Mid-week WTFness


Then:

When you’re happy and you know it clap your hands,
When you’re happy and you know it clap your hands,
When you’re happy and you know it
And you really want to show it,
When you’re happy and you know it clap your hands.

Now:

When you’re horny and you know it clap your hands,
When you’re horny and you know it clap your hands,
When you’re horny and you know it
And you really want to show tit,
When you’re horny and you know it clap your hands.

And Lo (not in the Hindi sense) & Behold ! A new bra that comes off its hooks at the clap of your hands. Yes fellow Thetans. A momentous occasion it is for all the bumbling fuckers among us who can’t open a bra but can solve 25 x 25 Sudoku puzzles. Too long have we waited. Too long have we fiddled around in vain. The desperate groping has gone on for far too long. And now the time has come for us to sit back, clap our hands and look with reverence at the magic science has weaved into modern day lingerie.

But we at Tan Theta, blessed with more perversion than the average Jat who leches at girls at any given point of time in Delhi like the Pakistani team must lech Sania Mirza, have naturally thought of some hypothetical circumstances when this Clap-to-open theory may not work. Or may work a lot more effectively than desired.

The journalistic gem that is the MSN article, does not delve into the specifics of how it will all work out if someone is in a threesome. Supposing a boy is trying to hump two women and he claps his hands. Considering that both women (and indeed every woman in future) wear this innovative piece of undergarment, will both of their bras pop open at the same time?? Or will they be confused (not the women) by the clap-signal? Will the device be customized only to register certain claps from certain people only? That’s very stupid/ improbable. An extension of the above scenario can be when you’re in an office setting, say a meeting or an official party. Your totally smokin’ boss makes a presentation/speech/toast. And everyone claps…

Best friggin’ office meeting ever.

original pic courtesy: http://www.dailyhaha.com

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This Valentine’s Day …


.. Fuck You!
Fuck You, you pathetic pretentious lover. Everyone knows you hoodwinked that ass-faced, gourd-shaped whore from next door so that you could get a couple’s discount to the ‘great Tantra Valentine’s bash’. So wipe that stupid grin off your face before I tell your ‘date’ about your gonorrhea issues from last month.
Fuck You, you retarded micro-mini clad bimbette. Just because you have a bunch of desperados jerking off to the sight of your bare fat legs every night, it doesn’t mean you are hot. I am not betting against you getting drilled into on the 14th, but just remember that there are tons of others getting paid for it.
Fuck You, you rich, fat, brainwashed lover-boy. Have you checked your dad’s bank balance lately? I bet you bought your ‘girl’ a diamond-studded necklace for the occasion and she promised you her undying ‘love’ in return. Now you better prepare to masturbate to her pictures on Valentine’s, because there some things and huge dicks that money can’t buy.
Fuck You, Yash Chopra and Suraj Bajratya. It is your brand of mind-fucking cinema that has proliferated a generation of confused idiots. It is your fault that populations of perfectly normal teenagers now experience an epiphany about divine love every time they pass an Archies Gallery.
Fuck You, Mark Zuckerberg. It is your money-minting, life-fucking invention that shoves an ejaculation of unbearably mush-filled messages down our throats on this very day every year. It’s your website that drives a thousand loners to suicide every February.
Fuck You, all you bunch of bullshit spewing astrologers with medieval hindi vocab, who promise sex on 14th if we wear your ring. Seriously? Is that why you have more rings than fingers on your body?? And you still haven’t got any???
Fuck You, you manufacturer of rose-imprinted-teddy-bear-hugging-a-heart cards. It’s because of you, that there is a 90% increase in blindness levels which is a direct effect of every consumer product turning into red on 14th.
Fuck You, owners of coffee shops for making coffee rates look like I asked for a year’s supply of ultra-thin condoms and a French prostitute. And also for decorating every bloody corner with heart-shaped balloons which look like they have been reused since 1969. And also for giving (un)romantic names to coffee/ food items. I do not want a Cafe de Pyaar, bhenchod. Just pass me an espresso.
Fuck You, you restaurant owners for destroying the notion of a romantic candle-light dinner, again by jacking up prices so high that I won’t have the friggin dough to buy candles after 14th, let alone dinner. And this for something that can be arranged in the simplest, cost-effective manner.
Fuck You, to all diamond chain owners for spreading your shameless discriminatory propaganda about diamonds = make your woman feel special. Because they don’t make men feel special about their wallets. They make us feel poor. Very poor if you’re a post-recession boyfriend.
And lastly,
Fuck You, all those who think V-day is the day to observe love,affection and crap. If you can’t find or observe love for whoever in the entire year, if you need one working day to suddenly celebrate love and indulge in consumerist pornography (because that’s what it’s all about apparently); then you have failed to see that love is in the celebration of those little moments of togetherness that you can, and do, experience for 365 days.
We at TanTheta pity those who need specific days to feel “isspeshul” and love.
You fuckers don’t need a day. You need a Life.
Pic Courtesy: FunnyChix.com

