My Desktop Story=My (Current) Love Story

Yes, I know it looks very mess and cluttered.... :-(

This is my first Tag, given by Peter. Since, it was Ranbir's birthday yesterday, that's why this God sent devil is sitting and winking at me from my desktop. I celebrated his birthday by having a black forest pastry (which wasn't that good) and a cappucino and listening to songs from Saawariya and Bachna.... that evening.

Ok, my desktop is a total mess. All that weird things like Adobe Reader and My Network Places and blah blah are taking up one vertical line. Other folders:

1) I have a folder for Cricket wherein I have more than 370 pics of cricketters (all the guys in my batch are jealous of my collection, hahaha)

2) Another folder for my original stories and poems.

3) A folder for pics of my nephew.

4) Another for projects, and other weird law stuff.

5) Another for games i.e. one of the reasons for my depressing g.p.a.

6) Another folder for movies wherein I just have 3 movies.

7) Songs folder.

8) Rock on!! folder, sitting on desktop instead of sitting in Songs folder, I don't know why.

9) A folder called Cutest Guys-My Property (fine, don't mock me) wherein I store pics of non sports player cute guys.

10) Googletalk setup i.e. my lifeline.

I'm tagging Alex Paul, Kunwar, Mishra, Abhinav, Chetan Bhagat (LOL) and Trinaa (i.e if she hasn't done this before) Yeah, fine, I don't have many people to tag. Hmmph!

Aahista Aahista.....Uwayuwayuwayuwayu...

Hua yeh pehli baar...Uwayuwayuwayuwayu...

Mujhe ho gaya hai pyaaaaar....

Random randomness....

Blah blah blah.

1) Our Sports Meet. My batch lost the Batch Championship on the last day. We lost out closely to our immediate juniors- the 2nd yrs. Nevertheless, we are proud of our performance. Maybe, next time...But as they say, Coming second means being first loser. Gah. I hate losing.

2) Due to the above mentioned incident, I fucked up my Civil Procedure Code Test, which was scheduled the next day. I couldn't get an exemption, inspite of being a member of the Organizing Committee. Exemption was given only to the football team and badminton team, who played on the last day (Others who play better than me, were in our badminton team).That's the disadvantage of being the only girl from your batch, and the other guys who are in the Committee, also play football, and get exemption. Gah. Nobody loves me. Adding insult to the injury (knee injury, plus cold, cough, fever), was the football team, who was standing outside our class, throughout the test and smirking at all of us. Anyway, I didn't know anything in the paper, so I was shooting dirty looks at them.

3) My knee doesn't hurt much now (Yay!!), but I got a cold, cough fever (How come this trio always strikes three-gether? I wonder...) I look pale and sick now. Also, my complexion has ruined since I was roaming around in Gandhinagar sun, which has a Ph.d. in sun-burning you. Sigh. I will never, ever, get married now. But, but, I still continued having only ONE cup of coffee daily, despite, the depression and sorrow I was going through.

4) My friend got a sms asking her if she wants to know what her future is: love marriage or arrange marriage? SMS Pyar DOB to some number. Will cross check and put up the correct procedure in my comments section. She showed me this sms, to have a good laugh. That poor girl, does not know me yet. I made her sms my DOB to that number. Those marriage (sex) hungry bureau whatever, charged her 3 rs. for it (that reminds me, I have to pay her for that.) Reply came within minutes.
I got 36% chance of love marriage.
I should remember to be nice to my parents henceforth. What if they arrange my kundali whatever with some bald, fat, hairy (everywhere), man wearing a lungi through which I can see his chaddi colour?
No. I will be nice to my parents henceforth.
Next message was. SMS your partner's name and his DOB to see if you are compatible with him.
No partner. Sigh. My friend giggled. Fine, you have a boyfriend, I don't. Such sadistic pleasure, committed people get, I tell you....And the next minute, they(not referring to my friend. Referring to committed girls, in general, in my college, who's boyfriend is back home) get depressed because they are so, very far, from their boyfriend/s (boyfriend/s refers to those girls who two,three time. One boyfriend in our college, one in the neighbouring college, one back home, etc. etc.) I console them by saying, don't worry, you'll get to fuck him when you go back home. A dirty look is flashed at me. But it works!! They are no more depressed!! Har-Har...

