_unsystematicallysystematic_

2010-04-09T02:55:00.003+05:00

I’m a self-aware man. Mostly.

That was largely why the cramping calves, the splitting headache and the cat-shit taste in my mouth could be critiqued and my life/personality/existence could be found lacking as a basis. Obviously, as any self-respecting, self-aware man knows, I was the only one qualified to write that critique of life/personally/existence. I know me better than other people do.

This was the rock-n-roll lifestyle catching up with me. As much fun as last night had been – and the sex had been phenomenal – I was getting older and more out of shape than I am willing to accept, flattering mirror on the dressing table excepted.

Shit! I just called my lifestyle “rock-n-roll.” I must be getting old.

And now we’re off to work. It’s almost noon and about time to walk into the office and check up on the designs for the Sunsilk campaign. If Velcro hasn’t finished with the copy yet, his balls are mine. I don’t know where Sahir got that fuckhead. English/Urdu copy my ass! The man’s ability to string together a sentence rivals a seven year old’s – a seven year old with Downs. Who in their right motherfucking mind calls themselves Velcro? Fucking poser with a motherfucking-identity motherfucking-crisis.

Today’s the big day.

Yesterday was Monday. I think. I’ll check when I get to office. If it’s Tuesday today, I’m late for the meeting with Zehra. She’s a pretty one even though she looks like she’s going to break down into tears any minute. If she weren’t my client, I’d get into her pants. Too bad she’s responsible for my salary. It’s much easier if I’m responsible for her salary. Zarmina is a helluva fuck for a 23-year-old designer with no aesthetic sense. I need to stop hiring women simply because their cleavage is never-ending.

Technically, I should also stop fucking women who seem so very charmed by me. Technically.

For a good-looking thirty-something Creative Director with practically unlimited control over one of the largest and most innovative accounts in the country, I’m humble. Humility is relative of course. Some people say I have a God-complex. Just because I respond to the name doesn’t mean I have a complex. Just because I’m being courted by three other agencies at any given point in time doesn’t mean I’m the best. I’m grounded enough to know I’m amongst the best.

The car’s giving me trouble. Motherfucking sarkari car. Middle-class wealth is the lowest sort: wealth without ownership. The giant rented house with the sexy Spanish-tiled roof slanting all around, the 2 cars in the driveway – sarkari and leased. The splits in every room, the fancy kitchen appliances that I don’t use, the LCD TV – a penis-size-compensating 52-inches – all paid for in monthly installments. The bed’s from Tania’s jahez that I claimed off the bitch after the ugly-ass divorce. Never marry your first love.

Haider’s on BBM reminding me about the meeting with Zehra. It’s fucking Tuesday. Another Monday lost. Monday’s need to be banned anyway. And now I have to go suck Zehra’s proverbial cock to make sure my account team doesn’t get screwed for being lazy cunts. It’s not their fault they’re MBAs. She’d probably start crying while I’m blowing her.

Excuse the homoerotic imagery – formative years spent in boys’ dorms tend to bring out the penile infatuation. If you’d encountered me a few years ago, sexual references to goats would not been far from the tongue.

Some Tuesdays are just worse than others. This is one of them. I’ve got work lined up till forever followed by a business dinner, coffee with a potential fuck-buddy and five lines of the Big C with some faces I detest. At least today will end well.

Zehra’s cocksucking goes reasonably. A little flirtation goes a long way towards cooling off a PMS-y woman. All good-looking men should be in client services. The only reason I’m not cleaning up more proverbial cock in this city is the gifted eye I was born with; us artists are a valued lot in the whoredom that is corporate marketing.

Every day you learn something new. Today I learnt that about-to-break-into-tears Brand Managers have their kinks. This one thinks of sex in the office. If I had more time I’d oblige her.

Sarkari car gets me to office. Barely.

Saeed Bhai gets the coffee. The world makes sense again. The second one arrives fifteen minutes later and the day has begun.

Before launching into the ball-busting, ass-whooping, fuck-fest that is my post-lunch meeting with the creative team, I go over the final design. Sucks ass but it’s what the client wants. Zarmina owes me for approving this. The payment will have to wait.

Amma calls. I get some whining about how she hasn’t heard from me in five days. I play the polite son, tell her how busy I’ve been. I think about telling her how much I love and miss her; I almost apologize. Instead, I tell her she needs to stop nagging me. She’ll miss me when I’m gone. She tells me to stop stealing her lines.

At some point, parents stopped teaching their kids to knock.

Velcro walks in with his copy. I approved this man’s hiring and for the life of me can’t remember what his real name is. Unless he’s got five-by-eights of Sahir getting nasty with 37 Pathan men, there’s no way Velcro has a job, let alone one that pays this well.

It’s been 42 minutes in office. Will this day never end?

Seth sahib wants his ego massaged. He needs to add this to Zarmina’s JD. Nobody can pay me enough for a daily dose of this horseshit. That’s my favorite word in the English language. It applies rather aptly to everything in life. Say it with me: horseshit!

Each day is a repeat of the last – at least the ones I can remember. Apparently the blank ones go pretty much the same too. Zarmina comes in around four for our design meeting. The whole agency, probably the entire advertising industry, knows the name of my Flavor of the Month: the girls fucking their way to success.

Thai food makes me sweat. It leaves the shaggy salt’n’pepper mane in clingy strands at the back of my neck. Apparently it’s sexy, at least for the chunky woman I’m seducing at the moment. This is professional though. Her Disgusting Massiveness rests on the Marketing Director’s seat of the largest tea makers in the country. 60 million rupees worth of annual business resides under those folds of flab which I’ve been tasked with wresting free.

Dinner was promising. She seemed charmed enough to have the account wrapped up with some coddling next week – one of the account managers may need to be sacrificed at the altar of her rampaging sexuality. The vino was also a good idea and it’s got me in a good enough place to put up face for the coffee with Naveen.

She talks incessantly but makes up for it by her god-given talent for flashing that cavernous cleavage. Some women just have it. I’d have been thoroughly enjoying it soon enough. Alas.

There’s too many women in my life. There’s too many drugs and too much money – not that there is such a thing as too much of either. There’s too many people I have to please every day. Plastic, artificial, superficial, unfulfilling.

I’m a self-aware man. Mostly.

That floats through my head after the third line of coke. Must be the paranoia kicking in. At least this is the last time.

Home – or House as it were – after a full day of debauchery, professional and otherwise. The ceilings are high – keeps the place cool in the summers – and reaching up is an effort. I hate air-conditioning. The ladder protests each step I wobble up. Metal screeches on black marble as I kick out the ladder and feel rope burn skin.

2008-10-28T17:15:00.001+06:00

Saad: i love cursing in urdu
gulmeenay: why cha-li ow?
Saad: it's so beautifully vulgar
gulmeenay: it really is
its creepier in hindi
Saad: there's nothing better than really truly abusing in urdu
gulmeenay: haram Jaadi
Saad: and i dont mean galian....i mean being totally potty-mouthed
no no
it's not creepy in hindi...it's just wrong
gulmeenay: hehe
yeah
i love urdu
urdu is sucha great language
Saad: they take a gorgeous language and turn it into dyslexic word-salad
gulmeenay: truly versatile also
haan
Saad: you can be the most polite AND the most vulgar person in urdu
at the same time!!!!
gulmeenay: yeah i know its just about how you say it
Saad: urdu is "delightfully crass"
that's my favorite way of describing the urdu language
gulmeenay: can be!
Saad: punjabi is comfortably crass
pashtu is gratingly crass
farsi is rhythmically crass
gulmeenay: yeah pushto is like rocks in a box
hai farsi
Saad: english is just a crass language....
without any distinct character
gulmeenay: nothing is worse than being just something haina
i'm a stupendous failure in life is what i am
:D
Saad: better being a stupendous failure than just a failure :P

2008-08-30T16:04:00.003+06:00

2008-08-05T10:05:00.002+06:00

I want some simplicity in life.

I want to know when I'm in love. I want to have a big neon sign flashing, telling me I'm in love, pointing to the object of my affection. That would be convenient

I want to know where my career is going to go. A step-by-step route-map of the things I need to do to get to where I want would be very nice, thank you.

I want to know what country I will travel to, at which point in life. An itinerary of life would come in handy.

I want to know when I will die. Or maybe I don't. But it would be nice if my family knew beforehand. Help them come to terms with it. Maybe.

2008-07-28T18:28:00.001+06:00

I wrote this 3 years ago. I love it when I'm right! =D

"I hope Nadal stays with the grass game despite his loss here because he has the makings of a Slam winner more than Federer. Roger will always have life hell for him on clay despite his flawless game. Nadal on the other hand has only to get used to the pace of grass before he becomes a threat on just about any surface on the planet."

2008-07-21T15:40:00.002+06:00

I have a place to live, a place to call Home.

For those who know me, pictures are up on Facebook.

Living alone is complicated. I'll write about it someday soon when I have the clarity and perspective that I need. For now, the solo honeymoon continues!

2008-07-14T19:11:00.003+06:00

15 hours in Bhurban. Weekends in Islama-Blah are decidedly boring. An invitation from your closest friend to hitch a ride to PC Bhurban to meet on Saturday evening is hard to resist. When it's been more than three years since you were able to spend any time just talking to that friend, it's an specially inviting prospect.

Crazy, drugged-out driver took me up into the hills. Cloud Shadows are beautiful.

PC Bhurban has bad service. The food is bad. There's a bitterness in the staff, like they resent your presence. The place is beautiful. Infested with humanity during a summer-vacation weekend. Beautiful nevertheless. The nights are sensational.

Sitting on a terrace, over-looking a terraced hill, watching clouds, stars and lightening, talking to a mirror. A cracked, twisted, warped mirror. Self-reflective hours.

Thank you for the invitation, darling. The money was well spent.

2008-07-08T21:53:00.002+06:00

Lahore Weekend. 40 hours in my Happy Place with some people I adore.

Lahore in small doses is never enough. You need a healthy, meaty chunk of Lahore for a sense of gratification and contentment. My meaty chunks were had at Chez Nur (which has some enunciation markings I'm too lazy to look for). The supposedly super-hot hostess I had been promised proved to be false bait. The food though more than made up for the lack of eye-candy: the best medium steak I've had in a while, just the right shade of pink.

Almost two and a half days without any sleep. Greatest Wimbledon final ever! Rafa! Rafa! RAFA!!!!! =D

I love my boys!

2008-07-05T03:08:00.003+06:00

It's past 3:00 am. I'm sitting in office. They tell me this is normal. At least once in a while.

The ability to string together words into meaningful sentences has deserted me. All delectable word-play is beyond me.

My office is a launda-fest. Leave us to our devices and we manage to rib each other, rip each other and rub each other, all within a span of a standard workday. That the workday lasts from anywhere between 14 to 20 hours is inconsequential.