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Party like a rockstar. Or maybe not.


We at Tantheta don’t like December very much. This month reminds us of our inability to party like pseudo-high ‘bangla’ band rockstars. It reaffirms to us our lame, non-kewl, firgin-like existence. But like true sado-masochists we trawled through the city hotspots at night, cursing the higher beings with shitloads of cash picking up hot-n-stupid bimbos with the calmness and ease of Amol Palekar’s acting. This time around we were in Park Street.

Waiting for someone alone in Park Street anytime after 6 automatically converts you into a sex-hungry young/old professional with fond affection for school girls and college girls. (For the uninitiated, Park St pimps generally approach potential customers with a rhythmic chant of “school girl, college girl” .) Or maybe some of us just emit the “come hither pimp” vibes that attract the sex merchants. Whatever it is, it’s pretty fuckin irritating. At 16 if the same pimp approached me, I would feel a sense of dark thrill, perhaps. But at 23 the courtship of a pimp translates to “You look like you need sex and haven’t got some in a long time”. Which maybe true but that’s not the point.

where's the party tonight bhenchod?

Anyway, we ended up going to a disc in Cal (-cutta, not -ifornia). Excited like a bunch of horny hares, we shelled out 1500 bucks as cover charge. We ran out of this money in the next 25 min, following which we danced like fucktarded monkeys doing Pranayam and dard-e-disco at the same time, hoping to make it to the next Mimoh starrer (ayyee saala, woh Mithun ka laadkaa haii, agar tum bhula nahin toh ). Or at least to the bedroom of one of the many sloshed women gyrating like Johnny Lever on the dance floor. One hour and several epileptic dance moves later, we realized that the Gods have spoken. No sweet love for us for the night.

I switched on my razor sharp chick-vision and located 3 chicks promoting fags. Cigarettes I mean. A fellow Thetan was quick to spot them as well and immediately declared: “naati waali meri hai” (the short chick is mine). In a state of I’m-drunk-as-fuck-but-you-won’t-notice-it, he zig zagged his way to the girl with remarkable alacrity. Then, with all the panache of Shakti Kapoor ripping open the blouse of a mortified lead actress and the subtlety of Prem Chopra’s lustfull expression, he delivered the pick-up line of the century “I saw you standing alone and I didn’t like it.” He is still a Firgin.

Thetans never give up. They may procrastinate like hell, but never give up. So when it was my turn to score some points, I waited for 20 mins and made a mental flowchart that could be most appropriate for such situations. But such is love (or sexual desire) that all flowcharts are forgotten and all pick-up lines blurred when you are faced with your beloved slut. And when I walked up to the slut of my dreams and asked like a third-world James Bond look-alike “Are you as bored of this party as I am?”, I knew I had overcooked the chick.

“Yes” was the monosyllabic reply that had a get-off-my-friggin-face-jerk ring to it.

I was in damage control mode immediately and pat came my witty observation:

“So…do you, like…get commissions on each packet you promote or is it a per cigarette basis thing?”

