Currylingus

I miss you Trailer Park Boys. Cruel free cable, where's my T.P.B. you bastard? Feeling the pain, cruising around looking for a little of that love but having no luck.

Somehow end up at the old (season 2) website and it is unbelievable, a pure sight for my thirsty eyes. I manouver my way around the Park in my car, run it into The Shit Mart and laugh my ass off...

Finally find out who created this piece of brilliance, a certain Myron Campbell, who has really SCARY work on his site. It's messed and arouses some dark oft-supressed type of fear, especially The Fragile Circus. I'm just asking for daymares...hold me...close...

Campbell is from Banff! Banff! Great Nipple of the West! That kicks ass.

There is NOTHING spiritual about this:

The BBC ran a story yesterday on "world's biggest ever mythological theme park". To be placed smack in the middle of Haridwar, home of the Kumbh Mela, which is attended by millions of pilgrims every year. The 'reasoning' provided for this monstrosity is quite superb, really:

"People come to take a bath on the bank of the Ganga river because it is a Hindu belief that this cleanses a person... But after they take a bath there is nowhere for the pilgrims to go to learn about Hindu stories."

So says, C.E.O. Shiv Sagar, who is apparently oblivious to the nature of what it is that draws people to this site of pilgrimage in the first place.

The Hindu experience in India is highly focused on the popular, devotional, strain of Hinduism. There are comic books, toy figurines, and crazy amounts of deity mythology related to every Hindu child from the instant they are born. Sagar should know, his father produced and directed one of the most popular t.v. serials of all time, Ramayan. Forgive me if I don't exactly sympathize with his reasons for turning an already over populated and polluted river bank into a frikking theme park.

What about the money? Oh it's ALL about the money, people. One of the head investors is Alice Coltrane, yes, John Coltrane's 'better' half. She is being touted as a "very spiritual person" and even "runs an ashram in Los Angeles". Wow, she MUST know what she's doing then, I can't help but think "Let them eat cake!". Shiv is a shrewd man, he "realizes the park's potential in attracting the 25 million Indians living abroad." I bet.

My beef - there is nothing altruistic or spiritual or even educational about a bunch of rides along a dirty river bank, yet that is exactly what this park is being marketed as. I am very comfortable in my position that the Ganges cannot handle an extra few million hordes for the purpose of making a quick buck. And Madam Coltrane, if you really were so spiritually in tune with Hindu philosophy then you would know that worshipping a bunch of idols does not make up the basis of Hinduism. In a country already mangled by religious strife, a better option would have been to create a theme park where every belief system is represented. Yes, like the J.C. roller coaster, or the Ganesh gravitron, or even an Eid-ul-banana boat.

ohgod ohgod ohgod ohgod. OHGOD!



No, it's NOT porno. It's the new French AIDS prevention ad campaign. AND IT IS BLOODY WELL WORKING! I'm going to go breathe in a paper bag now...

Are you gay? Want to find out? Just take this handy little test. According to this *ingenious* test, I'm completely gay, it's my attraction to men I suppose.

In other where-do-i-sign-up news, hibernation can be induced in mice. The conditions seem fairly easy to obtain, think I might try it next winter. Anyone have a good hook-up for hydrogen sulphide?

Now, for one the funniest faces on the net, lo and behold as Eric conveys an emotion. HAHAHA! Why didn't I think of this? My favs are "Like taking candy from a baby" and "Having an out of body experience and not being able to get back in". There's also Unibrow Eric and many many more. I lowe this cat!

Wolfie is being haggled into marriage. She sounds reluctant yet understandably resigned to the fact that there is no argument against the infallible notion of marriage and procreation in the Indian tradition. Thusly, the best course of action becomes one of deduction, saying no to all potential suitors until there are none left to choose from. The only problem with this game plan is that once you have said no to a significant number, the familial units become increasingly wary and what often follows is a lowering of standards..."So WHAT if he smells? If you say no to everyone then who will you marry?!".

