Football-ing the Internet.

It's the middle of the night, the cat is wailing, you're not interested though, instead there is a bright screen of a tablet in front of you which has your attention. On that screen are, approximately, 10 people and a ball frozen in motion, like as if Kronos had arisen and was testing out powers. You stare at the screen, in anticipation of being able to watch the men and ball move. Nothing happens. You start tapping the screen, urging the men to do something interesting. They rebel. Then panic strikes. You curse. You start to sweat. The cat wails louder. You still ignore it. Then you pray to The Almighty, begging Him to stop the torture and penalize you for your misdeeds in some other way. Then you start to rape the modem, abusing it and the internet service provider in the process, calling them cheats, among other eargasmic words which if spoken in front of your mom would cause a seizure of her heart. After the modem has restarted, you coax the tab to function well so that you can reap the benefits that come with a good internet connection and a device that supports Flash. Finally, after 10 minutes of intense struggle, that would have made the Mahatma proud, Real Madrid vs Bayern Munich live stream plays on the tab. But by then, you're too sleepy to bother about extra time  and the result. But deep inside, you're fighting to stay awake, deep down you know you need to watch the match, 'cuz you need a good Facebook status and you need likes on it, to increase your mana. The urge to sleep over powers your worthless thoughts and you sleep, missing the penalties and the expressions on the faces of Real Madrid's staff and team when Ronaldo didn't score.

I know. It hurts.

You curse life.

I just watched this video. Seems apt.

UEFA needs to pick up tricks from the IPL. Having cheerleaders is going to draw the attention of more men, especially those who are tired of the ones in the IPL. If there was an award for fair play, John Terry would have thought twice before kicking the opponents buttock, he would have had the chance to play in the final. Goalkeepers would put that extra bit of effort to save a goal if there was an equivalent of Karbonn Kamaal Catch like Karbonn Kamaal Save. Replacing the mind blowing expression of GOOOOOAAAAAAALLLL when there is a goal, with one equivalent to DLF Maximum, maybe something like "Mastercard Priceless Shot" will help in re-branding scoring goals. Players will be inspired to create Priceless moments. There should also be good looking women to interview those on the benches even if their job is to make bland jokes and asking stupid questions. It would keep the TV audience interested when the crowd chants become unbearable and the ball is just being passed around.

Barcelona vs Chelsea was a good match. Don't think I've ever been excited more while watching a football match. And I don't watch football often.

Times Have Been Better

You may have wondered if this blog had been packed up in a banana leaf and left on a busy Indian street for the cows to devour and then excrete out and then used by the farmer for variety of purposes. You may have even been right, if it wasn't for those meddling kids and their dog. You may have been right if I hadn't known of what goes on in your mind. You may have been right if I had been utilizing my ample free time in doing something productive. Fortunately, you're wrong. For now...

Once upon a time, I had a certain job. A job that could have fetched me a good amount of the green notes, which help run the universe (I'm talking of money, not drugs), if I had the will power to work. Then one fine day, which coincidentally was the second day of the job, the will power to remain employed was thrown to the dogs. Asking people about their eating habits didn't suit me. I may have even scared off one of the to-be-respondent. That's how life is... Women just don't want to give me their phone numbers. Insert a sigh, if you please. It was the universe speaking to me in God-tongue, which I have nearly mastered, that the job wasn't for me.


Cooking 101 - The secret to make a good chapati, or anything circular from a ball of dough, is to caress the ball with a stick in all the right places, else it'll turn into a butterfly.
You may also enjoy this -

Uneventful Events.

The past few days have passed without much shizzle.
Prom doesn't seem to excite me. Haven't even bothered much about the attire. Maybe because I'm a guy. Clothing has a lot to do with the gender. I might as well tweet from the ballroom. If you do follow me on twitter and if I do start tweeting from the ballroom, mainly due to the fact that I have no date, #Prom2012 will be the hashtag for the event.
Being the manager of a cricket team, which includes players I play with, is hard work. Almost no work at all. After a disaster with the class football team, resulting in my resignation after the first match, I gave up all hopes of becoming a manager again. Destiny had other plans. Here I am now with a 100% win record as manager of a cricket team.
I have absolutely no idea what I am supposed to be doing. The Google search shall help me. Google search never fails. Worthy companion.

Another tsunami warning for India. No. I'm not ready for another candle light vigil. May Poseidon be with the ones in danger of losing homes and lives. May the Force be with them. Stay safe.

Suzanne Collins is epic. I love that she has managed to add a twist or a suspense at the end of every chapter of Catching Fire. It gives me the goosebumps and I stare at the final sentence of each chapter in awe for about five minutes on average. May the odds be ever in your favor.

Yeh IPL Hai, Boss

This is IPL, boss.

So the new season of the Indian Premier League started yesterday. It officially begun on 3rd April but the opening ceremony was lame, so it doesn't count. Filled with the glamour of Bollywood, one wondered whether it was the IPL opening ceremony night or just another Bollywood award show. Continuous re-runs of the TV ad will help erase the memories of the opening ceremony, but after a while, I'll have to burn the TV as the ad will become a torture. But for now, the TV is safe. The opening ceremony was bland, just like the food I'm being made to cook. Food, which I have no intention to eat later on in life. How is cooking such food going to help me? I don't know.

The first match between the Chennai Super Kings and the Mumbai Indians wasn't an epic one. Maybe the expectations were too high. The commentators blamed the pitch, saying that the pitch wasn't T20 friendly. The pitch curator must have been cursed in Tamil and fired by now by the CSK owners. Bloody traitor.
Hats off to the curator, though. Such a troll he is. It takes a lot of courage to introduce an alien wicket in the first match of one of the world's most glamorous tournament.
I will blame the opening ceremony for boring the crap out of the CSK team who were called on stage and made to shake their hips for their dismal performance.
Hopefully the pitch at Eden Gardens today will be a predictable one, according to whatever SRK and Gautam Gambhir have hoped for.