<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903</id><updated>2012-02-16T03:17:40.731-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Placebo</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>78</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-867461772905734903</id><published>2010-01-12T10:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T11:06:18.988-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nutty Professor</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The first indication that there is a nut (sorry) loose somewhere, is when your professor starts his very first lecture with the words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am a pothead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can fault him for being moral equivalent of the Bhopal Gas Tragedy, but you cannot fault him for his ability of being able to have a group of 20 really bored students hanging on his every syllable, about 15 seconds after he entered the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The shock and awe of this new discovery of Dutch abrasiveness has no time to gather itself before he says, "...and my son is a pothead too. Sometimes in the morning I am drinking my coffee and reading the newspaper, my son comes downstairs and says good morning, while he is rolling a joint."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...and then we share it. Some people find it quite surprising how we live life in Holland."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holland. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That explains so much. For a man who has to be the most chill dude since Steven Segal, he doesn't look like it at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before me stood a man of average height and average build, with appraising round glasses and an obvious disdain for hairstyles. Sounds like every pot head in the world, except for the fact that he had very wrinkled skin. The fact that he is 63 would probably make you second guess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was also ridiculously badly dressed for a man who has lived in France for half a decade now - you rarely ever see a professor walking to class in an ill-fitting shirt and a pair of jeans. The only thing that stood out about his clothing was his shoes. So polished were they, that they gave the impression of having been used by NASA in some zero-gravity experiment... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...which led me to examine his shoes a second time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...which was when my eyes fell on something brown, cowering in the corner. At first, I thought it was yet another Indian student suffering from culture shock; I was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...it was a fucking dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy had brought a fucking dog to the class. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But hey, who am I to judge? The guy was the head of Heineken Beer for 12 years. Maybe if I'm really nice, he'll invite us to an end of term beer bath. It sounded far fetched and outlandish at first, but then he dropped this bomb, just before the class finished - &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...you know, there was at least something good that happened because of Hitler. In 1945, the war ended, and in 1946, I was born. I was a 'celebration baby'. My father was like 'WOOOOOOOOAAAHHHH THE WAR IS OVER!!! PEACEEE!!!', and then he fucked my mother."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a feeling that I'm really going to enjoy this class. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-867461772905734903?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/867461772905734903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2010/01/nutty-professor.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/867461772905734903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/867461772905734903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2010/01/nutty-professor.html' title='Nutty Professor'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-160660673572869010</id><published>2009-12-16T20:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T22:25:30.472-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Schweden: Week 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;IEGS: International English Gay School&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Oh, wait...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After spending almost 5 days in Sweden, I have come up with a little theory. If you haven't ever slept in Sweden, you haven't ever slept at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially during Christmas time, when you sleep just a little longer, so Santa Claus can have that little extra time to climb back up the chimney or wherever the hell he came from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about it - it's comfortably dark outside, the snow is gentle but persistent, and just looking outside the window makes you shudder at how cold it probably is; but that thought is quickly overrun by the realization that its just so fucking cosy under this blanket! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...so then you crawl back in and cuddle with your girlfriend, and sleep a few more hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rinse and repeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This day however, my eyes were wide open with shock, because Julia was gently coaxing me into waking up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;It's 5 in the fucking morning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew better than to defy, because under that calm exterior is a Nazi waiting to be unleashed xD &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Anks, you only get 5 minutes in the shower, ok? 5 MINUTES. I mean it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of minutes later, I'm lazily brushing my teeth, vaguely aware of what's going on around me when I hear another firm knock on the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not Santa Claus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Anky, this counts in the 5 minutes too, so now you have only 2 minutes for a shower. Oh, and here's the shampoo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon, we head south east, braving the biting cold, foot deep snow, and the deathly silent night; making our way towards the hallowed isles of Sodermalm, where Julia goes to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, she's going to dress up like the pope and sing Christmas carols. I can't miss this :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SynCcQ5wlEI/AAAAAAAAAGc/crjupXAMvF0/s1600-h/lucia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SynCcQ5wlEI/AAAAAAAAAGc/crjupXAMvF0/s400/lucia.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416073817719084098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we reach their practice hall, I'm exposed to a abrasive brazenness and awkwardness of these girls in the span of 5 minutes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all, I was this guy, sitting in the middle of a girls dressing room. It was going to be a nice little social experiment. You know I love those ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The room is empty, Julia and a couple other girls are changing behind the wall. Just then, a girl walks in. Evidently out of breath, and not too sure what to do after noticing a random stranger on her turf. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is a deer caught in a pair of headlights. She completely ignores me at first. Looks to each corner of the room, the mirrors, the walls, the windows - she wants to look at anything but me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a smile on my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should put her out of her misery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Hey, who're you looking for?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She didn't wait for me to complete my sentence. The second I opened my mouth, she bolts out of the room with dust in the air. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, that was interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30 seconds later, almost as if destiny wanted to counter my little social experiment, a tall, mean looking, big girl who could wring your throat in a gentle caress walks in. She refuses to acknowledge me as she nonchalantly walks to the centre of the room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she proceeds to change her clothes. Aggressively. If that even makes sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on the spot now, and I didn't really know what to do. Not used to random big girls walking up and changing like I was gay or something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to avert my eyes and instead focus on the relatively less painful copy of the school's brochure on my lap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SynObtvGknI/AAAAAAAAAGs/dEJ9OlNAAKM/s1600-h/lucia3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SynObtvGknI/AAAAAAAAAGs/dEJ9OlNAAKM/s400/lucia3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416087002418680434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uhh awkward.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever, soon it was time for the Lucia thingee! I met up with Julia's friends (who are all really, really sweet) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SynOmyZaS3I/AAAAAAAAAG0/y-AhwUYB1P4/s1600-h/lucia4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SynOmyZaS3I/AAAAAAAAAG0/y-AhwUYB1P4/s400/lucia4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416087192648436594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nestled between Victoria and Psysai, I watched the Ku Klux Klan party begin. If you don't believe me that thats what it looked like, then check this out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SynGD7HZEDI/AAAAAAAAAGk/Tnw5wSIuQK0/s1600-h/lucia2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SynGD7HZEDI/AAAAAAAAAGk/Tnw5wSIuQK0/s400/lucia2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416077797600333874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julia is in the middle, with the many candles on her head. All hail the Pope! Anyway, for those who don't know, Julia is an AWESOME singer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm guessing that the school couldn't handle my awesomeness, because I could only be there when Julia was, and at that time my girlfriend had to take a test. So we decided to go to Psysai's house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...where I was introduced to Alexander Wyckoff. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow, the dude just oozes fun, but soon the school had recovered enough to let me back in again. I took this chance to do some adventuring on my own, while my girlfriend was practicing for her Inter House Song Competition - thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, the school is patrolled by Sweden's very own version of Filch from Harry Potter. Mr. T. Doesn't that sound sinister? Well he is. And he doesnt like random indieboys loitering in the corridors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence, in true Anky fashion, I hurled myself into the first door I saw, pulled up a chair to the table, and acted like I knew what I was doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hoped that all the other kids didn't think this was retarded and snitch on me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I looked up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my left was big scary Lucia girl, looking big and scary. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I gulped&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I turned to the right, saw an acquaintance and heaved a relief. It was the other Alex. I wasn't going to get ratted out to Mr.T to be roughed up :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a reward, I proceeded to sow all hell and confusion in that room. I accused people of being Russian spies, showed them pictures of my pet elephants, claimed to be doing work for the government that I wasn't allowed to talk about, and in the end said I was a new student in the school, just trying to find my way around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big and scary girl was in splits, and wanted to paint on my forehead. Maybe thats her way of showing gratitude. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another girl across the table - Liz - said 3 words in the whole conversation, between creepily staring at me, and giggling like a maniac. That was my cue to make a swift exit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I left, realizing that my girlfriend had felt my absence and set off the urgency alarm, leading to a massive manhunt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I found my Julestar soon after, and we hugged and we were reunited ^^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at my watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was just past noon on a Monday morning. Sweden promises to be fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SynOwU11vyI/AAAAAAAAAG8/loayWi3ojF8/s1600-h/IHSC.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SynOwU11vyI/AAAAAAAAAG8/loayWi3ojF8/s400/IHSC.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416087356513304354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-160660673572869010?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/160660673572869010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/12/schweden-week-1.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/160660673572869010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/160660673572869010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/12/schweden-week-1.html' title='Schweden: Week 1'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SynCcQ5wlEI/AAAAAAAAAGc/crjupXAMvF0/s72-c/lucia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-7268748812644676169</id><published>2009-12-12T16:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T16:35:29.111-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Schweden: Day Uno</title><content type='html'>In the words of a very dear friend of mine before he asked this girl out, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Today was an awesome day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so it was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first day in the place I've dreamed about returning to for about a year and a half now; I woke up feeling like a bundle of excitement. Then I shivered in the cold and crawled slowly back under the cosy little blanket with Jules.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...before she unceremoniously kicked me out of it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What an asshole, haha xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a little fooling around, dropping my razor in the toilet, finishing all the hot water just to get back at my girlfriend for kicking me out, and of course putting on about 6 layers of clothes, we were ready to take on the hidden dangers and spectacular beasts of Stockholm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since it was MY first day, it should be no surprise that it was awesome. :P (Emphasis on my, and not first xD)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went Ice Skating!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was honestly the first time that I've put on skates in at least 5 years, but I think I did okay xD &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What raised the day from awesome to epic status was the fact that we went skating with some of Julia's friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SyQ113LNA8I/AAAAAAAAAGE/_UD3diUaeeI/s1600-h/hola.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SyQ113LNA8I/AAAAAAAAAGE/_UD3diUaeeI/s320/hola.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414511851466458050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SyQ2uMa_S7I/AAAAAAAAAGU/m7RtC-UKbzc/s1600-h/skating.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SyQ2uMa_S7I/AAAAAAAAAGU/m7RtC-UKbzc/s320/skating.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414512819242486706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, a really tired couple went home, and took the most amazing nap in the world for 2 hours, before having an awesome dinner, talking about Indian education, Indian food, Indian job prospects, and how Sweden is getting more stupid every year :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After decorating the christmas tree, pwning Julia's brother at Fifa 10, and of course watching beloved Real Madrid win, you can tell that I had a fucking blast. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets hope it's a sign of things to come! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy holidays guys&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SyQ2lIjpuCI/AAAAAAAAAGM/cCWNBibEANk/s1600-h/hola+bola.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SyQ2lIjpuCI/AAAAAAAAAGM/cCWNBibEANk/s320/hola+bola.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414512663586256930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-7268748812644676169?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/7268748812644676169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/12/schweden-day-uno.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7268748812644676169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7268748812644676169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/12/schweden-day-uno.html' title='Schweden: Day Uno'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SyQ113LNA8I/AAAAAAAAAGE/_UD3diUaeeI/s72-c/hola.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-4976283780459987648</id><published>2009-12-12T15:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T16:18:30.160-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweden: Day Zero</title><content type='html'>It was the moment everyone dreads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People have lost their minds, jumped out of windows, even shut themselves in a room with the Backstreet Boys playing before putting a classic revolver to their heads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meeting your girlfriend's parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stories of horror that stem out of those four words would put the Exorcist to shame. David Beckham once said that meeting his girlfriend's dad was like walking down a long, cold, and narrow hall to your execution. The flaring of nostrils, the breathing of fire, the murder in the eyes, he said that he feared having his neck wrung at any given moment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julia's parents are just like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had actually lost sleep over this issue. For 10 hours in Frankfurt and 2 hours somewhere over Germany and Sweden, I had wondered what it would be like to meet my girlfriends parents. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even then, I had no idea how it was going to turn out when I walked through the arrival gate at Arlanda airport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was obviously attacked by a really enthusiastic girlfriend who I obviously attacked back, but then I had to turn to her dad xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A quick hand shake and 3 jokes and 30 seconds later, it was as if it was the most natural thing in the world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MY GIRLFRIENDS DAD IS AWESOME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julia: I got lost the other day in the neighbourhood at night...&lt;br /&gt;Her dad: What were you drinking?&lt;br /&gt;Julia: Oh, coke...&lt;br /&gt;Her Dad: See? That's why you got lost. You're supposed to snort it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her dad: So Ankit now that you are here you will be our entertaining monkey&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hahaha...&lt;br /&gt;Me(24 hrs later while showering): Wait...what the...? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her dad: You know, in Sweden, all houses look the same. One time last year, it was my friend's birthday, and I was coming home at 5 a.m, and I was like a kilometre away and I couldn't even find my own house...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Tomorrow it shall be time to face her mom. Lets hope that goes awesome too! xD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-4976283780459987648?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/4976283780459987648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/12/sweden-day-zero.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/4976283780459987648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/4976283780459987648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/12/sweden-day-zero.html' title='Sweden: Day Zero'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-597612440924257903</id><published>2009-12-11T01:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T01:44:56.281-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweden Calling</title><content type='html'>The past few days have made me an insomniac. Even after starving myself of sleep, and then enduring a hair raising 9 hour flight into the 3rd Reich, I'm in the crew lounge of this hotel, blogging in a pair of track bottoms and a white polo shirt.(sexay)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I sleep?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought you'd never ask. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'M GOING TO SWEDEN BITCH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In about 8 hours, my plane is going to take off northwards! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've not really taken the time to let it sink in yet, but it's going to be pretty moving when it does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the risk of sounding like an unstable retard, I will reveal that I have spent a large part of the last year and a half I've been away, thinking about today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been obsessed to the point of buying the Mamma Mia! DVD (I never buy dvds), and becoming an ABBA fan. Yes, I have become an ABBA fan. Anything that reminds me of the best time of my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above all, I'm really excited to see Julia again. It's only been a month since she was here, but it seems like a LONG ASS TIME. Waking up with her and being with her every minute of every day is the best christmas gift anyone could ever get! (Apart from tickets to the world cup of course)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just kidding. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dont kill me jules xD You know I love you so much ^^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this post was supposed to be elegant, graceful, flowing, almost poetic. Instead, it turned out sounding like a desperate, deranged, and overenthusiastic teenager. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, thats what I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BECAUSE I AM COMING TO YOU JULIA&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-597612440924257903?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/597612440924257903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/12/sweden-calling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/597612440924257903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/597612440924257903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/12/sweden-calling.html' title='Sweden Calling'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-4395507152374842075</id><published>2009-12-11T00:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T01:25:54.978-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Deja New?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;It was obviously one of my infamous 'social experiments', but that part of me was just beginning to stamp it's curiosity at that point. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are people who think that being in the middle of nowhere, with no money; armed with a vocabulary of about 5 words in the local dialect would quite likely be one of their worst nightmares. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...not to mention also being surrounded by an army of beer-guzzling, mother-cursing, schiesse-packing hooligans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those people would be surprised to know that I was in that situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those people would be shocked even, to know that I had thrown myself into that situation on purpose. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those people probably thought I had a deathwish.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frankfurt holds a lot of memories. It's somewhere, in some forest, in some corner of Germany. The structures are antediluvian as they are new age, they're Transylvanian as they are Japanese inspired sky scrapers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That summer day in June, I was more than a little bored with less than a little to do in Germany. I decided to go and watch the Germany-Portugal Euro 2008 game. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I went alone. So as soon as I got in, I approached the first bunch of people I saw, and acted like we were old buddies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much to my surprise, they didn't hit me over the head with one of their beer bottles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, they said "Heeey! Come here brooother! Whatsuuup!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cool, I like Germany :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the next 2 hours, I had passionate debates about German politics, got inside gossip about how Bastian Schweinsteiger (footballer) is sleeping with the presidents wife, took 3 baths, (2 in beer, 1 in a fountain on the town square) and had the German flag tattooed on my butt, to match the German flag in my hand, the GO GERMANY balloon-finger on my other hand, and the red, yellow and black that my face had become. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SyIPZNB7NFI/AAAAAAAAAFs/TQWxXfzNI2M/s1600-h/ALEMANIA.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SyIPZNB7NFI/AAAAAAAAAFs/TQWxXfzNI2M/s320/ALEMANIA.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413906627721638994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SyIPkCpXPAI/AAAAAAAAAF0/m7M4ppysJiQ/s1600-h/alemania+butt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SyIPkCpXPAI/AAAAAAAAAF0/m7M4ppysJiQ/s320/alemania+butt.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413906813912824834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drunk more in the furore of an epic Euro win rather than the barrels of (admittedly mild) beer that they had consumed, my friend Mark decided to show me some of his seduction skills. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He just said, "Hey Aaaankit. Which girl over here you find hot?" I pointed out the first blonde girl I saw. I wasn't used to seeing blonde girls then. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my jaw dropped as he walked over to her, said something, got her phone number and a hug, and sent her away smiling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then he came back like it was the most normal thing in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the fuck? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So...you just walk up to a stranger like that and start talking?"&lt;br /&gt;"Sure man"&lt;br /&gt;"Damn...what did you say?"&lt;br /&gt;"I commented on her teeth. Just say the first thing that you think"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a month later, I'm standing in a gloomy old Swedish town on the west coast. I've been waiting in line for 2 hours. I was cold, tired, and a little lost. To top it all off, there was a hot chick behind me who was getting increasingly pissed off with every passing second. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make matters worse, I had spent the last few minutes trying to gather the courage to talk to her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Whats the first thing that comes to my mind first thing that comes to my mind first thing that comes to my mind. Hmmmmmmmmmmm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey uhmm...it's 20 kr to go in right?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, that was so bad that I should voluntarily remove myself from the gene pool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back 18 months later, maybe I was a little too hard on myself ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SyIP-CNvU_I/AAAAAAAAAF8/kMn33xTvf7U/s1600-h/happie+bunnies.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SyIP-CNvU_I/AAAAAAAAAF8/kMn33xTvf7U/s320/happie+bunnies.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413907260473562098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-4395507152374842075?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/4395507152374842075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/12/deja-new.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/4395507152374842075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/4395507152374842075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/12/deja-new.html' title='Deja New?'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SyIPZNB7NFI/AAAAAAAAAFs/TQWxXfzNI2M/s72-c/ALEMANIA.