I’m thinking of something interesting to say. Something that would be worthy of THE First Line. You know.. something in the vein of “Call me Ishmael”. But well, let’s be honest, you can’t call me Ishmael. I am but me- a sub quality beta version of me. Call me D 1.0. And maybe, someday, I’ll progress to a 1S and then a 2, and then a 2GS.. (No, I’m not an Apple fangirl. Yes, Mac Book IS orgasmic. Please draw your own conclusions).
I am 29. On the cusp of the great milestone of three-oh. But it seems like I’ve been around much, much longer. It’s the same roads, the same house, the same people. Infact, even the same stories in the newspaper. Seems like the world remains constant while I count the days going by. It’s raining outside- I’m thinking of something poetic to say. The dither of the rain, brings to fore the glorious emeralds against the graying skies. Pffbbt. Atleast the cars look cleaner.
Today is the 10,778th day of my life. I looked it up online. Ten thousand. whoa. I spent the 10,777th day listening to the Banana Song. Productive, I must say. 10,778th is not turning out to be much different so far. I have checked my mails, worked a bit, took a few calls, read my daily dose of blogs, took some more calls and will now head home. Meanwhile, Kim Kardashian may (or may not. Though possibly, may.) capitalize on her daughter North West’s photographs & Kristen Stewart and Rob Pattinson may (Or possibly may not) be getting back together again. And Zooey Deschanel (Really, mom and dad of Zooey, really- that name?) is a closet feminist. (On second thoughts, I take that Really back. Really, Kim and Kanye, Really? North West?)
Anyways, it’s 4:12 PM. My cup of coffee is all done and the dreary work day is coming to end in 48 minutes. *Sigh* 47 now.
You know what my life could’ve been?
I think about that everyday. Something other than me. SomeONE other than me. Who am I? Are you sure you wanna know? (I know. I know. Spiderman.) (What's with that stupid theme song anyways- And yeah, I cracked that joke before it even came on the Big Bang Theory- so sue me motherf***ers).
I could’ve been a model (if only I were a little bit taller. Ok. A lot taller.) (Yeah, I asked- you can’t get that surgically corrected) - glamorous, jet setting ways of the world. But beauty has such a harsh price to pay. OR I could own hotels. Too much work. Own spas? Naaah. Restaurants? hmmmmm. Write stuff? well... Critique stuff? Now... Critique Spas? Whoa. Why did I not have this conversation with myself sooner?
But let's think big. What COULD I be if I were not me?
If I Were a Megalomaniac Ne'er do good villain
The scope is IMMENSE. Trust me, you have never had it so good till you have tried pure unadulterated evil. Mwahahahaha. Too much? um okay. later then.
Lets explore the lifestyle... Money. Check. 'Munition. Check. Mansions. Check. Minions. Check. Molls. Check. Too many Ms. Check Check fucking check.
Sounds good eh? I can totally imagine a villa at Nariman Point with killer dogs (Called Dobby and Bobby... and I'll throw in a Tiger too). Elaborate driveway, fountain included. With hefty bodyguards on the side holding AK47s. You sit on a gilded throne with pretty ladies serving you grapes. The lap of luxury that is your house, is fully equipped to make your dreams come true, complete with a tahakhana, and a maut ka kuan (with bonus sharks- muft muft muft). Of course, on the first floor one of the rooms will be perpetually occupied with a damsel in distress who will be cheap to keep since she will anyways refuse all food and water you will serve her (imagine how much bachat!).
You'll have a study with hidden tijauris hidden behind elaborate paintings of hot looking women (or Playboy centrefolds - one can't possibly expect villains to be well versed in fine art... Imagine, yeh Monet ek khokhey ki hai boss. Duh). And in those tijauris will be the soney ke biscoot, *rubbing hands gleefully*. And what could ideally be a good space to keep books, we could effectively utilise in hosting rangeen shaams in which the aforementioned damsel in distress will groove to the latest item song to save her lover's life whom you would have killed anyways. Mwahahahahah. (Yup. Works this time)
Risk to life and limb you ask? Hmmm... Greatly reduced if you can deal with undercover policewallahs pretending to be you. Keep the kanoon in your pocket. Take some lessons from the Sand Mafia- really works. And that imaandaar officer? Uska kaam tamaam kar do.
To sum it up,
Quality of Life- 10/10
Fun at Work: 10/10
Life Span: 7/10
Swaggah- 8/10
If I were a cowboy. No. A gunfighter. NO. Clint Eastwood.
C'mon- have you seen those eyebrows? Who wouldn't wanna be Clint Eastwood! I mean- really...that swagger, that baritone, that height (ok yeah- I'm pretty sensitive about that)- He's got THE WHOLE F***ING PACKAGE! And you are asking if I really wanna be him? What you have to ask yourself is, do I feel lucky? Well do ya', punk?
Quality of Life- 6/10
Fun at Work- 9/10
Life Span- 10/10 *he'll outlive us all*
Swaggah- 100/10 *deal with it*
If I were Moby Dick. *giggle*
I was planning to think up a great literary character, but we all know where I was going with that Ishmael reference, right? Moby Dick it is. And yes, it makes me giggle every frigging time. But really- you can't go wrong here. Let me tell you why.