5) 2 projects, 2 tests coming up. I need to study and avoid Brian for a while. (Brian is my blog's name. I need to keep mentioning this, since some whatevers will assume I'm deewani for some Brian)

6) Have to study for my end sems abhi se since Diwali is coming up (which means eating, shopping, bursting crackers, wasting time for a good reason). Have to keep myself updated during the Indo-Aus series, and study at the same time. Which reminds me. I have to talk to my grandparents, before the Ind-Aus series starts. And abuse Ricky Ponting, along with my grandpa.

7) Have to celebrate Ranbir's birthday tomorrow. Remember to eat black forest pastry at Laxmi Bakery, and do "cheers" and say his name and blush.

A mere receipt for money does not amount to a promisory note, even though it might contain the terms of repayment. I need to study Banking and then sleep and rest.
Bye.

And the award goes to......

I suck, with a capital S at all this computer related stuff. Yes, it's hard to believe that, since I'm always hooked onto the computer. I guess I never bothered to learn also.


Anyway, I struggle with my blog specially. The day I created it, I was lost. Two of my posts disappeared in thin air. I did post them. But I don't know what happened then.


Soon, I joined blogging communities and randomnly wrote my blog's link here and there in some threads. Some God sent angels started seeing my blog and commenting. Soon, I actually had a regular bunch of people who "followed" my blog.


Amongst them, is a guy called Peter. Not as hot as Peter Andre, but still, a very much decent substitute. From him, I learnt:

1) That the blog's dress is called a "template" (wow, that word makes me sound so intellectual)
2) That you need to add "gadgets" to make your blog look nicer.
3) That he's too sweet to allow me to copy all his "gadgets".
4) That I needed to change my 1 year old "template". It was brutually stripped off and the i-phone template was thrown in.
5) Never, ever, put a pink "template". Sigh. I still miss it.
6) How to add pics in a blog.

Also, an added bonus for adding him on gtalk. I got:

1) Jal songs
2) Movie reviews
3) Got to hear about some adventurous instincts of guys.
4) Will get help if I need to patao some guy in the future.
5) Company even at 1:31 in the morning when you have your projects smirking at you and the ants running aimlessly on your table.
6) Maybe a new client if he needs to patao some girl.
7) Get to hear about some weird things about cloning and test tube babies which I pretend to understand.

All in all.....

My first award...which goes to Peter (who must be either yawning, since he has already got so many awards or smirking that he has phasaved another stupid blogger into giving him an award)

I hate losing.

I hate losing. Maybe, it's because of the Arien in me. When my grandpa used to teach me and my sis badminton, and I used to lose badly. I would sulk for days, weeks. My sister then started losing on purpose to me. She continued to do it, right from class 7th to now, college 2nd year. When my grandparents and my sister and I used to play carrom, I was the Biggest Loser (Yes, my grandparents were super at it, and my sister was too good...) The rules were bent, in order to avoid me sulking around the place. I was allowed to roam around the whole damn carrom and shoot from any damn place I liked (Stop gaping, I was the stupid spoilt brat of my family!!!)

School. 11-12th class, that is...

My previous school has zilch of sports (Only one fine day, they would announce we had our P.E exam, and next day, we ran races and jumped hurdles and some crap. And get 49/50. And the P.E. sir used to flirt with all the hot girls in my class. While I stood and made fun of his fat belly popping out of his belt.
In my 11-12 class, I finally found out what was God's gift to (wo)mankind.Basketball.Football.Volleyball.Cricket, of course. I sincerely thank my batchmates, who were already in awe of my height, for teaching me basketball. I don't play like a professional player, or something. But yes, I played. Played well. I was my grandfather's granddaughter, after all (He was a big shot basketball and football player. He played in Bombay for a club.) We had some matches against each other. And the side, where I was, used to always win. Always. I was 16, and I still didn't know what it is to lose.

First year.