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-8708744148488952838</id><published>2009-08-05T15:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T15:39:03.895-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tududuuut</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;We were swerving in and out of the midnight traffic down one of Cochabamba´s many thousand calles. The conversation hung in the air as the cool night breeze enveloped the charming little town in the mountains. People say that there´s something about this town, enveloped on all 4 sides by beautiful mountains, that makes it instantly feel like home. It feels cosy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I however, was not paying attention to any such tripe. The seat covers of Manfred´s car were nearly torn to shreds, because I was fixated by the seat of my pants, white knuckled, praying to Ram, Krishna, Allah, Jesus, Santa Claus, whoever was out there - just to get me out alive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manfred meanwhile, was harbouring no such thoughts. He was wrestling with the steering wheel, texting, and talking about today's chilly weather with total ease. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, Manfred has been practicing Martial Arts for about 18 years now. You'd think that a guy who had kicked more butt than Clint Eastwood would find midnight multitasking relatively easy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and he probably does. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was only one problem...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was drunker than a Jamaican pirate on off shore leave. I had watched in awe and horror as he proceed to consume obscene amounts of Vodka - enough to put half the Russian army to shame. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- 60 minutes earlier --&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hey...HEY wait, if Manfred is drinking, who will drive?&lt;br /&gt;Conejo: Hey...man...let me tell you something (puts his arm around me) in Bolivia, we have...cliche. If you don drink...you don drive....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I made it home safely in the end, but what an incredible day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hung out with the son of the president of Bolivia's biggest airline company. The son of the manufacturers of 50% of Bolivia's paper, the son of the dealer of every single one of Cochabamba's street lights. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it turns out, they're even more fucked up than I am! Haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sarti was pissing on a tree, while Gringo climbed it and pretended to be King Kong. Everyone has a nickname. I had the honor of naming some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the guys are: Chewbacca, Enrique 'Kike' Iglesias, Cholo, and of course, my new name is Jamal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems they've all seen Slumdog Millionaire. Haha! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, they're all great guys. I'm going out with them in a few minutes. It promises to be fun!    &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-8708744148488952838?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/8708744148488952838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/08/tududuuut.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8708744148488952838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8708744148488952838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/08/tududuuut.html' title='Tududuuut'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-4849796164377625789</id><published>2009-07-16T05:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T06:51:12.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unceremonious Madness At The Opening Ceremony</title><content type='html'>Part 5 is now here! This is from the day before I met my girlfriend. It includes a lot of people, a lot of fun, a lot of fireworks, and obviously, (since it IS me) a lot of picking up girls xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Part V: Paghdi Crazy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The Gothia Cup opening ceremony is unlike anything you've ever seen or imagined. It's a bit like the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games, except that this one is actually watched by people, haha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was kind of nervous when we left our accommodation dressed as nutjobs. I thought we looked like complete nincompoops. On the way out of the room, I had the chance to take a look at a mirror. It cracked, broke, and fell to the ground - before magically igniting itself into flames and exploding before my very eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, that bad. At least, I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wearing an orange, full-length kurta with a white pyjama. To top it all off, I was wearing these shoes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sl8m10Q7nFI/AAAAAAAAAEk/Nh57PUoZHeg/s1600-h/mojdi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 399px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sl8m10Q7nFI/AAAAAAAAAEk/Nh57PUoZHeg/s400/mojdi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359044787598761042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snazzy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and did I mention I was wearing a 'paghdi' on my head? Yeah. That certainly 'tops' it all off. Haha, gotta work on that humor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, 50 of us vile-dressed Indians took the tram to our destination. We were to take part in the parade of the opening ceremony, representing our country. The coach handed me the Indian flag to take care of. I took a look at it and felt the excited tingle of pride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The opening ceremony takes place at the new Ullevi stadium. A magnificent 60,000 seater theater where the Swedish national team usually plays it's home games. It's as breathtaking up close as it is in the pictures. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd say the spectacle from the inside was even better than for those in the stands. As we waited for our 10 minutes of fame outside the stadium, I watched as the representing teams from everywhere from Iceland, to Gambia, to Georgia, and Guatemala, to the east with Japan, China, and Turkey stood expectantly. It really is a miracle of a tournament. Who'd have thunk'd that I'd be making friends with Iraqis and Guatemalans? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the next time you see a mexican dude mowing your lawn, don't follow your heart and think that's all mexicans are born to do! Think about the guys who are plying their trades in far off lands, to make their countrymen proud! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, soon the moment approached. I've been nervous before, but this was just something else. We were now being escorted into the stadium, through an underground passageway that led to where our parade entrance was supposed to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust me, I got shivers. Absolute shivers when we were walking under the stands. The stadium was shaking from the noise and expectation. It was incredible, heart-stopping, inciting, exciting, all at the same time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and we hadn't even stepped onto the pitch yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in a daze, and I don't even remember when we were given the signal to step outside into the setting Gothenburg sun - but I clearly remember what it felt like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an explosion of noise and colors. Blue, green, orange, red, yellow everywhere. You don't often hear sportsmen talking about walking out in front of 60,000 screaming fans, but let me tell you. It's surreal. The stadium was absolutely packed to the brim. And they were cheering for us! :O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and they actually dug our outfits! I could see girls, (young and old) swooning in the stands. (Looking at me, of course :P) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sl8quwNrLvI/AAAAAAAAAEs/QZZYjSFVYcs/s1600-h/gothiaopening.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 259px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sl8quwNrLvI/AAAAAAAAAEs/QZZYjSFVYcs/s400/gothiaopening.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359049064298786546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, I tried to be all cool and wave at the screaming people in the stands, but it was honestly overwhelming. As we got closer, most of them were asking for my paghdi. Some offering as much as $200 for it. Can you believe that? You get those things for Rs. 25 in Bombay! Hahaha! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the opening ceremony was honestly fantastic. They showed the story of a couple that met at the Gothia Cup ten years ago, and they got engaged at the last Gothia Cup, and this time they married, in front of 60,000 cheering people. That was a beautiful moment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were dance performances and fireworks, we sang everything from Y-M-C-A! to WEEEEEE ARE THE CHAAAAMPIOOOONS!!! (All out of tune, of course) before the night was done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After it was done, I was mobbed by a crowd of Swedes, all asking me for the hallowed 'Paghdi'. Soon, they got into a bidding war, and dizzying prices. As much as $300 now. Fucking insane! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as you all know, I am a man of principle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I gave the paghdi to her instead:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sl8sZmm0x7I/AAAAAAAAAE0/rbML7ZIfk0E/s1600-h/paghdi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sl8sZmm0x7I/AAAAAAAAAE0/rbML7ZIfk0E/s400/paghdi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359050899965921202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note: This does not count as prostitution. (Which is, btw eradicated in Sweden)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, her name was Isabelle too. Guess Swedes like that name. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, my Indian outfit was attracting a lot of chicks by this time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, by this time I was getting very tired of those hideously uncomfortable shoes. I took them off, and carried them in my hand as I walked. Then, a flash of inspiration, and the genius had thought of yet another brilliant plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I caught this girl, absolutely mesmerized by my kurta-pyjama, lol. It was like these Scandinavian people have never seen an Indian dude before. Anyway, I caught her glare, and while I reeled her in, looking intently into her eyes, I put one of my shoes into her hand, and hurried off into the distance before she could know what the fuck was going on, hahaha! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember sharing this moment with Hari as we got onto the tram. He couldn't believe it, and asked me what I planned to do with the other shoe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I thought you'd never ask!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made my way across the compartment to a girl a year or two younger than me, whom I had seen get on earlier. I now realized she was with her mom. Whatever, too late to pull out now. I turned to the mother instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Excuse me, Madam?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yees?"&lt;br /&gt;*Seductive salesman voice* "Can I interest you in this...beautiful...shoe?" &lt;br /&gt;*Her and her daughter both* "Hahahahahahahaha"&lt;br /&gt;"Honestly, I give you best price. Free! You'll never find such a shoe in your life!"&lt;br /&gt;"Ehh, I don't know"&lt;br /&gt;"No, seriously, take it!"&lt;br /&gt;"Ummm...hehehe"&lt;br /&gt;"Haha, mom you're setting such a bad example for your kid! You can't blush when a 16 year old talks to you!"&lt;br /&gt;*Cue more giggles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could see our stop was coming nearer. We had to get off at the next station. I handed the shoe to the girl - "Can you hold this for a sec?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was that, I ran off the tram, hahaha! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned for the next part! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, thanks for all the ass kissing, losers! But seriously, now that I think about it, that week was even wilder than I previously remembered. I must do it again next year. Anyone want to come along?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-4849796164377625789?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/4849796164377625789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/unceremonious-madness-at-opening.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/4849796164377625789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/4849796164377625789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/unceremonious-madness-at-opening.html' title='Unceremonious Madness At The Opening Ceremony'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sl8m10Q7nFI/AAAAAAAAAEk/Nh57PUoZHeg/s72-c/mojdi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-9116860989831484039</id><published>2009-07-13T23:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T02:09:41.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Believe in Miracles</title><content type='html'>Today is a very special day for me. So I'm going to tell you about a very special story to me. I don't think I've ever told this to anyone in such detail before. Hence, ladies, gentlemen and those undecided, without further ado, I present to you:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Part IV: Love At First Fight?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14th July 2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The hallowed name had been whispered around fleetingly over the past few days. We were all noobs here. We didn't know a lot about this famed festival of strobe lights and drunken madness, but we didn't dare expect anything of it, because the one thing we did know, was that it would be way, way, waaay past our expectations. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The famed place was about 20 minutes by tram from our accomodation. Between the tunnels of Korsvagen and the vast open space surrounding Scandinavium, is the magnificent...Svenska Massan. Yes, THIS is what we'd come here for. It's official name is Club Gothia. People call it...The Disco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Slw3sJUn_OI/AAAAAAAAAEM/Ca6Eb330Yp8/s1600-h/club+gothia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Slw3sJUn_OI/AAAAAAAAAEM/Ca6Eb330Yp8/s400/club+gothia.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358218888220245218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was absolute madness. Seriously, think about being a couple of hormonal 16 year old guys, and going to a country where the chicks DIIG you for being Indian. I mean, seriously, I was not used to this kind of attention. Where they live, everyone has blonde hair and blue eyes. Nice B-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, picture that hormonal 16 year old in this kind of country, going to a disco that attracts 4,000 people between 14-19 years old every night. And you have yourself the recipe for Epicness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you can see from this picture, we were excited about it already :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SlwotJeIEnI/AAAAAAAAAEE/7EP30n746zg/s1600-h/ankyharidana.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SlwotJeIEnI/AAAAAAAAAEE/7EP30n746zg/s400/ankyharidana.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358202412765549170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After losing 5-0 in the morning to some German team, the rest of the guys didn't feel like a night of partying was in order. Oh well, fuck 'em! :D Personally, I'd never been stupid enough to hope that India would do well at a football tournament. So me and Hari decided we would tear up Gothenburg. Prathamesh the midget decided to tag along too, and thank God he tagged along! You shall see why. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, our team volunteer was this Doctor Chick from Hungary called Isabella. Our vice captain had the biggest crush on her. The look on his face was priceless when I told him that she had invited me out with her. Hahahaha, that was hilarious. Guess that explains why he hasn't returned my calls for a year now :P But that's a story for another day. Isabella, had told us to go early, because the queues can get pretty long. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Disco runs from 7 p.m-12 a.m. We reached there at around 8. First, we were looking around and were like...wtf? There's no one here! Prathamesh was sure that we were going to meet a cock-farm. Then I reminded him that we were not in his backyard. This was Sweden, people! Sure enough, we turned the corner and found a queue: Jaw drop moment no. 24543634&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, it stretched for miiiiiiles. I mean, absolute miles. Hari the bastard insisted that we walk closer to the queue, so he can check out the 1000-odd hot 16 year old model-type girls that were waiting in line. I mean, seriously, it was ridiculous. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I obviously didn't object, hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we got to the back of the queue, and knew we were in for a bit of a wait. We killed time rating the billions of hot blonde girls in sunglasses and short skirts passing by. Well, there were a lot of them. And an uncomfortable amount of them were ogling me. I thought I must have a mole the size of a potato in the middle of my face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After an hour of waiting, I had seriously had enough. That's when Prathamesh spotted something conspicuous. He goes: "Dude...this rail is not connected. We can cut thru here!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I don't know man...are you sure? I don't want to get kicked out and wait another hour.&lt;br /&gt;Him: Just come. I'm going.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Aight, Aight! Wait up...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was that, we cut the queue. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever sensed a burning, seething hatred in the back of your head? Because at that moment I could. From the 2 girls that we had cut in front of. Cristiano Ronaldo claims that he thrives on this kind of hatred. To be honest, it scared the living shit out of me, lol. It's not hard to recall that piercing stare right in the back of my head. Their eyes were acid, and I hadn't even looked at them yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the course of the next few minutes, I proceeded to get more and more uncomfortable. I remember thinking that these girls were throwing everything they had in their chick-repertoire. Feet shuffling, throat clearing, it was all there. To top it all off, Some girls ahead of us were snitching out line-cutters to the authorities. I had to do something - fast. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Staring back at me were 2 girls, about the same age as me I estimated. Really tall, too. But then everyone in Sweden is like 7 feet tall. I panicked. Not only were they gonna call the authorities to kick my ass, THEY were going to kick my ass too, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to think of something to say, but the blonde one was disturbingly distracting. Finally, the best I could muster was "Hey...uhm...it's 20 to get in, right?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The response I heard was probably the shortest 'Yes' in history. She didn't look like she wanted to talk. She seemed bored. How dare she! Even as I was quivering in my pants, I could not take this insult to my pride so lightly. I made it my mission to pick her up, but it had never been so hard to start a conversation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hari and Prathamesh had turned their heads too. I can't get shot down in front of them! This situation was getting increasingly awkward, increasingly fast, lol. I ploughed on - "So...err...you guys playing or what?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, the blonde one replied. Yes. It was becoming increasingly clear who was the more fiesty of the two. I honestly had nowhere to take this conversation, and the security guards were fast closing in. However, they came and went, and these nice girls didn't rat us out. I now relaxed and started talking with them more fluently. Hmm, she might have a chance with me after all. ;-) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember telling those girls that I was an Indian Maharajah and that I had a pet elephant at home and all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After you're not worried about some big thug picking you out of the queue and throwing you by the wayside, I realized that it was quite easy to become a cocky bastard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where're you from?"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm an Indian maharajah. I own an elephant too. You guys should come over sometime! And my friend here, Raja Siddhanth Hariramani XVI is the Crown Prince of Agra. I'm sure you've heard of the Taj Mahal?"&lt;br /&gt;"...and what about your other friend?" (They were pointing at Prathamesh)&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, that's the team slave. He doesn't play, he has only been brought to Sweden because the government is now promoting equal opportunity. He gets water and food for us, though. In the club here, he's going to carry our jackets around..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The brunette was cracking up. I don't think she said a word in the whole 30 minute conversation, she just kept giggling away to gloria. I thought that was funny, lol. The blonde, not so much. She didn't believe that I had a pet elephant :( I had to press on! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So...what's your name?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AHA! Some interest at last! When she shows you interest like this, you shoot her down epically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My name is... (looks at Prathamesh's shirt) 50 Cent."&lt;br /&gt;"Haha, come on! Tell me!"&lt;br /&gt;"I'll take you to the Candy Shop..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How old are you?"&lt;br /&gt;"8."&lt;br /&gt;"8? WTF? No, really, how old are you?"&lt;br /&gt;"How long are we going to be in this line? My mommy is waiting for me at home!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Among all this, I decided that the blonde girl interested me a lot. Not only was she really hot, but she was incredibly witty, insulted me as much as I insulted her, and spoke perfect English. I had to have her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I decided to show interest to her friend. Remember, this makes the target jealous. When you see signs of jealousy (her cutting into the convo, etc) Give her a back handed compliment ;-D Sneaky, I know, lol. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I turned my attention to the brunette. This was hard, because she seemed terrified of me. I mean, she was all giggly and all, but when I spoke to her, it seemed like she thought I was going to choke her and then beat the shit out of her. Lol. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me (to brunette): So is this your first time here?&lt;br /&gt;(Blonde interjects): Yeah, first time at Gothia! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aha! The trap has been set, and she's walking right into it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Wow, you have the most beautiful blue eyes...&lt;br /&gt;(She probably thinks I'm going to kiss her ass now :P)&lt;br /&gt;Me: ...actually you know what, they're the 54th most beautiful blue eyes I've seen today. I think I'm going to call you No.54 :D&lt;br /&gt;Her: Nooo! That's so rude! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've played that moment over in my head a hundred times :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly, I could sense that the blonde girl was taking a liking to me. Nothing major, but I was making progress. I decided I would PWN her one more time, so I could quickly increase her attraction for me afterwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, pull my finger."&lt;br /&gt;"What?"&lt;br /&gt;"Come on, just pull my finger!"&lt;br /&gt;"No."&lt;br /&gt;"WHAT?"&lt;br /&gt;"No, I won't pull your finger." (WTF? This is NOT PART OF THE PLAN! NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!)&lt;br /&gt;"Umm...ummm...if you don't pull my finger, something REALLY BAD IS GOING TO HAPPEN"&lt;br /&gt;"Really? What could be worse?"&lt;br /&gt;"Worse than pulling my finger?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah" *innocent smile*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit, I had lost at my own game. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, most of the time people wake up one day and realise that they've fallen in love. Some people need dreams to be able to realize it. Some people need logical thought to be able to realize it. Some people need to see a pair of DD tits to realize it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, the moment she did that, I knew I had fallen for her. There was something irresistibly attractive about her personality. I had to find out who she was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey guys, I never got your names?"&lt;br /&gt;The brunette spoke first. "Evelina."&lt;br /&gt;Then I turned to the blonde. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"Julia."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could feel myself shivering a bit as the adrenaline crept down my spine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Epilogue*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way to Stockholm to catch our flight home, I turned to Hari and asked him his favourite memory from the tournament. His was our epic last night in Gothenburg (Which you will hear about)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, he asked me mine. I said, "Dude, you remember on the first day we went clubbing, those two...girls in the queue?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah."&lt;br /&gt;"That's my favourite memory. I think I've fallen for her."&lt;br /&gt;"Haha, dude I bet you 500 bucks that she won't even remember you"&lt;br /&gt;"You're on."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, it's been exactly a year since that day, and me and Julia have been together for 10 months. Right now, she's sleeping in my lap and whining for being woken up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next time you look up to the stars, trust them - because it is written. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Slw5_USvw7I/AAAAAAAAAEc/JiBz8CVbuX4/s1600-h/mejulze.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Slw5_USvw7I/AAAAAAAAAEc/JiBz8CVbuX4/s400/mejulze.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358221416605926322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Slw52OTybVI/AAAAAAAAAEU/_Zj67iAPceg/s1600-h/challenger.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Slw52OTybVI/AAAAAAAAAEU/_Zj67iAPceg/s400/challenger.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358221260380859730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned for the next installment!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-9116860989831484039?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/9116860989831484039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/believe-in-miracles.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/9116860989831484039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/9116860989831484039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/believe-in-miracles.html' title='Believe in Miracles'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Slw3sJUn_OI/AAAAAAAAAEM/Ca6Eb330Yp8/s72-c/club+gothia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-6397601147612671314</id><published>2009-07-13T05:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T14:57:04.018-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gothia Cup Saga Continues!</title><content type='html'>The next part of the Gothia Week saga continues now! I'm glad you all liked the first part, but maybe you can be more subtle with your complements? Your ass-kissing is just going to my head now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, moving on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Part III: Dancing In The Rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I was obviously really proud of myself that some blonde chick just came up to me and told me to call her. Now it's not such a surprise anymore. I miss those days. Now? Meh, I piss excellence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the Swedish like to be punctual. We reached Gothenburg at exactly 11:30 p.m. As we were waiting for our bus to arrive, I decided that I was going to do something constructive with my time. So I utilized it by being a total and complete jerk. Like, my jerk-o-meter probably reached lethal levels. I was so bored, I could try anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favourite part was when I grabbed my friend's cigarette and stubbed it on a 12 year old's head. Lmao, he didn't know what hit him. :D Then, I proceeded to lambast the whole team of 14 year olds, (U-14) telling them how fucking useless they are and how their parents would be so ashamed of them when they got home, that they would be strapped down into a chair and be made to listen to Britney Spears' music. Over and over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, as they say, time flies when you're having fun. (:D) And so it did. Before I knew it, it'd been 30 almost minutes. Then I realized that something might be amiss. Why the hell hadn't the bus arrived yet? