Where I cater to the common denominator... meaning YOU.

Hurricane Sandy has taken Gizmodo and most of the Gawker network down. Bereft of my daily post lunch ritual of scrolling through Lifehacker (if ever there was a life that needed hacking it is mine) and Giz, I decided to pay a little attention to my own small neglected corner of the web.

I often imagine what would happen if prospective employers read my blog before the interview. Would it garner a favorable response (you’re on your way to the top of this insane asylum, my son), or would my racism and perversion turn them off? ‘Let’s just try it once and see how you like it’, I’ll plead. 'I’ve got a lot of love to give this organization; I've done it before and people have enjoyed it. let me just squeeze the tip in…'

What were we talking about?

Well, it’s not really a problem, as no one reads my blog anyway. I've therefore decided to make this blog a lot more adult oriented, and eliminate that veneer of social acceptability that I've hitherto tried to incorporate in my posts to cater to a discerning audience. The lack of an audience, discerning or otherwise has made this now redundant. Family, friends and other prudes, please avert your eyes; I shall now sell my soul for the seamy popularity that sex brings to any publication and cater to the prurient interests of the base masses.

…lonely crickets chirp…

Hm, the problem with above bravado is that the intent is clear, but the method is lacking. How DOES one emulate the sexy formula that sells copies of Playboy, X Men comics or every single popular British daily newspaper?  ‘It’s Obvious’, you might yell, dear reader. ‘Just increase the boobage ratio of your blog and people will come flocking, just like they do to that guy who built a better mouse trap. Pocket mice or real mice, the principle is the same; the cheese is the boob.’

Well, dear reader, we all know about cheeseboob, but how do I smear it on my blog? I keep trying to cull pictures from the interwebs, but get… distracted… every time.  I was then inspired by the Kate Middleton photographs, and slotted in my telephoto lens, attached my tripod, and started peering into the neighbouring apartments from behind my curtains. The problem is, the quality of the average Ghaziabad high rise dwelling lady falls more into the ‘BURN IT WITH FIRE’ rather than the ‘So hot I assploded all over my tripod’ category.

Assploding is going to be a regular theme in this blog now.

So you see, it’s not that easy catering to the common denominator. Just like in real life, where rather than causing girls to fall over in a frenzy and start spontaneously humping the sidewalk, wearing skinny jeans just forces me to walk with my leas at 60 degree angles to each other and end the day in hospital, trying to get sexy up in this blog may just have a counter-intuitive effect.

And also forces me to write long convoluted sentences.

So, I’m just gonna throw my door open to suggestions and volunteers. Especially volunteers. If you’re a girl and want to support this blog, just email me those tittay pics. Or ass. Armpit? Chin? Whatever; just send them to mdtl@outlook.com. Once I’m done with them (and it may take a while so be patient), you’ll get prime position on my sidebar. And the satisfaction of having done a good deed. And the knowledge that I’m gonna have to drink a LOT of Gatorade to replenish my fluids. 

Remember, the more pictures you send, the more likely I’ll perish of dehydration. It’ll be a win-win, for at least I’ll die happy.

Bawww

Okay. It’s epic bawww time now thanks to my friends at /b/.

So lets start you off with some tear-worthy pics -

 

  

As I’ve been telling my friend about guys…

And finally… most epic of all


Let’s continue the tearfest with our favourite children's book - Robert Munsch’s ‘Love You Forever’.

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

And if you were able to sit dry eyed through that (you heartless bastard)… this should get you bawwwing.

Depression Dog’s V Day

Well, I was trolling 4chan and here are some depression dog jpegs just for you sad lonely people on V Day. Enjoy and relate.

 

   

            

Farewell....

So I apologise. I know I've been neglecting you all for the past few weeks. But I have a really good reason - I'm finally going home! Yup, its 1 am, and in 3 hours I leave for the airport and fly home, home, home to India.

It's been a really hectic 2 weeks, what with all the cleaning, packing and winding up in general. And so ends my fourth trip to the UK. For me not the grassy hills and lush medows. The babbling brook and riotous orchard holds no more charm for me, as now I go home.