The whole book, all gazillion words of it are about the search for a white sperm whale- not just ANY whale- MOBY DICK (whose given name was Mobius Richard. Don't giggle. Really. Actually, no.). So there is this sailor, who lost his appendage to an attack by this one whale and since then has this blatant need for vengeance. So he wants to find this.. this monster and spear the shit out of this dude. We, however, forget one small fact. Its one F***ing Whale in the middle of a F***ing Ocean! And how do we know if it's THE whale? I mean it ain't no skinhead with a swastika tattooed on its forehead. But we know what it looks like, D.. Yeah? It looks like every other god-damned white sperm whale in the whole god-damned universe!
Hence, my point, safest job ever- be the friggin whale that they write a book about that turns into an all time American Classic. And the fun part is *Spoiler Alert* you don't even get to die. In fact, you kill all the friggin buggers out to get you. Every last one of em. Except of course Ishmael. Who'd have written the book otherwise?
Quality of Life: 9/10
Fun at Work: 9/10
Life Span: 10/10
Swaggah: I'm the king of the ocean, bitches. Don't you swaggah me!
If I were Manmohan Singh
*silence*
Nuff said.
If I were a zombie
Hmm... Hmmmm
hmmm
Zombie.
Hmmm.
Actually, come to think of it... that may not be such a bad deal after all. I mean, I'd be dead. Like what could be worse? And brains are apparently a delicacy- that you enjoy in full measure- full of proteins and other such fascinating nutritious things. Low on fat. Weight is no longer a problem. In fact, no body issues. No waxing shit and no PMS. You call it death. I call it utopia. Pot-a-to. Po-tah-to.
Risk to life and limb may be a concern, but just because you are eating brains doesn't mean you don't have any. Be a zombie. Don't be stupid. There is safety in numbers. And don't lead. Follow. Do not come within 100 meters of a double barreled rifle. Do not go making friends with strange humans. This is as good as you are ever going to look- no trips required to the nearest drugstore (where there WILL be humans- coz they need to eat. And you don't). Brains are nice. But try being vegan. It gives you better skin. (More glow) (And it's not love. It's Dove. Pfffbbt)
Quality of Life: 5/10
Fun at Work: 7/10
Life Span: 5/10
Swaggah: 2/10
If I were Tulsi (you know.. from Kyunki...) Or Parvati Or Kusssuum Or Any woman unfortunate enough to star in any soap on hindi television as a bahu
So actually it'd not be that bad, if you think of it. I mean, I'd have all the jewellery in the world and the makeup- seriously- they are caked! I wouldn't have to worry about money or 9 to 5 of work. Husband will be out of the picture pretty much during the whole show and it'll just be us girls- you know, saasoo ma, baa, nanad, jethaani etcetera. Fun shall be had, gossip shall be shared, eyebrows- strike that- eyebrow- shall be raised, sinister music played in the background, a whole bunch of tumney yeh kiya- nahin maine yeh nahin kiya- ye usney kiya- bahooo, humaare ghar mein log aisi baatein nahin kartey- and naaaahiiiiin(s)!!!!. Thaalis shall fall and Ramu kaka shall come clean the mess and Rohan baba will miss school and before you know it, the serial will move forward twenty years, with zero upgrade in technology, fashion or storyline. And Rohan baba has now grown up and likes the evil zamindaar ki laundi jiski shaadi has been fixed with tehsildaar's son, but then they run away and the evil stepbrother brings them back and ends up marrying the girl himself. Then he goes and gets power of attorney to take over the kaarobaar. Baba dies of the sadmaa not bardaashting and dies a slow painful- 2 episode covering- death. And then 2 more episodes for the funeral- and yeh tumney kiya- nahin yeh maine nahin kiya- phew- sum toto- I kill the evil step son, win the TRP war, gain twice my weight and enter politics.
Quality of Life: 9/10
Fun at Work: 10/10
Life Span: Ha! Really?
Swaggah: Hard to do in those designer saaris. But alas, I abla nari. I sacrifice.
(In Dedication to Twilight running on my TV set right now) If I were a Vampire
I mean- you gotta admit- those vampires are one good lookin' bunch. Yeah, little emaciated, but dude- that hair. Just for that. And of course that immortality shit.
But they actually have the wussiest ways to die- Like, really. Garlic. Ew. Holy Water. How uninspiring. Staked with a cross. uh. Silver Bullet. Yeeeeeaaah- that's ok. Not to mention you can't enter a place till you are invited and that coffin sleepy thing is just downright creepy.
On the plus side though. The looks. And well...actually thats that. The whole body issue thing would be the same as zombie. And then there is some debate about the clairvoyance/ speed superpowers things- what can I say? I'm not a believer. But a werewolf? Bring it on. Team Taylor, FTW.
Quality of Life: 5/10
Fun at Work: 5/10
Life Span: Sigh
Swaggah: 0/10 *morose little buggers*
If I were a Weeping Angel
For any Whovian out there, you know what I’m talking about. Daleks look like cute little R2D2s in comparison.
For non- Whovians, who are wondering what a Whovian is in the first place, Weeping Angels are the funnest, creepiest (one-of) villians appearing on Dr. Who. I know i know- we covered villians already- but really these- are different sorts. And you’ll get why.
Now I happen to like angels. I mean, who doesn’t! But these angels, these angels are like, really really sad (they are weeping. duh.) And they look like this:
Which is pretty tame...unless, you blink.
Yeah. You heard it right. You blink, and this happens:
I know. I too get the heeby jeebies. But yeah, if I gotta be a nemesis, this is the best formula- look as cute as a button and then kill those motherf***ers!
Quality of Life: 6/10
Fun at Work: 8/10
Life Span: 6/10
Swaggah: *what swag?*
Sigh. This was fun. But the road is long and something something and I gotta be somewhere n stuff.