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all went to the coach and made him call the authorities. It turns out, the dumbass coach had brought us to Gothenburg on the wrong f*cking day. The authorities were piiissed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, they agreed to send us a bus to pick us up in an hour. Great. And let me tell you people, Sweden is COLD AS FUCK. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I'm not kidding. It's the kind of place that hell goes to freeze over. Maybe that's where they invented Ice Tea? No wonder they've never had a war. No one gives a shit about it xD At any point of time, it's either really cold, or it's really rainy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On this auspicious day, it was both. But of course. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To add to the misery, it was almost 12:30 a.m, and yours truly had only a light jacket to keep him warm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So picture this: We're in the middle of nowhere - about 50 of us - and it's raining in droves. Like absolute sheets of rain driving right into your face. In addition to that, all 50 of us had atleast one suitcase and one really heavy handbag. Talk about a Scandinavian escapade! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I had to do what I could to keep myself warm. A generous 12 year old kindly donated me his sweater. I think it's safe to say that I'm not 12 anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SluolVjUp6I/AAAAAAAAADs/85u_OuGsWdE/s1600-h/n505783350_579512_667.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SluolVjUp6I/AAAAAAAAADs/85u_OuGsWdE/s400/n505783350_579512_667.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358061541081261986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I know. Do I look like I care?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of guys were singing some Coldplay songs completely out of tune. Viva la Vida had just come out, and they had taken it upon themselves to murder the song. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I USED TO ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLL THE DIIIIICE..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the time shivering and shuddering in the icy rain. Picture this: Jumping into a REALLY cold swimming pool, and then coming out shivering as fuck, your breath is really fast, your body is completely tight, every muscle in your body is screaming stiff in pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then you decide to sing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is what these guys were doing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the bus finally came for us about 30 minutes later than promised. I guess the Swedish are not that punctual after all. Oh well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We soon got to the school we were staying at (all of 30 seconds away)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SluqssYInPI/AAAAAAAAAD0/BoOC8hzjaas/s1600-h/oskar+fredriks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 262px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SluqssYInPI/AAAAAAAAAD0/BoOC8hzjaas/s400/oskar+fredriks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358063866490690802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was the place. The building on the front right is the school, right next to this beautiful church. Everything about that building and architecture reminds me of vampires, Dracula and Transylvania. It was awesome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, all that awesomeness quickly earthed into the ground, as I realized that I have to haul my 30 kilos of baggage 50 feet above the ground. Obviously the secret of the hotness of Swedish people is that they're so fit. They don't need elevators, no siree. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goddamn, it seemed like I was out of Poseidon's den and into Satan's. Oh well, I was looking forward to a good nights sleep, especially since it was almost 2 a.m. now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if you know about Pheidippedes or whatever his name is. The guy who ran 50 miles or something in Greece to deliver some message. When he got there, they told him to go back, lol. So he collapsed and died. Now my situation wasn't quite so grave, but the expression on my face was probably worse than his when we got to our room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I flew 5000 miles to come here, and they give us...THIS?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Slurywim60I/AAAAAAAAAD8/my6AT_Jv39o/s1600-h/n505783350_579513_948.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Slurywim60I/AAAAAAAAAD8/my6AT_Jv39o/s400/n505783350_579513_948.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358065070199204674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inflatable beds! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was about the time I collapsed from exhaustion, lol. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, my annoying and amazing girlfriend is watching a movie that's kind of distracting me, so I'll tell you about the next part later! Stay tuned guys *Till tomorrow :D*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-6397601147612671314?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/6397601147612671314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/gothia-cup-saga-continues.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/6397601147612671314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/6397601147612671314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/gothia-cup-saga-continues.html' title='The Gothia Cup Saga Continues!'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SluolVjUp6I/AAAAAAAAADs/85u_OuGsWdE/s72-c/n505783350_579512_667.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-6562607264072890009</id><published>2009-07-12T00:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T00:55:21.359-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nostalgia Attacks</title><content type='html'>http://gothiacup.se&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;July 12-19, 2009.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the biggest youth tournament in the world has started. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...without me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sooo wanted to go this year :( But I guess it's not worked out. I'll probably also be too old to play next year; so boohoo :'( &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without a doubt that was one of the best weeks of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I figured that I should make something constructive of this, so every day of this awesome Gothia Week, I'm going to tell you guys a super secret special story that I haven't really told anyone yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, so lets get right into it :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Part I: Dangerous Liaisons&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I remember a really famous sailor was once asked to describe how he felt, each time he sailed to sea. Unfortunately, I do NOT remember what he replied. Lol. I can tell you this, just as the Stena Line ship left the docks on a rainy Saturday evening as the wind washed frigid water all over the deck, and the adventures and memories of small-town Denmark faded into the distance along with the shore, I could feel a sense of expectation and excitement. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SlmRfnKS_pI/AAAAAAAAADU/X4wadm4SNSs/s1600-h/stena+line.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SlmRfnKS_pI/AAAAAAAAADU/X4wadm4SNSs/s400/stena+line.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357473204008058514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was the boat we travelled on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not least for the soccer, of course. I knew better than that - we had been drawn into a group with a German, a Swedish, and an American team. A group of death for us. To be fair though, we'd be taking 6 or 7 goals a game even if it was Georgia, Somalia and fucking Siberia. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, the expectation was for Gothenburg, the excitement was for what was quite possibly going to be the most legendary week of all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'd managed to smuggle some beer aboard, and even though it was raining cats and dogs on the ship deck, as we stared into the driving sheets of rain, looking all cool with Carlsberg bottles in our hand, me and a couple of team mates were sitting around, talking. Then, I heard this unmistakable squeal from behind me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACH ALEEEEEEERTTTT!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holy shit, I had a beer bottle in my hand! The guy next to me tossed it overboard; the expression on his face absolutely priceless. It was too late to throw mine. The coach was walking straight towards us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking at lightning speed, I sat down and put the alcohol behind me. The bench was sopping wet. There go my expensive Jockey boxers, lol. He walked right upto me, and went like: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Desai, why the hell are you sitting on that wet thing? Can't find a seat? Come on, I'll get you one"&lt;br /&gt;"No no, I'm okay, Sir."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He opened his mouth to speak, just as the guy next to me burped REALLY loudly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disgusted, the coach walked off. hahaha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Part II: Casanova's Child&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, let me tell you about this guy friend of mine. His name is Prathamesh. He's 23 years old, but he is only 5 feet tall. Really funny guy, but hopeless when it comes to socializing or anything to do with girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SlmSSbJ54nI/AAAAAAAAADc/YmZBXQQIfhM/s1600-h/n505783350_579508_9577.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SlmSSbJ54nI/AAAAAAAAADc/YmZBXQQIfhM/s400/n505783350_579508_9577.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357474076958515826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy on the right is him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we were inside now, exploring the many hidden pleasures that the ship had to offer. While doing so, we encountered a Swedish handball team. Those girls started getting all giggly at Prathamesh's 'really gay' 50 Cent shirt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not one to take an insult to my friend's honor and dignity so lightly, I went over to them and started laughing with them at the poor guy's shirt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wow'd them with my irresistible knowledge of the Swedish language, perfectly being able to pronounce "You are gay" and "Show me your tits!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They laughed especially hard at the second one. What can I say? I'm awesome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before long, I had the whole handball team in a circle around me. I enriched their life with my amazing drama as I called their coach a paedophile. A couple of them even agreed, hahaha! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, about that time, a 12 year old guy from my club comes upto me and goes like "The coach wants to speak to you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck! Foiled by the fucking coach again! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as I walked up, I could see the whole coaching staff of the team sitting in a kind of semi circle, this faggot from my team (lets just call him faggot) on one side of the table, and me in front of the semi circle, ready to endure the wrath of the coaches! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That 'faggot' had told the coach about my escapades with these girls. Faggot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was now genuinely scared. Because the coach was genuinely scary, and almost 2 metres tall. And muscular. A chickpea for a brain, though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My palms started to sweat as he began talking. He looked into my eyes, a fire blazing behind them, and I thought I was going to die. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He started..."So, Desai...I heart you've been...telling girls to show you their tits?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a smile crept on his face. Phew! I knew I was safe now! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I could muster a response, the ass kissing faggot goes "Yeah Ankit, why are you always like that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the last straw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I replied acidly: "Noel, tu itna bada chutya kyu hai?" (Dude, why're you sucha fucking twat always?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cue: The whole team explodes in laughter, coaches and all. Anky saves the day! Or maybe that idiot shot himself in the foot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I was pretty disappointed that the I hadn't been able to show off that whole hand ball team on my side, lol. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a consolation, however. After we got off the ship, we were unloading our baggage right next to their team. One of the girls came up to me, gave me a hug and wrote down her email and # on my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SlmVtOnvFbI/AAAAAAAAADk/0Y3AXcFi9rI/s1600-h/ellen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SlmVtOnvFbI/AAAAAAAAADk/0Y3AXcFi9rI/s400/ellen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357477835985327538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never did follow up on her, never regretted it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I fell in love 2 days later. Stay tuned for that ;-) &lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-6562607264072890009?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/6562607264072890009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/nostalgia-attacks.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/6562607264072890009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/6562607264072890009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/nostalgia-attacks.html' title='Nostalgia Attacks'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SlmRfnKS_pI/AAAAAAAAADU/X4wadm4SNSs/s72-c/stena+line.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-2186421921097387811</id><published>2009-07-06T21:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T21:59:12.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Disgusting Pineapple</title><content type='html'>...is the new word for everything that is disgusting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of disgusting, my girlfriend...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SlLUvRMysaI/AAAAAAAAADM/FO0rUF6K8Ts/s1600-h/4759_97502306486_681751486_2522780_2613916_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SlLUvRMysaI/AAAAAAAAADM/FO0rUF6K8Ts/s400/4759_97502306486_681751486_2522780_2613916_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355576815432937890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...happens to be the most ADORABLE THING ALIVE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to wake her up as we speak, and she's so funny! All wrapped up like a cocoon, with a serene little smile on her face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the waking up sound! Omg, that high pitched little whine is the cutest thing I've ever seen or heard - EVER! And I've seen some cute things, trust me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, this is our conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Jules, time to wake up!&lt;br /&gt;*Slight smile, faint nod*&lt;br /&gt;Dp you wanna wake up?&lt;br /&gt;*Slight smile, faint nod*&lt;br /&gt;So wake up then!&lt;br /&gt;*Slight smile, faint nod*&lt;br /&gt;We have to go out!&lt;br /&gt;*Slight smile, faint nod*&lt;br /&gt;WTF? Ur just nodding randomly?&lt;br /&gt;*Slight smile, faint nod*&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, are you gay?&lt;br /&gt;*Slight smile, faint nod*&lt;br /&gt;WOOHOOOO!!! THREESOMEEES!!!!&lt;br /&gt;*Slight smile, faint nod*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-2186421921097387811?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/2186421921097387811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/disgusting-pineapple.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2186421921097387811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2186421921097387811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/disgusting-pineapple.html' title='The Disgusting Pineapple'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SlLUvRMysaI/AAAAAAAAADM/FO0rUF6K8Ts/s72-c/4759_97502306486_681751486_2522780_2613916_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-7914490015620074300</id><published>2009-07-06T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T21:50:16.928-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stalkers are funneh</title><content type='html'>So the other day I was having a nice slice of Pizza with teh GF, when my neighbour Nirav calls with the most peculiar news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Dude, are you at Penne right now?&lt;br /&gt;Yeah...I am, why?&lt;br /&gt;Look directly to your right and opposite you. Do you see a group of girls?&lt;br /&gt;Umm...yeah...&lt;br /&gt;They're checking you out. &lt;br /&gt;WTF?&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, the girl just called me and is asking me your age, whether you're left handed and stuff&lt;br /&gt;Seriously?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, dude they're going CRAZY about you!&lt;br /&gt;lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, he calls again. This time, even the girl was on conference! Hahahaha!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-7914490015620074300?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/7914490015620074300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/stalkers-are-funneh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7914490015620074300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7914490015620074300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/stalkers-are-funneh.html' title='Stalkers are funneh'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-1944951627909512624</id><published>2009-07-06T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T21:45:24.819-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BlingBlingBling</title><content type='html'>The rain is frigid, Gujjus have suddenly become generous, Juhu beach looks surprisingly clean, and even the disgusting old men staring at my girlfriend look funny these days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF is happening to the world?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to top it all off, I AM AWAKE AT 9 IN THE MORNING!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know how rare that is? Fuck Blue Moons, I'm guessing it won't be long before I start saying 'Once in an early morning' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, SO much to tell you about!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you all know, I am far from being 21 years of age, which you have to be if you want to go to a club in Mumbai. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you all know, even a 12 year old can get into a club in Mumbai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you all know, I look even younger than that, and hence it is 'delicate' (to say the least) for me to get in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then it was Julia's birthday, and we all know how much she likes needlessly blowing money to shake that sexy Scandinavian rumpa under all those flashing lights! :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides, my dad had just paid for an all expenses paid trip to the best Italian restaurant in town. (including chauffeur and all) It would only be fitting to truly end the Julzini's birthday with a bang :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+++&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we got to 'Bling', and it's raining like hell. It's a Friday evening, and the bouncers look fat and bald. It's like the same guy is standing outside every club. Hehe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asks me for an ID. WTF? With my Jedi mind powers, I convince him to let me speak to the manager. He insists it should be Julia who speaks to the manager. WTF? So now she's the man of the relationship. I take the tissues out of my pink purse and weep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The manager is non-committal, and he starts randomly wishing my girlfriend a happy birthday, both of them conveniently forgetting about me. I feel all left out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I realise the power of feminine kind, as Julia kind of blushes, rapidly bats her perfectly manicured eyelashes, looks kinda down with a broad smile on her lips, and goes 'But its my birthday! Can you pleaaaaaaaase do something?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lol, even the fucking 30 year old club manager was tooled and let us go in. Wahoo! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Challenge No.1: Defeated&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now was the true test of my character. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DANCE :O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holy shit, I'm the kind of guy who would look like a pig doing a pirouette if I danced. The reason Jesus wept was that I tried to do a moonwalk. fuck fuck fuck. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to think of something, and FAST. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going to ruin my GFs birhtday and tarnish my reputation forever!!! OH NOES!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tiny, miniscule little ray of hope. I had an idea. Behind Jules, I saw this other couple who looked like they knew what they were dancing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I just turned my girlfriend to directly face her back to them. I looked straight past her head, and mimicked every friggin move they made. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of times Julia asked me what I was looking at, but I just pretended to not hear her over the noise. Very sneaky Ankzini! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the night, Jules was like 'What was that about you being a bad dancer? You're awesome!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked up at the stars, and laughed maniacally within myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bwa ha ha ha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-1944951627909512624?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/1944951627909512624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/blingblingbling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1944951627909512624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1944951627909512624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/blingblingbling.html' title='BlingBlingBling'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-723622010266579765</id><published>2009-07-04T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T15:18:40.689-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Stuff of Legends</title><content type='html'>So the 3rd July was my favourite sickpersons birthday. Planning it was a friggin headache, but it all turned out okay in the end! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's kind of two edged, you know? Preparing for the greatest birthday of all time made me really nervous almost to the point of nausea. But on the other hand, as I made my way to the terrace to make final preparations, it also made my heart leap in the joy of doing something for someone I love. (That, and the fact that I was about to GET SOME! lol, just kidding) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it all went down nicely. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;§§§§§&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The adrenaline was pumping hard and fast by the time the clock struck 12 :D I woke my beautiful sleeping girlfriend up like the f***** sky was falling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a weird feeling, because for the first time in a long time I cared what anybody thought of what I'd done. I was conscious, and nervous. And I was feeling all mushy inside. You know that feeling when you're in 6th grade and about to ask out a girl for the first time? Yeah, this was that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Absolutely not caring for my vulnerability, she almost slapped me for waking her up too violently. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Undeterred, I was like...HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAAAAY!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I saw those aesthetically crafted lips part into a bigass smile, and I smiled back, because I could feel the nervousness draining away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jules, on the other hand, completely expected to be going back to sleep, but I had other ideas :D I took her by the hand and asked her to follow me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her hair was out of order, her eyes were all groggy and spaced out, she was wearing crumpled clothes from tossing and turning in bed, and it looked like mascara was running down her face. She still had that bigass smile on her face, grinning like a retard. She looked beautiful. A part of me wanted to pick her up and cuddle her back to sleep again, but there were other things to be done! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I led her by the hand to the kitchen, where we lit this little miniature cake. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_TGGtLjUI/AAAAAAAAADE/BY0QZMF4pkg/s1600-h/003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_TGGtLjUI/AAAAAAAAADE/BY0QZMF4pkg/s400/003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354730583799598402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She thought that was that, and Senorita Groggity was ready to fly back into bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But nooooooooooooooooooooo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This buddai is only getting started yet :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said that we were going to meet some friends and we got into the lift. To 'someones' surprise, the lift went up Up UP!!! To the top floooooor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There, just as we exited the lift, Julzini's gifts were waiting for her! She took pictures of the bigass poster I made wishing her and the note I wrote for her, as well as of the awesome ass gift which she hadn't even opened yet xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If she thought that was all, then she had grossly underestimated her super amazing boyfriend. Or she's just too simple, lol. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slowly climbed the few remaining steps then, and opened the terrace door. What I saw next, made my jaw drop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was raining like hell :( &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MY FRIGGIN BEDSHEET ON THE TERRACE THINGEE WAS WET AS FUCK'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We turned it around completely, though. We sat out on the ledge, just the two of us, sitting on a bed of rose-petals, under a tiny umbrella in each other's arms, staring out at the infinitely many clouds in the distance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a humbling moment. I'd also say it was one of the happiest moments of my life. My girlfriend had travelled 5 thousand miles to meet me, and here she was on her birthday, in my lap while I shielded her from the rain with my little umbrella. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is good, and this day was just getting started...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;´+ &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;STAY TUNED!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-723622010266579765?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/723622010266579765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/stuff-of-legends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/723622010266579765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/723622010266579765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/stuff-of-legends.html' title='The Stuff of Legends'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_TGGtLjUI/AAAAAAAAADE/BY0QZMF4pkg/s72-c/003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-1735021794418161590</id><published>2009-07-01T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T21:25:32.