I came to college and learnt it the hardest way possible. We struggled to make a decent basketball and throwball team for our batch. And we inevitably lost against our seniors. We put up a decent show in the throwball match against our seniors (our very 1st match. I didn't play because I was not supposed to play due to the knee injury, but hell, I can't forget that winning set, ever), but still we lost. The guys played ok. We didn't win anything, major though.

Second year. We lost again, to our seniors in both, basketball and throwball. We didn't learn our lesson. Work as a team. Practice hard. Take time out. The guys too lost in football. Overall, a very disappointing end to the Sports Meet by our batch. Our seniors taunted us terribly throughout the semester and our juniors were too kind to even laugh at our game in front of us.

Third year. We could see the fire in every guy's eyes to win. Practice for football was followed by practice for volleyball. Followed by cricket. They slept in class and suffered attendance shortage. Our pride and prestige was more important than attendance. Again, we girls couldn't form a proper team. I could see and feel the disappointment from the guys side. Though many didn't even tell us anything(I really thank those guys who taunted us. At least it made us feel worse and inspired us to put up a better show next year). We lost the throwball match against our seniors. The lucky loser match (too complicated a concept to explain. Forget it, for now) was between us and the 1st years. It was a 11 point game, between the losers of the previous matches, to decide who reaches the next round.
We lost that, 11-9. I don't remember what happened after that. We realized we lost, and all of us went separate ways. Stunned, shell shocked. I remember, on my way out of the ground, looking at some of my batch guys who were around. They hadn't ever looked sadder. Was this our answer to them practising at 6:30 in the morning?

I guess I was the weakest one. Others were angry and pissed with themselves, they went off. I just stood and cried. On my friend's shoulder. Literally. I had been a part of the basketball team, the previous year, which lost badly. I was disheartened, that time too. But this time, it was horrible. I didn't know what to do, what to think. How did it happen? Somehow, I collected myself. I couldn't recover the whole night. I monotonously went to class the next day. My friends tried to cheer me up. I pretended to be cheered up. But, nothing worked.

I should eat my words. Our guys, played brilliantly, and beat the 5th years in volleyball. We reached the finals, and were up against the 4th years now. We are on the brink of reaching the cricket and football finals too.

That loss helped, in a very positive way. The girls, not only us players, but other girls who haven't even held a ball in their hand, were shook up. Was it because our ego was hurt since we lost to 1st years? Was it because we finally realized we need to practice damn hard? I really don't know. The response was tremendous from the girls. Every single girl, has vowed to practice, right from Day One of the next semester.

In a way, I'm happy I lost. But I hope I never lose again.

p.s- Shall update u on how the guys perform in football,volleyball and cricket. God bless them :-)

Being Madhuri Singh Dhoni

(No, I'm still Madhuri Rahul Dravid!!! But you'll understand the title of the post, after you finish reading the post... )
Obviously, I found MSD cute when he made his debut against Bangladesh on December 24, 2004, although I thought he would have looked better with his hair short, rather than long. Mom rejected her latest son-in-law with a “Look at his hair? Looks mad to me.” and a dirty expression on her face as if he’s from Dharavi slums.

When he hit that sexy 148 at Vishakapatnam and won the man of the match award, Mom was a bit impressed. “He can speak English”, she exclaimed. I referred to my latest crushes list and jotted down.

1) Kinda cute
2) Plays fairly good cricket
3) Decent wicketkeeper
4) Can speak English
5) Nice smile
6) A healthy 7 years of age difference between him and me

And then it happened. The long-haired dude of Indian team became the captain of Twenty20 team. Like, the rest of India, I was skeptical whether we would win the cup.
“What if we win the Cup?” I asked mom, as I usually ask her whenever any Champions Trophy, World Cup, Asia Cup etc. happen. She usually gives saracastic answers in reply.Can't remember any example.
I’m still kicking myself for forgetting what she gave in reply.

His next appearance was in the newspapers. With a new hair-cut. WOW.
Cutting a long story short, I was totally into him then. Mom’s smile whenever Dhoni appeared on the television, ensured Dhoni’s place as her new son-in-law was still alive.