To be true, I am dreading the 40+ degree temperature in Delhi. But but but.. I get to go home (did I mention that).

So Farewell, may we meet again. My next blog will be from India!

More than what is.

Arthur C Clarke passed away today. He saw more than what is.

From The Heart

What do movies like Juno, Rocket Science, Little Miss Sunshine, Waitress or Ghost World have in common? Well, they're all sorta indie, predominantly teen driven, cute movies, which mirror real life. They generally have happy endings, but not perfect endings.

In my opinion, the common thread that ties all these films together is heart. All of them have heart. No, they wont make you cry, but they will make you think; they will make your heart swell up... they will make you feel.

Well, do any of you know films that fit into this genre, be sure to post them as comments here. I will be grateful.

Well, this post has been written, as I'm just back from watching Juno. A genuine feel gooder full of wit with a whimsical soundtrack, this is a must watch. Ellen Page is predictably brilliant, but Michael Cera is brilliant too. After Superbad, I'm keeping an eye out for this little guy.

Interestingly enough, the screenwriter, Diablo Cody, used to be a stripper, and I'm guessing she has many more interesting tales on the way.

The film is full of one liners and zingers, and the plot never really goes where you expect it to. But put all together, it works; it really does.

Carpe Diem, 2008

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song
still in them. - Thoreau

That is the saddest but truest thing I have read. People travel through life shackled to their crosses. Only those of us unaware of their burden can ever be content. The rest of us peer up to the night sky through the bars of our school, our job... our life.

Few are those who dare to unfasten the shackles, to unbolt the shutters to walk in the light beyond. Because isn't that what society teaches us; shoulder your responsibilities, do the right thing, be part of the team. And most of us, cowed into submission, resolve to 'do the right thing by others', never imagining that maybe we were intended to do the right thing by ourselves.

And in the end when we look back, is the path not stewn with regret? For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: ‘It might have been’…

So to you gentle reader, I entreat; live your life to the fullest and remember, your biggest responsibility is to yourself. Let not the fears, aspirations or opinions of your parents, your friends or society dictate the terms of your life.

It's not too late.

And so this 2008, Carpe Diem, baby.. Carpe Diem.

One down

Photo 1 - Emo girl contemplates the world and wonders whether to jump.

Photo 2 - Emo girl decides not to jump, so photographer decides to push her.

One down... six billion to go.

Emu Therapy

Humans are complex beings.. or so they say. I say, everyone is just fucked in the head. It's only the degree which varies. In fact, trust me, the degree to which peoples brains are dysfunctional rarely varies too. I mean why does anyone need meth, once life does a number on your brain ?

I guess everyone has moments when they wanna slit their wrists, sit in a dark corner and rock backward and forward, keening. These are called Emu moments, and don't worry; everyone gets them. My advise to you, is that when you get an Emu moment and want to slit your wrists, don't worry. Just remember, cutting across your wrist is NOT at all effective. For the best results you have to cut DOWN the wrist along the forearm. More hints here.

Remember this is not for teenage angst ridden Avril Lavigne listening emo-bois. This won't give you a cool scar. This. Will. Kill. You.

It's funny though; most of the music I like are Songs to Slit your Wrist by. Check out a few here. Maybe thats why I am the way I am, and maybe thats why this blog is called Mine Darke and Twisted Life. And mabe this is the most truth you've ever read here.

Besides slitting your wrist, there are other options open, of course. You could join the foreign legion and get fisted by a hundred other crazy fuckers. When bending down in the shower to get the soap has you scared silly, there's not much brain space left to contemplate the complex emotional tangle that drove you emu in the first place.

Or you just move to Australia for some Emu-therapy. Coz' when the world is looking bleak and you feel that you just can't go on, there's nothing better than the love of a large flightless Aussie bird.

And I know this, because I'm Mr. Brightside.

Sometimes...

..you feel like crying in the rain.