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so paid</title><content type='html'>Hello my friends and friendesses! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Niyati left :( &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was kinda sad. Anyway, on the last night before she left, we all went to her house to stayover and then dropped her off at the airport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This means no more jokes about her fatness :( My last joke was that she wouldn't fit through the airport door and they'd have to send her by cargo train. Eww anky, you so mushy! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, this isn't about the cuddly whiny fat doofus who has left forever, but about the actual night at her house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Skw2krzsGFI/AAAAAAAAACc/YinCAsrgR70/s1600-h/grouppic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Skw2krzsGFI/AAAAAAAAACc/YinCAsrgR70/s400/grouppic.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353714060899391570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth or Dare will never ever be the same again! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, I'd known some of those guys for over 10 years, and it seems that they ALL picked the same night to come out of the closet, LOL. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean seriously. Some of the dares were just mind-numbingly homoerotic. But I suppose that's what you get when you play Truth or Dare with 50 guys and 4 girls, haha. Welcome to India :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some of the dares, building up to the homo-est one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.]Raj kissing Aalap's bushy eyebrows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.]Manan having to give Abs a lap dance, and then show him his nipples (WTF?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.]Monty having to erotically pet Varun's tummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.]Abs and Anshuman having to doggy-style each other in front of everyone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.]Siddharth licking and caressing Manan's camel toe (WOW)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other highlights of the night were when my girlfriend got dared to squeeze Adit's tits and shout POM POM!!! Hahahahah! That was hilarious. So was Subbie's &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;mujra&lt;/span&gt; seductive indian dance, and not to forget Aalap being dared to sit in front of the whole room and act like he's cleaning his butt, Indian style. LMAO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I found out that I have a super secret fan-club who I'd never met! :O So exciting :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the fun part, gotta make the best of it before it goes into stalker mode, lol. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, fanclubbers, I know you're reading this, so let it be known that I am honored to have such loving and insane fans such as yourselves. Keep up the good work :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And spread the word of my awesomeness B-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-1735021794418161590?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/1735021794418161590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/im-so-paid.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1735021794418161590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1735021794418161590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/07/im-so-paid.html' title='I&apos;m so paid'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Skw2krzsGFI/AAAAAAAAACc/YinCAsrgR70/s72-c/grouppic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-9026606965908891158</id><published>2009-06-30T03:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T03:31:57.789-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lessons from The Master</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;They were all shivering in their shoes; cowering in the aisles; bowing their heads, praying desperately to their Krishnas and Allahs not to be spotted as His Majesty glided by, his royal cape in tow. He had absolutely devastated the street, and they had no answer to him. Their meagre powers no match for him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes ladies, gents, and those undecided, I HAVE FOUND THE CURE THAT HUSBANDS AND BOYFRIENDS THE WORLD OVER HAVE BEEN WAITING SO DESPERATELY FOR, FOR CENTURIES. Millennia, even. It's a simple concept - bargaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People shudder at the very thought of the word...SHOPPING. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I went shopping with the Jules again yesterday. This time, we chose Colaba as our target. Before that though, we visited the Gateway of India first. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's pretty disgusting now, disgusting and hairy old men everywhere. Julia was oblivious to this though, I always wonder how she does that. Anyway, while we're clicking away at the Gateway, this random dude approaches us:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Medam, can we take a picture with you?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, I think I'm getting used to this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What the fuck?"&lt;br /&gt;"Sir aapke saath ek picture lena hai, memory ke liye."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that wasn't all, I watched on with my mouth hanging dry as another 4 dirty disgusting guys walked up behind him, all looking at me expectantly. I think it would suffice to say that it was disgusting. They were trying to give me the 'puppydog look'! THE PUPPYDOG LOOK FOR FUCKS SAKE!!! Can you believe that? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bunch of dark hairy 40 year old men trying to cutely look into my eyes and hoping to convince me! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They convinced me alright, TO GET THE FUCK OUTTA THERE :O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we ran before those puppydogs came panting their tongues and wagging their tails after us. A quick sidestep onto the street, and we were on this awesome-ass shopping place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eyes lit up - bargaining :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ended up buying: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 pair of glares&lt;br /&gt;3 pashimi scarves or something&lt;br /&gt;1 PC game (My gf is a nerd)&lt;br /&gt;2 wrist bands&lt;br /&gt;2 ankle bracelets (none for me, ty)&lt;br /&gt;Something else I can't remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the formula for bargaining success is quite simple actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;First, ask him to show you the thingee you want.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, how much for this?"&lt;br /&gt;"X rupees sir."&lt;br /&gt;"Hahahaha are you friggin kidding me? No no, tell me you're kidding, please."&lt;br /&gt;"No sir"&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, I'll tell you what, I'll give you half of X."&lt;br /&gt;"Arey sir I have a business to run! I can't do that! I'll give you Rs.10 off!"&lt;br /&gt;"Hey look, I live far away, not going to come again, I don't even have the money, so give me 3/4th X or I'm leaving."&lt;br /&gt;"Sir, I can't do that, please try to understand..."&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, whatever trevor, we're leaving..."&lt;br /&gt;"Arey siiiiiiiiiiir! Wait I'll sell it to you!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That sounds as awesome in real life as it does on the internet :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-9026606965908891158?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/9026606965908891158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/06/lessons-from-master.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/9026606965908891158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/9026606965908891158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/06/lessons-from-master.html' title='Lessons from The Master'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-8282432031108253787</id><published>2009-06-26T17:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T18:38:38.980-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A lot can happen during coffee :D</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was awesomenesski! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...all 6 hrs of it, since I woke up at 7 p.m. Oh noes xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started off with a movie: The Hangover. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That movie was fuckin' awesome! It makes you think about all the wild shit you compromised on in life just to stay within the rules. NEVER MORE I SAY, NEVAH MOOOORE!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The true highlight of the night though, was our midnight escapade to Cafe Coffee Day :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just starting to get used to my girlfriend turning heads around the whole fucking block as we walk by, but tonight was a little bit special. Rushabh was just telling me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Ankit, I'm telling you man...tu kisi ko bhi idhar maar. Lafda kar."&lt;br /&gt;"What? Hit someone for no reason just like that?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yep."&lt;br /&gt;"...why?"&lt;br /&gt;"Cuz now I'm untouchable man...unfuckintouchable. Im a certified fuckin' bhai...seriously dude...tu lafda kar, and it'll be like Star Wars Attack of the Clones. A whole fuckin army to back you up"&lt;br /&gt;"Sweet!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 5 minutes later, Julia turns to me and says, "Haha, check out the fat yellow guy staring at me xD" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned to look at him, and I nearly spat my drink all over JVPD Scheme. The typical fatboy, mushy hair, neatly but subtly parted in the middle; manboobs erect and at the ready for lactation if and when needed; and a disturbingly visible erection in his pants. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the funniest part? He didn't seem to even care that we caught him xD I was looking at him and laughing, but he was completely unfazed. For a second I debated the second coming of Gautam Buddha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But no, I reminded myself that Buddha is that fat, bald laughing guy with a whale-belly that people put in their houses to cheer themselves up. No, this guy was in friggin' emo mode. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously though, nothing could shake his unswerving stare at the pretty blonde girl. It was like he was in some deep Kama Sutra trance or something. Who knows? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, a couple of guys walked in. Straight away, his focus shifted to them. This time, he was looking with the most incredulous expression on his face. It was like he had shat his pants and someone was painfully piercing his testicles at the same time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, you get it. Hilarious. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon, the guy's table got up to leave...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rushabh sees this is his chance to shine...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Dude, watch this..."&lt;br /&gt;"Huh...?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they pass by our table, Rushy starts singing a really whiny and high pitched version of his famous and patented song "Lyouuuzerrrr!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It basically involves saying "Loser" over and over again in an exaggerated fashion. It was awkward but it was the funniest shit ever. Think about it, this random dude passes by your table, and co-incidentally of course, you start shouting LOSER LOSER LOSER!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SkV35cE3mjI/AAAAAAAAACM/EVaLYuFMaE0/s1600-h/5049_96561271486_681751486_2504870_4467706_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SkV35cE3mjI/AAAAAAAAACM/EVaLYuFMaE0/s320/5049_96561271486_681751486_2504870_4467706_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351815560872565298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                          Rushini, after his brilliant antics&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lmao, that made my night ;D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-8282432031108253787?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/8282432031108253787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/06/lot-can-happen-during-coffee-d.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8282432031108253787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8282432031108253787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/06/lot-can-happen-during-coffee-d.html' title='A lot can happen during coffee :D'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SkV35cE3mjI/AAAAAAAAACM/EVaLYuFMaE0/s72-c/5049_96561271486_681751486_2504870_4467706_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-591748875513172028</id><published>2009-06-25T18:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T18:28:27.727-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fine Art of Bargaining</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SkQkKxtaQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/kw_i7uiwKgM/s1600-h/5049_95740006486_681751486_2493645_1379564_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SkQkKxtaQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/kw_i7uiwKgM/s320/5049_95740006486_681751486_2493645_1379564_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351442024784085778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Anks, lets just get the Sims 3, and then we can like pretend that I'm not there for a few days while I play the game!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, does she love a friggin game more than her adorable, caring boyfriend!? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, as you all know, I am the quintessential hopeless romantic. However, on this day, I was feeling romantically hopeless, so I took my lovely GF on a date to the sweltering hustle and bustle of Irla. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Set in the backdrop of the beautiful scenery of a sewage swamp, was this shady dude selling pirated game CDs. We walked up to him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, I want the Sims 3."&lt;br /&gt;"Of course sir, give me a minute."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything was going smoothly, until we came to the subject of the price. The conversation was in hindi, but this is the best I can do to translate:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"500 rupees."&lt;br /&gt;"Haha, are you fucking mental? Do you know Samir? Cuz I know him. I always buy from here" (lies)&lt;br /&gt;"Okay okay, just because you know Samir, I'll give it to you for 450."&lt;br /&gt;"Fuck you, get serious or I'm leaving."(Turn to leave)&lt;br /&gt;"Ok ok! 300!"&lt;br /&gt;"Listen, (point to face) ismein tumhe kaunsa bhaag chutiya dikhta hai?"&lt;br /&gt;"(Almost crying now) Arey dost, I have a business to run here. If you buy 4 DVDs for 200 rupees, mai toh kangal ho jaunga!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally got him to 280. I turned to my girlfriend with a triumphant smile, having won this long and arduous battle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the same dude came up to Julia and goes like "Hey madam, ek photo please?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Oh no no no no no no no no no fuck no."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that night...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jules: "FUCK! THE GAME DOESN'T WORK!"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Don't worry babe, tomorrow we'll go and pwn him :)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My fists were clenched, there was fury in my eyes, and the testosterone was now pumping thick and fast. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I was going to give him a piece of my mind, I was! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all that bargaining, the fucker sold me a non-working DVD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My thoughts were focused but my mind was racing as the rickshaw imperiously pulled into Irla and the Sewage Dump.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Darth Vader and Batman music was playing in my head at the same time, as I swaggered over to the CD guy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked him in the eyes, imagining him trembling before my knees, begging me to spare his life. I told him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"This CD doesn't work."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh okay, I'm sorry. I'll get you another one..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We waited a couple of minutes, and he got us a new copy, and that was that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way home...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julia: "We sure pwned him..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahaha!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-591748875513172028?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/591748875513172028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/06/fine-art-of-bargaining.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/591748875513172028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/591748875513172028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/06/fine-art-of-bargaining.html' title='The Fine Art of Bargaining'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SkQkKxtaQxI/AAAAAAAAABs/kw_i7uiwKgM/s72-c/5049_95740006486_681751486_2493645_1379564_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-8212827062386331296</id><published>2009-06-25T17:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T18:29:18.164-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Head Games</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SkQkZLudCUI/AAAAAAAAAB0/0vGM0kE2ksk/s1600-h/5049_95739971486_681751486_2493638_6582145_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SkQkZLudCUI/AAAAAAAAAB0/0vGM0kE2ksk/s320/5049_95739971486_681751486_2493638_6582145_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351442272285952322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So day before, I went with Jules to play football on the beach. Obviously I was all pumped! I had my very own cheer squad now :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out, my girlfriend is not the most enthusiastic cheerleader :P First, we went to Nirav's house for a charming game of Fifa 09. I was looking forward to the raucous fan support from my girlfriend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, she fell asleep while we were playing, hahaha! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfazed by this glaring insult to my alpha-maleness, we went to the beach where we were playing a soccer game against some Gay-N.S dudes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, being the best player on the team (:P) I scored. But what else is new? Anyway, here is the moment in slow motion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're 3-0 down, and get a free kick right on the edge of the area. There is no hesitation in my mind as I step up to take it. The 4-man wall in front of me looks intimidating, but I don't really give a shit. Some douchebag in the wall is trying to provoke me, shouting that I'm going to miss. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This pisses me off. I run up, and hit it as hard as I can on his ass. The ball hits his bollox and goes into the net. Beautiful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I raise my hands in triumph among the cheers of my team mates, and turn to my girlfriend on the sidelines to dedicate the golazo to her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's too busy gossiping with Jill and Niyati about some stupid shit. GRR! :P &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50 bucks says that one of those two asked Jules my penis size. In recent weeks, I know a lot of you have asked me about this. Well, lets just keep that a secret, LOL!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-8212827062386331296?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/8212827062386331296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/06/head-games.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8212827062386331296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8212827062386331296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/06/head-games.html' title='Head Games'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SkQkZLudCUI/AAAAAAAAAB0/0vGM0kE2ksk/s72-c/5049_95739971486_681751486_2493638_6582145_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-8101041972313800797</id><published>2009-06-25T17:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T18:30:29.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dia Doce</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SkQkrKNjhII/AAAAAAAAAB8/2ntwvuj6w_s/s1600-h/5049_95419416486_681751486_2488510_7909974_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SkQkrKNjhII/AAAAAAAAAB8/2ntwvuj6w_s/s320/5049_95419416486_681751486_2488510_7909974_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351442581117174914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry I've been away the past 10 days guys, the girlfriend fell sick, and then I've fallen sick - it's a sick sick world :( &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, it's 6:15 a.m, and Teh Julzini is sleeping next to me under the cover of blankets and cool air. From time to time, I take a look at that adooorable sleepy face, with her hair sprawled all over the pillow, and her lips pouting just right, and even though her eyes are closed, you can look through to the most beautiful baby blue anyone has ever seen through that tiny gap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, she must be the prettiest sleeper in history. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She doesn't know about any of this, of course. She sleeps a simple sleep:&lt;br /&gt;1. Ask to hold my hand throughout.&lt;br /&gt;2. Make adorable whiny sounds if I sneakily take my hand away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's so much to catch up on! Julzini had fallen sick from a food poisoning (Dosas xD) And we had to keep her in the hospital for a few days. Scary shit, she was all hooked up to an IV and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's cool being in a hospital though, I must have exhausted all the Kerala beaches of Coconut water. Must have had at least a million gallons of that stuff xD &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, we were out of the SickZone, and back into AnksandJulesZone ^^ We came home to a heroes welcome, because obviously, me being the perfect boyfriend that I am, took care of her :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not even 2 days had passed since then, that I hurt myself in a football game. I didn't notice it at first, but when I got home, I realized that my foot had inflated to twice it's size. (!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It looked like a fucking tumor right on my foot :o Scaaaaary shit. Julia, forever indebted (xD) took it upon herself to take care of Mr. Potato (That's what we named my little swollen 'tumor' xD &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Potato stayed with us for a couple of days, before returning to be eaten by some random dude, excreted out, and then used on soil as a fertilizer where he will remain for all eternity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much more to tell you guys about :D Stay tuned!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-8101041972313800797?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/8101041972313800797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/06/dia-doce.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8101041972313800797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8101041972313800797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/06/dia-doce.html' title='Dia Doce'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SkQkrKNjhII/AAAAAAAAAB8/2ntwvuj6w_s/s72-c/5049_95419416486_681751486_2488510_7909974_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-8465352820790951008</id><published>2009-06-16T00:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T01:18:41.222-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Uno!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SjdVRtOKxFI/AAAAAAAAABk/C7KYxlTC4fQ/s1600-h/hellu+the+jules.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SjdVRtOKxFI/AAAAAAAAABk/C7KYxlTC4fQ/s320/hellu+the+jules.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347836845210911826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julzini is here ^^ This is so awesome! Although it looks like she's more in love with my grandma than me, I'll deal with it :( &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GIRLS! They always gang up on you, even when they're your grandmother and are 70 years old. So sick :P &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julia is mad at me because it's now almost 1 p.m and I've still not really woken up xD &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, you can't blame her; she's new to the daily life of an amazing writer B-) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Niyati came 26th in the world in some CLIT exam or something. Fucking weird. Guess she's a little talented after all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;COMING BACK TO THE POINT&lt;/span&gt;, yesterday was amazing! There were so many things we did that it's going to be hard to put it down in writing at all, because that would take another day! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moment at the airport was pretty funny. I had been waiting like 2 hrs to pick her up, and then FINALLY I saw some chick in blonde hair coming out, but didn't see her face. But then it had to be her, right? I mean, how many blondes are there in this city anyway? It was unmistakable, the hair, the tight denim jeans, the pink t-shirt clinging to her, the air conditioner blowing in her face; I remember thinking her first step in India was a true bollywood moment, lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I watched in horror as security stopped her at the gate, and spoke to her for an excruciatingly long time, and she turned around and went back in, ESCORTED BY SECURITY!!! Now the alarm bells were going off like the 4th of July for me, so I ran over to the guard at the gate and asked him WTF was up. He said something about illegal goods. I was like, HOLY SHIT, MY GIRLFRIEND IS A DRUGDEALER!!! I followed the glass wall in desperation till I caught up with them, about 70 meters away. Then I realized, THIS IS NOT JULIA LEDENSTAM &gt;_&lt; This chick is like 40 years old! Lol, fucking oldie hippies smuggling drugs into my motherland...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, I went back and found my The Jules and we hugged and kissed and hugged and kissed some more ^^ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day was awesome too, showing a blonde girl around in the middle of the day gives you a taste of what it must be like to be Aishwarya Rai or something. But we didn't have any security! So Rushabh got employed as our security guard :D He's really cool! Lets us hideaway at his house, brings food for us, lets me drive his moped. He's really, really awesome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also realized how n00bish Scandinavians are with food xD My girlfriend finds Dosas really spicy; LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night was brilliant, though. It was like 12:30 a.m, and we're sitting in bed, wondering what to do. So I get a bright idea, and we sneak out of the window, I steal the house keys, and we're out! We spent some awesomeness time on my terrace under the stars ^^ It was cool. Perfect if it weren't for the fucking rats darting around. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went for a little drive ^^. Me driving really safely, and Jules asking me to drive like a maniac, lol. Somehow, I managed to lose my way in a place where I've lived 16 years. I really am growing old. Forget pubic hair and moustaches, I'm getting alzheimers! In fact, I can't even remember the beginning of this post! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drive was awesome, we went to like Andheri, Juhu and then towards Santa Cruz, and then back :D It was in our nice little bubble ^)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, we went and chilled at Rushab's place again for a bit, because Niyatis mom still hates me :( &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We picked up all our stuff before anyone woke up and made a big deal of it, and sneaked back into the house, all intact, but our clothes giving EVERYTHING away. They were all dusty and dirty from spending the night on the terrace! Luckily, everyone was asleep, and they just assumed that we slept in for the last 14 hrs like two adorable and decent children ^^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today promises to be just as exciting! STAY TUNED :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-8465352820790951008?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/8465352820790951008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/06/day-uno.