Take the example of my dear friend Monsveet. Monsveet is a real catch by all standards: intelligent, extremely witty, great taste in music, wicked wardrobe, nice bod, guitar god, and so on. A couple of years ago, his parents started putting on the matrimonial pressure. So he put up a Shaadi C.V. [don't kill me Monsveet, the world needs to know your story!]. This venture brought forth, well, not much.

His folks started altering the pressure with a very specific type of bride in mind...Punjabi from same sub-group, preferably from same place in India. That doesn't sound too specific but considering the fact that Monsveet is a complete Dubaiyan his chances of finding his bride in Dubai were little to none. And so off they went to Ludhiyana where he met a host of homely "metric-pass" types. This trip was a last chance for romance so the engagement was settled with a sweet small-town girl, who we unceremoniously referred to as The Plant [her marry-me pic was 2/3 tall plant, 1/3 herself].

After putting up with much of "You've gotta be kidding!", "But this is the rest of your life you know!", "There's no way Plant will want to go clubbing with us!!!!", Monsveet wrote all his friends a looooong group email. It was half apology, half eulogy, a eupology really. The subject was "She comes with the plant!". Now we all knew that he didn't really think Plant was the best person for him but we knew how devoted he was to his parents' wishes. So, everyone stopped with the negative and gave him the support he so wanted and deserved. This was in fall 2004, the engagement was set for December.

A few weeks after the eupology, another group communication was sent out. This time it detailed his miraculous discovery of his true love who he really wanted to marry and have hundreds of babies with. This girl was someone other than Plant, she too was a Dubaiyan and the daughter of a man who Monu usually encountered almost every weekend! He even knew her brothers at one point in time. Small world indeed. What happened next, you ask? Well, they got married and lived happily every after, silly!

What is the point of this story? Hmmm, the point is, Wolfie, please don't give up and settle for the hairy man with pinkie ring on Shaadi/Barbaadi.com...and remember to hunt down every guy you thought was fabulous in high school. Do it for your children, you don't want them to be hairy beasts with terrible dance moves!

I think she's watching me. Sister Mary de las Rosas has sent me a message from the grave via my stat counter.

Someone searched for this and got linked to my blaspheming. I'm sorry person-from-Pittsburg, you wanted a saint but got a heathen. Did you read the blog entry? I think you did, the link you wanted was the first one but no, you scrolled to the very bottom and linked to my spice box. And if you read it then you my friend are for sure going to hell...by association.

Your Inner European is Dutch!

Open minded and tolerant. You're up for just about anything.

Dutch, huh, strange. I didn't even pick "smoke pot with friends" as my perfect night out. Though I did pick "creepy face paint and wig" as my personal style...

Who's living it up tonight? We be!

Happy Birthday D-Rock! I LAARRRRRVVVVEEE YOU, LET'S C.Y.B.E.R.

A WTF is when someone:
1. Uses Alta Vista.
2. Uses Alta Vista to search for "skinhead love hippie girl".
3. Uses Alta Vista to search for "skinhead love hippie girl" and finds a link to this blog.

A double WTF is when I do the same and come up with zero results leading back here. Somewhere out there exists a really confused skinhead...

I have just answered 'yes' to almost every question on the Examination of Concience. AND I sniggered at the picture following because you can totally see this matronly lady's ass through her baptism outfit. I got one right at least, "Did I do unnecessary physical work on Sunday?", HELL NO! CHILLAX, once I confess my potty-mouth to the electronic ghost of Sister Mary de las Rosas, I'll be good as new.

The OTHER Mary isn't getting schooled either, she's left that smelly grilled cheese for big city livin'. Does everything with a washed out halo have to be a miracle? And if the lady was trying to contact us from the beyond, why would she be using water damage on an uglyass underpass as a medium? Now, crying tears of blood in a Brazilian basilica, THAT'S real stuff. I'm calling a bluff, yo. Pure American propaganda. She doesn't love you as much as she loves the Southern Hemisphere, get it?

