Pleasure Fuckers

I won't do this on my blog- coz I haven't read my own blog in a year...or two.And my sister/co-blogger tends to write about is incredibly inappropriate, enough to get us sued and then defends herself in the garb of a post pregnancy hangover.



First of all, screw you pleasure fuckers for writing self help status updates thinking it will spread positives vibes on your friends' list- please leave that to Buddha. I added you 'coz I thought we both agreed that we needed help. But if you think writing about "light at the end of the tunnel" will help my day better- I"ll shove you right into it. The tunnel I mean.



I would like to thank my best mate, you know who you are, apart from sarcasm( my alter ego) for a plethora of emotions that made me reach beyond what I thought was my limit of drinking- at any time of the day, any drink available with an appetite that made people double my size telling me to go slow. Pleasure fuckers.



Special thanks to Imran Amplifier Khan for making me sing songs in Punjabi and blush when a cheesy guy played it while I was shopping, a million others like Muse, Flo Rida, Kesha for singing about puking in Paris Hilton's closet and Black Eyed Peas who make me move wherever I am.



My undying love for Chuck Bass, Don Draper, James Sawyer Ford and Voldemort. No matter how big assholes they are, there assholery keeps you going, wanting for more. Pleasure Fuckers :)



The ones who keep me on my toes, my fingers busy on my Blackberry (sadly) and give me a new game to play everyday. Special ones to the glorious bastards who almost make me believe that it's all wires and switches beneath their suave jackets for their robotic moves. For putting all that pleasure to an end, you're da fucker.



Also- don't call whoever you care about by their initials..."I call her K, J, Q" Don't be a random fucker. What happened to the good old Bittoo, Pammi, Gugu and Sonu? Personalise. It's less than 140 characters.





Since I am keeping the emotionsaaal away from this note, here are a few people I'd like to mention. Geetali Gupta- my other alter ego who reminds me of me so much that it was freakish. Also for taking me to Bombay with strangers and having a blast. Tarini Kumar- we don't talk much but Vinod....cut your hair. Sandhya Sinha who's now become Sandhya dear to her errr very nice husband( Oh Salman bagged a hottie of a wife by the way), Kuber Sharma- for coming back with a bang and reciting all my funny lines to impress chicks, that and a ridiculously expensive gift. Neha Bose- for keeping the funny going, Avi- for letting me talk, Bharath Kp who's uncool enough to not be on FB and finally Pankaj Johar which I can't say here so I"ll probably whisper into your ears. They keep the pleasure going with the fuckin'.





Lastly, the pleasure sucker Headlines Today where so many ppl continue to go that they deserve a fuck, or a therapist's number- the place which is so deeply ingrained in me that I don't even need a tattoo for it, that it has turned me into a fucker.





And to Maroon 5, who came out with a song called "Pleasure Fuckers" but I haven't heard it yet.



And since I don't have a coin slot on Facebook account( I"ll tell Zuckerberg that one)to charge you for this, do what you do. Comment.

Why are we addicted to Facebook?

Facebook… the magnum opus of Mark Zuckerberg, Dustin Mokovitz and Chris Hughes.

An idea or an idea of an idea, given birth to after the greatest birth of globalization and technology and invention.

FB came at a time when social networking was the latest phenomena and all the college girls were hooked to putting up their latest pictures and waiting for comments.

They say greatness lies in thinking differently.

Sometimes, it helps to improvise.

And so this concept, thanks to these gentlemen and their team, came up with the
X-factor, the zing, the extra edge…. the crispiness of a perfect spinach mushroom sandwich… or well, Kentucky Fried Chicken.

This is why the old Colonel still lives at each market near us. He knew how to sell his burger.

And Mark does too.

So what does Facebook have that others don’t?

1. Personalized quizzes that you only thought existed in the Cosmopolitan magazine.
2. Bumper Stickers showing what you think are cool.
3. Questions on the movies you saw when you had braces and laugh to till this day.
4. And a whole lot of people you thought you’d never see in life again.

This is where the magic lies.

And despite established players, Facebook has worked its way up.

It has.

And so have people who are using it.

They are not your chummies from any era of your life, or your lovers or your relatives but blood brothers of the mythical character of Narcissist.

There are always these set of people with the most common names like Namrata, Sandhya , Roshni ,Akshay, Aditya, the Marks and Jacobs and Johns of the West,

A prototype of what they bring to you, or to your Facebook page.

These include:

1. A guy who sat besides you in your first school

2. A girl in your college to whom you never spoke but FB says you have 12 common friends

3. Someone you met at a party and are trying to be a wee bit friendly or just someone you pass at work.

They not only are on FB page but they seem to be doing much more than you do.

And apparently, they went to France or to a theme park for all I care. And they have enjoyed themselves so much on that particular bumpy ride in a Bombay Metro or on a camel in Egypt that they refuse to go to bed without uploading them on the day they land.

And of course, Mark wants us to socialize so all that is said by these people you’re not really in touch with pops up on your screen telling you what each friend had to say about the location or the expression or the clothes or the…

I bet you, most of them don’t even know that according to a Facebook clause, pictures that are put up on FB belong to the developers who can use it for any purpose. Just some free advertising. There is also a FB group which has close to a few thousand people who are protesting through the web against this violation of privacy.

And while I am cursing the amount of work flung on my petite yet strong shoulders, somebody with one of those name went to the nearest restaurant or a coffee place and has littered all over my page.

Flashback.

Second month at my first job… And an intern from London School of Economics (who had nothing better to do that summer) asked me if I am on Facebook.

I didn’t want to look un cool, but then I was feeling un cool the entire time. You see, the whole environment of joining work when all the people around are actually shocked that you can actually work, is also the time you realize your wardrobe is not office friendly.

Well after staying in a girls’ college where wearing tank tops were looked at as competition minus the “who-does-she-think-is” factor, I had learnt my lessons while joining the god forsaken Media Institute. Even after a year of trying to build my attire as someone “professional with pigtails”, I usually chickened out of wearing sleeveless tops and even three fourth trousers.

So I decided to be safe. And I settled with plain t shirts, (mind you plain) with jeans.
We all did. First impressions last a long time. At that time, I also believed that hard work paid off.

So when this girl child wearing Jimmy Choo shoes and carrying a Gucci handbag, asked me if I was on Facebook….I felt un cool.

I snapped- No, I don’t. And I am working.

She didn’t seem to have noticed it. But that’s a different story.

So why did I succumb to this?
Because all my friends joined and told me it was cool?
Because it helped you get in touch with some ‘lost’ acquaintances?

Well, a bit of both.

And with greater amount of VISUAL SPAM comes greater PHEWS

So why am I here?

And another pop- up says ‘Pragati Siddhanti just made an all new high score in Bricks Breaking’.

Damn you, Mark.

Special Thanks to the constant addiction of Facebook and the addicts around me who spy, gossips, and well, keep in touch.