that's amore

Nice butt, he thought.

Actually very, very nice butt. Firm, and just the right size. And of course the squats were helping. A butt that juts out just a little from the hips looks even better.

The face he couldn’t see.

Why don’t people work out in front of the mirror, he thought.

Still, this was as good a view as any. And the track pants were nice too. All snug and dark. And the T-shirt had a small patch of sweat near the back. And with every squat it lifted just a little to show a nice firm back. All brown and tanned.

“ Come on great butt, turn.......”

And it happened. Their eyes met. He was embarrassed at being caught staring, and after a second of panicking that his face must be all flushed, he relaxed.

Great butt was grinning at him.

He grinned back. Finished his last stretch, and walked across.

I’m Pawan.

Hi Pawan, I’m Amit.

when the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore: courtesy dean martin

mujhe pyaar ho gaya

where have i been?

why didn't anyone tell me a man this hot plays cricket?

and yeah, wait till you see him in the film we shot.

uuuf. gimme some air.

crunched to death

I went to the gym today. And decided none of that namby pamby cardio for me, I’m going to do some weight training.

Okay, the weight training was triggered off by some serious weight gain issues. I’ve been eating like a bloody pig that’s been on ecstasy and dancing all night. Bheja, biryani, rum and coke have been my staple diet for two weeks.

And anyway, I’m thinking what’s the big deal. I do yoga. I do belly dancing. Dude, I can crunch my stomach anytime.

So I land up at the gym bright and early at 7am. Secretly hoping it will be empty. But a mind boggling number of nut jobs are already there, fully into it.

So I gather my courage and step into the ring, with my trainer for company. The rest is all a lesson in complete humiliation. She’s yelling at me the whole time, bitch. I would have joined the army if I wanted someone screaming into my ear, “ Go, go, go, kill yourself, pick that weight, now lift your arms, look straight, chin up, oh yes, you can, even if you die.”

Every single person around knew this was my first time. Because I looked like roadkill. I could barely get myself off the ground by the time it was over. I was staggering up and down the stairs, my vision blurring over with sweat and pain as the trainer bounced along and yelled, “ Run faster baby faster...”

Baby?????

Who the fuck are you calling Baby lady? And get your screaming face off my ear, before I bite it.

Nope, I didn’t say anything liked that. I was too wiped out, too beaten to even whimper. So at the end of it all when she barked see you on Friday morning, all I could say was, “thanks, I’ll be there.”

And now, some strange muscles in my stomach hurt. And my arms have died, and left my body. I shall be having a condolence meeting this evening for the said body parts. With butter bheja and rum and coke for company.

image credit: http://www.offthemarkcartoons.com

sucker for saliva swapping

I just love being kissed. There is something so so nice about having someone kiss your face off.

The thing about kissing is that there are absolutely no strings attached. It could lead to sex or it would just lead to laughter. It could be deep and meaningful. Or it could just be a way of saying, “ hello, happy to see you.”

Err, that’s it. End of post.

Image credit: famous dude

he's the man

So in the middle of all this chaos, i find an island of serenity.

Emotional atyachar on Bindaas.

Starring Raja Choudhary and his current girlfriend. I’m sorry I can’t remember her name, her bling earrings and red halter bra under a formal strapless dress momentarily stunned me.

Anyway, being momentarily stunned is not new to me. When Bigg Boss was on two years back, I must declare that I had a crush on Raja Choudhary. Ya, ya, gasp all you like. But the thing is he was hot in a cave man meets dim-wit way. Which sometimes is pretty appealing to me.

Anyway, back to Raja. Needless to say he was more than willing to jump the bait. Who by the way was posing as young journalist. And of course he never even guessed she was out to trap him, not even when her friend, who happened to be passing by, landed up and opened the conversation with “ Chalo, hum ek game khelte hain.”

The said game was spin the bottle. Obviously this happens to Raja all the time. Because he never batted an eyelid. I mean when’s the last time a stranger walked into your house, grabbed the bottle of sprite from the fridge and sais, “ Hi, I’m Sanju, shall we play spin the bottle.” In your dreams.

So Raja was caught in the act on camera. His blingy girlfriend with too much lipstick kept trying to squeeze a tear out, while shaking her head and saying, “ He is so bad ya.” Bad!!!! Is that all you can come up with blingy lady?

But, here’s the catch. I still think raja is cool, and he has no idea how cool he is . Listen to this. He’s describing someone’s relationship to this chick.

In his words: “ Those two have different relation. Whenever they need each other, they do the needful”

Aah Raja, my erudite hottie!

a working romance

I’m back.

Just to tell you how utterly romantic it is to start your own thing.

The first day you move into your own cozy little office, with four plates and six glasses, and three employees.

And then you realise that the AC doesn’t work. And the wiring has exploded. And the internet man forgot to tell you his mobile number is blocked. And there’s no maid to wash the dishes. And your employees can hardly be expected to do the same. And you remembered everything, except a dustbin. Which is why after five hours the office smells like Juhu Beach.

Bloody hell.

And you know what makes it so dreamy.

That I call six internet providers to ask them if they’ll give me a connection. And all six say they’ll get back to me promptly. In four working days.

The sixth one is rather considerate. I think that’s because he can hear me frothing in the mouth. And suggests that I call MTNL.

Now here’s the romantic part.

I call MTNL. A lady picks up the phone. I tell her I want an internet connection. She pauses. To complete the cross stitch table cloth she’s making. Just when I’m thinking she died, she gives me a toll free number. I tell her I can’t call that number, because I’m calling from a cell phone.

She’s rather considerate too. And tells me, “Then first you apply for land line, then call and get internet connection.”

I swear this is true.

And not the romance part.