Hooray!! This is something I’ve been dying for ever since I started blogging. I got tagged for the FIRST TIME by none other than Mr ഞാന്; an ace-blogger-cum-friend whose Malayalam blog actually introduced me to the world of regional language bloggers!
Without further ado, lemme get on with the tag. This one’s about:
- Posting about 5 different characters you hate.
- And passing it onto five bloggers!
So here goes (not necessarily in the order of ‘hate’):
- Snobs: Everytime I see a snob, I feel like blasting him/her off with a Grenade Launcher, la’ CS! Most snobs live in a fool’s paradise; they might’ve had some exquisitely-endearing face-off with something rewarding sometime in the course of their lives. It could be anything from a wild stroke of luck to sheer talent that they feel puts them in some unique league. It’s easy to identify a snob. They bear these Don’t-ever-talk-to-me, F**k-off attitudes 24×7. Another common trait among snobs is ‘English’. Yeah, they might be exponents in their mother-tongue, but whenever they converse, be it even to the lowest-common-denominator, you’d hear nothing but an appalling imitation of a New York accent! Most snobs tend to wear out their snobbish attitude once the stroke of luck/talent subsides; merely as part of survival instinct. (Hardcore ones still cling on even when they’re out of luck!) Well, once the tables turn in their favour again, they get back in action! Observation: Most snobs are girls! 😐
- Perverts: No one’s born pervert. Perverts simply choose to go the path destiny has chosen for them! C’mon, nobody’s perfect and everyone’s a pervert in his own infinitesimally-insignificant way; but still… hardcore perverts are a threat to humanity. The very thought of perversions brings perversive tendencies to my mind, and I desist from further
perversionsoops, descriptions about perverts! 😛
- Smokers/Inebriates: Ever since my dad, a once-upon-a-time chain smoker suffered a near nervous-breakdown in mid-2005, I vowed that I’d never EVER smoke/drink! A bad tiff with intoxicated seniors at college, and an exasperating face-off with a rather ‘candid’ drunkard on train remain firmly etched in my mind everytime some wayward friend offers me a quick ‘drink’! Not that I favour prohibition and stuff; it simply violates the democratic fabric of our country. People should be able to choose between what’s good or bad for them. I have lots of friends who smoke/drink, I have nothing against them personally when I say I ‘hate’ them; it’s just this burning sensation within, rooted from part-concern and part-outrage.
- Backstabbers: These persons occupy the lowest and dingiest corners of my shit-list! Especially considering the fact that only a few hours ago, I was beguiled by a few guys who supposedly were my closest buddies . I have nothing against them, they might have their own reasons for outrageously kicking me out of what was OUR dream, but guys: you backstabbed me! The worst among backstabbers are your ‘best-friends’ who leave you when you’re desperately in their need!. In this dog-eat-dog world, it’s the survival of the fittest and some human beings would go unto any levels for survival! Someday, all those backstabbers out there will realize that what goes around comes around…
- Show-offs: Show-offs are pretty harmless. Well, if you’re not a person drawn to manic levels of psychosomatic aggression at being subject to the most atrocious of situations; you’d concur too! Be it anything from a flashy Cellular Phone, to a newly acquired piece-of-gossip; show offs simply shout it all out loud. Showing oneself off comes from the gut-urge to establish superiority by flaunting material (or other) possessions. But if the ostentatious display crosses its limit there’s a chance that the whole effort put into the planned sequence might cause adverse reactions. Here’s a real-life story:
There’s this Fruit-wholesaler at my Mom’s native place. He’s essentially a Tamil Nadar, and runs a not-exactly-profitable business. He owns three shops and two second-hand lorries. This guy’s of the same age as my mom and was her classmate at school. One fine morn, Grandfather and I make a quick visit to his place to run some urgent errand. We’re ushered in by the man, beckoning us to help ourselves in the big out-of-place sofas, while strolling airily in his drawing room. He was talking to his Nokia N73 Music Edition in rapid-fire tamil. The man was probably in line to be the first male model for the World Gold Council, with all the ten rings in his fingers and a flashy chain. He’s like:
“Dai, Muthuchaamy! Oru 8 laksham yen account ninne eduthu avanu kondungo! Namukku top-class Lorry pothum, purinjitha?”
Exasperated, we sit idly sifting through the papers for minutes on end. Which was when a “Nokia Tune”, broke in. I checked my phone, it was silent. Grandfather didn’t have a mobile, then whose could it be? Meanwhile, Mr Nadar was walking criss-cross across his room; his ringing phone clutched to his left ear. Nadar was still shouting out orders to an imaginary Muthuchaamy, not realizing that it was his own phone that was ringing! And the dumbass was still trying to show his bloody oversized a** off! I could help burst out laughing, at which he realized his folly and smiled sheepishly at us! :))