Did you ever taste your foot as it entered your mouth? No? Well I did that instant.

“No” came another monosyllable with another get-off-my-friggin-face-jerk ring to it. Only the ring was louder this time.

Another Thetan, the most practical and methodical amongst us, was making inroads into the hookers circle. Realistic expectations are always easier to live upto I guess. Anyway he liased with some regulars and located 2/ 3 hookers who were quite eagerly looking for customers. We resumed our tribal dance and got as close as possible. The hooker, lets call her Miss Khanki, joined in too ! Oh the joy !! But before attraction could turn into action, a middle-aged man, with of course way more cash and sexual deprivation than us (at his age) started franctically grabbing his crotch and thrusting his hips sideways in a pendulum like motion. All the while his eyes were closed in a trance-like state, so we assumed he had a third inner eye to sense hookers around him. There are indeed superpowers in all of us. We were alarmed at first but realized later that he was only dancing.

The weight of rejection by sluts and hookers alike crushed us and we were about to go out and watch Twilight to end our lives when God showed us that good things happen to good, and horny, people on new years’ night. Two Russian women came out of the shadows and refreshed our sagging carnal desires. They took to the poles and displayed their flexibility to the enthusiastic and drunk crowd. Some articulate Bong muttered behind me : “amake amar moto thapate dao” (Let me hump it my way) a sly variation of a song with similar lyrics, almost. The raucous crowd seemed united in the appreciation of beauty in fishnet stockings on a pole.

Thus ended our night of glorious debauchery.

Happy new year to all Thetans !!

And to all our idols indulging in regular bang-o-rama sessions throughout the year: Spread love not AIDS.

(no apologies for PJs will be made)

 

pic courtesy Elin Elisabet (flickr)

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Bruste



P.S: http://translate.google.com/#de|en|Bruste

At the very outset, allow me to present this post the “Dummies Guide to Understanding Blogposts” award for the sheer straightforwardness of its title. Yes breasts. Oh breasts! Go breasts! Mighty breasts! That’s what this post is about. With the ever-dipping readership numbers of this blog, I have decided to give it a Hindi movie like fillip. So this is the “Item Number” post or “Zandu balm” post if you so like.

The inspiration behind this post comes from none other than Sania Mirza. Yes, you guessed it. It’s the chick with big boobs who married a Pakistani. She is also known for another activity where she and her hefty bosoms go bouncing on a grassy lawn for hours at end. They call it Lawn Tennis.

So, breasts. I trust that the readership of this blog (which at last count was .. wait .. never mind) has by now discovered its deserved niche. Its now limited to jobless sex-addicts and pink slipped whores. So we have no more boundaries. No pretence of being cultured and suave. Cheap is as cheap likes it.

I have for long been a keen observer of breasts and would be more than happy to share my knowledge. So here goes the first lecture of Breasts 10. Today we discuss Breast Types

1. Ping pong: This is one game Sania will definitely never play. Ping pong breasts, also known as “marble” breasts are the most diminutive variants of breasts. As is evident from the nomenclature, breasts of this type appear to be like ping pong balls and in some malnourished African states, like marbles. Those possessing this variety of breasts have certain advantages. With an appropriate wardrobe to go, these breasts can act as a life savers in the event of a femicide. This kind of breast also saves the possessor the burden of investing in bras. Hence this variety is also referred to as “inflation resistant” breast. Disadvantages include difficulty in establishing gender and a reduction in options while procreating.

2. Cornetto: This is a recent neologism for what was previously known as cone breasts. These breasts are in the shape of inverted cones. As can be visualized, such a shape remarkably reduces the surface area of the nipple which for most parts is reduced to a dot. Definitely not the succulent variety. However, this form of breast has been used to provide an advantage in situations of physical conflict. Some varieties of these breasts have even been known to pierce Rhinoceros skins.