Today, we've discussed Jinnaat, religion, Nazimabad, relationships, girls from Home Economics College and our respective sex lives.

It's been a fruitful day.

2008-07-01T18:41:00.002+06:00

Seeing green hills in the background every time you step out of a building is oddly unnerving. In Karachi, hills are distant, brown and markedly dangerous to go into.

Karachiites are used to a breeze. Even at its most still, Karachi has a breeze.

Rikshas are extinct in Islamabad.

2008-06-28T15:30:00.002+06:00

Earlier this year, I lost all my music.

I had more than 30GB of the most eclectic and varied music you can imagine. I'd spent the entire year before being Dirty Downloader, getting entire discographies off the net. Entire collections of my favorite music were on an external hard-drive. Jazz, all kinds of Rock, Broadway, ghazals, qawwalis, Pop, English, Urdu, Hindi, Spanish -- you name it, I had it.

And then I lost it all.

Discographies for DMB, The Beatles, The Doors, U2, Queen, The Who, Gipsy Kings, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Junoon, Vital Signs, Aerosmith, Michael Jackson and RHCP were part of the music. As was almost 3GB of Jazz from all over the world. I had Indian film songs, Pakistani and India Pop and ghazals by Mehdi Hasan and Jagjit Singh.

It's all gone now.

I'm rebuilding.

2008-06-26T18:35:00.002+06:00

I find it easiest to return to sports whenever I write.

Toronto and Indiana have agreed to essentially swap TJ Ford for Jermaine O'Neal. The details are what make this a viable trade for Indiana. It'll enable them to build around youth and shed salary.

They'll have massive cap space come '09-'10. They'll get Ford + a draft pick + Rasho Nesterovic + another end-of-the-bench rotation player. Ford makes them younger if not healthier. He allows Larry Bird to also look for suitors for Jamal Tinsley and his burdensome contract. Rasho will fill the void in the middle. The Pacers will draft at 11 and get a player at 17 (Toronto will draft the player since the deal goes into effect after the salary cap decisions at the start of July). Essentially this makes the Pacers a project which will bear fruit in another year.

The reason I'm really excited about this trade though is that it makes Toronto a very exciting team to watch. They'll play killer defense with Bosh and O'Neal maning the middle. They'll have paint-protection like nobody's business. Jose Calderon will run point and create for Chris Bosh who can now comfortably move back to the 4. Jason Kapono will be a threat from beyond the arc and Toronto can play inside and out with the best of them. Above all, Andrea Bragnani can return to his position where he truly belongs: the pine.

Basketball in the Great White North is going to be fun! =D

2008-06-23T13:32:00.005+06:00

Introducing, Hamza K. Baghpati. Born 31st March 2008.

The babies now look like this:

2008-06-23T13:13:00.002+06:00

It's been almost 18 months since I was last typing in this Compose box. Much has happened in that time. For those interested (and not on my Facebook), below are a few highlights:

Ali moved to Karachi. Ali lived in my house for a while. Ali got a job at Citibank.
Yogi lived in my house for a while. Yogi lay on my carpet for a long, long while. Yogi moved to Canada. My carpet misses him.
Xeb (The Fully Bright One) became a Columbian drug-lord. Xeb moved to NYC. Xeb complained she was living in a shoe-box.
Sarah became a part of my life. Sarah attempted to look younger than her 45. Sarah is now a banker. Sarah also has a new place to live which I haven't seen yet.

In family news, my parents finally met Hadia's. On 25th November 2007, a Formal Rishta Meeting was convened. On 19th December 2007, when Raamis K. Baghpati turned three, Saad F. Akhtar lost his freedom. There is no ring yet. No pieces of paper either. There will be soon.
Hamza K. Baghpati was born a few hours short of April Fools' Day 2008.
On Sunday, 16th June 2008, Saad F. Akhtar made The Smart Call and moved to Islamabad.
I'm currently house-hunting. If anyone has a place they're willing to rent out to me, please let me know.

The Celtics are The Champions! I am mourning for Kobe. I am ecstatic about KG.

______________________________

I've returned to the blog because of a need to write. I've been working on some shorts which might eventually see the light of day in this space. Most likely, I will return to random observations, experiences and sports.

Stay tuned for more. Same Bat time! Same Bat channel!

2006-12-27T12:42:00.000+05:00

Losing best friends to potential relationships, doubt and indifference is a helpless paralysis; you feel the itch, you just can't scratch it.

2006-12-26T19:10:00.000+05:00

If you’re in Karachi right now, try this: Take a notebook -- preferably spiral-bound -- and a well-used pen that you enjoy using. Find a couple of floor cushions or a portable mattress. Wait for 2.00 am. Walk out to your nearest terrace/roof-top/open-air driveway. Plant the cushions/mattress on the ground. Plant your ass on top. Make sure the planted ass provides you a clear view of the sky above. Try and spot constellations in the sky. If you don’t know any constellations, make up your own. (It’s a bit like making shapes in the clouds, just more fun.) Lying down and looking up at the stars helps. When you’ve spotted at least three constellations -- publicly-known or self-created -- write. Repeat.

Sat on my terrace last week and did the above. Orion the Hunter is my guardian constellation. I can spot it just about anywhere in the country, any season, any time of night. If it’s physically visible, I’ll spot it. Find something that like that for yourself. Then, anywhere you are at any given time, you’ll carry a slice of home with you.

2006-11-06T15:20:00.000+05:00

From: amman ali <17551956373738206515@mail.orkut.com>
Mailed-By: mail.orkut.com
Reply-To: amman ali
To: saadakhtar@gmail.com
Date: Nov 6, 2006 2:31 PM
Subject: hi sexy

i hope u will be ok and yaar i am 29 years old live in islamabad, but i m in karachi now and i like to have male to male relation and i hope u can understand and i got ur id from www.orkut.com and i wanna know about urself and u can contact me at sign78@hotmail.com address and i hope u will reply me soon bye and take care

This message was sent to you by amman ali. To see amman's profile click:
http://www.orkut.com/Profile.aspx?uid\u003d17551956373738206515

* * *

I feel strangely proud! =D
If only I weren't committed!!!

2006-10-17T10:31:00.000+05:00

Nandrolone?! I mean what the fuck is going on? Are they fucking cycling in France or slapping Home Runs out of Wriggley??? WHAT THE FUCK?!

2006-10-13T13:08:00.000+05:00

Oh and it's that date again!

2006-10-13T11:55:00.000+05:00

When you work in any position where you are supposed to interact with people from other organisations as clients or service providers, you're bound to encounter that eternally babbling breed usually traveling under the Business Development label. It could be a manager, an executive or an officer but whatever the designation, be assured that the BD is the fastest talker this side of a sales rep and also the smoothest. He's also the best dressed man you'll meet in any office -- not necessarily the sharpest dressed but neat, speckless and clean-cut. The BD can take candy from a baby and leave the baby convinced that the candy was taken away for its benefit, which will only become apparent in the long-run once a long-lasting and fruitful relationship is established between the two organisations.

In reality though the BD is something much more devious than a candy-snatching, smooth talker. The BD will walk up to potential clients, pitch the company and its services to them, be severely sneaky about the whole deal because he doesn't want other potential clients finding out what precise deal he's making with you and, finally, he will reel in clients with promises of satisfaction -- satisfaction guaranteed. Essentially then, the BD is a glorified pimp out to sell the services of Corporate Whore everywhere.

All hail the Corporate Pimp.

One of the BDs in my office is 6'3" and quite big so I'm hoping he won't ever read this.

2006-10-11T13:32:00.000+05:00

I'm severely sports deprived these days. Apart from the horrendously televised ICC qualifying on air on that beacon of great television programming in Pakistan, Geo, there's little else going on. Schumi's pretty much out of contention fo rthe F1 title after a disaster last weekend, there's no other fun sports going on and I've had a serious wrestling overdose in the last couple of weeks.

Speaking of which, I don't get why people, specially women, have issues with me watching half naked men grope each other. I get that you don't understand the obsession but that doesn't mean you can tell me it's stupid. So I like to watch the groping and fondling, I enjoy the drama unfolding and yes, I do know it's all pre-planned if not scripted.

It's really no worse than watching soaps. I mean if you've ever watched Star Plus soaps, The Bold and the Beautiful or even The OC, then you can't call me out for watching WWE. It's absolute mindless entertainment.

Allow me my mindlessness.

2006-10-09T13:38:00.000+05:00

If it wasn't enough that women demanded labels for every relationship you've ever been in, Facebook does the same. It's not a requirement, obviously. You don't need to define it and have it confirmed by the other person. Really, you don't have to do it. Facebook understands if you'r enot sure of your own feelings and emotions and need time to figure out what a person means to you. Which is why Facebook will allow you time to define relationships. And if you don't want to give your relationships a label then it's ok. But then Facebook has the right to continue to ask you, "How do you know this person?"

It's not something severely explicit or in-your-face. It's just a subtle tone, a hint, a disapproving glance. And once you do decide that you want to provide a label for your relationship, Facebook wants you to be precise enough to trace lineage back 5 generations. Where, when, how, why and through whom did you meet a person and what's the current status of your relationship? While we're at it, where did you take her for your first date, how long before you had sex and how often did you have sex? Was she better than Facebook? Did she give you more than Facebook does? Did she make you happier? She did oral, didn't she? The slut!!!

After you're through defining and labeling each relationship you've ever had and every person you've ever known, Faceboko provides you with a social timeline. So, not only are you made to tell where, when, how, why and through whom, you're then presented with what your life has been like thus far. Soon enough Facebook will be telling you who you can and cannot talk to, why you shouldn't smile at women and how every girl who looks at you is a promiscuous, randy whore and needs to keep her slutty eyes off you.

While doing all this, Facebook takes all your pictures and makes you point out everyone in it and links the picture to the person if they're on the Facebook network. The beta version of Facebook will apparently send hate mail to those women in your pictures wearing low necks, short skirts or getting too 'chummy' with you.

I could go on -- and I assure you I will eventually -- but for now I'm off to cater to the demanding relationship that I've submitted to.

This is why I love women.

2006-10-09T11:32:00.000+05:00

Who am I kidding? I can't block it out. I can't forget.

2006-10-09T11:07:00.000+05:00

After a most productive weekend spent getting some much-needed work done, it's yet anotherhorrible, horrid, miserable Monday. In protest, I refused to shave in the morning (that I was out of shaving gel might have had a slight influence on the decision)

Over the weekend I got down and dirty with a plumber, attempted to fix a bed, bargained with a pot dealer and facebooked myself into a frenzy. The pot is fixed, the bed isn't. The pot dealer over-charged me for the pot. It's NOT pink, it's beige. Watched two boys go crazy over Def Jam which is probably the best fighting game EVER. I shall get into it as soon as I find time. Also figured out what I want to do with the room. It'll take some doing but it's going to happen.

