Really! My mission on Planet Earth is still not over as most of you are still alive and the Mothership did not come and take me back to the planet of supreme beings. In human speak, I am still alive so don’t despair.
So where have I been? What have I been up to? Why haven’t I posted in a while? And so on. Well let the bygones be bygones and STFU. Good. Now that we have settled that let’s move on.
I have been spending lot of time in auto pilot – autos driven by drivers who think they are flying a fucking Concorde. So yesterday was an unpleasant pleasant change. Whoever said change is good has obviously never seen things change for bad.
So as usual, I mean for a change, I was running late for work. Now getting an auto to go to work is not easy. Asking an auto guy to go to Chandivili is Tolkenien equivalent of asking a Hobbit to go to Mordor. I have no idea wtf is their problem with Chandivili unless they are very worried about my finances. Yes it does cost a bomb.
My best buddy Murphy intervened and ensured the only auto willing to ply to Chandivili was this one. And when I mean this one I mean that one. And when I mean that one, I mean the one that I took that day to office. Simple. The auto itself was a piece of art in itself. Like a carefully preserved fossil of a 3 wheeler that roamed the streets of Mumbai eons ago. Wait that was not the scary part. The scary was that the driver seemed to be even more pre-historic. In fact, little less movement and it would have been hard to tell him apart from a Mummy.
Any way within seconds of the journey I got some good news and some bad news. The good news was that I had discovered the slowest auto in Mumbai! The bad news was that I was sitting in it! Fuck my luck. It was so slow that I could have gotten off the auto, grabbed a beer, finished it and would have to run maybe 100 yards to get back in it. Not that I did it, I swear, but it was possible nevertheless.
Let’s focus on the driver now. The almost Mummy had one amazing talent. He was damn accurate when driving. Now you must be wondering what kind of accuracy is required when driving. Well the kind of accuracy that is *NOT* required when driving. He didn’t miss a single fucking pothole! In fact he, at times, went out of the way to ensure that I did not miss out on the bone jarring pleasure he assumed I get out of it.
I reached office half an hour late, shaken not stirred. And then I got bored of typing and posted this.
PS: Blogger thought it was too long a gap between my posts and pre-dated it. WTF. I posted on 31st dammit and thats how i will keep it!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
The Dilli Diaries Deux : Return of the Che
Obviously I had never been to a cocktail dinner, let alone to one at a five star hotel. But using my superpower of common sense I somehow figured out what to expect. Now came the hard part. How the fuck do I fit in there and not stick out like Superman in an edition of Playboy?
I planned to wear the only decent pair of black pants I have that I wear to pretty much any where that’s supposed to be too formal for jeans or cargos. Of course I was not planning to wear just the pant, idiot! I was going to put on a nice formal white shirt; yes this one had pockets too! And to top it off that thing I bought from esprit, yes that thing that could neither decide whether it was a coat or a jacket nor decide if it was black or blue. Yes I have strange clothes. And to bottom it off, a pair of black suede shoes. I think I wore underwear too.
Any way I was all dressed up and SS had put on what else but a black dress, women seriously need more imagination these days. As soon as we decided to leave, I picked up the blue-black coat-jacket and put it on. The moment I put it on pop went the button. WTF!!! I was wearing it for maybe 5th time and the button popped out already? What is this shit? Gah! It ruined my plans. Fortunately unlike you mortals I always have a back up. No its not Robin.
So the blue-black coat-jacket was showed back where it came out of, I meant my bag, and I pulled out a black sweater I had brought just was such emergencies. The sweater is designed by the guy whose initials make up the second half of my favorite 4 letter word. No its not VE, dammit!
We got in to the cab and took our royal hineys to the venue where we saw an orange colored Gallardo parked right outside the lobby entrance. We found our way to the Ballroom and stumbled in to a sea of black coats, black sarees and black dresses that were not so “lil” due to the darned winter. On the way to meet Baba, I ran in to trays of abso-fucking-lutely finger licking kebabs and interacted with them for good 15-20 minutes before S dragged me away. Baba was looking all groomy in his black Armani suit and B was looking stunning in her pink dress. They looked a happy couple alright.
My quest for Bighead led me to the watering hole and I parked myself there. Couple of drinks later who else walks in but the gang from that farmhouse party. Yes THAT farm house party with women who were immune to cold. This time they were all much sober so introductions went well. Almost.
