Two-Light?? – The Third Light :D

**WARNING, NONSENSE AHEAD**

Yes, I know I’ve already poked loads of fun at Twilight.
Amongst my friends are die hard fans of the franchise, to whom I must profusely apologize at yet another effort to generate laughs out of the whole Human-Vampire-Wolf Love triangle.

By introducing another angle :D

Heh heh

According to newspaper sources (yeah lets make this sound tabloid-ish)

According to newspaper sources and sources close to the stars, The protagonist of the Vampire saga, the chick also known as Dumbella, is madly in love with a vampire who cannot understand her (or see through her as it may seem).
Why Girls fall for slow guys, and then crib for their entire lives about him being as sharp as a rubber duck, is beyond me. And I’m sure beyond you too.

So as per the movie, she falls for this guy, who, as stated in my previous write up too, is not a conventional model Vampire, he doesn’t burn under the Sun’s rays, no sir, he sticks his tongue out at the sun and sparkles. And he can run faster than Usain Bolt, much much faster. So the sparkly guy is the object of the dumbell’s affection. And vice versa. He digs her coz, for the life of him (or the death of him as it may seem), he can not see what goes on in her mind…..Welcome to the Relationship Club Sparkles…

By mid-term of the school (yeah the vampires go to school to avoid suspicion), Dumbella becomes a “pet” to the family of sparkles.

Mr. And Mrs. Sparkles even host a dinner for her, and the entire family chips in to save her life from the evil vampire who dines on Human blood. The sparkles are “Vegetarians”, so umm…. (WHAT THE HECK WERE U SMOKING STEF???)

Anyway, by the end of the first movie, they are all one big happy family of vampires, with a human “friend”.

Girls went all “AWWWWW THUNKK!!!” over the movie. Paramedics stood by with Defibrillators to revive those stooped females.

Lookie poster below.

And as if the first part wasn’t enough, the movie makers came up with a part 2 of the franchise. Love was already explored in the first movie, hence they needed a new angle in the 2nd one. They added a new angle.

Tadaaa…. Welcome Mr. Hairy Doggy. Yup, since that cloudy misty town in America was luckily where the Vampires were staying, it had to have rivals. Hence the werewolves were thrown in. Among them was one really “hot” werewolf. A guy who runs around in Denim Shorts Only. WHY?? Coz when you transform from human to a wolf, you grow so fast, you burst out of your clothing, so to minimize ur wardrobe you wear a bare minimum. Also, wolves in shorts kinda look dorky. I mean, imagine the wolf found a really tempting fire hydrant. The Stand on 3 legs and lift the 4th leg formula wouldn’t work there. Would it?
Major inconvenience

So Sparkly got bored of Dumbella coz she was like a stuck record, “MAKE ME A VAMPIRE, MAKE ME A VAMPIRE MAKE ME A VAMPIRE” On and on and on and on….Nag Nag nag nag nag nag….(( Again, Welcome to Relationship Club Sparkles ))
So he tells his bro to fake an attack on the human, while he “saves” her and then tells her that his family is too dangerous for him (For real??). And leaves her in the middle of a forest n runs away.

Enter the hairy Werewolf, who loves cliff diving, and swimming ala Micheal Phelps. (This franchise could have its own track and field team)

He loves the dumbbell, who is so grief stricken that she sits in front of a window for the whole damn year. God save the person who had to clean that chair. **Shudder**
Hairy gives her a new lease of life, and well, she starts finding ways of seeing Sparkle’s ghost whenever she’s in danger, so what does she do? Jump from a cliff. I actually let out a whoop and a standing ovation when she did that, only to be drastically disappointed in the next scene where hairy saves her.

And the story drags on and on for infinity and beyond. (chk poster below)
Clearly, this girl has major major issues...

So now that the whole thing’s become a 2 movie success franchise, its time to make a Threequel.

Yup, Vampire saga is going part three.

And keeping in mind the queer attribute of Dumbella to fall in love with the most weirdest of creatures, i.e. a vampire and a werewolf, part three brings to you the most awesome of the three creatures.

He’s tall
He’s muscular
Can fight worth shit

Can run through those forests with more speed, agility and dexterity than sparkly and hairy.

Best of all, he has his own exotic pet which flies.
Say hello to Dumbella Swan’s latest arm candy


Jake Skully :D

KA-CHING !!!!

Biking Maniacs

There are two kinds of people in the world.

The Bikers……and the rest…….

Yup, it’s a pretty simple classification of petrolheads. I’m gonna go on a limb here and say that biking is by far one of the most complete man-machine-road experiences you are going to get. Yeah, even better than being enclosed in a 4 wheeled room with screaming kids and nagging wives, or vice versa if you are my Uncle Asif.

