loving soul, and you love everyone equally, unconditionally. Dammit, you even love those who wronged you! Make such posts interactive : exhort the readers to forgive the culprits. The response will astonish you! After the first few shocked and anguished remarks, they will whimper, and finally give in- afterall, they belong to the same pain-clan as you.

Your content is all set. Well, more or less. Now lets sprinkle it with some some useful details, and make this post a smash hit!

i) When did you go to potty, and what did you discover there. You were brushing with close-up at the same time.
ii) You spilled milk on the kitchen slab, and its drying. You’ll scrap the shavings when you have time. (Milk powder is a weakness)
iii) Your cell battery is wasted. You are going to buy a new one. Name the shop and location.
iv) Neighbour’s dog- always black, and always a Labrador.And yes, he/she hates you. She was sleeping today. She did not bark.
v) The money you paid in the bus, the grocery store, and Wrigley’s chewing gum. Every paisa.
vi) Detailed description of what you were wearing today.

Comments Section:

You have nothing much to worry about here, really. Its more or less automated. The admirers will be competing for the biggest” muuuuuuuuuah’s” and the largest “huuuuuuuuuugs”. All you have to do is muuuuah and huuug back. For all the other thankless, obnoxious bastards, the delete button is thoughtfully provided.

!!Important!!

Keep a “I- am- disturbed-I-don’t-want-to-write post ready. Post it every three weeks, and declare that you are gonna disappear for good. Wait for the comments section to fill up with atleast 15 “No!!!”, and “Come back!!!”, and “You can’t do this to me, I just started to read you” type of commets. Put a comeback post the very next day. Intrigue is you. You overcame your weaknesses, yet again. Bravo!


Congratulations! You have successfully completed the short term course! You go girl!! Kill ‘em all!!!