Sunday, 13 January 2008

My Grudge 2

Well, kick me. I mean it. *shows butt*

I bought tickets for that damn movie, I thought, oh yeah, its big city multiplex, a lotta cute chicks sit next to me, the pop corn tastes like its fit for kings, the toilets smell of roses,.. . Funny when you enter a mall, everybody think they own the place, even the security dudes. The movie released a million years back, but we bought it because of desperation, lack of anything else to watch cause it was a Saturday, and because half of us never watched an A movie before. (we couldn't show any age proof, but that's another story).
Things that make you go #*^#%!@*#^@!(#&)!@&$#%

The humans here keep it simple, easy to understand for us extraterrestrial folk.The men dress so as to impress the women, and they speak English with a brilliant half-American, half-Thanjavur accent. The women dress so as to lie about their waistlines, and speak Tamil with a half-Caribbean, half-Liverpudlian accent.

The movie started with a message "Welcome to inox(duh)".

I don't remember the supposed horror movie very well, only that I was laughing my ass off as the good looking mature women with no sense of humour tortured, raped and killed cats, men and bears dressed in Japanese miniskirts, and in the process left the kind of goo which you'd normally find in baby diapers after a blissful night of snivel-less slumber. They made weird sounds like the pan Indian husband behaving like an animal in bed(snore like horses) and they snort like a laughing hyena and they fart like a bear who just finished the honey supply. Wasting 250 for this movie is advisable if you are heir to Vijay Mallya, but it would make more sense to throw it to those weird Hare Rama Hare Krishna people so that they can have a haircut.

Typically, the story is simple. Its based in Japan, and the Japanese have no sense of humour. A girl enters a house, and for some strange controversial and extremely confusing reason, the girl is sexually unsure of herself, and visits a supposedly haunted mansion for no reason so that she can show off her friends that Americans are cooler, and slimmer, and taller, and pull off Paris Hiltons everyday. For the same reason, half the script is in Japanese, or Bengali, or something, and the other half is like "In Japanese schools, it is morally wrong for women to go out on a date without eating sushi". And for that exact same reason, the girl then experiences ghosts who try to kill her, and people around her, and then she realizes that she's a ghost too, and she, unbelievably, kills an old hag she met in Kyoto who told her that she stole the pubes of some dead man who died in that stupid haunted house and then does them for them because they told them to do them. That's what the movie was about. Makes a lot of sense, doesn't it.

*types so hard that keyboard loses a few keys. Replaces the damn keyboard.*

The ending was brilliant.

Girl in white : Its the house, its the house, its the house

Woman in red : Its your imagination, dear. There's nothing wrong with the house.

GIW : Hey, you, get away from me, get away from ME!

*Strange screeching sounds, a wham, a couple of burps, and then all the menfolk in the hall get big grins and all the womenfolk cling on tighter to their boyfriends. And the few sensible ladies, not willing to show the world they're scared, starts laughing out loud, and the few sensible menfolk, who had no accompanying womenfolk, starts wondering if the bouncer in black at the back was human to have gone through this shit everyday. Then Woman in Red transforms, strips, becomes blue with long hair(a lot of hair) and something happens, then something else happens, then the two start fighting*

GIW : My husband is a cop! He'll accuse you!

WIR : Oh, you've got a husband? Ah, I see. Before I eat you, give me his number.

GIW :!

WIR : Monster? How dare you? I'm only 28. GOBBLE, AARGH, SNORT, RIP, CRUNCH, SLOBBER, CHOMP, EEEK


*the two continue fighting and hacking and chopping and decapitating each other's bodyparts, then fade to black, then credits roll*

Audience : What the fuck?! That's an ending?!

Vinod : What were you expecting, you old geezers? Come back next year to watch The Grudge 3! And hope inflation keeps low, so you won't have to pay more.

Bouncer : Okay, the exit that's way, thank you visit again.

Cristo : The next time we go for a horror movie, we make sure that we ...

EVERYBODY : Next time??!!

Robbed, stripped, humiliated, and then they hope to see me again. I'm flattered.


Friday, 4 January 2008

Confessions of a born junk-foodie

"To eat is human, to completely digest divine"
- Socrates

It had been a long time I had been in front his cart, gorging on Rajasthan's finest panipuris, or so he called them.
"Kya saheb, badi beejee ho aajkal?"

My sidekick in streetfood misadventures, D, had the instinctive reply, Saheb here is on a diet. He smirked.
"Samose, bhelpuri, masala puri,.."
"Two channa samosas."

I usually eat on the street with my army of connoisseurs of fine street food, and it is then that the most unearthly of remarks escape our chutney filled mouths.
"That girl looks like she's 32 da"

Its not very difficult for the seasoned sightadichifier to comment on a girl's details(and very accurately at times too!) if she's married, if she has kids, if she wanted kids, if she didn't want kids, if she looked like she wanted kids, if she wanted you to think she wanted to have kids, if she was going to buy vegetables, if she had slept with Robert Redford, if she believed in communism, if she had lice in her hair, if she thought your glasses were geeky or if Stephen Hawking's stupid automatic wheelchair ran over your cat.

"Extra meetha daalna"

He was a role model to most. I mean, just look at him. There he would be serving all the cute lookin chicks, takes a leak in the gutter behind him every now and then, and then washes it all down in that famous panipuri's pani, when there are no customers around he sits and scratches his privates, we even calculated that he makes atleast 500 a day. He sometimes had to pay the mamu(the cops) I guess, but then that's hardly any to enter his big accounts. What the fuck am I doing in an engineering college?!

"Ishh, Riju, how do you eat such muck?", said an old lady my Mum used to know when she was little when I went to(well, forced to) her place one day. "God knows what' he puts in those what-do-you-call-them he makes." I was a seasoned receiver of her renowned lectures she usually gave to people whom she thought were reclusive,and i expected one no different.
"Aw come on, its good for us, increases immunity doesn't it?"
She was a gourmet, a bon vivant, the opposite of our breed. She wasn't too keen to oppose my view though, she hated arguing with pesky little kids. So I had my way on this one.

"Machan, you pay da. I'm still overdrawn on my allowance from BOD(Bank of Dad)"

I looked at the panipuriwala. He was pretending to rearrange the clutter of bottles on his cart, which strangely resembled my study, only he actually worked in all the mess. Maybe it wasn't a mess for him, maybe it was order, he had to make do with whatever little space was given to him, and he used it. Then the difference hit me. He used space, I wasted space. Then my friend pulled out a hair(yeww) from his plate of panipuri, and we were afraid to ask where it came from.

"Toowenty phour, saheb"

pulled out a twenty, which the panipuriwala put in his moneybox without even glancing at it.

Regulars always got a discount.