Karachi's the only city where you can travel faster off the road than you can on it.

What the fuck is up with cricket in this country? Someone explain, please!

2006-10-06T09:43:00.000+05:00

What personal reasons can be significant enough for a man to refuse to lead his country in a major sports event? Is Younis Khan just slighted or is he just plain stupid? Who's in his ear about this?

For a man slated to take over the captaincy permanently after Inzimam's post-World Cup retirement this was the silliest things imaginable.

2006-10-05T09:23:00.000+05:00

When you've known someone well enough to know their secrets and understand their fears and insecurities, when you've known them long enough to know their life and their stories, it's a bit odd meeting them for the first time. Odd, but strangely comfortable.

I've known her 5 years now, 5 years in november. The first time we talked, I was a freshman at college and she was a 16-year-old kid. I spent the first hour of knowing her trying to convince her I wasn't her little cousin and the next few weeks getting to know a girl with an intensely scary life and issues that, for once, I couldn't even grasp. We got closer, she annointed me her brother, we talked, shared and became more than just friends. And then, like all people who have never met, we drifted.

I kept asking her to meet me, she kept refusing because she couldn't risk being seen with a guy in Lahore. Things changed though, as they alwasy do, but we still didn't meet. And all this while we drifted further and further. No more talking online, no more regular emails or phone calls.

The she came to Karachi. Eventually, I came back t Karachi. We still didn't talk much till she figured out she had MSN on her phone! =P

She's prettier than I expected. Taller too. And more mature. It just didn't feel like the first time we were meeting. From the minute she walked up me we were laughing and cracking jokes and being ourselves without being uncomfortable or edgy. It's the kind of connection that you rarely find with people. BUt I guess when you've known someone for that long and knwon them that well then it makes sense.

So now I've resolved to keep her close. I've resolved to make sure she has some fun in life, at least while she's in Karachi. I want to keep meeting her and hanging out.

The only odd thing y'day was that for after an incredibly long time I was with a very pretty girl and there was no weird sexual tension because I just didn't care what she looked like. That's something I've missed.

I love you, child. We shall meet soon! =)

2006-10-04T14:17:00.000+05:00

Edit - I figured people were smart enough. Guess I was wrong.
CLICK ON THE DAMN PICTURE!!!

2006-10-04T09:54:00.000+05:00

What's up with the "New Blogger Beta?" Anyone used it? What's it like? It annoys the fuck out of me 'cause it's always there sort of poking me in the ribs without ever really being in-your-face annoying (not that rib-poking isn't the most annoying thing on earth)

Should I switch? Is it worth the effort?
Let me know.

2006-10-03T09:48:00.000+05:00

Allied Bank kay tamaam mojooda mulaazmeen, afsaraan or aala uhday-daraan ko meri taraf say gand maraee mubarak!

2006-10-02T23:22:00.000+05:00

I’ve been listening to and thinking about a whole lot of classic rock recently. Mostly on my playlist is 60’s and 70’s rock and later music inspired by the same. While going through the playlist and thinking about the songs I need to find and download, I was left thinking about all the great rock artists from the period when Elvis was King and pop was a very classy Sinatra. What followed right after the 1950’s rock revolution in the US was a long list of musicians who found new and better ways to make music. Each individual, group or band had a unique sound and was constantly experimenting with that particular sound. Rock music was art.

And on top of the list of geniuses creating this art, oddly enough, were bunches of British rockers. It was musicians in Britain who began experimenting with sounds and compositions. They were the one willing to step away from the lead guitar and work with orchestras, complex bass lines, variations in song structures and other such nuances which gave British rock a distinctly grander feel than the string-dominated US rock. That said the Brits were no kiddies on playing the lead either. The virtuoso lead could be found as early as Cliff Richards and The Shadows in the 1950 and the tradition continued with some of the best guitarists the world has ever seen. Three such masters played for the same band at one time or another. The Yardbirds created the sound that would later be the basis of 80s pop-rock. The Yardbirds also gave to the world Jeff Beck, Eric Clapton and Jimmy Page.

But before The’Birds, or any other band from the wrong side of the pond made it big, there were a group of young men from Liverpool called The Quarrymen who changed their name and made it big with their happy-happy sound and clean-cut image. Inspired and influenced by The Shadows, as well as the ballad-rock flowing from the US, The Beatles shot to the top with preppy, fun music and guitars galore. Yet, it was the success of this clean, adorable group of admirable young men that gave rise to the rebels who followed suit.

The most notable of these Beatlemania reactionaries were a minimally known band called the Rolling Stones. The ‘Stones need little introduction and can’t get no ‘Satisfaction’ with the acclaim they have already received. The had a sound oddly similar to the Beatles considering their severe disdain for the Great Ones. Others on the list of Beatle inspired bands included the ‘Birds, The Who, The Kinks and Herman’s Hermits.

The Who, led by the brilliant Pete Townshend, reached their peak later in the 60s and early 70s and redefined the scope of rock music. Townshend created the idea of the concept album and the rock opera. Tommy, a rock opera with each song telling a continuing story, was a massive hit and spawned countless TV, movie and stage performances. The Who and the ‘Stones can easily be credited with at least three of the top ten rock songs of all time—Satisfaction, Baba O’Riley and Won’t get Fooled Again. Among that top-ten would also be Queen with Bohemian Rhapsody, Pink Floyd with Another Brick in the Wall and The Beatles with Hey Jude. Each one of those songs redefined the way rock music was played and inspired generations of music listeners. Easily recognizable for their distinct openings, each song is a trademark in its own.

Just in terms of experimentation and creative genius, the Brits beat their American counterpart by a wide margin. When the Beatles “arrived” in the West with their guitar-y sound, they were proclaimed yesterday’s news. When they hit it big globally with Love Me Do, they were already the most popular band in Britain.

The Who, with their instrumental variations and experimentation with sound were responsible for innovations in sound amplification and instrumental tweaking that were then taken up by such notables as Jimi Hendrix. Hendrix famously took amp-advice regularly from Pete Townshend and even consulted him for guitar sound, feel and action.

Queen, with front-man and creative force Freddy Mercury, took the musical innovation to another level. Not only did Mercury create a brand for the band, he also created an image of uniqueness and artistic daring that few bands have ever reached. The only comparison that can be found in the United States of the kind of musical theatre created by The Who and Queen are the psychedelic works of The Doors. In terms of building a drama in the song, these three stand out on top of the pack.

For those who don’t appreciate this innovation and dismiss it as corruption of true rock (and I know you’re out there) there’s Clapton and Page and Beck and a long line of guitarists willing to let it rip with the most paradoxical subtlety that would leave you astounded. Yes, American guitarists reached a possibly higher level of proficiency in pure skill but they also took over the band. Rock sound in the US was defined by how wicked the lead could be. All music then centered around that.

With classic rock in Britain, the sound was all about the mix—building the perfect combination of each element with particular emphasis on the finished product rather than the 2-minute lead surrounded by some words and other instruments thrown in for the heck of it. I love that sound too and can fully appreciate it but it still leaves me with a sense of one-dimensional music. I love the heavier feel of 70s and 80s rock in the US but its not the definition of rock that I adhere to.

Like all things rock though, this entire post will have its opponents. People will read it and question my sanity. I know I’ve left out a lot of bands and people. I know I haven’t fully done justice to the issue. But that’s only a reflection of my own limited knowledge. As time passes, I wish to be able to modify my own appreciation of music. Those who disagree please do so openly and tell me why I’m wrong. Give me alternatives, introduce me to new music and better sounds and, above all, show me why the six songs I’ve listed above as part of the top ten rock songs are not the definitive top-6 rock songs of all time.

2006-10-02T12:18:00.000+05:00

Laziest weekend in history comes to an end. All I did throughout the 2.5 days I was off was go to my cousin's sasural for an hour. Otherwise I waa at home, in my room, on my bed, BUMMING!

What a life! =D

2006-09-29T14:40:00.000+05:00

If you'd expected much otherwise you're naive and obviously don’t understand the ostrich nature of the ICC. Head-in-the-sand is just the way the Great Cricket Governing Body likes it. It’s their comfort zone; their little bubble to the world. They prefer to come up with short-term cosmetic solutions rather than tackling the issue at hand to be able to bury it for good.

Hence, although Inzimam’s vindication lies in the ruling given by Madugalle yesterday, the same ruling and the ICC’s flip-flopping and evasion of the Hair-y situation will mean that they will be faced with a decision on the choice of umpires at every instance. If the ICC had focused on clearing out the situation with Hair’s standing, in matches and as an umpire, the entire cricketing world would have been better off. Now, with India suggesting that it won’t be able to provide security for the controversial ump, the ICC have found a temp fix to the problem. Just the way they like it.

Meanwhile, Hair repeatedly goes on in front of cameras and insists that he wants to continue officiating and will resume his duties soon. The ICC delayed announcing the list of officials for the Champions Trophy and Hair told reporters that he was scheduled to officiate. Then the ICC had to come up with an excuse for not sending him. The Indian “security concern” is just the cop-out they needed.

Madugalle’s ruling, the text of which is available here at Cricinfo, barely refrains from blaming the officials, specifically Hair, for Ovalgate. While Inzimam and Pakistan are cleared of ball tampering charges, the ruling does point out the haste with which the umpires acted. It also takes notice of the difference of opinion between the umpires before the on-field decision was taken. Which, implicitly, puts the blame squarely at the Great Walking Double-Chin.

The complete decision also, rightly, holds Inzimam responsible for the disrepute charge and reprimands him for his behaviour. Madugalle’s decision that being called cheaters does not justify showing dissent and delaying the proceedings—negating the idea that being cleared of one offence necessarily nullifies the other—takes into consideration all the factors that led to the fiasco at the Oval. The one thing it lacks, since the proceedings called for judgment on Inzimam only, is a finger-pointing at the persons responsible for communicating between the concerned parties in the matter. Madugalle does say, “The witnesses agreed in evidence that player-management and effective communication is an important aspect of umpiring at international level. In my judgment, a difficult and sensitive situation such as that which arose in the present case (a finding of ball-tampering causing a substantial sense of grievance in, and protests from, the Pakistan team) requires handling with tactful diplomacy (as well as firm adherence to the Laws).”

This entire situation is a result of poor communication, between management, official, the ICC and everyone else is the whole wide world. It could easily have been avoided if all concerned decided to talk to each other. As happy as I am with the vindication of Inzimam and Pakistan, this problem is far from over because no South Asian country will be willing to let Hair officiate their matches. The ICC needs to step up and deal with this.