I’ve always been fond of bikes. The freedom of just being alone with a machine on an open road, on a cold dawn, a bandanna on your head and knuckle gloves on ur palms is unmatchable in any other automobile. Cold air whipping at your face as you gear up 1^st and the torque almost pops a wheelie, the air just increasing in its speed at you as you work up the gear box, the howl of the engine through the 3^rd and 4^th gears building into a scream where your heartbeat increases its credence along with the engine’s, and when the engine can scream no higher, a swift engage-disengage of the clutch with the intermittent gearing up, all in a fluid second, resulting in the fresh howl of the engine in top gear…….

Trust me when I say, it can’t get any better than this. Just can’t.

So you could imagine my childish excitement when I first realized that I’d be biking to work with a friend. Rumour had it that he was a maniac on the road. I remember being a sort of a maniac whenever I used to get a bike. We biking maniacs are the rare breed you see weaving in and out of traffic with surgical precision using instinct as our scalpel and adrenaline as the sedative. Yup, you need to be as calm as an unconscious body to pull of that kind of nonsense and live to tell the tale.

Although, there is one thing about us maniacs worth knowing. We acknowledge each other and respect each other. But we sure as hell don’t get on each other’s bikes without a pretty large chunk of doubt in their menace (unless you’ve rode many times with them, in which case). In any case, the first ride with a fellow maniac is filled with doubt.

Bike in question, Yamaha RX-135. The successor to Yamaha RX-100, which if you are a biker in India, would know that it is more than a bike, it is a Legend. Also the first bike I learnt to ride, popping a wheelie in my first go. The absolutely massive torque in the 2 stroke 98cc Engine was so insane that Indian government banned it. Probably coz they didn’t want the youth sacrificing themselves at the altar of speed, leaving the country in the hands of the TVS Scooty riders. Both these Yamahas were only superseded by the Yamaha RD350. **ALL BIKERS SALUTE**

In terms of pure bike royalty, it would be the RD350, RX100 and everything else comes next.

RX135 is a more tamer version of the RX100. So I didn’t give a second thought to the fact that I was sitting pillion with my friend, wearing the dorkiest helmet money could buy. I wont even put you through the agony of having to imagine what it felt like. All I can say is, I’d rather be shot dead at point blank range with a howitzer cannon than wear a helmet like that again. But it was Yamaha, and it demands you keep your helmetty pride aside.

He kicked, and the engine howled to life in the car-shed of my building, resonating and waking up every person in the ground and first floor, (For better waking effects, try a YEZDI ROADKING or a BULLET)

The air was chilly and wind was at about 14knots. And the highway was free. From Dubai to Sharjah, morning traffic is almost nil. From Sharjah to Dubai, its Hell. Imagine a 5 lane highway, about 10 kms long, taking you not less than an hour (in the least) to cover. Yeah, people spend 1/3^rd of their lives here with their butt on the carseat.

But my side of the highway was open, and the maniac at the handle went beserk.

4 lanes of highway, when compared to the dual carriageways of India, are huge. The wind whips around the light bike like it was made of cardboard, and holding it steady is more a challenge than it seems. I was getting suspicious that I just might be getting into a wee bit of trouble, i.e. my last bike ride.

The bike would scream itself hoarse on the top gear, and just when the road ahead cleared off with someone changing lanes, he’d gun the throttle higher, damn thing had torque even in top gear.

We did come to a traffic jam, its inevitable. But when we did, we just passed between the hundreds of cars and casually walked right up to the front of the signal. Its like being in a ticket line for a movie everyone wants to see, and you come from behind, walk through the queue with a sarcastic “Excuse me, hehe, pardon me, haha, Ooops sorry about ur side mirror, ROFLOL” (except of course you cant ROFLOL on a bike, but you sure can LOL)

And then you get to the front of the queue, and get your thing done, and no one can say or do a bleddy thing about it.

Heights of sadistic pleasure that….;)

The lights turned green, and he took off. My legs were like…. “LETS GOOOOO,” and the rest of my torso was like, “NAAH maybe next year….”

I kid you not, I felt quite a crazy pull in my upper thighs whenever my friend gunned the engine. He had told me he’d installed an RX100 Bore in the engine, I understood the implications of that now. To those who dont, imagine Pierce Brosnan with Sean Connery's heart....

I peeked over his shoulder to see the speedometer to gauge what speed we were going at, and I saw the speedometer needle broken and just spinning round and round and round.

Suspicion had turned into Conviction….I was dead meat.

A curve in the road approached, and at the speed we were going, we had to lean the bike over so as to keep the turning radius of the curve. And then my friend did the best thing a maniac could do, half way through the curve, he gunned the engine. Oooooh the centripetal pull of the bike in the cradle of the wind….It gives you a rush which makes you forget all your worries and think, you are indestructible to the problems of the world.

Who says bikers cannot be thinkers??

I didn’t have a full face helmet, so at that speed, the effect of wind to my skin was equivalent to a sandpaper on peanut butter. And my frame was bigger, much bigger than my friend, so every time he changed gears, the bike threatened to lift off into a wheelie, for which I had to consistently move myself around on the back seat so as to keep the centre or gravity pushed in the middle of the bike.

