I’m very proud of myself right now, because today I managed to wake up when my alarm went off, only hitting snooze ONCE, but getting up straight after. That’s big progress for me! So when I went down to get some water, I saw something even weirder than me being awake in the AM:

It’s snow- in case you’ve never seen it as you live in a place where snow and fun doesn’t exist… like Iraq. I’m serious, snow has a direct psychological link to fun, as the colour and other stuff release fun loving chemicals into your blood to make you fun. And that’s why it’s against the law for it to snow in Iraq. Yes, that’s right; Iraq banned snow.

Wow, I knew waking up in the afternoon meant I missed a lot of things; the sunshine (rarely, as England copied Iraq and banned the sun), breakfast, brushing my teeth, having a shower, putting on clothes and children’s TV shows… not that I watch them (but the Magic Schoolbus is amazingly good). But I didn’t know I was missing out on the SNOW!

But you’re a month too late, snow! You ruined Christmas for me, and the children! But more importantly, me.

This title is misleading, because I didn’t actually go to Bollywood… I think I’ve made it clear how much India sucks. To be more clear, Bollywood came to me. Now, I shall tell you a tale of my experience of being on the set of an Indian film… and stuff. On the first day of July, life was AWESOME. The sun decided to actually visit England for the first time in 100 years, and he really wanted people to know he was there so Summer actually felt like Summer. My exams were finished so I didn’t have to worry about that, O had just went on a shopping spree and bought a stupid amount of video games to keep me busy- including Kingdom Hearts 2, which I had waited 4 years to be released! And I had a big screen to play it on. Yes, there’s nothing like sitting inside and playing video games on when you could be outside in the sunshine. My family were over but went out because apparently an Indian film was being shot at the pub around the corner from us. They asked me if I wanted to come to see the ‘celebrities’ but if I have the choice of watching people I don’t know or care about trying (and failing) to ‘act’ or playing my Playstation 2… I think I made my point clear enough. Later on though, my brother told me that he had been chatting with a member of the staff who needed 4 guys and 4 girls to be extras and I was supposed to be one of the boys (although I think I could play a girl well) the next day. I would get £40 and would probably be in the movie, so having nothing to lose I decided to go for it. I called my sidekicks Vikesh and Neel down too, in case they could be in the movie. So the next day I got up and went down to the pub with my brother’s friend. Vikesh and Neel soon turned up and I was given my ‘costume’. I use the term lightly because it was a disgusting brown shirt which looked stupid as hell, but hey; that’s Indian movies for you, and I had to get into character. My brother’s friend was crying like a bitch because the people told him he had to put his hair down as apparently, spiky hair doesn’t exist in India. And if anyone with spiky hair made it into the movie, the audience in India would burst into flames as the alien hairstyle would create some kind of time paradox or something. My brother turned up and was greeted by a witch faced woman walking around with not many clothes to cover her bony body. She spoke with a weird accent and looked foreign… if I had to guess, I’d say she was the offspring of a Brazillian mutant which had a one night stand with a swordfish. She wasn’t pretty, but most guys there thought she was because she looked like a skank. And a skank she was! She took one look at me and my brother’s friend, frowned and turned to my brother, telling him we look too young as if we weren’t even there. I didn’t think what she thought would make a difference because that’s my brother she was talking to and I was waiting for him to say something like: “Well too bad, they’re here now… as the casting agent you should have met them before, but you’ve called them down and they’re using their time- so deal with it.” You know, standing up for me like a brother is supposed to do? But instead he told her to kick me out, take his friend and he’d bring two of his more ugly, older friend along for the ride. Neither the woman or my brother took a second look at me and they both walked away. I was just standing around with Vikesh and Neel for a few moments looking a bit confused and knowing that I had been royally screwed. I was debating about whether I could press charges; if not on the woman who had rejected me after I had cancelled my important plans to play my Playstation all day and made the effort to walk a WHOLE TEN MINUTES to get to the pub, then at least on my brother who had done his best Judas impression. It seems Bollywood is the complete opposite of Hollywood. Hollywood casts young, attractive people and make them look stylish, they throw in a lot of sex and gore… whereas Bollywood goes out of their way to cast older looking, ugly people and make them look like they just crawled out from under a rock. Oh, and there’s no sex and gore, not even kissing! But there is dancing… lots and lots of pointless, stupid dancing and singing. My friends and I tried to sneak into the movie, but we were foiled every time by the witch and her companion who was also part of the casting staff. We couldn’t remember- or care- what their names were, but seeing as how they walked around the set trying to look ‘hot’ and like they weren’t a plastic surgeon’s wet dream, we lovingly nicknamed them ‘Paris and Nicky’. They even carried a little poodle dog around with them! We tried sneaking on the coach where all the other extras were, but got rumbled on the way out… we even tried bribing another member of the staff who almost got us on, but Paris was having none of it. So we spent the rest of the day just hanging around the pub like alcoholics, mingling with all the losers who were interested in the film and all the douchebags who were involved with making it.