3. Mango: Deservedly, the king of fruits lends it name to the indisputable queen of breasts. “Mango” stands for all that is good about the female chest. The juicy and fleshy nature of these breasts make them the pride of the possessor and the even greater pride of the possessor’s partner. Breasts of this type are ideal for delicate fondling. They can be effectively put to use to pass examinations and get jobs. In fact, the proliferation of such breasts is now being put forth as an antidote to unemployment woes. These breasts need to be nurtured and delicately treated for the greater good of the human race.

4. Gravitized: This rather complicated name is derived from the word gravity. These are referred to in normal parlance as saggy breasts. These unlucky variety of breasts owe their dismal appearance to the cruel forces of gravity. Those possessing this variety of breasts are often marginalized, especially by the mangos. As opponents of the idea of racism and discrimination, Tan Theta requests readers to treat people with this variety of breasts with special care and attention. The distribution of Push-up bra campaign taken up by Sherlyn Chopra has gone a long way in relieving some of the miseries of this unfortunate lot.

5. Yaa-ba-da-ba-doo: This is what Swami Nithyananda said when he saw a breast of this variety. Yaa-ba-da-ba-doo breasts are the humongous lot. Some of these have been known to weigh in tonnes. Those having Yaa-ba-da-ba-doo breasts have been known to develop incredibly strong bicep and shoulder muscles. It is rumored that breasts of this nature were used in the demolition of Babri Masjid.

So much for today. The world of breasts is deep, dark and mesmerizing.

Next time: Cleavages

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Facebook frustrates


It’s fast becoming an inescapable aspect of our social media existence. Lame status updates on Facebook. Dunno about the others but I hate to see the chastity (or whatever’s left of it) of my inbox getting violated repeatedly by update notifications which range from the inane to the obnoxious. I accept that social media has started to redefine the concept of privacy and/ or content sharing but I can live without knowing which brand of chaddi you got for the Pujas. And I won’t believe if you say you got it from CK. Also, since I have a bit of life left yet, I will not ask for evidence to substantiate your claim.
So anyway before I digress, here’s my attempt at categorizing uber-lame FB updates based on content and tone.

The Kewl bindaas update (ex- “Next stop Goaaaa.. Chill karunga jaake..bye bye work” or “Fuck exams, me goin 2 Vegas for the week woohoooo) : yeah, these are the types that leave you wondering why the fuck can’t you too maaro-chill, instead of maaro-gaand at office/ college/ school. These people are the single biggest reason my Mondays seem longer than Sonali Bendre’s legs and Ashutosh Gowarikar’s movies combined.

Apparently they do not have any worries in life, except to wonder where else to spend their money on, apart from the Iphone-4G they got last week and the new car that Daddy gifted them for retaining enough intelligence to pass the semester. And it gets worse with females. Because they keep posting ridiculously hot pictures of their dumb carefree “mein toh bindaas hun” selves at parties with various males from the similar intellect clan. If I could, I would shove the ‘bind’ up their ass for making me feel like a retired government clerk at 22. The metaphor doesn’t make sense to you? Well, the existence  of such people doesn’t make sense to me either, so whatever.

The meaning of life update (ex- “Why does life have to be such a bitch?” or “where will we all be in 10 years?”) : While I’m getting brain-fucked by the above category, I stumble upon these kinds. It’s like a cruel and ironic joke that FB seems to play.

So these are the types that will spew about dark, depressing, self-probing questions about life, relationships and why we don’t enjoy a utopian world. Well, guess what Socrates-fucker, I already know that life is a bitch, I already know that I have enough problems at this age, I already know I am not a chick magnet, I already know Sachin won’t play for India forever; AND, I also know another essential fact you may have missed during your gay musings : Life moves on even if you don’t. So please take your questions/ philosophies to Rituporno Ghosh. At least he will make better utilisation of your useless threadbare thoughts.

Self-obsessed updates : Move over you ‘cattle-class’ bunch of ugly faced, non-branded jeans wearing, Reliance black&white handset using, non-happening job doing,  piece of plebian shit. The modern day Narcissus has arrived.