If you want to show people you're alive and kicking, you can't be all vague about it. Why rely on faith and interpretation when you can just give it to us straight. Like J.C., he's not selling himself short on any damned sandwich. He's too busy swimming and having a wicked time on the internet. Yeah, that is truly the strangest link I have EVER posted.

The answer to a fugged up template, is to put shiny shiny things all over it so people don't notice the fug. New things:

Link to my recently played MP3s, courtesy Audioscrobbler.

Link to my Profile Radio, courtesy Last FM. This puppy pops up in a new window, I'm having some issues with the stream so bear with. They've been revamping the player, my profile would in the past induce a barrage of bad rock. This made no sense as the profile is based on my Audioscrobbler stats and these sure as hell are not 'rocking' in any way. However, post-revamp, my profile is playing killer stuff. I just heard Metro Area and Feist in the same set.

Lovely little "currylingus" button to adorn your websites with if you so please. Make your own, thanks to the Kalsey Button Maker.

...hmmm, I have a great analogy for the over activity on existent template, it's as if my template is bulemic. You know, currently in 'binge' state, which will someday be followed by a state of 'purge'. The pattern smacks of insecurity over inherent template characteristics: only two columns, wots will all the dots?, and tinyass font. Why don't I just change the damn thing to suit my purpose? Because I have neither the time nor the time to learn to be able to do really brilliant stuff with it. Can someone make me a new one? I'll pay you in hugs!

*sigh* I leave you with a quote best said out loud in a Christopher Walken voice: "I've got a fever and the only prescription is MORE COWBELL."
Hafhafhafhaf! If you don't know what I'm talking about please go get yourself an edu-ma-cation and watch Saturday Night Live's Best of Christopher Walken. And spanks that cowbell hard dammit!

My blogistan is expanding, for every link you see in the side bar there are 10 others just waiting for their day in the sun. I've been trying to figure out an organized solution to my here-there-everywhere linkage. All questions lead back to the same answer: Change your frikkin' template! This answer just leads to more questions and a mad scramble for CSS tutelage. I am now completely fed up with the Completely Silly Sheet, which is a direct result of my terribly complicated and layered template, this then takes us back to: Change your frikkin' template! Eeesh, I've gots me a headache, y'all. End Vent.

Oooooo, look who made it to the *exclusive* links list. My chaddi-buddy, Prince Fantastik, he's naked, he's fun, and he's a boy. w00t! Catch a glimpse of his oh-so-Fantastik search for love, romance, walks on the beach...who am I kidding? How about: Follow his romp around town, looking for cheap sex and expensive frills, YEAH!

Second addition, Tamanna. The Flatulant One's better (and non-flatulent) half. Her blog, I have been perusing in a shadowy fashion, never a comment, never a hello. I figure by the number of times I've hit that ass....I mean blog (force of habit), I should really provide a direct link on mine. Howdy Tammy! It's me! I'm the Toronto IP you keep seeing in your stat counter! But you, you are the "client-mchsi.com" I keep seeing on mine, never a comment, never a hello. Phew, we are sooo out of the closet now.

And I don't mean no Mickey bleedin' Mouse either. I'm talking about The Great, The Sweaty, The Only, Mickey Rourke. I grudingly paid $15 to watch Sin City yesterday and it was well worth it.

Oh Mickey, I used to think he was such a greaseball, especially after watching Wild Orchid on sensual weekend programming a few years ago. He played a sweaty middle aged, 80s style Humbert Humbert out to seduce a naive (to put it lightly) virgin. The movie is fraught with close ups of a very creepy (and sweaty) Rourke, whispering sweet somethings to a (likely pre) pubescent girl. Gross. But the man has completely redeemed himself a few times over with Sin City.

He looks better than ever (the rubber mask disguise hides any sweaty skin) and is out to kick some serious ass. A very entertaining movie indeed (Sin City NOT Wild Orchid), substantial level of gore and nudity, fantastic production, perfect score. The only minor faux pas can be summed up in two words, Brittany Murhphy. Oy Veh. Go back to Disney planet. Highly cringe-worthy performance from her but it's only a few minutes long.