Painful journey, although fast.But worth every screaming groaning howling decibel of the 14 horses. I got off the bike with a big grin on my face, and arrived at office feeling fresher than ever in the last 6 years of my grown up life. :D

Bugzapping on a Holiday

I’m pretty sure most of you have heard of parasites.

You probably know them by other names, i.e. Relatives, Exes, material friends and boring people.

There is however, another kind.

The one who suck your blood. I know all the above do it as well, but that is metaphorical. The real parasites suck your blood….for real.

Eg. Mosquitoes, Bedbugs, Leeches etc.

We know how to handle mosquitoes, being from india, we grew up with them. They are easy to handle. Simple coz they are pretty daft. We kill them all the time with Claps and slaps.

Bedbugs on the other hand (as my article will tell you) are not so easy.

They are slow and daft too, slower than mosquitoes. But, they breed like no tomorrow. You kill 1 bedbug, and a 100 take birth in his/her place.

Old people say, never smash a bedbug (Shucks !!) Throw it away in water. No idea why, so don’t ask. But we do it religiously; we pluck em off the walls with tapes n throw em alive. Yet, in my room, they thrived.
I don’t know if it was the ambience of lazy bachelorhood living that made them feel welcome, or simply that they wanted to irritate us. As you might have read, all bedbugs are named Martin.

“Hey martin, what do we do this weekend?”
“I dunno martin, lets go infest Faraz’s room”

“Good Idea, fat bugger has loads of blood in him, and its easy too, like filling a syringe from the ocean”
“Haha, very funny Martin”
“Thank you martin”

So they came to my room and nested all over the place. They favour cracks in the walls and those plastic wire holders.

Bedbugs are essentially Indian or Chinese,

1. They survive almost anywhere
2. They suck your blood
3. They all have one hobby, Procreation.

Essentially, my populace seemed to be Chinese, coz they were over-staying their welcome. Like, arrite guys come on in, have some blood, enjoy yourself, and GET LOST. They took the first few invitations punctually, and happily ignored the GET LOST.

I was stuck with little china. Filled with bedbugs.

And they happily moved on expanding their colonies.

Imperialistic Bedbugs.

So feudal Bedbugs were making a massive attack on my room. And well, I never really suffered from them as I took Gandhiji’s way. Absolute Non Co-operation. I refused to acknowledge that they were there. I saw them, and pretended not to. My roomies would run around with tapes to catch them, I slept soundly. Even when they bit me on rare occasions, I never got up in my sleep abusing the biting bedbug’s mother or sister.

All in all, I reallllllly pissed them off.

And well, my peers suffered their wrath.

So last Wednesday, on occasion of the National Day, we had a day off. So we decided to do a mass-execution on them bedbugs.

We received 2 canisters of Phyotoxins from the municipality.

Most of our roomies had ran off to India. Left back were me and Tabraiz.

Tabraiz was the Don who planned it all, I was the executioner elite :D

First step was to seal off any possible entrant point of fresh air. This was going to be a concentration camp for them. Ergo, the A/C ducts were sealed off with a big dustbin bag. And loads of tapes. Next was the huge window we had to the balcony. Sealed from every corner, also granting me a nice deep cut on my finger. Oh well, no war is won without the spillage of blood. (Thanks I inherit the melodrama gene from my Ammijaan)

So then, I had to mask myself, pulled out the canisters from the storage. And placed those tablets all over the room.
Boy do those things stink. I mean, 2 minutes of straight dosage is enough to knock you straight out. And I mean DEAD. And as I realized this, my mask started to slip. And the tablets got stuck in the canisters. Brilliant eh. The manufacturers of the toxins thought it was funny to make the openings of the canisters smaller than the tablets themselves. Sadistic morons.

So well, a step that was supposed to be done in 4 minutes flat took me almost 15. Which culminated in a ceremonial radioactive de-contamination shower. Sadly, we had only water to make do with.

We put a sign on the room door after taping it shut, so as to warn the neighbours and other visitors that this room shouldn’t be entered for the next 24 hours.

The rest of the 24 hours passed in a beach trip and staying over at a cousin’s place. Early next morning, we returned to a devastated room.

Dead bodies all over the place, a deathly stench of homicide (by pesticide) hung in the air. I saw small clusters of bugs lying dead across the amirah. Seems like they were heading back home from the pub when the deathly cloud engulfed them and sucked the life out of them.

Me and my roomies exchanged Hi-5s and set about airing the room out. Proceeding with 2 hours of tedious cleansing, beginning with removing the ash powder which was all that remained of the toxic tablets

Unlike most of my blogposts, This has no point to make in the end of it. Except maybe, If you’ve visited my room in the past 4 months or so, get a pest controller down to your home. Or pay my air fare and 3 Star accommodation and I’ll do it for ya.


All Said and done……This is just one of the ways to kill bedbugs. Become Inglorious Basterds.