With over 1000 photos in an album rightly titled “Meeeeee” or “Your’s Truly” or “Myself” or worse “I”, this entity is absolutely in Love with itself. It showcases its beauty by clicking its own photographs ONLY, in various poses of self-absorbed ecstasy. Its updates will be severely self-centric and/or snobbish and you wonder if it is at all aware of the existence of others in the world as well. It is always elated and eventually assured by the 50 ass-licking comments it gets appreciating its beauty/ importance to the universe, that it is indeed so divinely good. More than chocolate. Or biryani and chicken chaanp. Yes, it is even better. And with this grand realisation it goes to sleep. And dreams about its own self jumping over a fence, chanting “You’re the best, You’re the best, Yes You are the best.” And no, its not Shahrukh Khan this time.

Show off/ pretentious updates (ex- “loving my job at [random famous MNC goes here] !” or “has delivered a killer presentatn 2 client ! talk abt a gud day!!” or ” the nuclear liability bill is set to cause more faultlines in Indian political spheres”) : Okay, if you have a great job or if you did something superawesome like tying your shoelaces blindfolded with one hand while jerking off with the other, why don’t you blog about it since you so desperately want to share the epic news with the world ?? The blog is your personal space to share whatever shit you want with whomever you want to. On social networking sites, many people may not give a rat’s fuck about your feats. Announcing every single milestone on a social networking site shows how much you crave, and by extension lack, appreciation from others. Despite getting the plum job !

And what’s with behaving like one of those “experts” that our government always seems to have loads of? Posting deep political/ economical/ sexual insights do not make you seem intelligent. Ok, maybe not the last one.. but you get the drift. Unless you are a journalist or something, please refrain from making political commentary. I already know you read the news. Get a fuckin medal now and watch Southpark for a change.

Validate my existence updates (ex- “where’s the party tonight??!!” or “guys when is our next roadtrip??” or “im in love again..shit !”) : This one makes you cringe and want to watch RGV ki Aag ten times over.

These updates stem from the need to make oneself more prominent among the group, which treats the person as invisible in turn. If you don’t know where the party is on a particular night and you have to resort to FB to find out, chances are you are not on the list. And please also don’t inflict more pain by posting about how you fell in/ out/ around love. I mean seriously, who cares??!! If you need to share such news/information or are seeking advice or counsel on the same, then please seek out an agony aunt on those late night shows on Changa TV.

Posting interrogatives about future vacation plans and such on FB is equally inexplicable. Why don’t you simply call them and ask?? Or email them?? Why FB??? Because you wanna show the world that as they slave away to corporate hell, you are taking your punk ass on a roadtrip? Because as they get acidity due to erratic sleeping patterns during exams, you are indulging in cheap erotica and needlessly expensive sea-food in Goa? Which one is it huh? Please organise your kitty parties and trips or whatever fuck you want to, on your own time in a more private manner. And if you really wanna prove the world you’ve arrived, then take a roadtrip across South America or something, 10 years into a job(considering you get one) that is. Then you can be forgiven.

Pagla Premi updates (ex- “my shona/janu/[random term of endearment] I’m so lucky I have you in my life” or “Heyy baby, thanks for standing by me. Muaah”) : I can categorically say that this is the most pseudo-romantic, needlessly affectionate, schmaltzy to the point of being dangerously nauseous kind of update, that is doing the rounds on FB. If you come by such updates, report as spam or report abuse ASAP.

These online romance updates can be divided into 3 neat parts: 1. Pre-relationship : this is when we are subjected to thoughts on how difficult life is for a single man(read NO SEX) or a single woman (read NO FINANCER/ EMOTIONAL CUSHION).   2. In-relationship: this is when you learn about how rosy things can be when a man (got SEX) and woman (got FINANCER/ EMOTIONAL CUSHION) share a life together.  3. Post-relationship/break up: this is when we are made to learn the perils of heartbreak in love that can assail a man (read SEX NOT WORTH IT, I WILL DO IT ON MY OWN) or a woman (read NOT ENUF SHOPPING, NEED A RICHER GUY).