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8465352820790951008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8465352820790951008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/06/day-uno.html' title='Day Uno!'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SjdVRtOKxFI/AAAAAAAAABk/C7KYxlTC4fQ/s72-c/hellu+the+jules.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-6127610840781325318</id><published>2009-06-02T00:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T01:21:19.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mindful Mumbo Jumbo</title><content type='html'>Holy shit holy shit holy shit! The most amazing thing just happened to me. It's almost UNFUCKINGREAL! It was singlehandedly the best feeling I ever remember feeling. It feels like...falling in love; except this feeling is physical, not emotional. Yes, it's the physical equivalent of climaxing and falling in love combined - and on steroids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But by now you probably have no idea what the hell I'm talking about, hehe. So I think I should maybe take you back a bit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what does a bored and amateur writer do when he's awake and bored at 7 a.m?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He reads, of course! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out, he lurked the hallowed realms of internet for the next 5 hours, and came across some mindboggling discoveries. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I just realized I don't have a lot of time, and I really can't be arsed spending it on a stupid blog :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'll tell you this: MEDITATION IS AWESOME!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just tried it a few minutes ago, plus some super secret stuff that can't be published on the net, and the results were MINDNUMBING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear to you, I couldn't move my fucking leg. I couldn't move my fucking leg!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I started sort of...shivering. The best way to explain it would be like an...excited crawling under the skin of my forearm. It was amazing. Absolutely fucking amazing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to do it again after lunch just to reinforce. It's going to be awesome!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-6127610840781325318?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/6127610840781325318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/06/mindful-mumbo-jumbo.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/6127610840781325318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/6127610840781325318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/06/mindful-mumbo-jumbo.html' title='Mindful Mumbo Jumbo'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-7405969619897290412</id><published>2009-05-31T23:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T23:41:43.079-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot Pursuit!</title><content type='html'>Hey guys! I'm back :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to be honest here, I didn't really feel up for coming back - what, with the busy life I live these days and all - but hey, beggars can't be choosers, eh? Hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a while. Over the past five weeks, I've been busy pimpin' New York, destroying birthday parties, hurting people at soccer, getting drunk on an empty stomach, and running from the law like the rebel I am, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was pretty wild. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what does a world-famous blogger like me, do when he's bored? It was 11 p.m, and most of Mumbai's beta males and beta females were just turning in for the night. Hah, losers. I was just climbing out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A night of adventure awaits. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called Rushabh and asked if he wanted to hang out. Now this was a rhetorical question, but he invariably has a rhetorical answer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm talking to my girlfriend."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how they get along sometimes. His girl is like at least 5 years elder to him, and he has to talk with a hideously try-hard American accent to keep up with her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But such is love, they say. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, I'm not 'them', so I proceeded to tease the living shit out of my best friend :P This means a no-holds-barred tongue-lashing about cougars, sex predatory, and him being secretly bisexual. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This got him out of his shell a bit, and he finally hung up on his girl, when I unceremoniously told her to "Fuck off."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, bite me, bitch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By now, it was 3 a.m. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perfect time to head out for a drive! So we took out his bike, and raced across town. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a strange thrill when you have the wind blowing in your hair. All the peasants and beggars race by in a blur before they ever have a chance to beg you for your next quarter. My favourite part is the lights - how the streetlights whiz past your head, one after the other. It's liberating. It reminds me of taking off in an airplane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, I spot a roadblock, with policemen and a big bad police van and all. I don't think about it - the lights are too distracting :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it hits me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: DUDE! POLICE!&lt;br /&gt;Rushab: What? No...where?&lt;br /&gt;Me: AHEAD OF YOU, DUMBASS!&lt;br /&gt;Rushab: Oh...shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time, we were about 10 feet away from the policeman, who was signalling us to stop. We were two underage kids, without a licence, without a helmet, and out in a rough part of town at 3 a.m. Good luck explaining that away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: TURN LEFT AND ACCELERATE!!! FAST!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, Mr.Rushy yanks it into the opposite lane. Perfect, now we're running into oncoming traffic. Perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time, the police guy is hysterical. He's shouting for us to stop, running after us, shouting into his walkie talkie thingee. It was scary stuff; but he didn't stand a chance. At this point, we were flying at about 90 km/hr, and weaving in and out of on coming traffic, like a downhill skier on steroids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, up ahead I spotted another police van. My face flushed and my skin went white. I was so sure we were getting fuckered tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd heard of what happens in jails. I wasn't looking forward to having my anal virginity taken. And that by some hairy Maharashtrian dude. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit, I thought I was going to piss myself. So we ditched the bike and hid out for sometime, while the coast cleared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called my beloved girlfriend in the meanwhile and almost tried to make her promise that if I died she would take care of my pet soft toy Trevor and that she would try to seduce either Bono or Roger Waters one day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-7405969619897290412?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/7405969619897290412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/05/hot-pursuit.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7405969619897290412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7405969619897290412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/05/hot-pursuit.html' title='Hot Pursuit!'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-2289986527829594122</id><published>2009-05-31T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T12:18:10.402-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm back, hehe</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-2289986527829594122?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/2289986527829594122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/05/im-back-hehe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2289986527829594122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2289986527829594122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/05/im-back-hehe.html' title='I&apos;m back, hehe'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-8885136940173368177</id><published>2009-04-30T05:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T05:21:38.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Project Awesomenesski</title><content type='html'>"Anky, we have to talk."&lt;br /&gt;It was 2 a.m.&lt;br /&gt;The man was out of his mind. &lt;br /&gt;I could have been doing anything a normal person could have been doing at that time – &lt;br /&gt;Sleeping, reading, studying, listening to music – anything. &lt;br /&gt;But I wasn’t.&lt;br /&gt;It was a Friday night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could have been doing anything a normal college student could have been doing at that time – Partying, drinking, throwing up on a Resident Advisor’s door, taking a really drunk girl home – anything.&lt;br /&gt;But I wasn’t. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was playing Star Wars on the Nintendo Wii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was my last day in college before I went home for the summer. How dare he interrupt me on this momentous occasion? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a normal day, I wouldn’t have answered that call at that time. He was more than likely drunk. He was more than likely calling me to mock me for being home on a Friday night. Make fun of my miniscule, negligible existence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I answered it anyway. I still don’t know why. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me to come over. He sounded excited, but his words betrayed nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a normal day, I wouldn’t have gone over at that time. His room was not far, but like they say in Spanish, “(How you say I don’t feel like going)” He could have been setting me up for a prank. A legendary prank that would have been – but only because I was such a fool to go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I went over anyway. I still don’t know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened in that fateful O'Connor hall dorm is history, but it may well be the start of a beautiful partnership. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to talk about anything right now, &lt;br /&gt;And my plane's boarding anyway. But I'll tell you this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I can pull this off, then within one year I will have had and done things beyond my wildest dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I can't wait!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-8885136940173368177?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/8885136940173368177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/04/project-awesomenesski.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8885136940173368177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8885136940173368177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/04/project-awesomenesski.html' title='Project Awesomenesski'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-7933416307994588679</id><published>2009-03-31T21:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T22:03:16.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Frustration that is blind - Part I</title><content type='html'>I'm sick. Oh so very sick. I don't have a thermometer right now, but if I did, it'd probably be as terrifying as a positive pregnancy test. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life is fucked. From a shitload of homework, to persistent tests, to the fact that the goddamn webcam won't work, to the fact that I'm too sick to do anything about it. FFS. The frustration is building...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like for my friend Ankush. The other day, we were in the 24-hr computer lab. He's been breaking his head over this one program for the last 3 hours. At least. His hair is graying from the stress. He's just that 1 little step away from crossing the bridge. And then somebody points it out to him. He was using the wrong file all along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are outbursts of frustration, and there are outbursts of frustration. This was the latter. The most dangerous, where you don't speak, respond or act. Just stare out into space. Unfortunately, he had promised to help me later doing some Math. We exited the computer lab. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Hey man, don't take it so hard. It happens to the best of us."&lt;br /&gt;Him: "..."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "You hear me?"&lt;br /&gt;Him: "..."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Yo...dude...is something wrong?"&lt;br /&gt;Him: "Do you see any security guards around here?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "No...why? HEY WTF!!! WAIIIIII!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I can even finish, he takes his glass bottle from Starbucks, and hurls it to the floor as hard as he can. I don't have time to react, and a piece of glass shoots up and cuts me on the nose, right next to my right eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (Writhing in agony on the ground) "AAAAAAAAAAAA!!! AAAAAAAA!! MY EYEEES!"&lt;br /&gt;Him: "OH SHIT DUDE ARE YOU OKAY!!"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"&lt;br /&gt;Him :"Fuck man, did it hit you?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH YOU MANIAC!! YOU JUST GAVE ME AIDS!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH"&lt;br /&gt;Him: "SHIT DUDE YOU RE BLEEDING!!!"&lt;br /&gt;Me : "Congratulations on spotting it, genius. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"&lt;br /&gt;Him: "Dudeee, I'm gonna call 911!"&lt;br /&gt;Me : "Hahaahhaahahhaha yeah do that"&lt;br /&gt;Him: "fuck you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch out for part II!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-7933416307994588679?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/7933416307994588679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/frustration-that-is-blind-part-i.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7933416307994588679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7933416307994588679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/frustration-that-is-blind-part-i.html' title='The Frustration that is blind - Part I'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-8893800410007918550</id><published>2009-03-29T17:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T17:46:49.195-07:00</updated><title type='text'>EUREKA!!!!!</title><content type='html'>Ladies, gents, and those undecided...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've found it. No, this is not another one of my crazy social experiments where we tell people their loved ones are dying from terminal diseases. (Yes, that would be sick) And no, I'm not talking about my third nipple either - although debates have been raging on about it for quite sometime. (For the record, I DO NOT HAVE A THIRD FUCKING NIPPLE. FUCK YOU SID FOR SPREADING THAT SHIT) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For centuries and generations, we Indians have painted such a fucked up picture of ourselves in the Western world, ranging from our unease to get used to western toilets, to dropping phrases like "There you go!" and "Good fer you!" (With an accent and all, just to sound more American. I'm sorry 'Roger' Patel, it just makes it harder for the rest of us to be taken seriously. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress. I have truly found the root of our bitchiness. The reason we constantly try to get one over our friends, double cross and backstab them repeatedly, and ultimately sleep with their wives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is something so deeply ingrained in everything we do and everything we live - an indelible and invisible mark on every single one of us. From the gullies and slums of Dharavi to Shah Rukh Khans bungalow in Bandra (?). Cricket. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cricket makes us bitchy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I played cricket for the first time in about...7 years. Believe it or not, once upon a time, I actually used to be good. (Read 6th grade) But I still played. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd almost forgotten how to even hold the bat. I was the last man in; we needed 4 runs to win. The bowler; Anant. He played for his state a few months ago. He has pace like fire. Every ball he releases lands bang on in front of the stumps. They call him the Daytona Express. (LMFAO) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I reluctantly make my way to the pitch. This is like facing hell's wrath for molesting little kittens. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then - something wonderful happens(arguably). I got superpowers. Powers that I'd left behind a long time ago to become a better man. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Anant! Does anyone know you have a pink laptop?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His face flushes. People start poking fun at him; boy is he pissed now. He runs in like the express train that he is. It goes wide. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's a good friend of mine, so I won't post much of what went on between that, but this one I can't refrain from...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He ran up, and then stopped just before he was about to release the ball. Evidently I'd shaken his confidence. One of his teammates shouts to ask him what's wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shout back "He's feeling the pressure! Gujarat State Team! Against newbie playing after 7 years! Aaaaah!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone is in splits. I felt sorry for him after that. So I just let him get me out (tihihi) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, after that, we all went to grab a bite to eat. This girl from one my classes comes over to talk. I'm telling her why she's a bad girl, when this fucking dumbass wannabe player Indian guy comes up. This guy is about 6'5 tall, and his brain is probably inversely proportional to that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is probably what he was thinking - "Tool anky in front of girl - Girl impressed - Thinks of me as prince charming - We run away to Wonderland and get married with her fairy godmother watching over us" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which sounds reasonable in theory. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he comes upto me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: "Aey...tu peeche se ladki dikhta hai."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turn to him and look him over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Tu toh aage se bhi ladki dikhta hai...chutiye"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone at the table: "hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously the girl didn't speak hindi, but she got the hint. She isn't going home with him tonight :( &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My point is, I'd probably not even have paid attention to the reflexive, systematic psychological rape of another human being 2 days ago. I'd have just ignored the person, and there would be no problem. But Cricket I tells you, is a very potent thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-8893800410007918550?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/8893800410007918550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/eureka.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8893800410007918550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8893800410007918550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/eureka.html' title='EUREKA!!!!!'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-7237723705563944219</id><published>2009-03-25T20:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T20:16:00.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Art of The Fart</title><content type='html'>Since I've got here, more than one person has asked me what the biggest change in my life has been.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Is it the weather?&lt;br /&gt;Is it the women in bikinis?&lt;br /&gt;Is it the 8 lane highways?&lt;br /&gt;Is it the wide open spaces?&lt;br /&gt;Is it the piss-drunk dart-throwing competitions?&lt;br /&gt;Is it the bitchy NRIs? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the food. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've realized for a fact, that the first and final step to becoming a hardcore yank is the food. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also realized for a fact that Americans fart about 300 times more than all other nationalities combined. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No ****ing wonder, when they have Taco Bells, Burger Kings, Big Macs and Wendys. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wouldn't recongnise me if you saw me. If you thought that a guy like me, who couldn't let off enough toxic waste after a Cheese Schezwan Dosa, or a truckful of Maruti's Pav Bhaji, think again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's almost like a half-hourly ritual. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck that Fernando. He's leaving and I have to take his math book. Later blogreaders!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-7237723705563944219?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/7237723705563944219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/art-of-fart.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7237723705563944219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7237723705563944219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/art-of-fart.html' title='The Art of The Fart'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-8340685078601603440</id><published>2009-03-25T07:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T07:50:21.652-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Like I said, the weirdest fucking thing happened to me the other day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting on my bed in my dorm room. Mtn dew in one hand, and this really friggin good book in the other.(The girl who played with fire. READ IT!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plot is thickening...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She's going to kill somebody...&lt;br /&gt;She's going to do it tonight...&lt;br /&gt;OH MY GAWD!!! SHE'S GOING TO KILL HER DAD!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She slowly walks up to his house...&lt;br /&gt;You can cut the tension with a butterknife at this point...&lt;br /&gt;So many emotions are going through her head...&lt;br /&gt;Her childhood...&lt;br /&gt;Her shattered dreams...&lt;br /&gt;Her attempts to live a normal life...&lt;br /&gt;All this ends tonight...&lt;br /&gt;With the man responsible for it...&lt;br /&gt;She sees a vague shape in the dark and takes aim...&lt;br /&gt;Uncocks the safety...&lt;br /&gt;AND!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The phone rings. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a message. Bah, what a time to interrupt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's some weird number from Missouri. All it says is &lt;em&gt;Brynn?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not the first time I've been pranked. Or the last. I just reply WTF? And forget about it. (It's hard being popular you know, too many people to remember who the hell they are B-)) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go back to my book. Lisbeth Salander is a woman with a plan and she won't stop at anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just finding where I'd left off when the phone goes off again. FFS. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the same number. "&lt;em&gt;Brynn, it's echo."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How dare this imbecile disturb me while I read? Can't she see I'm trying to concentrate here? She must be punished.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I text her back, and a sadistic, evil grin plays on my face. I flap my evil wings and do the dracula laugh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"OMG ECHO!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!! PLEASE COME BACK TO ME!!!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hit send. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30 seconds later, the phone goes off. She's calling now xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Hey?"&lt;br /&gt;"HEY! I'm sorry Brynn...I don't love you anymore. Just please leave me alone."&lt;br /&gt;"No I wont!"&lt;br /&gt;"You jerk, stop stalking me!"&lt;br /&gt;"Then you tell your paedophile dad to stop harassing my sister!!!"&lt;br /&gt;"Brynn...you don't have a sister...Who is this?"&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, have you seen any good movies lately?" &lt;br /&gt;"Hahahahahahah what?"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm bored, and I can't be bothered to look up the listings. Tell me a good movie." &lt;br /&gt;"But WHO ARE YOU?"&lt;br /&gt;"You know what? You're just wasting my time...you won't even tell me a good movie.&lt;br /&gt;"Hahahahahah lol"&lt;br /&gt;"This isn't funny. I'm hanging up."&lt;br /&gt;"Nooooooo!! You're wayy cooler than Brynn! Who ARE you?"&lt;br /&gt;"Spongebob" &lt;br /&gt;"OOEE EMMM GEEE!!! I LOVE SPONGEBOB!!!"&lt;br /&gt;"So you have the most retarded name and you're a dumb blonde. Perfect."&lt;br /&gt;"hahahaha noooo!! I'm not a dumb blonde!!"&lt;br /&gt;"Yawn." &lt;br /&gt;"Do you even know Brynn?"&lt;br /&gt;"No."&lt;br /&gt;"You're sooo much cooler than him though!"&lt;br /&gt;"I have a girlfriend."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, but we can be besties!"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm actually reading a book..."&lt;br /&gt;"..and brynn is my ex-boyfriend."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, cool. Hey do you want Brynn's number? So you can tell him to stop callin you..."&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah sure..." (Note her stupidity. I just said like a sec ago I dont know wtf Brynn is)&lt;br /&gt;"949-800-255" (AIDS hotline, California)&lt;br /&gt;"Thanks!"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, I have to go now. You take care!"&lt;br /&gt;"Ohkayy...byee!"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, that really did happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-8340685078601603440?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/8340685078601603440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/like-i-said-weirdest-fucking-thing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8340685078601603440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8340685078601603440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/like-i-said-weirdest-fucking-thing.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-7546484712128261774</id><published>2009-03-24T07:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T08:10:39.879-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Morning Anky</title><content type='html'>There's robots everywhere. The destruction of the world is imminent. I'm a bit confused as to why America's newest stealth bombers are flapping their wings as if they were pigeons. The robots are coming after me. I'm all alone in my house. This doesn't even look like my house. I'm bathed in a mild panic of fear and confusion. What the fuck is going on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, out of nowhere I find myself being hoisted into the air with mechanical precision. The grip around my neck suddenly tightens as I feel the cold touch of metal. Then, a bald guy walks in. He introduces himself as the ruler of the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What the fuck?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He introduces the whirring claw around my neck as Samantha 2000, his wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What the fuck?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's a robot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He tells me he's going to ask me this once, and once only. If I don't answer correctly, he will have me killed without a second thought. I believe him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What is the name of your girlfriend's classteacher?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Yo, Ankit! Wake up! You have class in like...8 minutes"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Shut up, baldy! You're just pissed off that Samantha won't take it in the ass from you." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Huh?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Oh, sorry. I got you mixed up with someone else. What time is....SHIITTTTT!!!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I throw on the same shirt I've been wearing for the past week, hurriedly brush my teeth, grab a jacket and bolt out the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exactly 7 seconds later, I return. I forgot to fix my hair. &lt;strong&gt;Must always look sharp.