Yours truly is not only a male chauvinist pig, but also a really careless, untidy, unpolished and lazy bugger who can charm the shitting pigs to fart to their hearts content because of his honest tactlessness.
The story has its origins in a recent networking event which yours truly attended in one of the finest hotels in Mumbai. The agenda was to network. Since I have the gift of gab and my boss knew i am useless in office any way, i was shipped to this event to generate leads. I guess i should be careful hence forth.
I spent my days trying to chat up old men, bored to death with their P and L statements and port-socket dilemmas. I would wait for the day to end and the party to begin. With fellow drunk buggers, all useless MBAs occupying good positions in car-porates, we would hit the town late at night, driving drunk, listening to floyd.
I slept late and came to the last day of the conference much after the first event of the day had started. Without a much thought, i placed my luggage at the end of the seminar hall and went to occupy one of the front row seats. Have you noticed that usually, all seminars have their last rows filled up first, and the last ones to remain are the front row seats, to be taken as a punishment by the late participants.
So anyway, after sleeping through the day sessions, at the end of the last session, i went back to the end of the seminar hall,picked up my luggage and lugged it to the waiting cab to Pune. After 4 hours, i checked into the Pune hotel. Tired, sleepy, hungry and almost dead, i opened the bag hoping to pick up some fresh kachchas to change into. And i realize i am digging into lacy nighties, silk tops and unmistakable jasmine scent of a female's bag. Now since which day on earth did girls start carrying black business luggare from VIP? They are supposed to carry red, pink, green pieces of luggage. Bloody bible thumping retards. Anyway, i went out, shopped for clothes, and came back to the hotel for the conference the next day.
another story to tell my retarded life.
The story has its origins in a recent networking event which yours truly attended in one of the finest hotels in Mumbai. The agenda was to network. Since I have the gift of gab and my boss knew i am useless in office any way, i was shipped to this event to generate leads. I guess i should be careful hence forth.
I spent my days trying to chat up old men, bored to death with their P and L statements and port-socket dilemmas. I would wait for the day to end and the party to begin. With fellow drunk buggers, all useless MBAs occupying good positions in car-porates, we would hit the town late at night, driving drunk, listening to floyd.
I slept late and came to the last day of the conference much after the first event of the day had started. Without a much thought, i placed my luggage at the end of the seminar hall and went to occupy one of the front row seats. Have you noticed that usually, all seminars have their last rows filled up first, and the last ones to remain are the front row seats, to be taken as a punishment by the late participants.
So anyway, after sleeping through the day sessions, at the end of the last session, i went back to the end of the seminar hall,picked up my luggage and lugged it to the waiting cab to Pune. After 4 hours, i checked into the Pune hotel. Tired, sleepy, hungry and almost dead, i opened the bag hoping to pick up some fresh kachchas to change into. And i realize i am digging into lacy nighties, silk tops and unmistakable jasmine scent of a female's bag. Now since which day on earth did girls start carrying black business luggare from VIP? They are supposed to carry red, pink, green pieces of luggage. Bloody bible thumping retards. Anyway, i went out, shopped for clothes, and came back to the hotel for the conference the next day.
another story to tell my retarded life.
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