The Christmas Nightmare

Every year, around Christmas, I am blessed with a nightmare or two about things that truly scare the shit out of me. Very few things scare me as much as penguins do. Yeah, it’s a rare phobia to have, and I am one of those very few people in the world who are afraid of

When The Fan Hits The Shit

… I wouldn’t want to be anywhere within fifteen feet of that debacle. But, this post has nothing to do with fans or motors or shit. Seriously, there is no toilet humor in this post. Yeah, I know the feeling. I’ve become boring. Can’t help it. I’m probably in a very interesting phase of my

Three Aspirins And A Headache

Three aspirins, fourteen hours of sleep in the past twenty-four, five gallons of water and sixteen rounds of bladder relief and I still have a headache. There are so many things running in my head that it feels like its going to explode any moment. No, its not pathological. I checked. I’m half a doctor.

Twenty Seven In A Month

Its a horrendous feeling. I’m twenty-seven in a month. 25 wasn’t so bad, I still felt I was a kid. 26 was bearable. But 27 sounds geriatric. I feel I’m aching all over. I feel the incessant need to play soft music and watch golf. I feel I’m hurtling towards my grave and on some

Blah?

What would it be like to write a blah post where every word is ‘Blah’…? I ask this because I just came across a blah plugin called PenisPress, which promises to replace every blah word in a post with the word ‘Penis’. Er, I don’t know why anyone would be blah jobless enough to even