There’s something about that guy which makes me admire him a lot. The emotionless, the ice-cool nature. Which I have started implanting in myself, recently.
I used to be very very very short tempered in school, and in my 1st and 2nd year of college. Never thought a damn who the opponent was, be it my best friend, my parents, my enemies, all received the same treatment. Shout, yell, abuse, walk off, bang a few things here and there, and well, in some cases, hurt the person physically and walk away.
Then came, 3rd year. Ganguly and Dravid were kicked out (I prefer saying that, rather than dropped. It sounds more meaningful, you know) because Dhoni and the selectors and Gary Kirsten wanted a youth-oriented team. Valid reason, but I was among those sensible cricket fanatics (what an oxymoron!)who thought there should have been a rotation policy. Make the seniors play 1-2 games and then rest them. But you can't kick them out, just to get young kids into the side, one fine day. Maybe, we Indians are just too sentimental. Chucking, the emotional crap. We won the Tri-series in Australia for the first time in history. No use complaining and protesting then, thought every cricket fanatic.
Proves that a captain has to be emotionless. People (Not us cricket fanatics, but the masses, the common folk, the mere mortals, I may sound arrogant, but I prefer keeping it that way) claimed Dhoni kicked the two seniors out of the team so that he could dominate the ODI team without any senior poking his nose. And Dhoni couldn’t have the balls to kick out Sachin, because Sachin is, well, Sachin.
The point of this whole post is, the angry young girl that I was, has started becoming indifferent. Emotionless. I hardly freak out over anything that happens now (except when dogs are nearby, I’m still trying not to be scared of dogs, heavens help me) But it’s great being indifferent. Without freaking out over any damn thing. It doesn’t pinch you at all. And it irritates the other person, which is the best part. Feels something like Gandhigiri, must admit. Indifferent to all the girly nakhras of “My kajal isn’t fine and I have a date with him” or “I have put oil in my hair so I can’t come to the mess for breakfast”. Indifferent to all the boys who put me down all the time. No reaction to the all the taunts showered upon South Indians, cricketers I admire (because I arrogantly believe they are made by the mere mortals who don’t know a shit about cricket). And of course, put on indifference when there is talk about my sister or my grandparents. *choked throat*

And I’m doing a great job. I never knew I had so much patience. And it’s coming naturally now. No longer put-on. How ?
Only wish MSD had come on to the scene before. The angry young girl wouldn’t have kicked so many asses (literally) in her temper then.

p.s- Haven’t referred to only my friend’s circle in the above example. It might just be you, that I’m referring to. Watch out what you say. I won’t react but I’ll just end up putting it on my blog. I’m so evil, I know it….
I wonder why I never bothered to inculcate Dravid’s patience into me. Would have saved a lot of energy, blood pressure rising, and of course, many people’s asses.

What my name means

Thanks to my fellow blogger (are female bloggers called bloggeri?) Mayuri-http://mayuri-lifeasweknowit.blogspot.com/ (oye, I publicize your blog, be happy, girl...)
I found this link and found out what my name means.
And wow. I seem to be perfect. I thank my parents for giving me such an amazing name...

What Madhuri Means

You are confident, self assured, and capable. You are not easily intimidated. You master any and all skills easily. You don't have to work hard for what you want. You make your life out to be exactly how you want it. And you'll knock down anyone who gets in your way! You are usually the best at everything ... you strive for perfection. You are confident, authoritative, and aggressive. You have the classic "Type A" personality. You are balanced, orderly, and organized. You like your ducks in a row. You are powerful and competent, especially in the workplace. People can see you as stubborn and headstrong. You definitely have a dominant personality. You are truly an original person. You have amazing ideas, and the power to carry them out. Success comes rather easily for you... especially in business and academia. Some people find you to be selfish and a bit overbearing. You're a strong person. You are a very lucky person. Things just always seem to go your way. And because you're so lucky, you don't really have a lot of worries. You just hope for the best in life. You're sometimes a little guilty of being greedy. Spread your luck around a little to people who need it. You are wild, crazy, and a huge rebel. You're always up to something. You have a ton of energy, and most people can't handle you. You're very intense. You definitely are a handful, and you're likely to get in trouble. But your kind of trouble is a lot of fun. You tend to be pretty tightly wound. It's easy to get you excited... which can be a good or bad thing. You have a lot of enthusiasm, but it fades rather quickly. You don't stick with any one thing for very long. You have the drive to accomplish a lot in a short amount of time. Your biggest problem is making sure you finish the projects you start.