2006-09-28T10:11:00.000+05:00

Brother (Pulling out a bar of Dettol from the drawer): Mujhey pata nahin Dettol hota kiska hai.
Me: Reckitt ka.
Brother: Chutiaye! I mean ghar mein kaun use karta hai!

The sadness that is the life of the Corporate Whore. Not only are you constantly racked by guilt for Corporate Treason, you can't stop thinking like a Whore even at home.

Yogi--of the non-picnic-basket-stealing variety--has been living at my place fo rthe last few days. Over the last month he's gone hom eonly to sleep and the last 3 days he hasn't even done that. The funniest thing though, as Mommy Dearest pointed out, is that most of my family would not recognize him if they saw him on the street. For a man who's been living in your house for a month, that'sa huge deal. All my mom knows of Yogi is that he's bald. But then that's about all you need to know about him!

He's on the other side of the Underpass now.

2006-09-25T14:11:00.000+05:00

Revelation During Blackout # 3917

2006-09-25T00:11:00.000+05:00

It's that time of the year again. Welcome to the world of Early Early Mornings and Stuff Yourself Silly. Welcome to not eating and eating too much. Welcome to prayers saved up from all of last year...and more. Welcome to a month of being looked at weird because you called someone a 'choot' and not being able to say how majorly fucked you are 'cause of all the work that's piled up...'gaand ho gayee hai yaar!'

No more 3 cups of tea at work. No more going out for lunch. No more cussing out the boss, the peon, the computer or the operations guy who's too lazy to do his work on time.

Cut out the fun, bring on the the hard times and the self control.

Welcome to All You Can Eat at Pizza Hut!!!

Welcome to Ramzan!

2006-09-24T17:05:00.000+05:00

Weird weekend. Bijli's been a constant pain in my ass. It's still out and has been for the last 3.5 hours or something. Most annoying. Had some guests over for lunch and the poor people had to sit through lunch in the heat. Totally miserable.

Unlike popular opinion, I like Cafe Barbera. I just don't like to let on to that because I don't want the whole world camping out there they way everyone seems to at Costa or Espresso. So those of you interested in finding a nice coffee hang-out, this isn't really for you. The coffee's horrible. Really! The foods also bad. And the service is just deplorable! So stay away! Please!

WI nay bhund marwa li!!!!!

2006-09-22T11:03:00.000+05:00

Today's going to be another bad day. It's just one of those days when you roll out of bed and realize that nothing's going they way it should be. The sun just doesn't come up the right side and there's this sordid feeling at the base of your neck that tells you that you're about to suffer through another crappy day.

Today is possibly bad because of the toad that's stuck down my throat and refuses to budget despite the most pathetic pleading and cajoling on my part. And while down there, he's busy scratching away at the walls of my throat making sure I can never be comfortable, or in enough pain to give me an excuse to take time off work!

I rolled out of bed yesterday. No, I mean literally rolled out. Dhup! (Which is the sound the human body makes on contact with a carpeted floor. The 'thud" is a gora lie!) On the floor, rolled out. I was trying to reach my phone about 3 feet away and just rolled, literally, off the bed. Odd thing is that all I could think of while I fell to my demise was that my nephew, sleeping next to me, shouldn't wake up. Strange what love does. For those amused by this anecdote of the fall of the Great Whore, this happened while I'd gotten into bed to catch a 30-minute nap!

The Brother (formerly of the blog) called me a Fuckhead last night. By SMS.

Edd7524. Saw this plate on a car today. Made me smile. I hate "Ed, Edd and Eddy."

2006-09-20T16:34:00.000+05:00

Muhahahahahaha

2006-09-20T11:29:00.000+05:00

2006-09-19T14:04:00.000+05:00

Yesterday was the worst day in history. Or close.

Everything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong. Which is why, despite wanting to write abou tmy misery to get it off my chest and to reverse-jinx it away, I decided not to play temptress to Fate.

Today's been better. Thankfully.

2006-09-18T09:59:00.000+05:00

I hate Mondays!

More later...

2006-09-15T17:33:00.000+05:00

It has begun! And it is fun!

2006-09-15T09:32:00.000+05:00

I'm a Corporate Traitor.

The Corporate Whoredom is a Lifestyle. It's not a job -- not a 9to5 -- or just something you do to make money or even a life choice. It's a Lifestyle -- and I'm living it. This Lifestyle is all about embracing the wonderful Corporation that provides for you, creates an instant family for you, gives you instant friends and puts you inside a bubble that will nurture and protect you right up the Corporate Monkey-Ladder. (Did I say Monkey? But obviously I meant Money!) The Lifestyle is, thus, about embracing not just the Corporation as a whole but every tiny little cog in the gigantic machinery. (For those of you who know, being that cog is something I never envisioned for myself and something I never wanted to be)

Embracing the cogs means not just the people but the product they create. Hence, the fiasco with Pepsi being banned at my office because Coke is our client. Corporate Patriotism! It's like a whore with sexual ethics. I'm just glad I've always been a Coke person. I don't get Pepsi drinkers anyway.

My treachery began when I joined this job, and did not throw away my shower gel. As far as products for competition are concerned, my client’s direct competition in most markets is Unilever. So it’s ok if you use products from smaller, non-competitive firms but, like the Pepsi-Coke battle, Unilever products are Devil’s spawn. Which is why I shouldn’t be using Axe!

Which is also why, when my brother brought up the bar of Lifebuoy, I shouldn’t have unwrapped it and proceeded to use it. The guilt, it eateth away at me!

Oddly enough, the only P&G products I regularly see around my house are Pampers and Pantene! And of course I use Gillette to shave. After shaving though, I put on Axe Aftershave. And the Axe shower gel is just a luxury I allow myself.

I don’t want to be a traitor. I want to conform. I want to embrace the Lifestyle. I want to be the Ethical Whore. Somebody help me!

2006-09-14T13:42:00.000+05:00

I need a punching bag. Or the slime responsible for bijli and mobilink.

Neither service is available from noon everyday till about 4pm. If this were a random, one-time occurrence, I'd curse and swear and be done with it. When the same thing happens everyday at precisely the same time, I want to boil the bastards responsible in their own piss and then make them eat what remains of themselves.

Mardoodoon, tumhein keeray parain. Kuttay tumharo qabar par pishaab karain. Tumhara bistar bichoon ka gharonda bun jaye. Tumharay tattay jhullas kar chowaray bun jayain. Tumharay muun mein pakhanay ki badboo buss jaye. Tumhara har rooz khatna ho. Tumhari saat pushtoon ko bowaseer lag jaye....

KEERAY PARAIN!!!

2006-09-13T14:29:00.000+05:00

Corporate Mutiny or Declaration of Consumer Independence?

Inquilab Zindabaad!!!!!!

Atif Panday Aawaye Aaway!!!!!!!!!!

Meri Pepsi kahan hai?!

hahahahaha.....

2006-09-13T12:52:00.000+05:00

2006-09-12T15:43:00.000+05:00

Because I'm very farigh at work...

I am thinking about GRPs

I said the right things at the wrong time

I want satisfaction

I wish for clarity

I miss being 17

I hear only what I want to

I wonder why I turned out this way

I regret nothing. ever.

I am almost what I want to be

I dance like a three-legged paraplegic dog

I sing like a 12 year-old girl or a busted bass drum depending on the song

I cry … =)

I write for me

I confuse people for fun

I need her

I should lose the flab

I finish right after her =P

I tag anyone as farigh as I am.

2006-09-12T09:36:00.000+05:00

Random bumping into people from the past is strangely disconcerting. Especially when they know what's up with your life and you have no idea what's going on in theirs.

3 ex's spotted or encountered in the last week. The bachi must be back in town. It's fate really.

2006-09-11T16:21:00.000+05:00

So I got my very own, personal, brand new business cards today. What got my goat though is that the fuckers spelt my name wrong! Most annoying it is! I just don't understand people who spell Akhtar as Akhter. It's just WRONG. I mean look at it...

Akhtar

Akhter

Just look at the goddamn difference. How can anyone think that Akhtar should be spelt with that stupid, motherfucking 'e'??? How can anyone bear to have an 'e' in their name to begin with?!

I hereby move to ban all E's in people's names. I hereby also raise the motion that anyone who spells a name with an E will be outlawed. Repeated perpetrators will be shot. Survivors will be shot again. And again.

Stupid fuckers ruined a bloody good day!

2006-09-11T11:57:00.000+05:00

It's good to finally have a reason to put her picture up on my blog again! =D

The Fed Express rumbles on. Andy acquitted himself well even in defeat though. No really one expected Roddick to win and his display against Roger was admirable.

You should be reasonably happy, my favorite niece!

2006-09-08T13:04:00.000+05:00

I've just discovered that someone I knew a long time ago is no longer in this world.

I knew Llewelyn Soares as a funny, caring, crazy man who had something to say about everything and a ready smile to disarm you. We'd laughed together, played together and messed around with people together. Today I find out he passed away in Feb-March.

Rest in Peace, Lu.

2006-09-08T12:33:00.000+05:00

Eight people on a boat, just off the harbour, eating crabs and fish.

Singing.
Talking.
Laughing.
Fishing.

Molestation!

What a night!

2006-09-07T09:40:00.000+05:00

Saturday morning, PK788 from London to Karachi. =D

2006-09-07T09:30:00.000+05:00

Meeting old friends, people you grew up with and people who influenced you while you were becoming who you are after a significantly long time apart is exhilirating. Reminiscing about people we knew, things we did and 'the good old days' is the best way to pass time in an otherwise hectic and tense existence.

We caught up, we got to know each other again, we bitched about people we knew, swapped stories and lives and promised to get together soon. Might sound typical of random encounters with people from your past but this was different because this wasn't people. This was me, Gandhi and Sindhi Doggy.

Now all I have to do is call up the boys and get together with them this weekend. And continue to stay in touch when they move on with their lives and I move on with mine.

It's the staying in touch that's a pain!!!

2006-09-06T14:32:00.000+05:00

Jop Opening

Management Trainee position in the P&G Media Planning Dept. at Pak MediaCom.
Contact me for details and to apply.

2006-09-06T10:18:00.000+05:00

The Whoredom is a bit of a drag right now.

There's no work, no poondi and not much entertainment otherwise. Countless nights of phonecalls, MSNing and God of War on PS2 have left the poor miserable Corporate Slut in a bleary-eyed, numb-headed zone for the sleep deprived.

A recent unofficial conclusion is that LUMS alumni are hired by 4 major parties in this country: banks (Econ and ACF), telecom firms (Econ and CS), financial houses (Econ, ACF and Math) and P&G-related corporations(Econ, CS, ACF, Math, SS and any other major LUMS can think up). It seems everyone and their LUMS-grad older brother is, has or will be working with the Messrs Proctor and Gamble, or a related firm. For those of you not working in one of the above-mentioned categories, you're not a real LUMS grad till you do.

