Welcome to Bloggerville

Nah, I'm not welcoming any of you. Just myself, cos as is obvious, this is my very first blog...ever. That is of course not saying you aren't welcome here, cos otherwise I will be writing like a moron with no one giving a rat's ***. So, lemme put out a doormat right now and welcome you too. This first blog will be, simply put, just a rant. No point, no target, no whim.

I have always been intrigued by people who write blogs, and always told myself "Blogs arent for me! I will read them, but never write one." I held this opinion that people who write blogs are those who have either a lot of spare time, or have few around who would hear them out often, or even those who are unable to express views or thoughts freely in any other manner. I for one, run up the longest phone bills I have ever seen (Dear friend Rajan, I've never hit 8 grand, but on an average Im still ahead!), which implies I was mostly found on the phone, talking to my girl, or my sister, or my mom, or my bro, or my dad, or my friends, or ..well, you know. I never felt the need to express myself more. Until now. Cos Im now a Stranger in a Strange Land (ala Iron Maiden), where I have come leaving my family and friends behind. No one will simply listen to me, unless its a bartender getting a kick out of getting me drunk and him tip-rich. Sadly, I'm a teetotaller. I can't simply pick up the phone and call someone and hope they talk to me, unless I call a party-line where bimbos get paid to giggle and talk dirty. Again, this is an assumption, I've never used this service.

Yeah, I've already painted a good picture of myself haven't I? Squeaky clean. Maybe even irritatingly squeaky. You know, like when you rub a faintly damp tissue on a mirror. And maybe you wanna pity me too by now. Boohoo, somebody stole this kid's phone. Someone get him a new one, so he can get the hell out of bloggerville. But, alas, Im here to stay! Or so I say, for now, I'll let you judge whether this turns out to be one of those many things I start out enthusiastically on but never finish. Hmm, but why can't I remember one earlier instance of this when I desperately need one? C'mon jog your brain. That's the only part of your body that gets any exercise since you landed in this StrangeLand where people never walk, except to and from the car park. You know, in India, I took a home on the 6th floor, just so I could walk up and down each day. Of course, that also meant that the damn watchman always assumed I never needed the lift. He would turn it off when I would need it the most, like when I was coming to StrangeLand with 50kgs of luggage. Oh no, I am supposed to put that in pounds right? Cos citizens of StrangeLand dont understand kilos. I guess they have stopped reading this already though.

That was some meandering. I should write with more purpose. Else, my blogs are gonna end up like my phone conversations, where I talk about any damn thing that comes to my head. Let me bring your pain to an end now before you ask for an aspirin. Cos like they say in this part of StrangeLand - "I ain't got one, son!".