&lt;/strong&gt; Or messy. Whatever your style is, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just realized, I spend 10 minutes every morning, not disciplining my hair, but actually trying to make it look like my head was hit with a howitzer cannon. Strange world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walk over to my friend to pick up the day's copied homework. I am a leech. A parasite. I've been living off other people's efforts for as long as I can remember in my college life. And I seem to have made a pretty good living of it, too. A normal person would probably feel some pang of guilt, a flicker of consciousness, a late-night visit from God - to tell him he was wrong, but not me. You see, the fact that I'm Indian overrides everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being American gives you a free pass to Europe.&lt;br /&gt;Being a rockstar gives you a free pass to drunk pissing on the streets&lt;br /&gt;Being Indian gives you a free pass to being an asshole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's as simple as that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This very privelage will now allow me to walk into my class 30 minutes late; like I own it. ha-HA. (Because after I did my hair, I sat down to blog - philosophically)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm on the path to self improvement, though. I've decided to dilute the acid a bit. You know, do something other than convince my friends to do my homework, while I sit home watching Rock of Love bus on TV. (Addictive show)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah yes, watch out for my post on the perils of American TV in the near future, only shortly after the post on the perils of American fast food. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yayness! Excitement :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next time I'm going to tell you guys about the weirdest fucking thing that happened to me the other night. Stay tuned! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-7546484712128261774?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/7546484712128261774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/good-morning-anky.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7546484712128261774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7546484712128261774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/good-morning-anky.html' title='Good Morning Anky'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-2530489105308332614</id><published>2009-03-21T23:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T23:24:44.965-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Miss You</title><content type='html'>Whoever you are, reading this post, you've touched me in an intangible way. Thanks for that. And tonight, I'm missing you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm miss my girlfriend, who is now back in her hometown after a whirlwind Spring break here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my family. My mom who wanted to be all strong and never told me how much she's going to miss me when I'm gone, but went and told the parents of all my friends how I was her only son and it was breaking her heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my dad who refused to eat pani puri on his anniversary, because it was my favourite food and I'm being starved of Indian food here :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course Grandma and Grandad who say that my ghost haunts their lives everyday in the now empty house :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you guys, who'd made my life so amazing in the hellhole that we call Mumbai. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I come here, and all the Indian kids are a bunch of pretentious, bitchy faggots whose sole purpose in life is to out-alphamale the other guy. I now realise how great you all are =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, I'm doing a whole lot of missing right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So fitting that Wish You Were Here is the next song on my iPod xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tjingtjing&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-2530489105308332614?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/2530489105308332614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-miss-you.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2530489105308332614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2530489105308332614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-miss-you.html' title='I Miss You'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-2667775777829410715</id><published>2009-03-21T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T22:24:54.969-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Midnight Ranting</title><content type='html'>One thing I've realised, is that sorrow can make you very philosophical. (And Himay, that just means that I spout more bullshit than usual, and coat it with fancy words and my trademark sarcasm.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I come from a place that has been dogged by poverty, gang-wars, sexism, religious issues, corruption and of course terrorism. Slumdog Millionaire does not tell the whole tale, but it darn well tells a good part of it. One of the many faces. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I live in a place that has 300 days of sunshine every year. There's bald eagles and squirrels and sprinklers and sand everywhere. 6-lane highways, wide open spaces, disney world. It really should be the American dream. Or the American-Indian dream; rather. Since at one point or the other, every Indian person dreams of living on this hallowed soil. It is a no-brainer, given what you just read above. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there's a viciously ugly side to Uncle Sam. For most people, as soon as they land here, they're swiftly pigeon-holed into a sweepingly generalized box. Imagine a huge broom, tossing little ol' miniscule you into a dark place, and that is what you will spend the next 4 years of your life trying to wrestle out of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're sadists and hypocrites. Both of us. We may have strikingly different skin, we may have hugely different tolerance to ultra violet light, but that's about it. We're both constantly fighting stereotypes and generalizations, and then we settle comfortably into our respective mobs and proceed to whitewash the days' progress. Pakis, Blacks, Whites, Mexicans, Asians. We love to pin labels. Why not humans; for a change?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot wait before I can get the fuck out of this hellhole, to a place that I feel comfortable at. Daytona Beach is certainly not it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was your thought for today :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I just realized how fucked I am with Integration :( I'm going to get pwn'd. Tudeles!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-2667775777829410715?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/2667775777829410715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/midnight-ranting.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2667775777829410715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2667775777829410715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/midnight-ranting.html' title='Midnight Ranting'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-5385051271836683826</id><published>2009-03-21T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T21:46:15.575-07:00</updated><title type='text'>F*** my life</title><content type='html'>Yes, few things have been invented by the human race that are as potent and headslappingly hilarious as http://fmylife.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're ever down, don't hesitate to swiftly make your way to this site. It is, hands down, the best shit I've read in a while. And I read a lot of shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some of the best ones I've found:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/sex/153070" class="fmllink"&gt;Today, I was sitting in class and I fell asleep during the lesson.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/sex/153070" class="fmllink"&gt;  I was wearing sweatpants and had an erection.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/sex/153070" class="fmllink"&gt;  My teacher came up to me and grabbed my penis.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/sex/153070" class="fmllink"&gt;  She thought it was my phone.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/sex/153070" class="fmllink"&gt; FML&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;----------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/sex/21600" class="fmllink"&gt;Today, I heard my sister masturbating in her room.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/sex/21600" class="fmllink"&gt; I took the dog around the block to get out of the house, and I came back to see her leaving her room.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/sex/21600" class="fmllink"&gt;.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/sex/21600" class="fmllink"&gt;.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/sex/21600" class="fmllink"&gt; my electric toothbrush in her hand.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/sex/21600" class="fmllink"&gt; FML&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;---------------&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/love/163888" class="fmllink"&gt;Today, my boyfriend told me he couldn't hang out with me because he felt really sick.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/love/163888" class="fmllink"&gt; I went to his house anyway to surprise him with homemade soup.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/love/163888" class="fmllink"&gt; I walk in to his room only to find him hooking up with my sister.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/love/163888" class="fmllink"&gt; She can't drive, our mom drove her there.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/love/163888" class="fmllink"&gt; FML&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;---------------&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/miscellaneous/11340" class="fmllink"&gt;Today, I was having sex with my boyfriend.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/miscellaneous/11340" class="fmllink"&gt; When he was about to orgasm, he screamed "Yes Brittany!" at the top of his lungs.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/miscellaneous/11340" class="fmllink"&gt; My name's not Brittany.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/miscellaneous/11340" class="fmllink"&gt; That's his sister.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fmylife.com/miscellaneous/11340" class="fmllink"&gt; FML&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-5385051271836683826?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/5385051271836683826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/f-my-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5385051271836683826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5385051271836683826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/f-my-life.html' title='F*** my life'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-8724849978647677660</id><published>2009-03-20T17:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T17:21:56.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh dear god</title><content type='html'>I just found a note from her under the bedcover that she had nicely arranged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Love you Doris,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3 Nemo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;...and here I go again.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;P.s&gt;I love you too, Nemo&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-8724849978647677660?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/8724849978647677660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/oh-dear-god.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8724849978647677660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8724849978647677660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/oh-dear-god.html' title='Oh dear god'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-5992505756896320251</id><published>2009-03-20T16:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T16:35:22.115-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who will console me?</title><content type='html'>I didn't know what to expect while I dragged my feet grudgingly up the steps. A sigh and a fumble later, and the key was in the door. I still didn't know how I would react, as I turned the little golden key in. With a shiver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Utter and complete devastation. That's how it feels. The first thing I notice is the stack of empty pizza boxes - that we'd had every single day for the past week; all stacked rather unkemptly one above the other. Then there's the sand all over the floor. Her pleas to apologize to my roommate for turning this place into a hurricane shelter. The sand is still fresh. The sand still itches - since the day we went to the beach. When I meekishly prodded towards the ice-cold water, away from the 40-degree sun. She crept up behind me and dunked me face first into the water. And sand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My clothes are in a neat pile by the corner. I'm not used to this. The bed's been made and my clothes are neat. My room is always a mess. Seems like she took the time to clean up a bit; as if that would make it okay for her to have left so suddenly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't handle this.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;l&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;ook to the bathroom for comfort. A release; an escape.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mercy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;But no.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; The tap is still running from our hurried showering this morning. "We have to go, Aanks." The shower smells distinctly Scandinavian. Peach-lavender breeze. I think I'm going to get sick. There's a really ugly lump in my throat that's been nagging away all day at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The converter is still in the power socket, from when she wanted to charge her laptop. "I'll get my own charger just in case, YOU KNOW ITS DIFFERENT IN AMERICA FROM SWEDEN!" I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's empty Mountain Dew cans all over the place. She'd have it with her pills, she'd have it with our daily Pizza dinner, she'd have it when we snuggled up to watch a horror movie, she'd have it when we put the TV on to make fun of that stupid Chelsea Lately show. One of the cans I see is only half empty. The lump in my throat gets bigger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Near the microwave, I see an empty packet of Indian Mithai. My mom sent those to me, a bunch of them. I only got to eat two or three. You can only guess where all the others went. Swedes love their Indian food. There's also the empty packet of Dal Makhni from when she made it for me. Please come back?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bang in the middle of the room is something I just noticed. Empty shoe boxes and shopping bags. Aeropostale, Hollister, American Eagle - they're all there. I remember the time we went to Victoria's Secret and I just sat awkwardly outside the store, repulsed at all the pink and barbie in there. I would pretend to hate shopping so we could go home and snuggle up, but I never really told her how much I loved seeing the glint in her eye when she saw a hot handbag or a nice pair of heels. The lump is now rising.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a rough day. I'm holding in my hand her half-finished bottle of diet coke, the only real thing I have to hold on to from earlier today. It was rough. Heartwrenching. Mindnumbing. I held her for hours. And hours. And we checked her in and held on and on. It was 20 minutes before her flight, and I still wouldn't let her go. Her eyes were bloodshot red. She'd been crying constantly the last 18 hours. My throat hurt. My voice was hoarse from singing all those songs of her leaving me, trying to lighten her spirits. I didn't shed a single tear, until it was time to let go of her hand as she walked toward the plane.  Not a single one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I broke down. Harder and worse than I'd ever expected or imagined. I haven't cried in years. I don't cry. But I did. I wept like a little baby. And I'm not even ashamed of it. Summer can't come soon enough. She showed me probably the best week of my life; I'm going to return the favor when I get to Stockholm. I promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for now, I'm in this room that's stuck in time, stuck at the morning of today, stuck at cries of happiness and laughter. And I'm stuck with nothing but an ever increasing workload, a paper and a pen, and a lot of acid humor.   &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-5992505756896320251?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/5992505756896320251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/who-will-console-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5992505756896320251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5992505756896320251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/03/who-will-console-me.html' title='Who will console me?'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-4899906015984153040</id><published>2009-02-28T03:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T03:31:32.779-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I'm back from my hiatus, and it would have truly taken something so incredibly fucked up to bring me back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just spent the last 4 hours watching Parental Control. How retarded is that? O_o&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-4899906015984153040?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/4899906015984153040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/so-im-back-from-my-hiatus-and-it-would.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/4899906015984153040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/4899906015984153040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/so-im-back-from-my-hiatus-and-it-would.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-4057098735007907411</id><published>2009-02-15T12:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T12:58:27.790-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>मैंने आज से वचन लिया है की मई अब सिर्फ़ हिन्दी में ही पोस्ट करूँगा।&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;हिन्दी हमारी राष्ट्रभाषा है, और हमें इसका रोज़ इस्तमाल करना चाहिए।&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;और ठंडे पानी से नहाना चाहिए।&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-4057098735007907411?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/4057098735007907411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-post_2882.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/4057098735007907411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/4057098735007907411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-post_2882.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-1983280716438059915</id><published>2009-02-15T12:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T12:51:53.575-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>गूगल ट्रांस्लितेरेशन इस अ जोअक ।&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-1983280716438059915?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/1983280716438059915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-post_15.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1983280716438059915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1983280716438059915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-post_15.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-553764768613144620</id><published>2009-02-15T12:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T12:48:58.958-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>हाहा अवेसोमे इ कैन नो राइट इन हिन्दी ओं माय अवेसोमे ब्लॉग। ल्म्फाओ।&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;एंड नोन ऑफ़ यू क्नोव वहत थे फुक्क इ'म व्रितिंग नो।&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;हहहहहहः।&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ठाट वास अ लौगह।&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;इ'म अच्तुअल्ली सो फुच्किंग बोर्ड ठाट आईएम हविंग तो टाइप थिस सहित इन हिन्दी.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-553764768613144620?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/553764768613144620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/553764768613144620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/553764768613144620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-2090549403025487008</id><published>2009-02-12T23:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T23:54:00.943-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Women, women, women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had my share of weird experiences with the illogical sex before, but that was really just quite something else. Of all the books I'd want to write someday, chick logic would be the top of my list always. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, it's time to stake out. It might be a very lonely valentines day in the end. Or maybe I'll decide to creep out of my hole for the first time in the last 3 weeks. Don't hold your breath for it though. I'll probably spend the long weekend watching Mythbusters on TV. Or playing Red Alert 3. Blood and gore on Valentine's weekend. How romantic. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-2090549403025487008?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/2090549403025487008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/women-women-women.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2090549403025487008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2090549403025487008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/women-women-women.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-617965280174639786</id><published>2009-02-11T22:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T23:14:15.553-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wargames</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Apparently my roomie is a bit of a prankster. He went into the other hall and fucked up some guys room. So the other guy decided it was a great time to take a piss on our door. Our fuckin' door. And then he left a bottle full of leftover diseased-ridden piss and tipped it on our door. So when my roomie opened it, there was piss all over him. Lmao &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-617965280174639786?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/617965280174639786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/wargames.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/617965280174639786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/617965280174639786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/wargames.html' title='Wargames'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-1385189964967596261</id><published>2009-02-11T08:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T08:03:03.298-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I surprise myself sometimes. I almost cried today because I got a B on a grammar test. Lol, I'm such a stuck up nerd. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-1385189964967596261?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/1385189964967596261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-surprise-myself-sometimes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1385189964967596261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1385189964967596261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-surprise-myself-sometimes.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-1640208300352146642</id><published>2009-02-08T21:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T21:35:10.534-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Almost Maradona</title><content type='html'>"...Anky receives the ball just behind the half-way line. The crowd cheer him on as he turns around to face goal. Anky is flawlessly upto speed already. He charges at goal, full steam! Rajan dives into intercept...ooooh! Beautifully done by Anky! A swivel of the hips and he jinks past the despairing defender! Oooh! He does it again! Anky is running riot here! Surely a goal here!!! Anky is one on one with the keeper, he's about to shoot! He has to score! He aims for the corneerrrr!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and the ball gets stuck in the mud."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-1640208300352146642?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/1640208300352146642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/almost-maradona.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1640208300352146642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1640208300352146642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/almost-maradona.html' title='Almost Maradona'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-5416716803004750268</id><published>2009-02-08T21:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T21:31:03.842-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Junkyard Wars</title><content type='html'>My roommate was looking for something today. Hence, he gathered the courage to look under my bed. Big mistake. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My jaw hung low as he proceeded to pull out about a dozen k-mart plastic bags, our long lost vaccuum cleaner, his Physics text book, my student employment forms, my iPod headphones, a bunch of tissue rolls, a sock, a hairband (lolwtf?), a toothbrush, a bunch of hair, the lock i'd lost long ago, and two weeks worth of underwear. Everything you could possibly imagine. There was only one thing that was left. And my mouth went dry again when he handed me the kitchen sink.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-5416716803004750268?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/5416716803004750268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/junkyard-wars.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5416716803004750268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5416716803004750268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/junkyard-wars.html' title='Junkyard Wars'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-258678588262536395</id><published>2009-02-07T22:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T22:31:54.104-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This Can Only Happen in America</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;So me, Manfred and Fernando are in Manfred's very cramped up 2 seater car. It's 1 am and it's chilly outside. We just got out of a movie and we pass a Taco Bell on the way. I can't resist the urge. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"DUDE, cmon pull into the Drive-thru! I need to get something to eat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...we pull up, and we're deciding what to eat. There's this middle-aged woman standing in front of the microphone. She starts talking as soon as our car arrives on the spot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woman: "Hey, I'll have two burritos."&lt;br /&gt;Taco guy: "I'm sorry ma'am, we don't take walk-up orders at this time"&lt;br /&gt;Woman: "Do I look like I give a fuck?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Doesn't work ma'am, I've tried that before."&lt;br /&gt;Woman: "Awww :( Well I walked here because I'm too drunk to drive anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- At this point, Manfred's eyes light up. I'm in a state of shock at the quickness of his hormones. And also, as an afterthought, SHE'S PROBABLY 45 YEARS OLD!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manfred: "We could buy it for you miss"&lt;br /&gt;Woman: "Awww, thanks :) (Into speaker: "See? FUCK YOU! They're buying it for me!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, I'm just going like WHAT THE HELL? and Fernando is in splits laughing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and Manfred is hell bent on getting laid tonight. I make the wise decision to make Fernando record the whole thing on video. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this point, there's a whole truckload of cars waiting behind us in the drive-thru, but surprisingly these ultra-civil Yanks just sat there. No honking, no nothing, while my South American friend tried to pick up a wrinkly blonde  45 year old. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...I love your outfit..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just at that point, the woman's drunk(er) friend walks up. She looks as if she walked out of Mowgli and Jungle book, or something. Her hair is all frizzy and blonde, and her skin looks like it's going thru global warming. Fernando is loving this. Manfred is probably throbbing at this point lol. He turns to us and goes "Duude, she is sooo dooable!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Manfred, this woman isn't younger. She's probably 40, at least."