All the guys in that group had either gone to study at my college after I had left or they had studied with Bighead. Now that they were in their senses they figured out who I was and their fanboy-ish reaction was actually quite annoying. One of them actually went, “You are CHE? You mean THE Che?” Yes boy, now calm down and roll over and play dead. NOW!
Apparently they got to know about me from my friends including Baba and the fuckers had told them some “folklores”. They pretty much blamed their alcohol drinking, skirt chasing and partying habits on me!!!! WTF!! I am such a nice boy!!! Bastards.
Turns out the image they created of me on these young impressionable minds was of a bottom less pit for alcohol storage and these fuckers decided to test it. This meant they all went fucking nuts and tried to recreate my college days which translated into shots after shots after shots of booze. In between I took breaks to walk to toilet to barf when I had 3 or 4 shots poured down my throat. Needless to say that I don’t remember much of the night and yes, I did attempt to dance. Since no funny looks came my way the next day I guess I did OK.
I remember leaving at around 3 am with Baba, Bighead and B in the Honda. And I remember it being too foggy. Then I remember hitting a huge pothole and then I remember waking up next day. Yep that was it. Can’t remember much these days, must be the old age.
While you wait for the next part I leave you with a tag cloud of my blog. Its really WTF material.
I planned to wear the only decent pair of black pants I have that I wear to pretty much any where that’s supposed to be too formal for jeans or cargos. Of course I was not planning to wear just the pant, idiot! I was going to put on a nice formal white shirt; yes this one had pockets too! And to top it off that thing I bought from esprit, yes that thing that could neither decide whether it was a coat or a jacket nor decide if it was black or blue. Yes I have strange clothes. And to bottom it off, a pair of black suede shoes. I think I wore underwear too.
Any way I was all dressed up and SS had put on what else but a black dress, women seriously need more imagination these days. As soon as we decided to leave, I picked up the blue-black coat-jacket and put it on. The moment I put it on pop went the button. WTF!!! I was wearing it for maybe 5th time and the button popped out already? What is this shit? Gah! It ruined my plans. Fortunately unlike you mortals I always have a back up. No its not Robin.
So the blue-black coat-jacket was showed back where it came out of, I meant my bag, and I pulled out a black sweater I had brought just was such emergencies. The sweater is designed by the guy whose initials make up the second half of my favorite 4 letter word. No its not VE, dammit!
We got in to the cab and took our royal hineys to the venue where we saw an orange colored Gallardo parked right outside the lobby entrance. We found our way to the Ballroom and stumbled in to a sea of black coats, black sarees and black dresses that were not so “lil” due to the darned winter. On the way to meet Baba, I ran in to trays of abso-fucking-lutely finger licking kebabs and interacted with them for good 15-20 minutes before S dragged me away. Baba was looking all groomy in his black Armani suit and B was looking stunning in her pink dress. They looked a happy couple alright.
My quest for Bighead led me to the watering hole and I parked myself there. Couple of drinks later who else walks in but the gang from that farmhouse party. Yes THAT farm house party with women who were immune to cold. This time they were all much sober so introductions went well. Almost.
All the guys in that group had either gone to study at my college after I had left or they had studied with Bighead. Now that they were in their senses they figured out who I was and their fanboy-ish reaction was actually quite annoying. One of them actually went, “You are CHE? You mean THE Che?” Yes boy, now calm down and roll over and play dead. NOW!
Apparently they got to know about me from my friends including Baba and the fuckers had told them some “folklores”. They pretty much blamed their alcohol drinking, skirt chasing and partying habits on me!!!! WTF!! I am such a nice boy!!! Bastards.
Turns out the image they created of me on these young impressionable minds was of a bottom less pit for alcohol storage and these fuckers decided to test it. This meant they all went fucking nuts and tried to recreate my college days which translated into shots after shots after shots of booze. In between I took breaks to walk to toilet to barf when I had 3 or 4 shots poured down my throat. Needless to say that I don’t remember much of the night and yes, I did attempt to dance. Since no funny looks came my way the next day I guess I did OK.
I remember leaving at around 3 am with Baba, Bighead and B in the Honda. And I remember it being too foggy. Then I remember hitting a huge pothole and then I remember waking up next day. Yep that was it. Can’t remember much these days, must be the old age.