The second category is most viral. They come from people who don’t just fall into the deep ocean of love. They like to create a huge splash and play the prem-pichkari while they are swimming. It is imperative for these people to act like two dogs going at it, on a social platform. Starting from posting display pics together as a couple, to getting cyber-cozy. I just have one question: Why don’t you get a room?? Or rent one?? Why do you have to discuss your ‘private’ sentiments on a huge public platform? What point are you trying to make with such PDA ? That you are oh-so-KJo film mein jaise hota hai- happy??? My friend did attempt to explain an almost similar phenomenon which he termed Compulsive Coupling. Maybe that’s the reason?

Whatever man. Just please spare us the emosanal attyachar.

Image courtesy: http://www.cagle.com

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CWG renovation


How many of us have actually seen the Commonwealth games on TV in the past? Watching the opening/closing/interval ceremony doesn’t count. And no, if you just chanced by the broadcast while surfing for “Kaanti Bai ki malaai” at night, then that doesn’t count either. If the games are appealing enough or conversely, if you have interest enough in them, then you would be watching it anyway. The interest quotient among the masses for the games is as much as the interest levels of half-naked full-hungry street beggars on the Ayodhya verdict.

So in order to raise the collective curiosity of the public about the games, some drastic or innovative  measures must be adopted. A couple of suggestions on how to make the CWG more fun and interesting for both the aam junta and the athletes.

dus ka bees dus ka bees dus ka bees

Make sex-videos of Shera boning Mallika Sherawat. This will ensure that Shera gets some long due recognition and Mallika gets, well, boned. The mms’ should be played on giant plasma screens at select locations in the games village for the enjoyment of our foreign guests and players. Athletes who are white should have premium access to “private booths” during the screenings for a more homely experience. Shampoo/ oil etc charges will be billed to Kalmadi.The snake that was found in one of the athlete rooms should be draped around Sherawat while she is humping the mascot or vice versa. It will help to promote her film Hisss which nobody gives a crap about anyway.

There should be an arena showcasing poverty-stricken hunger-laden and naked Indian kids playing gilli-danda or just playing with a tyre and a stick, with Jai Ho blaring in the background. This is again aimed mostly at Western white athletes and also their families, and this will provide them with ample scope of photographing Real-India at its third-world best. Such authentic display of underdevelopment and backwardness not only severely arouses the photography instincts in firangs, in some cases they may donate large sums of money as well. And this may be one of the few ways to recover the money that Kalmadi and his bitches snorted up to get high.

A Bollywood theme park should be a definite. Athletes can enjoy sliding down Neha Dhupia, Sameera Reddy  and other such celeb endorsed water rides at a subsidised cost. The Rakhi Sawant ride, Payal Rohatgi rollercoaster, Shweta Tiwari tunnel of horror and some other rides should be free of charge. For the females, there should be a Shahrukh Khan (who is not a terrorist) auditorium where three daily shows will be conducted by THE man himself. There should also be space for an authentic Indian ‘bazaar’ where female white athletes can enjoy all the gorgeous colours of India, the oh-so-pretty-bangles, colorful sarees. For our black friends we should have a cozy place with lots of coke.. I can elaborate along these lines, but you get the long and shit of it, right?

Complimentary classes by a Yoga/ spiritual guru can also be a big attraction. Infact with so many of them around, some sort of a tender should be given out for all gurus to take a shot at the post of Chief Spiritualist or something. But handing over  the responsibility for screening applications to Kalmadi may not be a good idea. Because innocent and naive as he is like a furry little white lamb,  he may just be brainwashed by Swami Nityananda into giving him the job. And we know that White chicks+a horny Swami may not be a stable combination. In fact any chick+a horny Swami is never a good combo. Plus the ‘service charge’ is always high.

It would also be interesting if someone made a remake of Sholay. Kalmadi can be, who else but Gabbar Singh? He even has the same beard, almost, if you look closely enough ! Fennel and Hooper can be Saambha and Kaalia. Sheila Dixit can be Radha, the silent spectator that she is anyway and Mani Shankar Aiyar can be the andha Imam because he does not wish to see anything of the games anyway, so he’s better off being blind.

sweet pic courtesy: bijoyvenugopal.wordpress.com

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pikchaar abhi baki hai mere dostt.