Show stealers, aside from Sweats McGee, are Elijah Wood and Nick Stahl (of Bully fame). Stahl seems to be finding his niche as bad little boy. Sweet Elijah has probably done wonders for his career with this role, no rotting in hobbit hell for this boy. Honorable mention: Rosario Dawson and Clive Owen, when they kiss, guns in hand...hoooweee, it looks like it hurts.

Before I spill the beans on the entire plotline...ta ta!

I am the proud owner of:

Minimal new shoe heel-chafe aside, these bad boys have taken to my feet like Gwen Stefani to cosmetics.

Most who've travelled across India by car realize (by the life-size cardboard cut out display] India is divided into two parts: A. India and R. India, A = Amitabh Bachchan, R = Rajnikanth.

Bachchan's fame abroad is familiar, Rajnikanth, not so much. Seems like I've been in the dark. Rajni in JAPAN, forever stylin', respect forever. Wonder if the hair has anything to do with it? Or that deadly quick rotation of sunglasses from about hip level to nose? One thing is for sure, THIS IS AMAZING. The article puts it best: "Indian cinema has always been India's best goodwill ambassador.".

Now ALL you MILLIONS of readers know how I just love timepass visual tools. Here we have the Flickr Tag Browser and this puppy has a yummy flash design to boot.

The only thing better than psychoanalyzing people is doing so to strangers in blogular anonymity. He Looks Like...I hate to pick favourites but here it is. Ha!

The Manolo, how do I describe the playful brilliance of The Manolo. It will have to suffice to say, THE MANOLO IS THE MAIN MAN. The Thank Tank he is the awesome for sharing with the Neha. The people too they will be in the awe of The Manolo and his 3rd person.

Fine, one last one, ooooo I saved the juciest one for last. Ranting at creativity-starved celebs, you don't likey? Go Fug Yourself. I used to think Chloe Sevingny was a STAR dammit! Now, all I see is a pillowcase, over gangly legs, under grease-bucket hair. Ah, ladies, keep on fuggin', the crazies need reining in. Do it for the children!!!

Night Night.

...then it's time to get unholy. Sweet weekend goodness.

I've spent the week bidding tearful adios to my income. I need a couple of hip replacements and an M.R.I. or two to recoup my earnings, I'm serious. Seriously sad. The sponsorship scandal is NOT helping. Two days ago, I broke with tradition and vowed to vote Conservative next time. Then I read about the Conservative Kyoto flipflop. And vowed never to vote again, period. Cynicism will be the death of this fine country if the parliament monkeys don't get their shit together.

So, what's the plan-stan for this weekend? Umm, hopefully not the same destructive behaviour as last. Don't get me wrong, Get Juiced was a BLAST, best party in town. Great little English pub with kickass DJs, I heard DJ Shadow and Milli Vanilli in the same set, I was about to weep with joy ("ba-bababa-babay, don't forget mah numbah"). But the little evil Neha on my left shoulder kept wanting to drink. I'm a bit of a lightweight when it comes to Jesus Juice so I was wanting to take it easy that night.

Five whiskeys later...Jack was starting to look like John and my brain began shortening the gap between thought and vocal speech. Danger Danger. Here are the highlights, by whiskey:

1 whiskey - Oh Weeeee! What a fun party, lotsa cool people, Homesick and Prince are totally tanked. DJ Fathom is spinning some evil 90s stuff. There's Lease. Apologize for being a stalker and going google on her, she says nice things, "that's really great!", fawn over her lurvley photos, "thankyou, neha". *moves away slowly*

2 whiskey - Owwwwww! It's crazy Fraiser, he's saying funny things, I'm laughing hard. Kosher Cuts is on the deck. Slap Prince's ass HARD.