While you wait for the next part I leave you with a tag cloud of my blog. Its really WTF material.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
The Dilli Diaries Deux : Stationed at the Station
Its been a long while since I launched the New! Improved! Better! sequel to the smashing blockbuster hit The Dilli Diaries. Basically my life decided that it needs a makeover and guess what I am paying for it! Every aspect of my life- personal, public, professional, unprofessional, financial etc, was touched, molested and violated in the process. But thats no excuse to not complete the series. So here I present the resuscitated New! Improved! Better! The Dilli Diaries Deux.
So I left you all off where I was heading to the railway station with bighead to pick up his friend SS who was arriving from Indore or something. So we reached the station by 5, her train was supposed to come at 5:30. And since by law the number of people who go to station to see off or receive passenger must be at least 3 times the number of passengers or more, obviously there was a huge crowd at the station. Buggers still haven't got anything on the Dadar station though!
So to avoid being crushed by the passengers/coolies/see off-ers/receivers/bags/suitcases we both leaned as far out as possible over the railings and waited for any comprehensible announcements regarding the train. Since we could not understand a word coming out of those public announcement systems we called SS up for her status and she was about equally helpful.
So we stood around sharing music on my D2, listening to Kaiowas on loop over the din waiting and waiting and waiting. It was almost 7, I had left at 4 expecting to be back by 6 so wasn't wearing a jacket, and I was literally freezing. I had to pee so bad and I really didn't want to use the public toilet at the station. But when a man's gotta go, a man's gotta go. When I told Bighead this he also had the epiphany that he had to pee too so we went about the finding the restroom.
Wasn't too hard, we could smell it half a mile away. It was filthy, disgusting but looked so beautiful at that moment. Obviously there was a queue. What do you expect when there is only one toilet for approximately what was the entire population of Sudan. Finally my turn came and I am at a loss of words to describe that feeling so lets leave it at that. While I was peeing away to glory this woman calls up. WTF! One should never disturb a guy when he is going full flow!
Wrapped up my business with the urinal. Prayed I don't get UTI. Washed my hands. Called SS back.
Her highness had arrived. We went and met her, bundled her in to the car and headed back. It was already 7:30 and the party was to start at 8:30 so we dropped Bighead at The Intercontinental and headed back to shower and change in to something befitting a cocktail dinner at a 5 star hotel. What happened next shall follow in a few days, weeks or months time depending upon your luck.
So I left you all off where I was heading to the railway station with bighead to pick up his friend SS who was arriving from Indore or something. So we reached the station by 5, her train was supposed to come at 5:30. And since by law the number of people who go to station to see off or receive passenger must be at least 3 times the number of passengers or more, obviously there was a huge crowd at the station. Buggers still haven't got anything on the Dadar station though!
So to avoid being crushed by the passengers/coolies/see off-ers/receivers/bags/suitcases we both leaned as far out as possible over the railings and waited for any comprehensible announcements regarding the train. Since we could not understand a word coming out of those public announcement systems we called SS up for her status and she was about equally helpful.
So we stood around sharing music on my D2, listening to Kaiowas on loop over the din waiting and waiting and waiting. It was almost 7, I had left at 4 expecting to be back by 6 so wasn't wearing a jacket, and I was literally freezing. I had to pee so bad and I really didn't want to use the public toilet at the station. But when a man's gotta go, a man's gotta go. When I told Bighead this he also had the epiphany that he had to pee too so we went about the finding the restroom.
Wasn't too hard, we could smell it half a mile away. It was filthy, disgusting but looked so beautiful at that moment. Obviously there was a queue. What do you expect when there is only one toilet for approximately what was the entire population of Sudan. Finally my turn came and I am at a loss of words to describe that feeling so lets leave it at that. While I was peeing away to glory this woman calls up. WTF! One should never disturb a guy when he is going full flow!
Wrapped up my business with the urinal. Prayed I don't get UTI. Washed my hands. Called SS back.