My cousin’s cousins had some cousins over from Norway, and once again my Skanky Sense was tingling. I swear, if you ever have the chance to visit the set of an Indian movie, do it. The people there are so stupid, goofy and desperate that it was just entertaining enough to stick around. The Norway chicks came in a pack of three and plastered with makeup. All the guys were chasing after the 19 year old one, telling her they could make her a star and all this other bullshit that’s guaranteed NOT to get you laid. Haha, even the 100 year old actor was trying it. Since the movie is out now, she was able to show her caked up face… and even she looks like witch. I think being exposed to the set too long turns all women into witches? To be honest, I have no idea what she was doing acting. Clearly she would be a much better bodyguard, because if anyone took a shot at an actor, all she would have to do is stand in the way and the 6 inches of foundation she had on her face would stop the bullet. My brother later told me the reason she had so much make up on was because she was “in cosmetics” to which my reply was “and she couldn’t get out?” and he told me that she sells them. I’m sure she’s her own number one customer.

Her youngest sister’s name was Jailbait, I think. Because she was the best looking of all three and looked about 18, but she was 13. She was another source of entertainment as we watched grown men try and chat up a little girl who had barely started going through puberty yet. She didn’t seem that flattered by all the attention, probably because she would have preferred being at home watching Nickelodeon or play with Barbie or something.

We started talking to people outside about how we were thrown off the cast because we were too good looking and would steal the show from the main actors. As I was making fun of everything as people listened and laughed, the actor who was perving on all the young ladies and who looked old enough to have stories about how he had slayed a T-Rex was giving me an angry look. One of the people asked to get a picture taken with him and I just glared at him while it happened without blinking and he actually looked intimidated. His bodyguard told me to move out the way- even though I was standing on the street! As I refused, he moved me onto the road to let the douche walk past, safely. The joke’s on him though; within the next 10 years he’ll probably die, whereas I have the whole of my life ahead of me. I win! After the excitement of everything outside died down, Vikesh, Neel and I actually started drinking, as that’s what the pub was for. My cousin’s cousin was alone so we kept her company and eventually her cousins (confused yet?) joined us. After just one beer I was kind of drunk, and I started making fun of one of the girls on our table about how she had a cyst in her eye. I found this very entertaining and I’m sure someone should have been recording me, because it was a lot more fun than that movie was ever going to be. I called her cyclops, the youngest cyster (haha, sounds like sister) and challenged her to a game of ‘eye spy’. I think being on the set and having alcohol brings out the worst in some people… in the pub, I was approached by some dude who shall remain anonnymous because he’s a fucking weirdo. For some reason, he was trying to persuade me to go after the 13 year old girl, saying she was the best looking of all 3. I told him no as she hasn’t even gone through puberty yet. I almost burst out laughing when he told me to shut up as girls go through puberty when they’re 9 years old. Then I realised he was telling me it’s ok to have sex with girls when they’re around 9 and I think he saw the scared look in my eyes and after a moment of awkward silence, he got up and left me alone. When we were alone, Paris and Nicky appraoched our table, asking us our names and numbers as they might need us for another scene the following week. Part of me wanted to tell her to go fuck herself after rejecting me earlier on, but my friends were up for it so I gave my number. Later on that week we all got text messages inviting us to get a place in a scene down in London for £30. Once again, having nothing to do provoked me into going again. Read the rest of this entry »

I’ll admit I’m a bit of a lightweight when it comes to drinking. Well, actually I’m not sure if I am since you’re more likely to watch a dinosaur boxing a zebra than catch me drinking… both occurences are rare so it’s hard to tell if I can’t handle the drinks. And most of the time when I do have some, I take a bit too much to the point where I think I can hear my liver saying shit like “why do you hate me?”