3 whiskey - Partying on, oh look, who is THAT fine lady? She looks familiar...is that Hunner's lady friend? Why yes, wooooooooot. Yell this sentiment loudly to Fraiser, lady in question can most certainly hear.

4 whiskey - Pinch Prince's ass, or whatever of it I could find. Tell him how gorgeous Hunner's girlfriend is. Then walk over to Hunner and repeat statement, "Hi Hunner, man, Hunner's girlfriend is amazingly hot!".

5 whiskey - Dying for a fag. Cannot feel my nose. Fathom's back and the crowd is loving him. Flirting madly with D-rock, I think he wants to take me back to his place, I think I'll let him...

No whiskey - Is it me or has the ground turned to jelly? Jai Shree Krisna and good night.

The next morning was not as fun. This weekend, I'm trying something a little healthier, some walks, some movies...some whiskey, ha!

My first intro to "chillax" was many years ago, in this (then) strange land called Canada. At first I found the term very Montreal Private School, with just a hint of O.C. We'd use it as a laugh, it really wasn't up to colloquial par to be used in sobriety. Especially when compared to its established counterpart "chill". Soon, it disappeared from my experience, only surfacing when I muttered it myself as an attempt at humor.

In the past five days, I have encountered the darn word three whole times! That's a significant increase in frequency from the last time I heard it from someone other than myself (about a year ago). First, outside the Gypsy Co-op on Saturday, the specials board said "come chillax with us". Second, a couple of days ago, chatting with Paresh on msn, he says "chillax", it was an unusual utterance. Third, this morning on the bus...the 12 year old bully next to me was giving his friend a list of people he was going to beat up, I told him to shut the hell up, he says "chillax, lady!".

It's official, chillax is making a comeback. Seeping into our social fabric like an oral disease that just won't quit. A terrible joke that plagues humanity while the lingo gods laugh, "HA! Listen! The mortal fool just said 'chillax'! HAHAHA, what a loserian!".

Have you read everything I said? Good, because it's really a CHAIN-POST, now forward this link to 5 other people to spread the Chillax or you'll never have sex again, EVER!

CreepyPixie drove the WeatherGeisha away...Creeper showed up all drunk-like and proceeded to grab Geisha's arse. Geisha was thoroughly offended and quit. So now I'm stuck with Creeps over there, look at him, he's probably wondering where his brown paper bag + bottle o booze is at. He's a goth, apparently hasn't grown out of that phase yet. Wonder if he's wearing leather chaddis (underwear)...h.o.t.

Did all this really happen? Was it just the drink? I dunno, I woke up and Geisha was gone...

As I watched The Hour last night, I felt a large lump in my throat and franticly thought to myself: for chrissakes, damn contraceptive's been activiating my tear glands again! But as I paid more attention to the attention I was paying to the tube, I realized the trigger was something completely different.

How badass is The Gandhi Project? It be more badass than that "One more skinhead for peace" t-shirt. And more badass than the sight of a 20 foot Gandhi statue covered in heavy snowfall. In fact, I think it has been quite a while since the political arena surrounding the 'holy of holies' has seen such a BADASS sight.

Will it make a difference? Well, here are some reactions:

"There are too many differences," said Dea Opahi, a 21-year-old man. "If we stopped resisting Israel, it would probably confiscate all the land left to us."

"It's too late. Maybe if we had started earlier," said Khadga Sharkouyi, a 75-year-old woman.

Not sounding too optimistic, these two, but at least they aren't disagreeing with the message. And the message is what counts...
You can chain me, you can torture me, you can even destroy this body, but you will never imprison my mind.

Oh lordy, there's that weepy feeling again...

Take the quiz: "what kind of drug are you?"

speed.
"you are speed.you are talkactive, outgoing, wild and sometimes maybe a little agressive."

There you have it, another mindless diagnosis. Come on, "talkactive"??? I am SO NOT talkactive, guy! You don't know me!!!!! Talkactive indeed.

Now, thanks to Google, I can be at work and watch the happenings around the homestead...