Her highness had arrived. We went and met her, bundled her in to the car and headed back. It was already 7:30 and the party was to start at 8:30 so we dropped Bighead at The Intercontinental and headed back to shower and change in to something befitting a cocktail dinner at a 5 star hotel. What happened next shall follow in a few days, weeks or months time depending upon your luck.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
A lesson in Anthropology
By now you must have realised the purpose of this blog. No? Well I am not surprised. Considering that this blog contains far too many words with 5 letters or more, for which i sincerely apolo....i mean i am sorry, you must be too buried in the dictionary to realise it. Anyway as usual I take this opportunity to educate you mortals about a sub-species of your own pathetic (disg)race.
Homo Politicus.
This is a highly evolved sub-species of Homo Sapiens. Why highly evolved? Their amazing immunity makes them super human! They are known to survive criminal charges, court cases, scandals, scams and more recently even shoes and chappals too! (Take that Mr I-can-survive-a-nuclear-bomb Cockroach :P) Their immunity to guilt, shame, remorse and honesty is remarkable. However they are highly susceptible to being “misquoted by the Press”.
Homo Politicus can be hard to locate. That is because they tend to hibernate for up to 5 years at a stretch. Then suddenly they can be found amongst you, except they will be protected by a regiment of commandos funded by your own money that you donated so willingly. When they are not hibernating they will be everywhere, in newspaper, on TV on radio and even on stages at rallies. Their wonderful oratory skills don't come as a surprise considering their highly developed forked tongue which interestingly is covered with glands that secrete saccharin sweet poison.
How can you identify them? Well most of them tend to have a high BMI and a very thick skin. Invariably they have an exoskelton made of Khadi but in some of the highly evolved specimen it can be of Silk too. Homo Politicus can also be found traveling by expensive cars, flights and even helicopters.
However they still are not invincible. Like Superman even Homo Politicus can be defeated. Their kryptonite is called a vote. A large enough number of votes against them can render even the mightiest Homo Politicus powerless. The recent Indian Elections were a proof of that.
On that note I sign off now. I know I have been “hibernating” too lately but don't you worry i have not joined politics. New job and the fact my new office is in a ridiculously inaccessible place had made it harder for me to take time out for you. But don't you worry I still love you all and will be back on track sooner than you expect. Now scoot!
Homo Politicus.
This is a highly evolved sub-species of Homo Sapiens. Why highly evolved? Their amazing immunity makes them super human! They are known to survive criminal charges, court cases, scandals, scams and more recently even shoes and chappals too! (Take that Mr I-can-survive-a-nuclear-bomb Cockroach :P) Their immunity to guilt, shame, remorse and honesty is remarkable. However they are highly susceptible to being “misquoted by the Press”.
Homo Politicus can be hard to locate. That is because they tend to hibernate for up to 5 years at a stretch. Then suddenly they can be found amongst you, except they will be protected by a regiment of commandos funded by your own money that you donated so willingly. When they are not hibernating they will be everywhere, in newspaper, on TV on radio and even on stages at rallies. Their wonderful oratory skills don't come as a surprise considering their highly developed forked tongue which interestingly is covered with glands that secrete saccharin sweet poison.
How can you identify them? Well most of them tend to have a high BMI and a very thick skin. Invariably they have an exoskelton made of Khadi but in some of the highly evolved specimen it can be of Silk too. Homo Politicus can also be found traveling by expensive cars, flights and even helicopters.
However they still are not invincible. Like Superman even Homo Politicus can be defeated. Their kryptonite is called a vote. A large enough number of votes against them can render even the mightiest Homo Politicus powerless. The recent Indian Elections were a proof of that.
On that note I sign off now. I know I have been “hibernating” too lately but don't you worry i have not joined politics. New job and the fact my new office is in a ridiculously inaccessible place had made it harder for me to take time out for you. But don't you worry I still love you all and will be back on track sooner than you expect. Now scoot!
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
The Great Indian Circus
The idea for this post came about when a dear friend, lets call her Buttercup, was telling me how much she hated the elections as she was working on a project for a political party. Being the smart ass I am told her it wouldn't be case if one letter was different. It led to a very colorful discussion which reflects in the post. If you are offended, Go you-know-what yourself!
Its the year of the great Indian erection. Once every 5 years or so India holds an erection to decide to is the most suitable person to head the country. Every time there is erection we have at least 2 candidates for the post of prime minister. This time we have 3 choices. Manmohan Singh's erection chances could go limp thanks to anti-incumbency wave that BJP is trying to create against the Congress. The Congress leaders like Sonia Gandhi and Priyanka Gandhi have lent their hand to give Manmohan a good erection campaign. At this age L.K. Advani's chances in erections are slightly better than his chances of getting an erection, irrespective of who lends a helping hand there. I dunno what Mayawati has to do with erections, in fact any thoughts about her erection scares me to death!