But I know when I’m drunk… I know when other people are drunk. So why the hell do people find it so hard to do the same around me? Or to be more clear, why do people find it so easy to think I’m drunk?
I must be the most miserable, cynical bastard alive because if I smile, laugh or talk to anyone they all assume I’m pissed. And sometimes high- well actually, people think I’m high all the time. But it’s not my fault I was born with crimson red eyes. I’ve learnt to deal with them now, but it gets kind of annoying when people accuse me of being high… or the Devil.

Since I don’t see my friends a lot anymore because they’re imaginary, I decided to actually have a drink with them last night. They introduced me to the game of “21″ where you say numbers and some stuff like that and whoever hesitates, messes up or says “21″ on their turn has to down like, 2 lines of their drink.
The fact I suck with numbers and suck even more with alcohol meant I lost quickly and became a bit tipsy. Everyone was ganging up on me to get me drunk because I never drink. And then they ask me why I never do when I don’t.

So apparently having 2 drinks and losing a game qualifies me being “fucked off my head”. Like I said, it’s not hard to know if someone is drunk. First they start of defensive, saying they’re not drunk to avoid any humility for some reason because they know they are. Then they start laughing to themselves and telling THEMSELVES that they’re drunk. Then they start laughing like a hyena on crack, telling anyone and everyone they are drunk.
I did none of these.

One of my friends is a quiet, introverted and raging homophobic when he’s sober, then after a few drinks he turns into someone who wants to hug you and tell you he loves you, which is also known as ‘coming out the closet’ I believe. A closet who’s hinges are very stiff and need beer to be loosened.
Then he starts running around, punching you and eventually throwing up.

That’s his symptoms, I would name mine but for some reason I can never really remember them… weird, that. But seeing as how I remembered everything last night, It would be safe to say I wasn’t drunk.

But it’s amazing how funny everything becomes after drinking alcohol, even stuff that isn’t funny. I’m kind of worried now, as I’m the only one who doesn’t drink amongst my friends and most of them find me funny. Is that because they’re under the influence? All the time? I can kind of see why I never drink now; it’s so I can think people actually like and find me funny.

Plus, laughter releases endorphins which help boost the immune system and stuff. So I’m actually doing them a favour. Although I did hear that the release of endorphins does the opposite, which would then actually kill my friends. I don’t mind either way to be honest.

Here’s a photo we took to prove I have friends!
But to be totally honest, they were just people I asked to pose as friends for £10 each… and even then they wouldn’t let me in the picture with them. I had to photoshop myself into the top left.

Unfortunately, the title isn’t in relation to sex because I’m not Lionel Richie, which is fortunate for me as my daughter isn’t a moron- and doesn’t exist. No, all night long I’ve been trying to memorise stuff about abnormalities such as anorexia. So being Lionel Richie right now would be helpful since his daughter would know all about that kind of thing.

Usually I’m used to staying up late, but I got up early today, managing to get over my addiction to pressing the snooze button on my alarm. I decided to try out an experiment and see if coffee really DOES keep people awake if they drink it.
It doesn’t seem to be working. And if it does, then why do my eyelids feel like they’re heavier than a bowling ball- and not just any bowling ball, a bowling ball made of concrete. A concrete bowling ball would be heavier than a normal one, right?

I put the coffee into a mug and added water… my friend said it would taste bad unless I added some milk, so I added some chocolate flakes too. My friend was right; it tasted like someone took a crap in some hot chocolate. But I still drank it, only to find that all the coffee was just sitting there at the bottom of the damn mug. What was making it taste so bad then?!
But I swallowed that coffee… powder… stuff on its own anyway.