Yes, that large, worm-like, S, is my hood. Weeeeee! Satellite imaging is the freaky future of home security...or better yet, urban warfare.

I've got my eyes on you, P. Fantastik, better watch that pretty face...damn, it's frustrating to be able to view things from such a height without being able to drop things also :-)

In other timewaste Google news...YaGoohoo!gle. For those who just can't make up their minds...

Thanks to Majid Al Futtaim, Dubai gets it's own ski dome. Yes, it's going to be a complete rip off at $40 entry to a measley 200 foot slope (plus jackets, boots, ski rentals). This is rather a giant leap of faith on the investor's part, seeing as skiing is not exactly a common Arab past time.

As is the case with most things in Dxb, this attraction positively screams "Look what we can do to a bunch of sand!". Tacky festivals and tourist attractions aside, these are dizzying heights for an impossibly small patch of earth. Mmmm, small patch of earth, IMMA COMING TO SEE YOU MY PRETTY! Chillin with the fam, friends, old sights and smells, cheese/potato sandwich with Titanic juice. WOOT WOOT!

Oh, round here we ridin slow
we keep it gutta you should know
gettin crunk off in da club we gets low-oh-oh-oh

My audio o.c.d. has returned. I've been listening to 3 tracks on repeat for what seems like, and probably is, the whole weekend. There's been no alteration in order either:

Fire Fire - MIA, Diplo mix, MIA + The Bangles = shakeshake, jigglewiggle

Amazon - from same Priacy Funds Terrorism album. Amazon mixed with Ciara's Goodies. A special treat, I loves that girl Ciara. To me, she's a young/crunk/kickass version of Janet. JJ '05. Next tune is of course...

Oh - Ciara. Hooo hoo. That's a good tune. I wish I wasn't playing it over and over, it'll get that used goods feeling sooner. Watch the video at her highly terrible site, i'm only linking for the video goods, convieniantly located in the 'Eye Candy' section. Killer Ludacris appearance *swoon*. But it's all about Ciara, the lady can DANCE.

A Prince Fantastik and Homesick Immigrant party production, all people must proceed to:



Hells yea, can't wait!

APRIL FOOLS EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!! *groan* then "Weeee!". APD is where it's at y'all, they should turn it into a national holiday. We'd have all day to turn pranks, ELABORATE PRANKS. None of this cheeky, "here's my two week notice, boss".

The capital letters have remained. Well whaddayaknow, there's always a little truth in all jest.

Greetings Bloglings,
I'm having a hard time saying this but some things just can't keep from being expressed. After thinking long and hard about my life, my future, and my personal substance, I have decided to call an end to my peculiar writing style.

What kind of crazy person chooses NOT to start every sentence with a capital letter? I'm not willing to be that crazy person anymore. That person is just plain crazy.

Also, I have awakened to the theory of intelligent design. Go fuck yourself Darwin, you don't know me. Your theory is based on one too many cosmic coincidences. Is your foot also in your mouth by coincidence? FOOL!

I am no longer a Bad Indian Girl, I am a good god-fearing citizen.

I'd like to take this opportunity to invite everyone to my wedding in June. Yes, you heard me right. This girl's no longer flying sans wedding band. I decided it was time to settle down, you know? With a nice Gujarati boy. And have some babies, one girl (Falguni) and one boy (Kamlesh). D-rock understands that my sub-continental bearing can have but one logical conclusion and we will always remain committed friends. My beau is a certain Dr. Nilesh Patel. He is brilliant and has a really sweet smile. My parents have hooked me up and I'm moving to England. Who knows if I'll have the time to blog with my busy new life as wife.

Nothing short of Divine Intervention has led me to believe that this is the course my life must take. This is what I was born to do. If you don't like it then talk to the Big Man in Big Sky. My friends, I hope you are as happy about this as I am. Do come to the wedding (no alcohol or meat allowed), details will be posted at a later date.

My Love & Prayers are with you always,
Neha