Dork!

A whale's penis is called a dork.
Boy! some sad sex life they must have.

Who was the greatest dork of all time? (and no I don't mean he was a dick)
Maxim Dorky?

Were Simon and Garfunkel into kinky stuff?
Didn't they sing a song that started with Hello Dorkness my old friend?

Lot of clubs have a Valentine's day Dance...could you call it a Love Day ka ball?

'Dick'tionary

dismember: What Lorena did to John Wayne Bobbit.

remember: What the plastic surgeons did to Mr Bobbit after the unfortunate incident invovling cutlery.

Ram Mandir banana Ram mandir banana pukarein to Howle mian gussa hue katte.
Ram mandir nakko Kaam mandir banana katte.

How Awful Mehta got Kicked, got Riled and got aWife.

See this wonderful poem I wrote. About the cow.

The Cow

The cow is of the bovine ilk;
One end is moo, the other, milk.

What? You mean Ogden Nash already wrote this poem years ago? I guess i must have just "internalised" it. I had better ring Bappi da up and ask him for advice.

Barenaked Laudes.


So! Sudden road trip on Monday. We were supposed to go to Nagarjuna Sagar but due to our friendly neighbourhood Naxalites involving themselves in such wonderful 'party' games such as kidnap the tourists (a.k.a kidnap-kidnap), we had to make sudden adjustments. So we were on our way to Medak church when suddenly we saw a signboard announcing a certain fort. Inspired by the Alto ad, (and not the Sopranos) we shouted lets go, and we went. The fort encloses a temple and a few havelis. The havelis had amazing carvings on all of them. Due to zabardast PR exercise by one of the party members we got the caretaker to let us in. When asked about the graffiti on the walls the caretaker responded with "Nange Makeode kare so kaamaan hai wo". We spent the rest of the afternoon laughing over images that flashed into our heads at that instant. Nange makeode loosely translated is naked mother's dicks. Suddenly our minds were filled with images of otherwise rexine pant, net baniyan clad Mallepalli Karim, and Gunfoundry Seenu types running around buck naked in an ancient haveli carrying sharp implement, to carve stuff into walls. Now the phrase has become an integral part of my vocabulary. Eg. "Kaun nanga makeoda bolra main immature hoon?

Dr Snakelove: Or how I learned to stop worrying and love the Paamb.


I live in the outskirts of town, beyond a little village where they still grow paddy and toddy trappers are hard at work every morning not 100 yards away from home. Now! In such bucolic surrounding you would expect the odd representative wildlife to make an appearance every now and again. Oh yes sir they do and more than aaaltu faaltu guest appearance, they apppear in starring roles. Our non-legged friends have been overly active this year. This real life event which I am going to describe right now is a shining example of how excercise will get you killed. So this evening I set out for my irregular evening stroll. One can hardly go out for a morning stroll in the evening. The gentle reader will note that I said stroll, and not run, jog, power walk or even just plain walk. Righto! so i was setting off on my stoll and after about an hour and a half or so loafing in the fields doing more birding than walking, I decided to check out the new park they have built in the colony. Right. So there I was on the cement path, when I came to rest near a peice of rope. But wait. Suddenly the peice of rope moved. It didn't take a Phd in Quantum Electrodynamics to figure out that something was not quite right in the state of Denmark. So I put two and two together and got a headache due to shortcircuit in my single neuron, so I decided to take a closer look. While doing so I realised a few things.
1) The rope was in fact a real live snake.
2) The snake bore an uncanny resemblence to the species that goes by the name of Common Krait. This Krait also has a label saying Handle with care and no it doesn't contain a flat screen TV inside.
3) That damned snake was an inch from my foot.
Cowardice being the better part of valour and having an overpowering urgue (for some silly reason) to remain in possession of this current mortal coil. I hoofed it. Fast.

A waist is a terrible thing to mind.

In Hyderabad, let Baigans be Baigans.

The choices you make right now could be the difference between going to Penn State and the State Pen.

Some 500 years ago therre lived a great and wise holy man.It is recorded that he used to run his soothsaying like a business, engaging secretaries and assistants.Now the possibile locations of this office are being examined.There are a lot of theories on this among archeologists. a lot of bickering also as to the whereabouts.leading to nasty scenes in the A.S.I Office.Sigh! All we need is one more Office of Prophet scandal.

Bloody Fokker!

Baigan bhi nahin Part 1

Light leo light leo bolke logaan Pukaarrein katte.
bulbaan ich nahin hain boletho Light kahan se lena katte?

Did the Tin Woodman Rust in Pieces?

Speaking of the Tin Woodman.
How did he keep his tool from rusting?
He kept dipping it in Olive Oyl.

hmm..my blog seems to be misbehaving severely

subwoofer = underdog?

Inspired

Bahut ghode mere dil ke upar se daude.
Bahut ghode mere dil ke upar se daude
Phir tu kaun hai be makelaude?

A: I told him he was average
B: Mean bugger.
A: exactly.

Would you call a marriage counseller Sensei?
'Cause he trains you in Marital Arts... I can hear someone mutter that its not too different from martial,but he is quickly silenced by a well aimed whack from his bitter..err better half.

Would you call a Gunner an "Arty type" ?