I am known to be nimble with a bra and undies but, somehow, Shefaly forgot to press the space bar, and it so happens that I have to talk on, no, not even brandies, but brands.
I might have married a branded wife (handsome young stud that I was am), but I did not. The one I did nearly branded me with a hot pressing iron for lateral winking, following which I signed off my right to liberty and pursuit of happiness. Whatever is left is called life, at least as per the pieces of paper written by Father figures like James Madison and Benji Franklin.
As for material objects that rule our lives, I am ambivalent about brands. Some are awesome and to-kill-for, while others are overrated, and many unbranded things are outstanding.
I will take this meme my way. Because it is my brand of blogging.

At daybreak, I get into the standard Nike/Reebok gym gear and drive my car to my gym, which is not Gold’s Gym. International gym gear is outstandingly high class. It allows one to stretch one’s limbs so far away from each other that it seems inconceivable how they manage to come back to status quo ante. My shoes create no ecco when I move, because I wear quiet, red shoes, which means they scream “I am sexy, look up!” However, it is alleged in certain quarters that only street dogs hear that particular scream. Jealousy has its own brand, doesn’t it?

ON return, I scan The Times, both Economic and Indian. Stardom Levis its own price, depending on the sign of your Zodiac, I think as I dress up, looking at the Flor sheimfully. I exit for work, leaving a trail of sarcastic exclamations: “Dior me! He is going Higher, a Huge Boss. Will you return by 212?”
At work, I see the unbranded and unwashed poor who come to me. At surgery, it is important to Image One self as a medical Stryker, though not in the Indian communist sense. I Proceed through a mesh of cases in Harmonic motion. Thank God, I am spared a pile of trouble in the hospital bathrooms.
Back home, I am the Apple of my own iSight, and get Bourdeaux watching the Sam sungs on MTV in my den. In no time, I sleep. Unlike the Citi which I don’t bank on.
You can be happy alone, but misery is contagious. I propose to inflict this meme on Bikerdude and Marc.

10 responses to “A COGNAC OF A POST, NO LESS!

  1. R-Doc: Superb! 🙂

    Someone needs to convert this to a graphic. And I agree misery is, indeed should be, contagious.

    BTW, VS, VSOP or XO?

  2. looking at the Flor sheimfully.

    How do you come up with these things?! Ouch!

  3. Very p(h)unny. I suppose any puneygeric must traditionally have the “horrible” sobriquet. Bolohori. Sweets of Balarambodoc.

  4. Branded wife ??! is she a commodity? shall I get women’s rights activists to come and demo at your door! 😛
    And I see that , in all this busy hopping between one brand to another, there is nary a mention of any contribution to the all the hard work relating to the house. Give me your wife’s mail id. I need to have a word with her.

  5. Shefaly:
    Thanks. VSOP or XO.
    You can say what you want to right here: she will read it for sure.

  6. Vivek Khadpekar


    Amidst that orgy of dropped names (I’ll keep this clean, though you did start off with something else that you can nimbly persuade dropping), I couldn’t find what car you drive to the gym. Whatever brand it is, I suppose it has a sticker that says “My other car is a Bugatti Royale.”

    And lateral winking…hmm!

  7. Vivek:
    My Civic duties are pushing me towards walking. The fact that petrol will soon hit 75-100 buck levels is merely an icing on the cake.

  8. Vivek Khadpekar


    What do I say to that? “Go take a cakewalk!” 🙂
    And if this doomsday scenario about climate change comes true, you may also have to watch out for the ice!

  9. R-Doc: Just realised I posted an apparently random Louis XIII comment on the wrong post. It should have been here but anyway, you will ‘get’ it even if it is ‘apparently’ random to others 🙂

  10. 🙂
    Another winner.


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