What's" Your Name's Hidden Meaning?

I enter the class, I sit and I see...

I'm usually this punctual kind of person unless:-

1) I oversleep because I forgot to put an alarm on my cell

2) I accidentally put if off and go back to sleep

3) I accidentally-on-purpose put it off and go back to sleep

4) I pretend I'm sick

5) I really end up being sick then (Every bitch has her day. Sigh)



So, I'm usually punctual. Even if it means arriving to college 7 mins before class starts (That's pretty decent. And it's enough time to gobble down 2 sandwiches. Without cheese, of course. Iniviting the mess wala's smirk when I shout, I want the dammed sandwich without cheese, of course) I come to class and my bench partner and my friend who's a 1st bencher (and who wants to bring me there and spoil me. Gah! With friends like this, who needs enemies) both haven't come yet. My bench partner is a full time late comer (she'll kill me for this. HAHA. At least I didn't name her. But anyway, all my batchmates who are reading this, will obviously know who she is.Muhahahahaha) And the 1st bencher runs in during the attendance or some seconds before the attendance starts....



I'm bored, even before the class starts. So what do I do ? I look around. Notice what everyone is upto. I was just telling my 1st bencher friend on gtalk about what I notice. And she was going all LMAO, ROFL and LOL at it. Of course, I remember my blog, my dear Brian(My blog's name is Brian-for all the newbies on my blog--who has started talking to me again after I removed the pink template of his blog) Why not scandalize/impress/frighten him and my poor readers with my observations? I'm so evil, muhuhahahaha. My batchmates are gonna kill me, for sure. Please pray that my soul rests in peace in case I don't post anymore after this one....

I come to class and immediately message whichever class is going on to the 1st bencher and my bench mate, so that they can hurry up or whatever, according to the lecture going on. Then, I start. Noticing....

1) I begin with my first bencher friend's reaction. Since she inspired me into writing this post. Muhuhaha. She'll hate herself. Or me. Or both.

Enters with huge, long steps, but not actually running. She's so whatever. Won't run, won't allow me to run too. Gah. How lady like can she get. Enters and raises her eyebrows slightly when she first sees the lecturer. Looks down, walks to the first bench, keeps her books (her back is to the lecturer then) grits her teeth harrrrrrdddddd, then rolls her eyes in a semi circle (that is bring it up half way then it comes down again. Maybe she doesn't know how to roll her eyes properly) Blinks very sleepily and sits down. AND STARTS TAKING NOTES. Dammit. With occasional sudden grins at me at the back (that is when she's not messaging me. She's good at messaging sitting right on the 1st bench) And it's left to my interpretation whether she's happy because of something I said, or did or she's happy because her bf messaged some senti message (Gah. It's so easy to tolerate classes when your cute bf keeps messaging u.)


2) My bench partner. Who recently got up at 6:30 and STILL came 5 minutes late to our class which starts at 9 :-)

She runs right from when the bus stops in front of the college gate (I know it, because on the occasional times when I've come late, she has always been at my side. Hahahahaha, that sounds so cheesy) I wonder how she can run on those heels of hers. Also, I wonder why she claims she's not athletic when she's so quick at running. Gah. Girls. I fail to understand them(us, whatever). She runs from the gate, through the lawn, up the steps, down the steps (Be in my college to understand how the process goes) and makes a sharp right turn, runs straight ahead, a sharp left turn, a sudden break when she reaches the entrance of the class. She looks harassed and immediately straightens her curly hair (which are already in place, don't know why she still bothers) She grins, as she sees me and comes over to the back.

"Is attendance over?" That's the way she greets me every morning.