And I feel like I’m about to collapse at the moment! It’s past 4AM and my exam is in about 5 hours.
Maybe this is the first symptom of psychology killing you? Although to be fair, I’m not exactly dying from stress, but from boredom. And it’s painful to blink.
It’s like that feeling when you suck out all the moisture from your eyes with a vacuum and then rub leather all over your eyeball. And then throw sand in for good measure.

It’s not very nice.

Do you know what I like about Psychology? It’s the most straight talking, blunt subject you can take in school. If it was a person, it would be Simon Cowell, except instead of just making you want to die by destroying your dream for fame, he would kill you in your sleep. That’s how intense psychology is!

Tomorrow, I have a psychology exam which I’ve failed a record breaking, ego crushing number of times and the subject is closely related to exam time; stress. We’ve all experienced some stress during exam time… and you would have good reason to.

Because you’re going to die.

You see, stress lowers the level of natural killer cells by secreting all these nice hormones into your blood and studies have shown that to be especially true in students taking exams. This means you’re going to catch infections, viruses are going rape your immune system and if you’re lucky enough to have a tumour, it’s going to grow faster. You’re more likely to suffer from coronary heart disorder (which I bet hurts) and find your new (and last) home is the inside of a hospital. Prepare to be very sick and eventually, drop dead.

Coming to the realisation that the stress you’re getting from the fact you know you’re going to fail the exam is going to kill you will probably make you even more stressed. Which is only going to speed up the process and shorten your time on this world!

Psychology isn’t going to tell you “it’ll all be okay” or that “you’re going to do great!”
Psychology gives you a cold, hard slap across the face, shakes you until you’re almost unconcious and hands you a loaded gun. And then uses hypnosis to make you shoot yourself.

You’re going to fail, and then you’re going to develop coronary heart disorder, you little bitch! Haha, maybe you should have stuck to a real science… like Biology!

says psychology.

This is proof that not only do exams dramatically decrease your lifespan, but taking psychology is pretty much suicide. Recent findings have shown that most emo people take psychology, probably for this exact reason.

Also, famous psychoanalisyst, Sigmund Freud says you want to have sex with your mother and kill your father.
If you don’t want to die after hearing that, you’re probably already a corpse.

A few hours ago, my parents left to go to India for a month. I had the chance to go with them, but I turned it down. Some people might love the chance to go to India, but not me. I’ve heard BAD things about it… things that send a shiver down my spine, things that scare me so badly that I can’t sleep at night… but I still manage to sleep through the day because my alarm has that bloody snooze button.

What are these things? Well for one, nobody eats meat there apparently? Which means India is full of idiots. I can’t live without eating an innocent animal that’s been pumped full of shit and torn to shreds, so I’d probably go crazy and start biting chunks out of one of the many cows that run around the streets over there. That would probably land me in big trouble, since cows are holy in Hinduism and stuff… and you’re supposed to respect them. And eating them isn’t respectful, apparently. But I think there’s no better way of honouring a creature of god than its flesh passing through my digestive tract.
But I’m not a big fan of beef anyway- unless it’s beef jerky. So I’d be plain out of luck. I could go on about how weird I think people are who don’t eat meat, since it’s like human nature, but I’ll save that for later.

The food; they don’t eat meat, therefore it’s shit. I was raised on Indian food (I hate my parents) and somewhere along the line it just got DISGUSTING. The dryness, blandness… and I’m guessing I wouldn’t be able to ride a cow to Mcdonalds everyday and get a “not-so-real-chicken nugget”. I prefer eating my own hair to be honest- which is probably delicious because the conditioner I use it made with real tea tree oils and the shampoo contains coconut oils, or something like that.

What really put me off though, is the harsh reality of ‘elephant life’. Or lack of it to be more precise…

Read the rest of this entry »

Just now, I was changing my display picture on MSN Messenger and I came across shocking evidence that Microsoft are evil, conniving, child beating, dog raising, horse riding LIARS. This might be a surprise to a few people because most people use Windows and MSN Messenger, hoping they can trust Microsoft. Others won’t be surprised. But I am about to shed some light on this issue;