&lt;br /&gt;Manfred: "Yeah but I'd do her"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The new woman is apparently quite promiscuous. First thing she does is lean into our window, and introduce herself, just like any other classy, self respecting woman at 1 am on the street. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hi, I'm trisha, and this is my friend torrie! We're T-N-T!"&lt;br /&gt;Me and Fernando: "Hahahahahahahahahahha what the fuck!!!???"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the chick looks at me and goes "oooooh you look like troubleee!!! ooommggg torrie he's so cute! can I please take you home??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...Fuck no."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manfred still wants to get laid though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later they walk off and Manfred jumps out the front door, hands the keys to Fernando and takes off after them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and Fernando decide this is too good to miss, so he takes out his camera phone and we screw the take away and head on to where the 'party' is at. We go around and get to Manfred. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Hey dude, did you find 'em?"&lt;br /&gt;Him: "Yeah..."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "...?"&lt;br /&gt;Him: "They're over there...go karting."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please excuse me while I laugh myself to sleep. Two drunk women, old enough to be grandmas go-karting at 1 am. Stuff of legend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-258678588262536395?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/258678588262536395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/this-can-only-happen-in-america.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/258678588262536395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/258678588262536395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/this-can-only-happen-in-america.html' title='This Can Only Happen in America'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-2198257222380179730</id><published>2009-02-05T04:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T04:42:11.818-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Today's weather</title><content type='html'>Active Advisory: Freeze Warning, Hard Freeze Warning, Wind Chill Warning,  Fire Weather Warning (US Severe Weather)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite fitting that I'm walking into a stormy Math exam in a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Florida.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-2198257222380179730?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/2198257222380179730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/todays-weather.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2198257222380179730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2198257222380179730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/todays-weather.html' title='Today&apos;s weather'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-1426551550108801134</id><published>2009-02-04T04:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T04:21:18.571-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stone Cold</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Temperature forecast for your area:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daytona Beach, Florida-32114.&lt;br /&gt;Today, mostly clear skies, temperature: -4 degrees celsius.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please kill me now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.s&gt; I just realised that there's about 10 chicks who follow my blog that I know of. I feel soo like the Backstreet Boys. Lmao&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-1426551550108801134?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/1426551550108801134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/stone-cold.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1426551550108801134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1426551550108801134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/stone-cold.html' title='Stone Cold'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-424606555481995391</id><published>2009-02-03T13:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T13:34:37.277-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tied down</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SYi4ZsKUuWI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ym9guw062mY/s1600-h/screenie+(2).jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SYi4ZsKUuWI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ym9guw062mY/s400/screenie+(2).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298687713092090210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent 2 full hours today, trying to tie a tie. I shit you not, there is zero exaggeration here, I spent 2 full hours, pulling that stupid silky shit from one end to the other, and then back, and then back to where I started in the first place. I have never known anything as frustrating and irritating &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, my loving girlfriend is always there to document my sorrows, and watch me burn helplessly. (Not as much as Tanvi's 5 friends who follow this blog, though. You know who you are. Sickos!) Well she didn't really watch me burn, but rather giggled, smirked and slapped her head while I burned. It was pretty damn frustrating. Obviously, what's a man's sorrow without a few pictures? I shall shamelessly steal a couple of pictures off Julia's blog with the scintillating 'print screen' button. If you haven't used it yet folks, try it. It's awesomeness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-424606555481995391?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/424606555481995391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/tied-down.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/424606555481995391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/424606555481995391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/tied-down.html' title='Tied down'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/SYi4ZsKUuWI/AAAAAAAAAAw/ym9guw062mY/s72-c/screenie+(2).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-1730285490690629847</id><published>2009-02-03T01:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T01:26:59.944-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tidbit for today:</title><content type='html'>ancki Skunkworks casanovic | says:&lt;br /&gt;SHIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*help ancki Skunkworks casanovic | says:&lt;br /&gt;DO U KNOW ANY VECTOR CALCULUS, YOU PSYCHOPATHIC BITCH!!!??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shruti says:&lt;br /&gt;F*** off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Goes offline-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lmao&lt;br /&gt;I crack myself up sometimes :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-1730285490690629847?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/1730285490690629847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/tidbit-for-today.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1730285490690629847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1730285490690629847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/tidbit-for-today.html' title='Tidbit for today:'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-1165264256576611847</id><published>2009-02-01T03:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T03:11:55.059-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mmhm, feels good to be waking up at 5:59 a.m</title><content type='html'>...as opposed to usually hitting the hay at this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I have some news for you peoples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am on the path to self improvement.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll leave a moment for that to sink in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the mission for today, is to completely eradicate fillers from my speech. It's almost exactly (lol) 6 am at the moment, and my job is to go without fillers for the whole day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are fillers? Why, thought you'd never ask! Today, I'm working on my voice and delivery, so, first of all; all the errs, umms, y'knows, likes HAVE TO GO! Then.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-oh crap, my roomie just walked in and I just broke all the rules :( This is going to be harder than I thought-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..so where was I? Yeah, I have to get rid of those fillers. Then, I'm going to call random people out of a phone book, and ask for movie recommendations. THAT, is part of a bet. If I can get 3 completely unknown people to recomment me a movie, I win. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's going to be fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-1165264256576611847?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/1165264256576611847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/mmhm-feels-good-to-be-waking-up-at-559.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1165264256576611847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1165264256576611847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/02/mmhm-feels-good-to-be-waking-up-at-559.html' title='Mmhm, feels good to be waking up at 5:59 a.m'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-8308925726157854518</id><published>2009-01-31T22:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T22:57:42.508-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Can you believe I woke up at 6 in the evening today? Lmao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life's good so far. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I wake up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's 16 missed calls from the paranoid girlfriend xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And 21 from the paranoid mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahaha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brilliant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-8308925726157854518?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/8308925726157854518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/can-you-believe-i-woke-up-at-6-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8308925726157854518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8308925726157854518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/can-you-believe-i-woke-up-at-6-in.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-3342079348405638634</id><published>2009-01-30T22:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T22:04:42.297-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Homesickness hits home :(</title><content type='html'>Ohhh my gawddee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I FRIGGIN' WANT THE DOSA FROM THE DOSA GUY UNDER MY HOUSE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT PANI PURI FROM SARKARI BHANDAR!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT RAGDA PATTICE FROM SRI KRISHNA!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT BUTTER IDLI AT PAPPILON!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT MASALA PAV AT AMAR JUICE CENTRE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT PAV BHAJI SANDWICH AT THE GUY OPPOSITE RUSHABHS HOUSE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT MARUTI :'(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT COCONUT PUNCH OR SUMMER COOL OR WATERMELON JUICE FROM THE GUY UNDER MY HOUSE :'(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT COCONUT WATER&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT INDIAN FOOOOOOOOOOOOD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA :'( :'( :'(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-3342079348405638634?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/3342079348405638634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/homesickness-hits-home.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/3342079348405638634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/3342079348405638634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/homesickness-hits-home.html' title='Homesickness hits home :('/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-1683497127720342034</id><published>2009-01-30T08:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T08:20:44.061-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Red Bull gives you wings.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;...but I figured I'd need a fuckin' jetpack to get to school on time today. So I had 3. But I made it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This chick called Michelle Hamm gave a speech today. She's a Riddle graduate (obviously) and works at NASA to train astronauts to live on the International Space Station. Pretty cool huh? She has a really inspiring story, but the moral of it all is,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can only succeed at what you do if you're passionate about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...which means I'm in big trouble with Vectors in 3 dimensions, differential equations and tangential velocities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big time Computer Exam in an hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodles ;-) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-1683497127720342034?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/1683497127720342034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/red-bull-gives-you-wings.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1683497127720342034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1683497127720342034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/red-bull-gives-you-wings.html' title='Red Bull gives you wings.'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-7560391570479866442</id><published>2009-01-29T03:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T03:47:29.587-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Social Experiment No.XX</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Believe me when I tell you that I have not showered for - 3 days now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I've not decided to become Florida's mosquito breeding farm. Far from it, infact. This is actually part of a social experiment I've decided to take on. (ask me for info about it if you want to know more) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, another reason is that I have no clothes. I gave up on laundrying sometime ago because I live on the 3rd floor and the walkway-bridge to classes is on the 2nd floor and the laundry place is on the first floor. A busy and sincere student like me has to make compromises and sacrifices sometimes. And sometimes that involves hard choices. I mean would any of you rather do laundry or watch Comedy Central?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hmm, now that you put it like that...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Furthermore, there is the backbreaking and arduous task of tugging your baby blue laundry basket with white polka dots past the prying eyes of the engineering intelligentcia, not to mention a detergent the size of Varun Kapoor. And believe me, Varun Kapoor is heavy. Then there is of course the excruciatingly painful wait before the laundry machine. 90 minutes of uninterrupted indifference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The goddamn sound drives you nuts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Contrast THAT, with the comfort of your bed. The temperature is falling outside, but you're in your room, watching the rain hitting your window like an idiot banging his head on the wall. It's so satisfying. People are freezing to death outside, trying to get to class and...OH, DO. THEIR. LAUNDRY. While you're getting cosy with your blanket, silkily curled up in an igloo, posting on your blog, disregarding your homework and watching Family Guy on TV at 6:45 in the morning. It's a no brainer. Why do laundry?  &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-7560391570479866442?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/7560391570479866442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/social-experiment-noxx.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7560391570479866442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7560391570479866442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/social-experiment-noxx.html' title='Social Experiment No.XX'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-7737282566875070880</id><published>2009-01-28T23:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T23:56:01.374-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote Quote</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"I want to talk to you every minute of every second of every day."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-7737282566875070880?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/7737282566875070880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/quote-quote.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7737282566875070880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7737282566875070880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/quote-quote.html' title='Quote Quote'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-1696067491572213356</id><published>2009-01-27T03:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T03:25:52.587-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Does this say something to you?</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;My room is a typical teenager's college room. There's a bunch of tissue rolls just lying around, a pillow near the foot of my bed on the floor, an opened pack of cheez-its lying on the desk, an empty cup of garlic pasta that I never bothered to throw away...and, of course, clothes. Lots of them. All over the place. My jeans hangs from the top of my study table, obnoxiously covering my awesome girlfriend's picture (sorry jules ^^) There's plastic wrappers all over the place, all concocted with shorts and pants and more tissue rolls and smelly socks. And there's bottles. Bottles of milk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WAIT! FREEZE FRAME!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bottles of milk? What the fuck? I'm 17 years old. I'm a college student. And yet, hmm. There's...1..2..3..4..ohmygod..5..6 bottles of milk I see as I look around me. They're all empty. Obviously. They're in assorted flavors.(only 2% fat, of course)Strawberry, plain, chocolate, banana...you name it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well...I CANT HELP IT OK!!!??? MILK IS GOOD. Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that's all I'm going to be able to manage on until my id arrives in a week :P &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-1696067491572213356?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/1696067491572213356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/does-this-say-something-to-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1696067491572213356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/1696067491572213356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/does-this-say-something-to-you.html' title='Does this say something to you?'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-610115771329628397</id><published>2009-01-27T03:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T03:18:26.578-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;What am I doing in front of a computer screen at 6:09 am?&lt;br /&gt;My career is going nowhere. &lt;br /&gt;They asked me to write my resume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what I handed in? &lt;br /&gt;A blank page. &lt;br /&gt;So the employer can fill it up for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lmao! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Dr. Zeigler gave me +5 for creativity, and another +5 for being a wise guy, but that still doesn't change the fact that I'm basically nowhere. So I'm going to start my improvement from today :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a first step, I joined the Skydiving club.&lt;br /&gt;I shit you not, Embry-Riddle has a skydiving club. And I'm in it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that really was hilarious, the thing with the chick saying I'm disturbing and all xD She didn't really mean it, of course, but I couldn't stop laughing at the kind of picture we paint of ourselves to foreigners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-610115771329628397?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/610115771329628397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-am-i-doing-in-front-of-computer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/610115771329628397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/610115771329628397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-am-i-doing-in-front-of-computer.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-3236043182227168827</id><published>2009-01-26T21:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T21:32:52.847-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I was at the Study Abroad office today. Yes folks, even though I'm abroad already, I want to study abroader :D There's so many fkin' desis here that it doesn't even feel like America. Anyway, I digress. I'm talking to this girl who's name resembles that of a popular tropical salad. I swear to god. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so we're talking and everything's cool. Then she asks me;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Where're you from?"&lt;br /&gt;"India ;-)"&lt;br /&gt;(Getting all happy)"Ooooh you're from India?"&lt;br /&gt;(Grinning like a maniac)"Yeah:)"&lt;br /&gt;"That explains why you're so stubborn and disturbing all the time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The grin is wiped out.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-3236043182227168827?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/3236043182227168827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/so-i-was-at-study-abroad-office-today.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/3236043182227168827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/3236043182227168827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/so-i-was-at-study-abroad-office-today.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-5425720538007748057</id><published>2009-01-24T22:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T22:31:23.202-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;So, I'm home on a Saturday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you believe that? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it wasn't always like this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Infact, until about 5 hours ago, I actually had a bit of a life! I swear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, there's this wild keg party at Pedro's house, and I'm not in it. The guy called me like twice to make sure I was coming. I told him twice that I was sure I was coming. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until today, at soccer. Some dumbfuck took a shot straight to the back of my head. And my head is still spinning. I'm still seeing stars. And that, mah friends, is the reason I had to fucking fall asleep as soon as I reached home, and SLEEP THROUGH THE FUCKING TIME WHEN MANFRED CALLED LIKE 10 TIMES TO COME DOWNSTAIRS. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH. MY. FHAAKING. GOD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If that wasn't bad enough, I'm up talking to some random stranger from Bosnia and Herzegovina and studying uniform acceleration projectiles :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...oh, and eating readymade Pav Bhaji. Yes, I slept thru dinner timee.   &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-5425720538007748057?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/5425720538007748057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/so-im-home-on-saturday-night.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5425720538007748057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5425720538007748057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/so-im-home-on-saturday-night.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-9058314610605079419</id><published>2009-01-24T01:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T01:07:08.516-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Lmao, some retard just took down all the posters and stuff off the walls in the corridors :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and wrote "FUCK YOU, YOU CUNT!!!" on the resident advisor's door xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bwa ha ha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, I just find that hilarious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-9058314610605079419?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/9058314610605079419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/lmao-some-retard-just-took-down-all.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/9058314610605079419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/9058314610605079419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/lmao-some-retard-just-took-down-all.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-5882441371471656836</id><published>2009-01-24T00:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T01:13:07.372-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;You could take a million sunrises and sunsets over pristine clouds and snow capped mountains and infinite waters.&lt;br /&gt;You could stand on top of the world and look down at everyone, and everything minding their own business with unerring oblivion. And wonder.&lt;br /&gt;You could climb a tree in the middle of a tropical rainforest and try to immerse yourself into the sound of the birds. The gentle knocking of the rain and the authoritative thunder of the clouds. Listen to the mockingbirds under the moon, or the others before the sun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heck, you might even throw them all together and paint a truly breathtaking picture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And even that, cannot beat the sight of my girlfriend when she's just woken up. She's beautiful. Like, raw beautiful.  &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and she knows the pi value to 35 decimal places. Holy fucking shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-5882441371471656836?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/5882441371471656836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/you-could-take-million-sunrises-and.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5882441371471656836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5882441371471656836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/you-could-take-million-sunrises-and.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-3996596970458248678</id><published>2009-01-22T17:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T17:27:01.263-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Interesting Conversations =)</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Hahahha &lt;br /&gt;I'm chatting on skype with my mom. &lt;br /&gt;Lmao, this is so funny! It's the first time she's chatting online&lt;br /&gt;And she finds everything so new xD Like a kid taking it's first steps&lt;br /&gt;She's making all these weird gestures&lt;br /&gt;And can't stop using emoticons xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just telling her about a conversation I had with one of her friends' daughters:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8:02pmNatasha&lt;br /&gt;then get one or get a bike&lt;br /&gt;or walk&lt;br /&gt;dont be lazy or get one of your friends to drive u&lt;br /&gt;if you have any&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:03pmAnkit&lt;br /&gt;i have no friends :(&lt;br /&gt;i have ivan whos from russia&lt;br /&gt;but my parents say he doesnt exist...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Natasha:&lt;br /&gt;Hahahahahahhahahaha &lt;br /&gt;awwwww&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ankit:&lt;br /&gt;i think ivan likes you&lt;br /&gt;but dont tell him :P&lt;br /&gt;we proised never to leak each others secrets!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:06pmNatasha&lt;br /&gt;awww does he now&lt;br /&gt;tell him that he is so sweet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ankit:&lt;br /&gt;Ivan says that being nice won't get you into his pants...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my conv. with mom:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[8:04:45 PM] ankytherulerofmankind says: hahahahaha&lt;br /&gt;[8:04:53 PM] ankytherulerofmankind says: its called a smiley or an emoticon :P&lt;br /&gt;[8:04:56 PM] ankytherulerofmankind says: and im talking to that natasha&lt;br /&gt;[8:05:02 PM] ankytherulerofmankind says: mumta auntys daughter&lt;br /&gt;[8:05:10 PM] ankytherulerofmankind says: im telling her i have no friends and all&lt;br /&gt;[8:05:33 PM] karuna desai says: she must b feeling sorry for u&lt;br /&gt;[8:05:53 PM] ankytherulerofmankind says: hahahaha&lt;br /&gt;[8:05:55 PM] ankytherulerofmankind says: yeah&lt;br /&gt;[8:05:59 PM] ankytherulerofmankind says: thats what i tell shefali also&lt;br /&gt;[8:06:03 PM] karuna desai says: hahahahahahahahahahahahah&lt;br /&gt;[8:06:13 PM] karuna desai says: hahahahahahahah&lt;br /&gt;[8:06:16 PM] karuna desai says: hahahahahah&lt;br /&gt;[8:06:19 PM] karuna desai says: hahahahaha&lt;br /&gt;[8:06:23 PM] ankytherulerofmankind says: ok mom&lt;br /&gt;[8:06:25 PM] ankytherulerofmankind says: calm down xD&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-3996596970458248678?