Now, the reactions of the rest of my batchmates....

3) This guy...who drags his feet, slowly, very very much irritated and frustrated. Goes like "Arre yaar" at whichever faculty is there. The frown never leaves his face. He badly needs to hear my PJs, you know.


4) This girl. Enters with a huge smile but notice, her eyes flash a fiery look at the lecturer. The kajal on her eyes adds to the dramatic effect.

5) This guy. Starts off with "Arre ch_____ subah subah isse hi aana tha kya? Arre yaar attendance bhi nahi milega. Arre ch____ miss call nahi de sakta tha kya, m.c ?" I mean, loads of guys do it. Hilarious it is as well as fascinating to hear 10 abuse words in one sentence.

6) The previous point was our regular desi gang. Then comes the hi-fi gang.
"Fuck man, I missed my attendance. I missed the fucking bus by one fucking moment. That driver, son of a ____, couldn't he have waited for one fucking second, I could have caught the fucking bus on time? i didn't even fucking have breakfast." A dramatic pause. "I'm so fucking hungry." Conclusion. "Fuck man."

Okay, if you insist.

7) The rest of us, have an indifferent expression to every lecturer. We prefer it that way. Live and let live, you know.

NOTE:- I'm not defaming my lecturers or my batchmates in this post. It's simply meant in light humour. No offence meant at all. I'm as usual kidding around. Sincere apologies to those who took it in a serious manner.

Tum anjaane hi thik the.

The smile in your eyes,

The charm in your talk,

The sweetness in your spice,

The ease in your walk,

The mood from low to high,

The love behind the angry glare,

The laugh behind your cry,

The awkward glance in your stare,

The kid in your office suit,

The handsome man in ganji-shorts,

The blabbermouth when you're mute,

The lame pics for which you have the hots,

The 'I need you' in your 'get lost',

My uncombed hair which you ruffle with glee,

The responsibility you take for my cost,

The sadness, in my wink, you can see,

The problem of mine becomes a solution,

My simple sniff also like a major disease,

My cruel words also like a love potion,

Every argument, debate, fight, you inevitably cease,

Even when things are perfect, things can go wrong,

This is bloody fiction, hope you enjoyed this song! :P

P.S- YAAR, you have no idea how much I'm expecting from Anjaana Anjaani. BETTER BE AWESOME!! :D :D :D

And finally, I get to talk.

I don't know why Madhuri created me.She never told me why I was born.When she wrote my first post, she was cursing badly and muttering "Oh dammit" every 5 minutes. She was lost while finding out, how to post, how to change the font etc. Btw, my Happy Birthday is on July 20th, 2007. And I'm christened Brian.She wrote my first post, pretty quickly. I winced as she added some abuses here and there. She struggled to select a designer outfit, what you people call templates, for me. She wanted something in pink, it seemed. I kept my keys-fingers, crossed. What would the other blogs tell me if I was dressed in shocking pink? I would become the biggest PJ, at least on blogger's world. Other blogs would have taken revenge on me for all the PJs that Madhuri has cracked on the pitiable souls around her. She held the distinction of permanently cracking their brains while they banged their heads against the walls, after listening to the PJs, each sadder than the previous one. Thank the Lord above, for not giving Madhuri enough brains to find a pink template.....

She loved me a lot. Everyday, when she returned from college, she would open me excitedly. (Errr...no. Just click and open. Don't think too much) She would sigh sorrowfully. Doesn't anyone like Brian? She wrote another post and waited. Another post, yet again, and waited. But nobody commented. She was angry. Aghast. Furious. She felt bad for me. I was not accepted in this blogger's world as soon as I was born. She did something behind my back.(which of course I found out, considering I'm as good as Madhuri at having spy networks everywhere) She threatened some of her friends to read it and comment or she'll bash them up. Of course, the frightened souls commented on the posts then. All the posts, mind well. Hehe.