Like I was saying, I was changing my display picture and had a look at the default (and crap) display pictures which came with MSN Messenger, which means Microsoft made them. Check it out:
Now, you’re probably thinking: what’s so wrong with that? If you did, you are gullible and don’t be surprised when Microsoft eat your precious, delicious babies.
Yeah, those are chess pieces. Big deal. Beach chairs? Duh. The rocket seems to be launching to me! And the ‘ducky’ is most likely made of rubber.
And that’s all well and good, but take a look at the next, horrific one:

 

“Friendly Dog”? What proof is there that this dog is “friendly”? I don’t see him smiling, giving a little wink or offering his paw for a handshake. Either this dog is kind of rude or… EVIL.
I’m not an expert in friendly dogs or anything, but come on. Would you trust that dog? I know I wouldn’t. If anything, it’s not friendly seeing as how it looks like it’s trying to break through your monitor so that it can DEVOUR YOUR SOUL. If Satan had a dog, this would be it.

Most people I’ve spoken to about this have called me “crazy”, “stupid” and “who are you and what are you doing in my house”. But I have yet MORE evidence to prove my point! Why? Because I’m smart like that to backup my claims that Microsoft are the devil’s henchmen, using photos of “friendly dogs” as their weapon of choice.
Observe, and be enlightened.

“Running Horses”? From what it looks like, these horses are “STANDING HORSES IN FRONT OF A GATE”. Horses don’t run through gates- unless of course… these horses are EVIL. And how many horses do you see? 2? And what’s 2 + 2? FOUR! Four horses, does that ring a bell? This is obviously signifying that Microsoft, through the magic of friendly dogs and rubber ducks, are trying to summon the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse!!!
 

We’re all gonna die! I knew I should have used that AOL Messenger!
Anyways, I have to go now. The men in white are outside and have come to take me away.
Toodles

How can one be a winner,
When sunken in slumber?
In the morning sun’s light,
It’s rays do shine bright
When the birds do sing
As my alarm does ring.
Although I do know best
I should rise from my rest,
A lazy bastard am I
As I don’t even try,
A lazy bastard am I, for I do choose,
Every ninth minute for an hour, I do hit “snooze”

I wrote this poem last night, and I’m quite dissapointed with it. Why? Because it was sort of meant to be a jokey poem, but it came out quite GOOD, which is bad. When I say good, I mean as in it looks like I was taking myself seriously, but really I wasn’t. It was about 5am and I knew I wasn’t going to get up to the alarm on my phone as usual, but instead pressing that fucking snooze button every 9 minutes for an hour before I turned it off completely. And then waking up, seeing that it’s getting kind of dark out, that it’s now 3pm and calling myself something offensive for not getting up. My favourite is “Kunal, you dickhead”.
Maybe some time in the future I’ll get to torture children with this shit as poets have done to me in English classes all my life; and teachers force them to “analyse” the ‘poem’ for use of form, structure and hidden meanings that don’t exist or make any sense. And they’ll come up with all sorts of crap like

The writer was clearly making references to the bible with POWERFUL imagery of life and death and nature, the meaning being that one can not live a life without appreciating all that is around him, for if he doesn’t he is merely a corpse- who’s life has little meaning.

When really, it was just bullshit I wrote due to severe sleep deprivation. But then again, most poets were a bit screwed up like that and had addictions. Like Coleridge wrote poetry when he was on opium, that was his addiction. Mine is “snoozing” apparently.
But that was a pretty good analysis there as it isn’t that far from the truth; I might as well be dead with all this “rest in peace” I’m doing.

I’m finally typing something into this after (too) many hours setting it up!
I guess I could have posted the first post yesterday as it was the first of January… you know, first post on the first day of the new year? But I decided against it so it gave the illusion that I had a life and was doing something on new years day.

And I was- if ’sleeping’ is considered “doing something”. In which case I avoided making the post because I’m lazy. I really should cut that out and make one of those ‘new year resolution’ things about being lazy. But I can’t be bothered to stick to resolutions. I had a lot of things I was meant to do last year, but I decided I couldn’t be bothered so I’ll wait for next year. Which is now this year.
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing with this post, all I know is I have like, 30 minutes until it’s tomorrow, so I have to quickly type something out.

Even typing is too much for me.
From tomorrow I will get up on time, eat food properly (not that I eat food in a weird way like injecting it into my veins) and other stuff.