Of course, this means that those ethically inclined, intellectually inspired and artistically devoted SS majors (amongst whom I listed myself before being seduced by the Dark Side) find themselves in a rather unforgiving conundrum. Or not. From personal experience, the non-prostitutional world of the non-corporate has almost enviable satisfaction packaged along with the most meaningful work and the sense of goal fulfillment. We wanted to make a difference; some of us are.

But the Whoring has its perks. Today's just a bad day.

2006-09-05T13:18:00.000+05:00

2006-09-04T14:05:00.000+05:00

He lost yesterday. Finally, it's over.

One of the greatest careers tennis has seen finally came to an end. The Golden Generation of American tennis is now finally done. The last, lone flag-bearer has hung up his boots. Jim, Micheal and Pete were done early. André took his time. More than the end of a career though, the US Open loss to German qualifier Benjamin Becker marked the end of the association between tennis fans around the world and their favourite player on tour.

Ever seen a drop-shot that won a point booed vociforously by the crowd? That's what happened to Becker as he proceeded to test and conquer André's devastated back. That's the impact Agassi has on the crowds. They don't come to watch a tennis match, they come to watch André play. And they will never be able to do it again.

Yet, I do not want to eulogize. A number of people seem to be inclined to do that and having written the last few lines I realised I was fallign into the trap. It's easy to mourn the passing of greatness. However, the greatness that is Agassi has not passed.

Agassi remains a massive influence on the tennis world. He changed the game, the rules and the attitude. He changed perceptions, ideas and norms. His meticulous preparation, his physical conditioning, his attention to detail, his balance between power, precision and tactics, his never-say-die-attitude and his mental toughness will be emulated by young, aspiring tennis players the world over. They may never be able to be Pete or Roger, but if they work hard enough they can be André.

That is another secret of the success of Agassi, and his mass appeal. In him, we see ourselves; if only we worked hard enough. We may not be as gifted as a Sampras or a Federer but, if we're as determined as an Agassi, we'll manage just fine, thank you.

He also provides us with inspiration away from tennis. Here is a man who transformed himself in the course of a professional tennis career. Most people can't fix their serves or learn to play on grass. Agassi changed everything about himself. The long-haired, mascara-wearing, angry young man morphed into the sagacious, pleasant and insightful champion who lost graciously, won with honour and carried himself with grace on or off the court. The 'Image is Everything' rebel turned into the All-Substance traditionalist. He gives us hope.

Agassi, his career and his life, make people believe that they can achieve anything if they try hard enough. You can have success, money, fame, the woman of your dreams and the family you love all while doing the job you love. You can reinvent yourself, find the true path and be at peace with yourself. You can be perfect. That is what Agassi did for everyone who saw him live his life.

Thank you, André, for allowing us to dream.

André fans, admirers and worshippers, read this article on Sports Illustrated.

2006-09-04T00:17:00.000+05:00

Ali H left a comment on my post about the Camaro which got me thinking. He finds faults in the Camaro, tells me what's wrong with it and what car would be better depending on what I want in a car.

Ali, what car do I get if what I want in the car is that it's a Camaro '69? Which car would you suggest to fulfill that need?

It's like telling me I can no longer watch Transformers, The Movie because it's lame, with poor animation and a crap story-line. That the dialogue is flimsy and could only be appreciated when you didn't know better. And that the story was actually copied off a Japanese anime. But now that you have other options, even if you want to watch Transformers, you should watch something else.

Cricket is a boring sport. It's slow, filled with too many rules and requires too much skill to be globally popular. How about we chuck it out for footie then? Let's stop playing and watching cricket because we should watch and play a sport that's a 'better' choice.

Why is it that when it comes to certain things--cars, clothes--people just need to be practical and sensible. Why can't I want something unsensible and stupid simply because I want it? Some of you will point to me and tell me I'm the Great Dame of Sensibility. You obviously don't know me well enough then, so shut the fuck up! The best way to really, truky enjoy life is to allow the crazed, maniacal child inside you to escape occasionally. Learn to do that often enough without seeming completely insane to those around you and you'll realise you're a much nicer person to be around--as long as the child inside you isn't a bratty asshole!

I know there are certain things in everyone's life that you just want to be childish around. It's the only way to truly savour certain things in life.

So, Ali and everyone else who's too practical for your own good, find that certain something, see how much you enjoy nt being practical with it and replicate that same behaviour for as many things in your life as you can. I say it's the only way to come to the end of your life and say, "I've lived."

2006-08-31T11:08:00.000+05:00

10 Things You Don't Know About Women

By Jenna Fischer
Esquire, September 2006, Volume 146, Issue 3

1. If we run into your ex-girlfriend in public, the first thing you should do is put your arm around us. And if we have to introduce ourselves, you are in big trouble.

2. When you tell us about a business lunch you had with a woman, it's a good idea to tell us that she's fat, ugly, old, or a lesbian. Preferably all of them.

3. PMS is real. It's chemical, and it sucks. If someone told you that every thirty days you were going to get jacked repeatedly in the nuts, you'd be pissy around day twenty-six, too.

4. When we say, "I don't feel connected," the only appropriate response is, "I feel it, too. Let's go out for a nice dinner and reconnect." Try it. You will get laid.

5. If you can locate the following items in our home—tape, casserole dish, Christmas ornaments—you will get laid.

6. If you act excited about the bath mat we bought at Target, you will get laid.

7. We really want to have kids. That is, until you want to have kids. Then: "Hey, slow down. What about my career? It's my body. I'm not just a depository for your sperm, you know. Fuck off. Wait, come back. I'm sorry about that. It's sweet you want to have kids. Let's talk about it in a year."

8. You know what's really gay? Football. Instead of watching it, just have sex with another dude once a year. Get it all out of your system at once.

9. We can make a "celebrity safe list" if you want. But I am way more likely to get Patrick Dempsey to fuck me in a bathroom than you are to get Lindsay Lohan to suck you off in your car.

10. Okay, wait. Maybe not Lindsay Lohan. But you know what I mean.

2006-08-31T10:24:00.000+05:00

What most women don't get about men is that the nice ones are terribly hard to dislike even if they are complete assholes to you on any given occasion. If you like them to begin with, no matter what they do and how much of a prick they are to you, they had their reasons and you will accept and understand those reasons if things were explained to you. Which in why, in situations where a genuinely nice guy has acted like a dick, please do not confront him. Chances are that any long drawn-out confrontation will test his limits and he will tell you his reasons for doing what he did. If he's genuinely nice (yes, they exist) he probably behaved the way he did to prevent you from falling falt on your face and hating yourself sometime in the future. If he were to continue warning you of the imminent fall, you wouldn't listen. He's tried. So, he resorts to more drastic measures. He does it because it will work and because it's his solution to the problem.

I get that women get a tad bit touchy about such situations, insisting that they are abel to make the decision for themselves and should be allowed to do so. Honey, you will decide that he's a nice guya nd you want to continue behaving the way you have already. He can't stand the way you're behaving which is why he's doing this in the first place. It's better for BOTH of you because otherwise he'd unilaterally dump your ass. At least this way he's giving you a reason to hate him more than that he broke off the relationship. He's the asshole. He's allowing you to hate him. Be glad.
____________________

What most men don't get about women is that each is different. You take it for granted that you'll have the same issues that you did with your last girfriend. You take it for granted that she can't deal with your issues and that she necessarily needs you around for hers. You take it for granted that if she wants you around then she can't be without you.

Women are complex, complicated creatures with a whole lot of issues. But their issues are really no worse than your own. They want a rich, good-looking, caring man just like you want a blonde, big-breasted hottie. They want commitment just like you want kinky sex. They want a balance between babies and career just like you want another woman for a threesome. Understand that and you're made.

However, as I said before, they're all different. The only thing common is they all like diamonds, flowers, ponies, puppies and rainbows. Other than that, the current fling (who's actually naming kids in her head) is nothing like the previous one (who actually had her whole live planned with you).

2006-08-29T12:39:00.000+05:00

She's back!

And she looks better than ever.

Chevrolet relaunched its Camaro at the Detroit Auto Show this year with the display of a concept design slated for production in late 2008 and release in early 2009. I still think the '69 is the best, not just as a model of the Camaro but the greatest muscle car ever! But the new Camaro encorporates the qualities and persona of the older models--not the lame-ass Mustang rip-offs on the late 80s and early 90s--and contemporizes it with such effortlessness. The low, wide chassis and body are unmistakably Chevy SS--think Corvette, Sting Ray or Impala--and the old Camaro lines and angles are maintained.

Here's the real treat for lovers of the old Camaro (again I'm not talking about the 80s-90s models): the new concept returns to the chassis exposing rear. This is the best up-skirt a motor-head will ever see!

Chevy has said that they aim to retain the drive and power of the original Camaro ("a small, vicious animal that eats Mustangs," joked Chevy execs when the Camaro was first released) while up-dating the technology, look and comfort of the 'vicious animal' to match current trends.

The Camaro remains one of Chevy's most popular cars ever made. "As evidence that we're not completely brain-dead, GM will build the Chevy Camaro," GM Chairman and CEO Rick Wagoner announced on August 10.

I'm a happy, happy man! Now to wait for the day I can actually afford and own one.

(It'll obviously be a '69!!!)

2006-08-29T09:46:00.000+05:00

28 off 10, 5 4s and a 6, arrived on a hat-trick ball and bitch-slapped it to long-on for his only non-boundary scoring shot. 3 consecutive bounadries off Sajid Mahmood (SajMa'mooooood). Only one shot out of the middle of the bat which was deposited outside the ground.

Here's to hoping he's back!

-------------------------

4 aggressive, fast overs, flowing mane in tow, still looking rusty. Laughing with the captain in the dug-out, talking to his team-mates, being part of the team.

Here's to hopin ghe stays healthy!

-------------------------

I'm loving the new English kid. He's the real deal. And so damn talllllllll. They say he'll grow another 3 inches before he's through. Yet another tall, fast, accurate english bowler for the world to contend with. What do the feed those boys there?!

Best of luck, Stuart!

-------------------------

Well done, team. Best of Luck, my boys. Make us proud! =)

2006-08-28T14:20:00.000+05:00

When you have no work at work...

Your Pimp Name Is...

Dr. Kisses

What's Your Pimp Name?

Your 1950s Name is:

Herbert Alfred

What's your 1950s Name?

Your German Name is:

Julius Albrecht

What's Your German Name?

2006-08-28T13:12:00.000+05:00

General Pervez Musharraf's New-Age Approach to Children's Education.

2006-08-28T11:22:00.000+05:00

He's dead, Jim. They killed him. The bastards killed him.