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/3996596970458248678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/interesting-conversations.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/3996596970458248678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/3996596970458248678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/interesting-conversations.html' title='Interesting Conversations =)'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-5342749253861274323</id><published>2009-01-20T23:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T23:01:16.627-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Me: "Hey Jules, would you get grossed out if I were sitting in front of you and eating like a hog?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julzini: "Noooo."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Why?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julzini: "Because that would mean you're sitting in front of me ^^"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Awwwwwwwwww&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-5342749253861274323?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/5342749253861274323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/me-hey-jules-would-you-get-grossed-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5342749253861274323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5342749253861274323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/me-hey-jules-would-you-get-grossed-out.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-7701828480180969222</id><published>2009-01-20T21:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T21:41:56.447-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Today I got to see Julzini for the first time in like...AAAAAGEEES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well not really ages, but umm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17 days or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goddamnm that's a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd almost forgotten how fucking hot my girlfriend is until today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that was the plan. To remind me very *ahem* suddenly what is lying 5000 miles away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, she has the upper hand in all arguments, because now the power of the words &lt;strong&gt;Victoria's Secret&lt;/strong&gt; becomes terrifyingly real. She can bring me on my knees, lol. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's getting frigid cold here. I'm in Florida FFS! Why is it like 1-2 degrees &gt;_&lt; GRRRR.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, I've decorated my room with a shitload of junk. It's a mess wherever you look. It's perfect :-) It took me a long time to make it like this, but now it's just the way me likey! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao bellaz&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-7701828480180969222?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/7701828480180969222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/today-i-got-to-see-julzini-for-first.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7701828480180969222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/7701828480180969222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/today-i-got-to-see-julzini-for-first.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-6549969252084885138</id><published>2009-01-20T10:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T10:13:28.819-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Hmm, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This dirty evil college is trying to tempt me to support Barack Obama with the help of free brownies and lemonade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately they're succeeding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:( :)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-6549969252084885138?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/6549969252084885138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/hmm-this-dirty-evil-college-is-trying.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/6549969252084885138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/6549969252084885138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/hmm-this-dirty-evil-college-is-trying.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-3783617373884191389</id><published>2009-01-20T00:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T00:45:17.628-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Lol, you know those moments when you have sudden realisations?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I just had one. At 3:43 am :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my girlfriend a lot lot lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, she's in school so I can't call her and start shouting how much I love her xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'll just leave it here, where she'll read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I LOVE YOU JULIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hm.&lt;br /&gt;Now that's done, off to sleep ankypanky :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-3783617373884191389?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/3783617373884191389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/lol-you-know-those-moments-when-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/3783617373884191389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/3783617373884191389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/lol-you-know-those-moments-when-you.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-723594265783564397</id><published>2009-01-19T21:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T21:24:02.712-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Very Short Martin Luther King Day.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;So apparently this guy is really popular around here. Popular enough to have a public holiday in his honor. [Notice how I started spelling like a yank already?] But this is not right. Just not right. I mean, do you ever see a Remembering Joker day? I'm pretty sure Heath Ledger has touched more lives than this guy has. But I decided to honor this great man anyway by waking up at 4 in the evening :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, I was walking to the mall today after dark, you know the usual, humming along to Imagine by John Lennon and stuff, looking all cool in my sweatshirt and sneakers, when I suddenly hear a strange sound from behind me. I stopped in a cold sweat and turned around, and right there, wrapped around a short fence, were these pair of darkish green eyes staring back at me. It was a rattlesnake. The fear is paralysing. But I can tell you this, the fear of being paralysed is a heck of a lot more real! I ran like a fuckin' lunatic. I mean, can you imagine, that snake wrapping itself around you, being at it's mercy, losing all your freedom and all that you hold dear in a matter of seconds? Truly terrifying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of snakes and other such slimy, slithery things, the American free market is even worse. For those not hardened enough - those like me - it is impossible to go to the mall and not buy something totally worthless and overpriced. Here's what happened : &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I walked into this store, because they had some good music playing. So I decided to check it out. Instantly, this guy in a hoodie and surfer shorts (wow, casual dressing, much?) comes upto me and asks if he can help me. Wow, the American people really are very helpful. I tell him I appreciate that he thinks us Indians are so fucking stupid, but I'd much rather talk to somebody who actually works at the store. He says he does work at the store. Oh. In a hoodie and surfer shorts. Oh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So, can I help you, brah?"&lt;br /&gt;"Nah, just lookin' around man." &lt;br /&gt;"Are you looking around for anything in particular?"&lt;br /&gt;"No, like I said, just looking around."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I come across some nice looking caps. I'm checking one of them out. Sure enough, he's back, hounding me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, you like those caps? &lt;br /&gt;"Umm..."&lt;br /&gt;"You have really good taste. You must be Indian. I know a lotta Indians who come in here brah. They're the ones who buy all the coolest stuff. I mean, the Pakistanis, on the other hand, yeah they're really cheap. Not saying anythin', just puttin' it out there brah. So, you wanna buy that cap brah?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How much is it for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"$30"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!! 30 FUCKING DOLLARS!!!??? NO FUCKIN' WAY ASSHOLE!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But no, this is a matter of National pride now. My heart fills with patriotism and nationalistic sentiment. I have to get that cap now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, I'll have it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, sorry brah, it's $40 dollars."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...now THAT is pushing it. A little too much for a cap don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...oh, and plus tax."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, these American species are smart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-723594265783564397?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/723594265783564397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/very-short-martin-luther-king-day.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/723594265783564397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/723594265783564397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/very-short-martin-luther-king-day.html' title='A Very Short Martin Luther King Day.'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-2898172381866224562</id><published>2009-01-19T00:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T00:52:26.408-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;A collection of beautiful quotes from my nerdy friend Ion :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, I'm Ion. I'm a charged particle." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The people in this college are all of different wavelengths and frequencies."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I've been studying all day :( Tomorrow's a public holiday and I haven't even gone out :( :( :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe tomorrow?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oops, I have a shitload of work for tomorrow aswell. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got pwn'd :( &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yukhuuu&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-2898172381866224562?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/2898172381866224562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/collection-of-beautiful-quotes-from-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2898172381866224562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2898172381866224562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/collection-of-beautiful-quotes-from-my.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-8371896563882360181</id><published>2009-01-18T10:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T10:37:04.890-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hmm.&lt;br /&gt;Finish Egr 115 Homework.&lt;br /&gt;Finish Math 243 Homework&lt;br /&gt;Finish HU 143 Homework&lt;br /&gt;Finish Com 221 Homework&lt;br /&gt;Finish Com 219 Homework.&lt;br /&gt;Revise Math 241 Limits and Implicit functions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Way to spend a Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday Bloody Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long Weekend my brown ass. Anyway, I just realised how irresponsible and stupid I am, in that I lost my fucking school bag. Can you believe that? LMAO &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that funny, because it contained like $100 worth of shit xduhz&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-8371896563882360181?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/8371896563882360181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/hmm.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8371896563882360181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/8371896563882360181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/hmm.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-2580333685198278525</id><published>2009-01-17T01:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T01:23:14.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Okay,so something's wrong with my roomie. Maybe he's even drunker than me xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like 4-5 degrees outside, and Aman's over and this guy's getting out of bed and he goes "HOLY SHIT IT MUST BE LIKE 100 DEGREES IN HERE." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and takes off his shirt. Umm. Okay...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he gets in and takes off his shorts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*ALARM BELLS*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT THE FUCK!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Cue me and Aman rolling on the floor laughing*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aman : "Hey dude I'm gonna open the window."&lt;br /&gt;Roomie : "NOOOO DUUUUDE NOOOO DON'T DO IT!!!"&lt;br /&gt;Aman : "...? wtf?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now he's asking to listen to some music to go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now he just fell asleep mid sentence ;D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love drunk people xD  &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-2580333685198278525?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/2580333685198278525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/okayso-somethings-wrong-with-my-roomie.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2580333685198278525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/2580333685198278525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/okayso-somethings-wrong-with-my-roomie.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-9203194193919245391</id><published>2009-01-17T00:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T00:36:52.722-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hurray for fake IDs :D</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I'm sorry if I come across as a bit incongruent at the moment. It's just that I'm a bit drunk. No, not drunk enough to hit on guys (seen that happen) Or to piss on your resident advisor's door - seen that happen too - nah, not nearly enough. But then it does count that I kept calling Fernando as Peter Pan for some reason and Manfred a...butterfly. Lmao. It also counts that I fell over myself - twice - on my way up to the room, and it does count that I put the wrong key in the wrong door first, and then tried to swipe my college ID card over the doorknob. Come to think of it, now I know why I couldn't find the slot to swipe it. Yeah, because it was a doorknob. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I've had much to drink at all. But then again, I don't even know wtf I'd been drinking. Don't think it's something I want to try again. Not only because it makes you want to take a piss 20 times in 2 minutes, but because I was actually stupid enough to answer a call from my Dad with a bottle of godonlyknowswhat in my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Really loud hip hop music in the background*&lt;br /&gt;"Hey..how're you doing?"&lt;br /&gt;"Great dad, great. You tell me."&lt;br /&gt;"You told me you went out. It's 1:30 am over there. You home yet?"&lt;br /&gt;"Sure."&lt;br /&gt;"What're you doing?"&lt;br /&gt;"Sleeping."&lt;br /&gt;"Okay cool. You didn't...drink or anything right?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Holy shit, think of something!-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"HEY DAD!!! DID YOU DO THAT VISA THING???"&lt;br /&gt;"Eh...what visa thing?"&lt;br /&gt;"Nevermind, I'm just sleepy. Cya."&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow..."&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, bye dad"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remind me to tell you about the Fake IDs incident. I almost thought they'd deport me from the US, but then I guess it helps to be a fast runner :P  &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-9203194193919245391?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/9203194193919245391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/hurray-for-fake-ids-d.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/9203194193919245391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/9203194193919245391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/hurray-for-fake-ids-d.html' title='Hurray for fake IDs :D'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-3015276337334177628</id><published>2009-01-14T23:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T23:35:26.211-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I Insane?</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Maybe I really am going insane. I need to pick a topic to talk about for Speech class. So what'd you expect? Yeah, you know, the usual probably - abortion; domestic violence; capital punishment- all that kind of BS. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But no. Apparently college has 'refined my mind' so amazingly, that I'm actually considering speaking for 10 minutes, on 'The Comforts of Insanity' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.&lt;br /&gt;For a second there, you thought I was insane myself. I probably am, I wouldn't know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I try to show you what a warm and fuzzy thing losing your mind really is. If oblivion is bliss, you'd be living in fucking paradise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No artificial masks to put on, no hypocrisies to act and exaggerate, no judging, no need to fit in to other people's good books, no need to conform to the latest fashion tastes just because you want to impress that alpha chick who's hooking you up with fake IDs. It's become a sad place to live, humanity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much so that I'm almost envious of the lunatics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, in the words of a very wise man,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no Dark Side of The Moon really, matter of fact it's all dark. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And that is all.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-3015276337334177628?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/3015276337334177628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/am-i-insane.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/3015276337334177628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/3015276337334177628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/am-i-insane.html' title='Am I Insane?'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-4862561500701944989</id><published>2009-01-13T22:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T22:58:08.408-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Imagine</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Imagine there's no heaven,&lt;br /&gt;It's easy if you try.&lt;br /&gt;No hell below us;&lt;br /&gt;Above us, only sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine all the people,&lt;br /&gt;Living for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine there's no country,&lt;br /&gt;It isn't hard to do.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing to kill, or die for&lt;br /&gt;And no religion too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine all the people,&lt;br /&gt;Living life in peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may say I'm a dreamer,&lt;br /&gt;But I'm not the only one.&lt;br /&gt;I hope someday, you'll join us&lt;br /&gt;And the world will be one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine no posession,&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if you can.&lt;br /&gt;No need for greed or hunger,&lt;br /&gt;A brotherhood of man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine all the people,&lt;br /&gt;Sharing all the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may say I'm a dreamer,&lt;br /&gt;But I'm not the only one.&lt;br /&gt;I hope someday, you'll join us&lt;br /&gt;And the world will live as one.  &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-4862561500701944989?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/4862561500701944989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/imagine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/4862561500701944989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/4862561500701944989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/imagine.html' title='Imagine'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-3702246269047271211</id><published>2009-01-13T22:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T22:32:13.378-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's 1:24 am. We're hosting a Desi union in our room. 3 Indians and 2 Pakistanis. Right now these people are watching a Punjabi dubbing of Spiderman 2. I mean WHAT THE FUCK!! It's fuckin' hilarious though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just had a big ass burrito from Einstein's. My 3rd today lmao. Seriously, I'm going to be obese by the time I'm outta here. Good thing I went working out today then :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it's 4 months today for me and Julezini :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, as I say at the end of every month, it feels like only yesterday, yet it feels like I've known her forever. Can't wait until she comes over. Wish she could get Mr. Morris with her though, that'd be paradise xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you Julezini ^)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's frustrating I can't get my phone to work. I want to show you guys pics of Daytona Beach, of the *ahem* sights and sounds, and my awesome ass room :D and the awesome ass campus :D and all that shnitzel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's going to have to wait. The RA and Pakistanis are busting on my roommate for masturbating 2 hours every day in the shower. Fuckin' hilarious lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-3702246269047271211?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/3702246269047271211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/its-124-am.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/3702246269047271211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/3702246269047271211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/its-124-am.html' title=''/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-372227841684050307</id><published>2009-01-13T18:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T18:31:31.975-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What I Learned Today.</title><content type='html'>Speech Class is going to be a total bitch. It's sooo freakin' hard to not cower behind the safety of that podium that it's not even funny. You wouldn't expect to hear this, but my legs were shaking and my hands were anything but steady. Which means I have stage fright. Oh well; I'll get over it ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Homework's a bitch. It takes like hours everyday to just finish that shit, leave alone studying something. This means that I can't party 24x7 like I hoped I could. Even if I did, come to think of it, I'd be partying alone, LOL. Don't come to Embry-Riddle if you're looking for the 'total college experience' :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's going to be 4 months with Julia in a couple of hours =) I love my girlfriend ^). Hopefully everything works out and Spring Break is the most awesomeness time evaaaah :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it's easy to see why so many Yanks are obese :P I mean can you believe this? I've been eating like a retard lately. I mean just gobbling up anything that moves. [Or doesn't move, since I'm vegetarian.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There isn't much more to talk about today, except that I just woke up from 5 hours of sleep, LOL. I must be the youngest and laziest person on campus. But oh well, if I'm going to fail every class miserably, might as well do it well rested, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-372227841684050307?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/372227841684050307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-i-learned-today.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/372227841684050307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/372227841684050307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-i-learned-today.html' title='What I Learned Today.'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-5753958005604917058</id><published>2009-01-13T10:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T11:07:39.859-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shoot The Messenger</title><content type='html'>It's kind of sad I think, when a man is so involved in his own agendas and theories that he conveniently loses sight of his own flaws. It can get so bad that they will even neglect gaping holes in their 'brilliant insightful thinking'. Causes them to lose a few well meaning friends too, as an afterthought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, it's been a good ride while it lasted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to more cheerful things now, I'm just hoping to have my phone connected to the laptop soon, and then I can have el brilliente pics of Uni on my el bloggo :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was awesome, though. Apparently my roomie, Angad [who is a cool Indian-American dude] got hold of a two way radio and called the Air Traffic Control tower and told them to clear the runways because Barack Obama's plane wants to land so the President can take a shit. Lmao&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They should call this place the &lt;em&gt;Weirdass States of America  &lt;/em&gt;though. Me and Fernando-A Spaniard friend of mine (he's a fucking bastard xD, like me.) walked over to Burger King at 12:25 am. Obviously the main thingee was closed, but the drive-thru was open. And we were STAAAAARVING. So anyway, we awkwardly walk up to the vending window, and the guy is like, oh sorry we can't give you anything. You need a car to order here. And I'm like WHAT THE FUCK!!!??? I'M HUNGRY YOU FUCKING FAGGOT. I NEED TO EAT!!! HOW DOES IT MATTER WHETHER I HAVE A CAR OR NOT!!??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that's it for now. I'm meeting Nando at Starbucks in a bit. Hmm. Wonder how long it is till I get to Taco Bell finally? :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-5753958005604917058?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/5753958005604917058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/shoot-messenger.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5753958005604917058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5753958005604917058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/shoot-messenger.html' title='Shoot The Messenger'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6030936979387221903.post-5027961416068701499</id><published>2009-01-13T04:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T04:52:14.242-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey, losers.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Obviously you're new here. Well I am too. So let's start off here. I'm writing this so I have a written memoir of my not so ideal American college experience. It's not the kind of 24x7 party-school I thought it'd be, but sure is a blast. Last night some guy stuck a girls' pink underwear on the wall of the lift. And a teacher walked in. That was fuckin' hilarious. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anyway, I'm habitually late for my early morning class. We're going to have a lot of fun, you and me. I'll be seein' ya. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Toodles.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6030936979387221903-5027961416068701499?l=garlicandsnails.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/feeds/5027961416068701499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/hey-losers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5027961416068701499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6030936979387221903/posts/default/5027961416068701499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://garlicandsnails.blogspot.com/2009/01/hey-losers.html' title='Hey, losers.'/><author><name>ankypanky</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10866547420952784560</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tmRGPtsLcrQ/Sk_NbAzOjZI/AAAAAAAAACk/ud_jBXBH2XA/S220/041.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