Erections are not just for the Prime Minister. erections are for the entire Parliament. Each member is carefully selected depending upon the erections. Every party picks its candidate for the erection and there are many independent candidates. During campaigning all candidates and their posse go around their constituency telling people why they should vote for their erection.
Varun Gandhi shot down his erection by putting his foot in the mouth, while a journalist stamped his shoe down to end Jagdish Tytler's erection before the climax. I don't think any one is doubting Rahul Gandhi's erection. Women anywhere would vote for his erection!
So people use your finger and pick the right person this erection. After all this is the person who is going to fuck you over for the next 5 years. The erection is your only hope to make it less painful. And women I request you to make the most of this erection as there might not be another one for next 5 years! Erections Zindabad.
Its the year of the great Indian erection. Once every 5 years or so India holds an erection to decide to is the most suitable person to head the country. Every time there is erection we have at least 2 candidates for the post of prime minister. This time we have 3 choices. Manmohan Singh's erection chances could go limp thanks to anti-incumbency wave that BJP is trying to create against the Congress. The Congress leaders like Sonia Gandhi and Priyanka Gandhi have lent their hand to give Manmohan a good erection campaign. At this age L.K. Advani's chances in erections are slightly better than his chances of getting an erection, irrespective of who lends a helping hand there. I dunno what Mayawati has to do with erections, in fact any thoughts about her erection scares me to death!
Erections are not just for the Prime Minister. erections are for the entire Parliament. Each member is carefully selected depending upon the erections. Every party picks its candidate for the erection and there are many independent candidates. During campaigning all candidates and their posse go around their constituency telling people why they should vote for their erection.
Varun Gandhi shot down his erection by putting his foot in the mouth, while a journalist stamped his shoe down to end Jagdish Tytler's erection before the climax. I don't think any one is doubting Rahul Gandhi's erection. Women anywhere would vote for his erection!
So people use your finger and pick the right person this erection. After all this is the person who is going to fuck you over for the next 5 years. The erection is your only hope to make it less painful. And women I request you to make the most of this erection as there might not be another one for next 5 years! Erections Zindabad.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Where is Che?
Dont worry I have not been kidnapped by Somalian Pirates.
Hell I havent been any where near water, except in bathroom, lately.
So whats going on?
Too much for you lesser mortals to handle.
Quit P******m. Was jobless for 4 days. Joined U**a today :P
KurtNirvana's father passed away last month so havent felt like writing anything lately
Personal life never ceases to amuse me with its futile attempts.
Elections are almost over and I havent yet put up a standard Election bashing post yet! (Oh but I so will, and women you specially wait for this one ;))
I will be back.
Hell I havent been any where near water, except in bathroom, lately.
So whats going on?
Too much for you lesser mortals to handle.
Quit P******m. Was jobless for 4 days. Joined U**a today :P
KurtNirvana's father passed away last month so havent felt like writing anything lately
Personal life never ceases to amuse me with its futile attempts.
Elections are almost over and I havent yet put up a standard Election bashing post yet! (Oh but I so will, and women you specially wait for this one ;))
I will be back.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Till Delhi Diaries get back on track...
Social Networking websites are interesting. They all claim to be the bestest, easiest and funnest way to connect with friends, colleagues, fans, devotees, wannabe fraands, stalkers, nymphomaniacs, spammers and if all those weren't enough some unfortunate ones manage to connect with their family members too!
It all started when Orkut first burst one the scene claiming to be the best thing ever since sex. For those of you who are yet to experience the overrated chore, I can tell you from experience that Orkut has got nothing on sex, however if you are lucky Orkut might get you some.
Requests from my fans flooding my inbox forced me to get on to Orkut, where obviously my fame spread quickly around the world, especially in Brazil from where I even started receiving phone numbers and marriage proposals from women, and sometimes men too. My growing popularity on Orkut meant it was consuming too much of my time hence upon a friends recommendation I moved to a new thing called Facebook.
