Friday Ramblings

With HBO, Cinemax and Showtime added to the list of cable channel subscriptions, it becomes quite hard to detach your ass from the new sofa cushions. Yesterday morning, with the bag all packed and ready to go to work, I turned around and muttered “Nah… not in a mood today”. I wonder if writing about films and stars has turned me into one. An ass who’s bored of his ass.

Quite frankly now I can relate to some of them out there. When a major character actor is bored to death of all the comedy projects he keeps getting, he can only think of an early retirement. Or wanting to go home early. The difference is that I don’t even wanna leave home. If it wasn’t for the client checks that keep the bank balance ticking, I would be sipping pina coladas on a beach. Blue sky, blue water, Oh darn…

So the clocks ticking but you are not. Definitely not at 37, where job is akin to slavery, work is pure that - shitload of … what else but work, burnout is you, your ass belongs to your to-be-wife and perhaps it’s time to write your professional epitaph. Cause nothing now excites you. You know you don’t want this kind of work, but HAHA don’t know what it is that you want. Welcome to my world where a screwdriver is meant to be shoved up your ass every morning. And by “screwdriver” I meant the hardware tool. Not the drink served by the 36DD bimbo at the bar.

So here like me, is this not-so-famous-yet-but-will-be highly creative down to earth filmmaker who for his own reasons wants to leave everything he has made and struggled for. It’s just not exciting anymore for him. So he’s here. Looking for alternatives. Of course the good thing is he knows it will be only films that he wants to make, just not in the stifling, depressing environment of Bollywood. I wonder if Hollywood will be any better. But hey, if the tiny mass of muscle, that God created in your head, which we labeled it as “the brain”, yes that piece of muscle… the brain… if that tiny muscle decides it wants to screw you… guess what… it will.

So out you kick, your success, your career. Walk away from it all to do something exciting, challenging, motivating and of course inspiring. And a screwdriver served by a 36 DD bimbo gives you all that. If you were me, that screwdriver would be a keg of beer where the “magical” keg never gets empty, there are two bimbos instead of one and the double Ds are replaced by triple Ds. I don’t care about blond hair anymore. Frankly after marriage, any color is welcome. Except grey. Cause that color is available, in abundance, over me self. Thank you.

So what’s new? I’m tired of everything, bored of everything and every time I even remotely hear of another Indian rich-fuck who has plenty of money in the bank and spends his day at his own pace, doing nothing, except meeting the high and mighty, more bimbos and sipping screwdriver on his boat on the Pacific, I do nothing… but smile, while the hand searches for something that I can stab the ass of the MOTHER FUCKER WHO TELLS ME THAT STORY. FOR MOTHER FUCKING GOD’S SAKE AM I THE ONLY FUCKING IDIOT LEFT IN TOWN WHO PEOPLE COME AND TELL ME SUCH STORIES OF RICH MOTHER FUCKING FUCKERS!!! The next time you visit my house and smell something burning, please don’t be alarmed. It’s just my ass, that’s on fire. And it could well be because - you, my dear reader were telling me a certain story of a rich desi guy or gal who’s sipping pina coladas on a white sandy heavenly beach while their millions make more millions with every sip of the divine alcohol they take in. And after the story, if you find your ass, split into two, I’m sorry. There’s only so much that I can take.

Well gotta go and get some lunch. Volunteer work is a pain and I need to turn my attention to it, before my ass gets slammed. The weekend calls for some hard work around the house and to restart the preparations for the marriage. And while I do that…

Ya’ll be good, stay safe and have a rocking weekend!