2006-08-28T10:13:00.000+05:00

Two-day weekend. =)

Makes me glad not to be working on a Saturday anymore. In celebration, I spent all day Saturday at home, sleeping. I'd like to apologize to all the people I stood up due to the laziness but staying in bed but I was too busy being lazy.

Last night was good. Yogi's PS2 is still lying at my place as a reminder. Gandhi, you left your Gold Leaf. Z and Yogi played endless wrestling. Any and all readers of this blog have an open invite to my place for whenever they want. Bring your own entertainment and food.

Right now, in my room you'll find 2 TVs, a PC, a laptop when I'm home, phone, books all over the place, music CDs, game CDs and yet more CDs, clean clothes tossed around, dirty clothes neatly located in a corner and a bed with more mattresses than space for people. Outside the room are remnants of the rain--sheets blocking a doorway from leaking in water, clothes line with laundry from last week, curtains on the big window rolled up to one side to prevent them from getting wet.

I'm living in a mess. But it's a mess I like and, above all else, it's MY mess. The privacy that I've become so accustomed to is mine upstairs. I may not have all of what I need, but I have most of it.

Life is good.

2006-08-25T23:58:00.000+05:00

Never know how much I love you, never know how much I care
When you put your arms around me, I get a fever that's so hard to bear
You give me fever, when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight
Fever in the morning, fever all through the night.

Sun lights up the daytime, moon lights up the night
I light up when you call my name, and you know I'm gonna treat you right
You give me fever, when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight
Fever in themorning, oh fever all through the night.

Everybody's got the fever, that is something that you should know
Fever isn't such a new thing, fever started long ago.
Yeah, yeah yeah yeah yeah, oh
Tell 'em about it
Romeo loved Juliet, Juliet she felt the same
When he put his arms around her, he said "Julie baby you're my flame"
Thou givest fever, when we kisseth, fever with thy flaming youth
Fever - I'm afire, fever yea I burn forsooth.

Captain Smith and Pocahontas had a very mad affair
But when her Daddy tried to kill him, she said "Daddy,Daddy don't you dare"
He gives me fever - with his kisses, fever when he holds me tight
Fever - I'm his Missus, Oh daddy won't you treat him right.

Now you've heard our story, (oh, it's your story)
Here's the point I have made (I'm listening)
Chicks were born to give you fever (that's right)
Be it Fahrenheit or Centigrade
They give you fever - when you kiss them, fever if you live and learn
Fever - till you sizzle, what a lovely way to burn.
Aha, what a lovely way to burn.
I tell you, what a lovely way to burn.
All right now, what a lovely way to burn.
I like that, what a lovely way to burn.

(You ain't right, Ray)

--Fever, Ray Charles & Natalie Cole

2006-08-25T00:28:00.000+05:00

Post Secret

2006-08-24T13:49:00.000+05:00

A number of people have complained about the lack of an opinion from me about the farce that was the result of the Oval test and its aftermath. The biggest reason I've refrained from airing my views is that there's two sides to this argument and there's enough worthy proponents of both. My opinion will only add to the clutter (something this particular Corporate Slave has learnt is the bane of an advertiser’s existence) and will ultimately be worthless because of my own personal irrelevance as a sportswriter.

That said, Inzi was right, Sheheryar Khan's attempt at hard-line diplomacy wasn't enough, Zaheer Abbass is inept as Team Manager and we should be glad Wasim, Javed or Imran weren't captain of the side.

Let's tackle each opinion individually.

Had Pakistan been captained by anyone other than Inzimam, especially if it was Javed Miandad as pointed by an English sportswriter, this situation would have been handled in a much more violent and volatile manner. Accusations of cheating plagued Pakistan for years and were largely ignored by the players on-field. Yet, when they did manifest themselves on the playing pitch, they were sheepishly acknowledged or silently refuted. Yet, under the leadership of the Serene and Calm One, instances such as Afridi in Faisalabad became issues of integrity. Shahid Afridi's performances, stellar as they were during the year before the pitch-dance, came crashing down. Where he had insisted himself in every interview that Inzi's confidence in him had helped bring along the proficiency, it was obvious that Inzi's displeasure had the opposite effect.

So, when Inzi reacts to these charges of cheating the way he did, it's obvious that he had faith in his players and trusted them enough to accept that they had not committed the Cardinal Cricketing Sin. Otherwise, he would have been the first to punish, albeit privately. His father-figure attitude holds this team together and that has been the formula for success of late. No other captain in recent history has had quite that paternal a relationship with the rest of the team. Dissenters were present even in Imran Khan's '92 camp.

Which leads me on to the next issue: Inzimam was right in doing what he did. Whether Pakistan refused to play or whether this was a misunderstanding and umpire Hair’s resultant decision to be an ass (or continue to be one), the captain and team management taking a stand on behalf of the entire team is only the next step up in the progressive development of the Pakistan outfit as a unified, all-for-one bunch of cricketers. If you look at all the high-achieving teams in history the one common feature is this support from management and a well-respected captain. Cowdry, Border, Ranatunga, Waugh and even Vaughn and the much-maligned Douglas Jardine have all shown the same ability to stand behind their players and support and guide them through every crisis. That is what Inzimam is doing now. It’s an attitude that says, “Let no man fall alone.”

Sheheryar Khan’s interview at the end of the fourth day was also proof of the support that management is giving to the players and their chosen leader. He clearly stated that Hair was an ass, that Pakistan was willing to play and that PCB and Pakistan have serious issue with being officiated by an ass. Although, despite these words, the actions of the PCB boss left a bad taste. He shouldn’t have intervened when he did at the Oval. He should have maintained that this was not a management issue yet and, therefore, he could not step in as mediator.

The management of this situation should have been done by the man assigned the job for the tour, a certain well-respected, formerly swashbuckling batsman who’s made many an English bowler suffer the flashing blade he wielded. Zaheer Abbass, no klutz with words himself and never one to not hold an opinion, should have gone to the match referee and informed him of the Pakistan protest, or of the refusal to play. As team manager on tour, I would assume that was part of his job. I might of course be wrong.

The stance taken by Pakistan, whether anyone agrees with it or not, is a matter of principle. If Pakistan are to bend, they are implicitly accepting that Hair’s decision – to change the ball, allow the batsmen to choose the new one and penalizing Pakistan – to accuse Pakistan of cheating was correct.

In the past, with Pakistan’s colourful history, such a capitulation might have happened. I’d be most surprised if it happens today.

I know I haven’t directly addressed the issue of what happened and who is to blame. That is a matter of personal bias and is more about who you’re willing to believe. 26 Sky Sports cameras and all, we don’t know exactly what happened in the middle or in the dressing room after. What we do know is laced with bias depending on which way we lean. By sanctioning Inzi’s actions and vilifying The Walking Chin, I’ve shown which direction I’m leaning.

ps. -- is this a long enough opinion for you cribbers?

2006-08-24T12:56:00.000+05:00

As with my career, this blog is undergoing some severe redesign and change. Some of it is apparent--no more slippers or t-shirts, big, new red heading--some is rather more clandestine (though equally premeditated). In case some days the blog is unavailable or distorted beyond recognition, consider it a serious travesty on the part of The Boss/Puppetmaster. All complains can then be directed to him. I'm sorry for any inconvenience.

--This disclaimer was brought to you by the proud manufacturers of Talwar Maarka Dhaaga, 'Putlion mein daal day naee jaan!' [Corporate Sponsor, obviously!]

2006-08-23T16:15:00.000+05:00

The lure of the Corporate Whoredom manifests itself again!

It's possibly an unavoidable evil that veers its head every time issues of financial security clash with personal and intellectual integrity. Intellectual pursuits are sacrificed on the money-altar for the sake of material benefits, often not for oneself. Today, three days after my own official conversion to the Dark Side, I've encountered two others who seem to be switching sides. Their reasons for doing so may differ -- I'm almost certain that they do -- but the career direction these people had picked out for themselves is registering a drastic change from earlier notions.

Their conversion, whether necessitated by circumstance or choice, hurts me more than my own.
I pray for you my friends. I pray for you all.

2006-08-23T16:08:00.000+05:00

"Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V."

-- V's introduction to Evey

2006-08-23T10:09:00.000+05:00

The Coporate Whoring has begun...and it's most fun.

As I type this (on the laptop I was given yesterday) I've been in office for about 30 minutes and the 2 people who i'm working with and who are my bosses are both missing right now. I was at work till 8.00 and actually got work done on the second day of work.

It's interesting work, although a bit boring and mechanical for now. There's definitely a ton of learnign involved ebcause this is stuff that notss being taught anywhere to anyone in Pakistan. This generally puts me at an advantage because I'm willing to learn. My very first brainstorming session was a great experience, and fun too. I knew I'd love doing this!

The office is sort of casual--rolled up sleeves and all--and the people are extremely nice. And I love the fact that the P&G Planning and Buying team--my team--are kings of the castle. And right now, I'm the baby of the house so the pampering continues for now!
_______________________

In other news, The Whoredom welcomes The Freak to its folds! Where I lead, you follow, my child! =)

2006-08-18T17:15:00.000+05:00

It took 40 days and 40 nights for God to drown out Noah’s world. It takes Him much less to drown out mine.

Yet, for all the deluge that sinks Karachi every few years, the arks that salvage people’s lives each time are the public buses that run through the city come rain, hail or snow — in a manner of speaking. It was one such messiah that I managed to claw my way onto at around 7.30 yesterday evening. I was home by 9.15. Those riding cars from downtown Karachi reached home no earlier than 10.30. Some poor, miserable folk were stuck at I.I.Chundrigar Road till 12.30 because the road under their cars had sunken in.

At least 25 people are dead from electrocutions in the city. Homes are flooded, roads are broken, traffic is a mess and tempers have been sizzling.

The provincial and city governments mobilized as soon as the rains ended. Leaders of government have declared a state of emergency throughout the province, including Karachi, and measures are being taken to clear up the wreckage left behind by the downpour. We don’t expect much to change any time soon but at least there’s some government response this time.

That said, being stuck at office with no bijli and a bunch of people discussing the craziest of options was a fun experience. Not having the responsibility of taking care of girls and worrying about people getting home is a nice, light feeling.

God-Dude, we sincerely thank you for the rains and your generosity in showering us with them. Now, we kindly request you to stop already!

Monday marks the start of the corporate whoring.

2006-08-11T15:14:00.000+05:00

Laddis and Germs, bouys and gurls, I bring you news of the sad and rather pathetic imminent conversion of the anti-corporate Saad Akhtar. Yes, it's true. If things go the way they are right now, the very vocal opponent of corporate whores all over will join the ranks himself.

And, if things go according to the plans of one Mr.Rehan Merchant, CEO, Mediacom Pakistan, the poor shumuck that is Saad will not only go corporate, he will go MNCorporate!