Not many admirers, but still, I was steadily growing up. People started commenting on my posts, without Madhuri having to twist their hands. A little more than a year has passed since I was born. One year young, and Madhuri and I are the best of buddies. The smile that comes on her face when I'm appreciated, brings tears to my virtual eyes. She became a bit smarter. She started posting my link on various blogging communities. Soon, more and more people visited me. Madhuri's college mates visited me too. Many didn't bother to post a comment or even bother to tell Madhuri if her posts are good or not (I don't blame them, specially the guys, since she brutually rapes their image out here!) P.s- They are not bad at all. Many other blog visitors drop in, and leave without a word. Madhuri emotionally blackmails people, which makes them go all senti usually and comment a few humble lines. (Trust a senti, emotional fool to trap other's into her plot...Gah!!)
I should be going. I have talked too much. Time for her to take over. See you on my next birthday....!! (As if she'll let me have a word before that!!)

Groan-ups. The Dad Jokes

I got this idea for a post from Reader's Digest. Yes, yes, I give them the credit. It's about Dad Jokes. All of us children would be familiar with them. First the joke is cracked. Mom smiles appreciatively. My sis and I raise my eyebrows questioningly asking whether that was a joke. Mom shoots a glare. It obviously worked, as sis and I laugh out loud in typical LOL style. They are the Dad Jokes. Maybe I'm doing a sad job explaining them. I'll show you some examples. My sis and I started noting down (Literally noting down. Though in our generation, literally 'typing' them down on the cell phone, so that we remember all of them. This blog post was plotted since some 2-3 months. Muhuhahaha.)

1) The family went to Allen Solly for shopping for formal clothes for my sister before she left abroad. Dad looks at Allen Solly's board outside the shop and turns to me and Lavs.
"If Allen Solly doesn't have the clothes we want, what will they say?"
He knows we both are dumb, so he won't wait for an answer.
He shows his 100 watt smile. "Solly, we don't have it."
Lavs and I manage a warm, fake smile while mom laughs dutifully.

2) Whenever I see Dhoni, Dravid, Zaheer's pics on billboards, outside Reebok showroom, or Sonata showroom or whatever, I announce "Dhoniiiii" or "Draviiiiiiid" joyfully.
So, I see Dhoni's photo endorsing Sonata watches on the back of a bus. Dad, Lavs and I were in the car behind the bus. I squealled "Dhoniiiii" as usual. My sis remained indifferent. Dad stares at MSD smiling casually back at him. I shrank back into the back seat, expecting a Dad joke coming.
The wisecrack- "Dhoni used to hang out of the buses when he was young. And he still hangs out of the buses when he's famous."

3) I entertain Dad by telling him about the smokers, drinkers, dopers of my batch, plus the girly bitching that happens, plus some of the spicy news about the hostels. In short, I tell my parents and sister about every single damn thing that happens in my college, specially my batch, lol. (My batch will hate me, after reading this) So, I was telling Dad about a smoker who's roomie is a non-smoker. So the non smoker was cribbing to some of us about his smoker roomie.
Dad's eyes light up. Shit, I realized the volcano was going to burst. I continued babbling on with the story, but Alas, Dad was too quick. He interrupted me.
"The non smoker didn't smoke, so he fumed"

4) My sister was waiting for her i-20 (an all important document which comes from colleges abroad, as proof that you've got admission there) So one fine day, she was going with Dad for some document work. My sis, jobless as usual, thoughtfully asks Dad, "Why is i-20 called i-20?"
Dad's eyes glint evilly. My sis, the topper, the gold medalist, the girl who robs all the certificates of intelligence, had invited a Dad Joke.
"Because of the T-20 format."
Hahahahaha, he roars loudly.

5) I was talking about my college friend Joyeeta. Well, she was short on cash, so I had lent her some money. I don't know why, but somehow, that topic came up and I chattered on about Joyeeta being broke during exam time. All of us are always broke during exam time, weird it was. I continued giving a speech on Joyeeta. I mentioned about her mom working in State Bank of India. Dad clears his throat.
I didn't bother to freak out. I was immune to the jokes, I guess.
"Her mom works in a bank, that's why she's in debt."

Now, you know where my (??)sense of humour(??) comes from....Oh, let me start taking down some of those Mom Jokes too.....