Facebook had burst upon the scene claiming to be the best thing since Orkut. They werent completely wrong. It was lot more safe and secure and spammers hadn't discovered it yet. This was on place I could peacefully interact with a few people I knew and I liked it.
Ever since I moved to Facebook I accepted friends requests very carefully. Only the best of the best fans were allowed to the honor of having me in their friends list. Which technically means that most the people who are on my friends list know me quite well right? Wrong.
I recently received umpteenth email from some thing called compare friends which told me that my fans have been comparing me with their friends and pleaded me to check my rankings.
Lets take a look at and discuss some of the crap it threw up at me. Here are the top 25:
WTF?
Someone beat me at craziness? One of my fans must have MJ on their friends list.
Better Catch....hmm...well looks like you people finally do accept that I am an amazingly amazing guy.
Better at Science? really? Hmm. Good thing my college grades are a secret then.
Well next 2 are fairly obvious but WTF? 2 people beat me at smartness? Whom did you compare me to? Homer Simpson?
Better dancer? WTF? Either you guys have a great sense of humor or you have been lucky enough to have never seen me dance! Ask Jingle Belle or go read what happened when she invited me to Christmas Ball :P
More Fashionable....umm well yea OCTSD does have some fringe benefits you see.
funnier, can drink more, blah blah, isnt that obvious from my blog?
More likely to win in a fight? WTF! Hello? I am yet to date a woman who weighs less than me!
More likely to skip class.....dammit! This is what happens when you add people from college. %$^$&^^$^%$%$^#
Better Singer than 3 people???? Hahahhahaha. Oh wait. I did go to a college with large number of Deaf students. And I can tell you they couldnt sing for sure!
More loyal....just 3 out of 6....dammit! I am not really a casanova I tell you!
Kinder 3 out of 8...well I guess I deserve it for being an offender.
Ah well thats all till I get time to write a real post.
PS: My baby has been resurrected :D
It all started when Orkut first burst one the scene claiming to be the best thing ever since sex. For those of you who are yet to experience the overrated chore, I can tell you from experience that Orkut has got nothing on sex, however if you are lucky Orkut might get you some.
Requests from my fans flooding my inbox forced me to get on to Orkut, where obviously my fame spread quickly around the world, especially in Brazil from where I even started receiving phone numbers and marriage proposals from women, and sometimes men too. My growing popularity on Orkut meant it was consuming too much of my time hence upon a friends recommendation I moved to a new thing called Facebook.
Facebook had burst upon the scene claiming to be the best thing since Orkut. They werent completely wrong. It was lot more safe and secure and spammers hadn't discovered it yet. This was on place I could peacefully interact with a few people I knew and I liked it.
Ever since I moved to Facebook I accepted friends requests very carefully. Only the best of the best fans were allowed to the honor of having me in their friends list. Which technically means that most the people who are on my friends list know me quite well right? Wrong.
I recently received umpteenth email from some thing called compare friends which told me that my fans have been comparing me with their friends and pleaded me to check my rankings.
Lets take a look at and discuss some of the crap it threw up at me. Here are the top 25:
WTF?
Someone beat me at craziness? One of my fans must have MJ on their friends list.
Better Catch....hmm...well looks like you people finally do accept that I am an amazingly amazing guy.
Better at Science? really? Hmm. Good thing my college grades are a secret then.
Well next 2 are fairly obvious but WTF? 2 people beat me at smartness? Whom did you compare me to? Homer Simpson?
Better dancer? WTF? Either you guys have a great sense of humor or you have been lucky enough to have never seen me dance! Ask Jingle Belle or go read what happened when she invited me to Christmas Ball :P
More Fashionable....umm well yea OCTSD does have some fringe benefits you see.
funnier, can drink more, blah blah, isnt that obvious from my blog?
More likely to win in a fight? WTF! Hello? I am yet to date a woman who weighs less than me!
More likely to skip class.....dammit! This is what happens when you add people from college. %$^$&^^$^%$%$^#
Better Singer than 3 people???? Hahahhahaha. Oh wait. I did go to a college with large number of Deaf students. And I can tell you they couldnt sing for sure!
More loyal....just 3 out of 6....dammit! I am not really a casanova I tell you!
Kinder 3 out of 8...well I guess I deserve it for being an offender.
Ah well thats all till I get time to write a real post.
PS: My baby has been resurrected :D
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