Let us pray for the poor, miserable ass.
May God guard his soul!

2006-08-07T19:06:00.000+05:00

Inzi goes to England in order to discover the most unique ways of getting out. He provides comical highlight reels for years to come.

Pakistan, when playing a test series, pick out one player who's struggling to make the rival squad and propel him into a superstar. On this particular tour it's Ian Bell. Thank you, Mr.Bell. We're always glad to oblige.

Salman Butt was singing for Imran Farhat while Pakistan were struggling to reach the target set by England in the first innings. Apparently those two have many things in common: they enjoy music, throw away their wickets and drop catches.

Kaneria is good if used wisely.

Sami gets dropped if Asif is fit to bowl.

2006-08-05T15:14:00.000+05:00

The rain finally cleared out y'day with the arrival in the city of a certain Miss FBJ. And, as it tends to do in Karachi, the clearing sky brought with it humidity and heat. The forecast is for more rain on Monday though relying on weather forecasts isn't always the best idea in the Sity by the Cea.

Rain water's mostly cleared out from most places. Road outside green-gated office is still a pool though.

I don't know why I'm blogging right now. Pakistan's run out of luck at Old Trafford.

2006-08-04T12:21:00.000+05:00

One of my senior editors is comma-afflicted and fashion conscious. Another's goes ballistic on any article she might encounter on the occassions she's in office. The Chief Ed is caustic, volatile and tending towards bitchiness.

The Senior Reporter is articularly (I know that's not a real word) challenged. He sprays about "the" with the casual sense of a child with a paintbrush. Or one with a pen in a freshly painted house. It's always where it's not supposed to be and never where it should be. I edited an article he'd written yesterday. After rummaging through the first three pages of bad grammar, poor expression and randomly sprouting articles in print, I decided to chuck the draft and head to the ancient box that is the draft editing mac. The green-gated office only does mac. We don't do PC, thankyouverymuch.

The rain's been a pain coz poor, green-gated D-6 now lies at the lip of a great ocean. Mustafa's offered to drop me to the main road on his moturrsycul everyday since tuesday but wading through is fun even if it means getting the feet wet and squidgy. The orange walls are no longer orange enough. Or maybe I've just stopped noticing.

Check out last month's cover and cover story at Newsline. Also, if you can get your hands on the June issue, read a certain book review by yours truly to see why I'm doomed to Hell! =)

Random interesting thing of the day: Look up "Googolplex" and then check out this link.

2006-08-01T11:28:00.000+05:00

I'd planned a massively bitter diatribe on the Karachi utilities setup, or the lack thereof, as a response to the rain that's been lashing the city since Sunday afternoon. However, after a rethink of the circumstances while reading newspaper accounts of the devastation caused, and living through a 13 hour electrical break-down (which I've heard was one of the shortest in the city during the rains), I've decided to let be the disastrous situation. There's not much one can do when the heavens open up the way they did on Sunday.

That said, finger pointing will, and must, continue. Standing water on the roads in this city is a perennial problem that exists without divine involvement. With God's decision to bless us this weekend (with more downpours to come) that problem was compounded and multiplied. I.I.Chundrigar, the Wall Street of Pakistan, collapsed under the weight of a passing heavy vehicle. The reverberations of such an occurrence anywhere else would roll many a heads. Here, it will cause a stir in the news for two days at most.

There's apparently 12 feet of water standing in the recently (finally) completed KPT Underpass. As if electrical cables hanging from the roof and tiles falling off wasn't disgraceful enough for this massive project. Even that though will be forgiven in light of what happens to underpasses in Lahore every monsoon.

Houses flooded with water will dry out. Buildings destroyed will be rebuilt. Lives lost will be mourned for a while. Then this great city and its great people will forget. KESC will not fix its infratructure. CDGK will not fix anything at all. People will continue to live in houses that will be flooded every few years when Zeus decides to gather his clouds and pour out the water on the unsuspecting and ill-prepared populace of this city.

For now, I shall go enjoy the weather.

All Hail, Footie in the Rain!

2006-08-01T11:15:00.000+05:00

street footie in the rain. protecting home and hearth from the ravages of a karachi thunder storm. sitting on my ass watching porna nd wasting time. babysitting. catching up with old friends. making new ones. hiding away from others. convincing myself to let go of yet others. MY family. MY home. MY room. MY bed. MY pot.

it's good to be home.

I'm still looking for jobs so anyone with a decent opening for a man with varied talents, serious writing and presentation skills and impressive PR please toss it my way.

2006-07-25T19:20:00.000+05:00

2006-07-25T12:14:00.000+05:00

mein aur meri tanhaee, aksar ye baatein kartay hain
tum hotiin to kaisa hota, tum ye kehtiin, tum woh kehtiin
tum is baat pe hairaan hotiin, tum us baat pe kitni hanstiin
tum hotiin to aisa hota, tum hotiin to waisa hota
mein aur meri tanhaee, aksar ye baatein kartay hain

ye raat hai, yaa tumhari zulfein khuli hui hain
ye chaandni hai, yaa tumhari nazroon se meri raatein dhuli hui hain
ye chaand hai, yaa tumhara kangan, sitaare hain yaa tumhara aanchal
hawa ka jhonkaa hai, yaa tumhare badan ki khushboo
ye pattiyoon ki hai sarsaraahat, ke tumne chupke se kuch kahaa
ye sochtaa hoon mein kabse gumsum
jabke mujhko bhi ye khabar hai, ke tum nahin ho, kahin nahin ho
magar ye dil hai ke keh raha hai, tum yahin ho, yahin kahin ho

majbuur ye halaat, idhar bhi hain udhar bhi
tanhaee ki ye raat, idhar bhi hai udhar bhi
kahne ko bohut kuch hai, magar kisse kahein hum
kab tak yunhi khaamosh rahein, aur sahein hum
dil kehta hai duniya ki har ik rasam utha dein
deewar jo hum dono mein hai, aaj gira dein
kyon dil mein sulagte rahein, logoon ko bataa dein
haan humko muhabbat hai, mohabbat hai, mohabbat hai
ab dil mein yehi baat, idhar bhi hai, udhar bhi

Amitji is KING and Javed Akhtar has words to express every single emotion a man can feel in the most gloriously romanticised way imaginable.

If anyone has the song "Tu maike mutt jaiyyo" from the film Pukar, please email it to me at saadakhtar@gmail.com

2006-07-25T10:21:00.000+05:00

I don't want to think about it
I don't want to talk about it
When I kiss your lips
I want to sink down to the bottom
Of the sea

--Love You Madly, Cake

2006-07-22T10:46:00.000+05:00

Bhenchod Zindagi!

2006-07-16T07:23:00.000+05:00

"As then, he unveiled a repertoire of strokes you can only call sexy. Fluid drives, wristy flicks, elegant waltzes down the pitch, cuts balanced on top of his toes; he could be a dancer so graceful is he with bat in hand, yet take it off him and his grace of movement withers."

Osman Samiuddin at Cricinfo, describing Mohammed Yousuf's unbeaten century at Lord's.

=)

2006-07-10T08:13:00.000+05:00

Someone's been Googling Shah Mardan Kumman's name. A lot.
And that someone is in Jordan of all places.
IP: 212.35.89.175

Whoever you are, be informed. We know you're stalking him. We don't like it!

(this just brightened my morning!)

2006-07-10T07:42:00.000+05:00

Just when you figure you've finally gotten over your obsessive thinking and the resultant crap moods, they comes bounding back with a vengeance normally restricted to jilted former lovers and girls from convent schools. Then, although you were certain you had mastered the art of sleeping despite the rampant thoughts stampeding through your head, you can’t close your eyes for more than five seconds without seeing in graphic detail—full colour, cinemascope, Dolby Stereo Sound—your worst fears realized. Next up is a pain, not physical but weirdly psychosomatic, that rips through your mind—again, not physical ‘brain’ but the metaphysical ‘mind.’

Finally, the absence of sleep, the rampaging doubts and the itch that just can’t be scratched combine to lead you to blogging. Hence, this post!

I don’t even know if this catharsis is worth the effort but at this stage, after denying myself this avenue for the last few days, it seems it’s a last recourse. If this doesn’t work, shoot me, put a tag around my big toe and shove me in a freezer, ’cause, Folks, I’d much rather be frolicking around in Hades’ playground.

I’m not going to write about what’s in the head. I’ve discovered that baring my wounds to the world just calls in the scavengers. A strange breed of scavengers they be, too. They feed off the fake sympathy they dole out to poor miserable souls like myself. They’re the people who leave the comment telling you how they can relate and how they understand. They’re the ones who leave little adages and words of encouragement for you to chew on while you wallow in your misery. They’re the clichés in this world that play the same tape over and over again in the hope that someone somewhere will listen.

I’m sick of pretending I give a shit. I care about only a handful of people in this world. Those who’re amongst that handful know that they are. If you doubt for even a second whether you’re on that list, you’re not!

I like rambling. Rambling is fun.

So is messing around with the heads of poor, naïve all-girls-school-bred females who decide they’re smart, intelligent and mature women!

2006-07-10T07:12:00.000+05:00

So France lost. Should have known. They didn't seem anything like scoring in-play.
3 goals in 3 games: Set piece, penalty, penalty.

The Italians proved that flashy and flowing isn't always the best way to go. Balance is the name of the game today. Make sure you don't get scored on (an own goal and a penalty against them theourgh the tourney) and score at least one goal in each game. Simple. Flawless. Azzurri!

We should all have known this was comng. Some people actually predicted it. When Italy won the Cup in '82, a scandal was ripping through the ranks of the Italian Serie A and involved a number of the players and officials from the World Cup squad. The same script was set up this year. Had to happen!

Forza Italia!

2006-07-06T11:48:00.000+05:00

My new favourite song. This is the current theme to my life! Thank you, Ali.

Some stupid chick in the checkout line
Was paying for beer with nickels and dimes
And some old man who clipped coupons
Had argued whenever they wouldn't take one
All I wanted to was buy some cigarettes
But I couldn't take it anymore so I left

I hate everyone
I hate everyone
I hate everyone
I hate everyone

All the people on the street, I hate you all
And the people that I meet, I hate you all
And the people that I know, I hate you all
And the people that I don't, I hate you all
Oh, I hate you all

Some fucking asshole just cut me off
And gave me the finger when I fucking honked
Then he proceeded to put on the brakes
He slammed on the brakes, but I made a mistake
When I climbed out of my van he was waiting
But he was six three and two hundred pounds of Satan

I hate everyone
I hate everyone
I hate everyone
I hate everyone

All the people on the street, I hate you all
And the people that I meet, I hate you all
And the people that I know, I hate you all
And the people that I don't, I hate you all
Oh, I hate you all

I bet you think I'm kidding
But I promise you its true
I hate most everybody
But most of all I hate
Oh, I hate you

All the people on the street, I hate you all
And the people that I meet, I hate you all
And the people that I know, I hate you all
And the people that I don't, I hate you all
And the people in the east, I hate you all
And the people I hate least, I hate you all
And the people in the west, I hate you all
And the people I like best, I hate you all
Oh, I hate you all

--I Hate Everyone, Get Set Go (Grey's Anatomy Soundtrack)

2006-07-05T02:49:00.000+05:00

No more expectations! I cannot expect anything. 2 goals in 3 minutes? Germnay knocked out by Italy?