Remember the Thetans? Yeah, those guys with highly contagious amounts of perversion in their systems which was reflected pretty blatantly in their otherwise lame writing style? Yeah the Firgins. Well, the good news is that they are not dead. The bad news is, they are alive and on the loose still.

So why such a long break? I spoke to one of them telephonically and asked questions on Life, Love and Premature ejaculation (yes, if you look at this post and see the comment made by a sincere & honest asshole called Punith you will realize why). Here are some excerpts from the interview with Teritanki. The other Thetan has promised that he will answer my questions as soon as he breaks his firginity. Here’s wishing him ….luck😉 ?  :

Bleh : What did you do all this time, while you were not polluting cyberspace?

Teritanki : I was rubbing my derriere vigorously on lamp posts outside MNCs. After a wait, which seemed as eternal as the time it takes John Abraham to give an expression on-screen, I got a job, some money and no life. But all the while I was palpably waiting for the day when I would be able to write again pissfully. I read other bloggers and fellow frustrates. That had an adverse effect on my psyche as their talents seemed like Afro-American dicks infront of yours truly.

Bleh : Pakistan accepted the Indian flood-aid donation after an “expected” poke from US…. what’s your take on that?

Teritanki : Pak-US rishta is today, what Amar Singh-Amitabh Bachchan bandhan was yesterday. Only in the former case, there is a clear distinction between the Big Daddy and the Naughty Bitch. And we know exactly who can do the spanking.

Bleh : How about the misreportage on GDP growth figures for India? Any comments ?

Teritanki : Look we are all human. Even non-celebrities like Shilpa i-can-be-important-too Shitty  thinks that since she has grown in age, height and other aspects over time, her non-existent bubble-wrap-sized boobs have increased too and hence her ‘demand’ is still strong. But that’s a wrong assumption. I mean the forecast for our GDP, of course.

Bleh : The Pak spot fixing issue has tarnished cricket, what are your views on that one?

Teritanki : I’m shocked and appalled that they’re actually still playing only cricket when Sania Mirza is in Pakistan. I overestimated them and their hormones.

Bleh : Did you keep track of the Tharoor wedding??

Teritanki : Fuck yeah ! I heard between them they have 5 or 6 marriages and 3 kids already? No wonder they were scheming for an IPL team ! Any way with such vast marital experience for the two , if this marriage doesn’t work then they better find Dr. Kama Sutrawala of the National Gupt Rog Division ( NGRD ).

Bleh : Uh…well.. you must have kept track of the CWG thingy… ?

Teritanki : The Commonwealth games controversy is similar to a Beijing masseuse. It’s sucking the CWG committee really hard & dry pretty fast; and they can’t ‘come’ clean because it’s too early for that. If they ‘come’ out in the open early they will be fucked. So they are holding their corrupt ejaculate in for the moment.

Bleh : Many officials had said the CWG would better the Beijing Olympics….

Teritanki : This is called premature ejaculation. They can’t satisfy any international parameter anyway with a system like ours. I understand and acknowledge the System’s impotence in cases of national prestige. But they went a step ahead from being impotent to dickless dumbos with such claims of beating Beijing and shit. They could have restrained themselves and their lame ass comments. But they had to do their pseudo-nationalistic We-will-be-better-than-you shit before the CWG could even reach a satiating orgasm. Kalmadi can even try Invigo as suggested by a satisfied user ( pun unintended….yes, we don’t intend to everytime ) And if all else fails, Kalmadi can imagine that he’s fucking Antara Mali. That should slow him down.

Bleh : Why is your blog so coarse, vulgar and cheap? Don’t you wish to reach out to a more niche sophisticated and intellectual audience?

Teritanki : Please use the phrase “extremely non-conformist”. Sounds better that way. And to the second question, No.

pic courtesy: bhopale.blogspot.com

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