Who'd've thunk it?!

So, no expectations. Just hope.

Go Portugal!

2006-07-02T14:27:00.000+05:00

Sometimes I confuse you for me. You think like me, you totally get me, you never judge, yet you have strong likes and dislikes. If you weren't in another body I'd really assume you were me.

But then I see all the little differences, the nuances that make you better than me. I see your intelligence, your dedication and your single-mindedness. I see your passion that's hidden from everyone else. I see the sense of humour, the laughter, the enjoyment of life. Sometimes I envy it all.

We plan to grow old together. I want to have my head in your lap while I read, your fingers running through my hair. I want to hold you in my arms and watch the rain. I want to hold your hand while we walk, always. I want to be lying next to you when I'm wrinkled, bald and eighty.

I love you beyond all my senses and my own comprehension.

You're my personal, private Toddler Maker! =D

Happy Birthday, Hadia.

2006-07-02T03:47:00.000+05:00

A bittersweet day.

André bows out with typical grace. The All-England Club allows him to take a final bow despite losing the match to Nadal. It had to happen and it'd be sad whenever it did. Butlike so many fans at Wimbeldon have screamed out the 14 times he's played there, "We love you André!"

Portugal wins. I've been rooting for Portugal since the start of the tournament which is why I was dreading this encounter with England. There was no way Portugal win against this English team in match-play. Same scenario as Argentina-Germany. England's "great" attacking midfielder, Lampard and Gerrard, missed penalties. Rooney needs yet more anger-management though somehow I get the feeling the English tabloid press will not vilify him the way they did Becks when he was sent off in a past life.

France -Brazil. I have no words. France outplayed the defending champs. There's really no other way of looking at this game. You could blame Brazil for not probing enough but ONE shot on target, in any match anywhere, takes more than a poor offensive effort. This was a stifling defense from France marshalled by their tireless midfield pit-bulls, Viera and Makelele. Gallas and Thuram were solid. Zidane showed he's not old and is still better than anyone in the world. Ronaldinho, Christiano Ronaldo and any others fighting over the crown of best ball-handler, you'll never be good enough. And who scores the winner? But of course it's Henry! =)

Ali's happy!

2006-07-01T02:35:00.000+05:00

Argentina lost the only real way they could have lost. There was no beating them in play though the German's did admirably for 90 minutes. Jose Pekerman made two horrible substitutions which cost him because Crespo and Riquelme are both penalty takers and would have definitely scored.

Ballack earns my respect for his grit. The German team beat Argentina in this match in terms of pure football. I didn't think that was possible but it happened. Now, the winner of this encounter is headed to the final. It seems like Germany is going to be featuring in it's second consecutive final.

2006-06-27T19:02:00.000+05:00

How do you get eliminated from the World Cup without conceding a single goal?
Ask the Swiss!

2006-06-27T16:45:00.000+05:00

a massive laziness attack has resulted in complete hermitage and detachment from the world made one trip to lums in 2 days and that was only to go play basketball for 30 minutes obviously basketball is prioritised over all over endeavours and even laziness is overwhelmed when faced with the prospect of screeching the pimp sneakers on the blue paint of the sports complex court the timing of the world cup matches is such that there is very little one can do in between the two matches everyday thankfully we will get a couple of days in between just to enjoy sport on another grass pitch daniella huntuchova has the longest sexiest legs in tennis saw her on the box yesterday and she was in these hot pants that made her legs look even longer than they are if she had breasts she would be so incredibly hot

nadal agassi third round possibility should be awesome federer faces henmen in the second safin goes up against rusedski in a big serve encounter but im still not sure about the womens draw will go through it again to figure out whats going on there

kalas left sadness much sadness

nazo was here shes gone too

formulating business plan for new hangout in lahore to be opened by one very determined woman who makes brilliant icecream

after rereading this post ive realised im not lazy just not bothered

2006-06-24T05:56:00.000+05:00

Brazil showed on Thursday what they're capable of. I say they're still beatable, especially with the long-ball game. But what the Samba Boys showed in the game against Japan is that they're made of stuff that marks champions. When an opponent kicks them down (or scores a goal because the boys in yellow got careless) they'll jump right back up and at their foes with a vicious, savage and sustained (though typically flamboyant) assault that will leave the opposing team stunned.

The Japanese seemed like they were going to stop and applaud at every instance of a fabulously crafted move that resulted in another hair-breadth save from Kawaguci. The ball-movement was beyond sublime and, despite below-par games from Ronaldinho and Robinho and the absence of 5 key players from the pitch, Brazil could have scored on any side in the world on form.

The flanks are offensively fabulous. Cafu, Roberto Carlos, Cicinho and even Gilberto Silva, give Brazil options on the flanks that any team would snap up without thought, even England. Cicinho is younger and faster than Cafu on the right but he’ll never be as good at ball-delivery as the 36-year-old looking for his 3^rd titled, and second as captain. Carlos doesn’t posses the speed he once used to but he makes up for that with strength and sheer grit.

In central midfield, any team that can put a player of the caliber, class and talent of Juninho on the bench must have an over-abundance of those qualities. Ze Roberto and Emerson provide the kind of solid defensive midfield that fits precisely into Brazil’s game-plan which means the most powerful leg in football gets a game only when the two are rested.

Ronaldinho and Kaka as a pair of roaming, attacking midfielders can only be compared with Lampard and Gerrard for England. And I’d take the Brazilians on my team any day of the weak, and twice on Sundays, please.

Robinho is quick, young and ubër-talented. Adriano is close. Ronaldo, protruding gut and all, is still one of the best in the world at putting the ball in the net. He proved as much on Thursday. My concern is that, after declaring that he would prove his doubters wrong and scoring the two goals to do just that (while missing at least 3 chances that he would have buried in goal two years ago), he’s also proven that he was playing below his capabilities for the first two games. He’s shown to the world that he can turn his game on when he wants, but he’s also shown that he just wasn’t interested or committed earlier. However, this is Brazil and Ronaldo is Jesus.

Now for the real story here.

The Champs showed weakness, chinks in the armour, which can easily be exploited by a European opponent. As mentioned earlier, the long-ball is a threat. The longish ball that resulted in the Japanese goal is a welcome sight for the likes of England and Germany. England specially, with the ball-skills of Rooney and the height of Crouch coupled with the right boot of Player No.7, will have enjoyed that goal — possibly more than the Japanese themselves. Germany has the air-borne Klose looking to add to his tally of four and avenge his loss of the Golden Boot in ’02 to the Great Fat One.

Messrs Cole and Cole are also looking to run ragged a certain man on the Brazilian team sporting the blue arm-band.

Bigger, stronger and more talented European teams—France, Spain, Italy and Portugal can never be discounted—will be looking to exploit these chinks. Brazil will see repeated attacks from both flanks which, even if they don’t result in goals, will tire out the aging full-backs, Cafu and Carlos. Piercing balls from strong midfields will penetrate through the holes that are created when Emerson and Ze Roberto run to help out Cafu. And Dida continues to do a passable impersonation of Oliver Kahn from ’02—he stops everything without catching anything. Sooner or later, a poaching striker will pounce.

I see the talent, I see the skill, I see the brilliance. I also see too many weaknesses. But what do I know?!

P.S. – The reason there’s no mention of Argentina in this post is that the work of art that is the Argentine team can beat anyone, not just Brazil.

2006-06-22T10:12:00.000+05:00

Miami has won the NBA championship. For those who did not believe when I prophesied: blow me!

England is beatable. As is Brazil. Argentina isn't. Spain will make things interesting. Portugal is my emotional pick. Ivory Coast has a fan in me.

Tiger didn't make the cut at the US Open. Was bound to happen sooner or later.

England-SriLanka. Who cares?

So, Nadal won on clay. Big deal! I love him and all but Roger at the All-England. Give it 17 days!

Montreal GP this weekend.

Yes, the sports have returned! =)

2006-06-21T14:43:00.000+05:00

I've had these lines playing in my head since y'day and this is my catharsis.

You think you're in love
Like it's a real sure thing
But every time you fall
You get your ass in a sling
You used to be strong
But now it's ooh baby please
'Cause falling in love is so hard on the knees

2006-06-20T00:34:00.000+05:00

What in all of Heaven could have prompted her to go
After such a triumph at the ball
What could have depressed her
What could have possessed her
I cannot understand the wretch at all

Women are irrational, that's all there is to that
Their heads are full of cotton, hay and rags
They're nothing but exasperating, irritating, vacillating
Calculating, agitating, maddening, and infuriating hags

Why can't a woman be more like man
Men are so honest, so thoroughly square
Eternally noble, historically fair
Who when you win will always give your back a pat
Why can't a woman be like that

Why does every one do what the others do
Can't a woman learn to use her head
Why do they do everything their mothers do
Why don't they grow up like their father instead

Why can't a woman take after a man
Men are so pleasant, so easy to please
Whenever you're with them you're always at ease
Would you be slighted if I didn't speak for hours?
     Of course not
Would you be livid if I had a drink or two?
     Nonsense
Would you be wounded if I never sent you flowers?
     Never!
Well, why can't a woman be like you

One man in a million may shout a bit
Now and then there's one with slight defects
One perhaps whose truthfulness you doubt a bit
But by in large we are a marvelous sex

Why can't a woman take after a man
Men are so friendly, good natured and kind
A better companion you never will find
If I were hours late for dinner would you bellow?
     Of course not
If I forgot your silly birthday would you fuss?
     Nonsense
Would you complain if I took out another fellow?
     Never!
Why can't a woman be like us

Why can't a woman be more like a man
Men are so decent, such regular chaps
Ready to help you through any mishaps
Ready to buck you up whenever you are glum
Why can't a woman be a chum
 
Why is thinking something women never do
Why is logic never even tried
Straightening up their hair is all they ever do
Why don't they straighten up the mess that's inside

Why can't a woman behave like a man
If I were a woman who'd been to a ball
Been hailed as a princess by one and by all
Would I start weeping like a bathtub overflowing
Carry on as if my home were in a tree
Would I run off and never tell me where I'm going
Why can't a woman be like me?

--A Hymn to Him, My Fair Lady