An old old archaic Tag

She had tagged me many many moons ago, but I just hadnt got round to doing it. (On the same note tags from her and her still remain due).
But then coming back to blogging after a pretty long exile, you need something like a tag to get you going. So for today, no sex stories, no bloody indian dude/dudette bashing but lets do a simple decent nice tag.

Heres the tag rules:
(1) Say who tagged you
(2) Say 8 things about yourself
(3) Tag 6 people.

8 things about me:

(1) I have a raging inferiority complex and I often end up using sex, trash talk and really weird, deranged and the sexually explicit variety of humor as a defense mechanism.

(2) I wish I could wear my hair ala Rahul Roy (for those of you not into Bollywood movies he is the hero of that legendary modern day Hindi movie classic "Junoon", India's first and probably last werewolf movie, a singing and dancing wereworlf at that too). Being unsatisfied with my natural in situ hair and finally having given up on a Rahul roy-esque haitdo I have instead proceeded to dye my hair brown blonde and various other combinations of brown and blonde in the past. I also happen to have 7 piercings on my ear, one on my navel and a really wrong tattoo on my arm.

(3) I am addicted to the Almost Famous variety of mini-cookies most commonly found in vending machines. I have single handedly emptied more than three vending machines of their Almost Famous stock in less than 7 days.

(4) You can often find me at an AMC or a multi-plex watching movies alone. Infact I prefer to watch movies in an audi alone, and never ever prefer going to a movie-date ( in the past I have had traumatic experiences of making out in movie theatres which I am sure has scarred me forever and created a major mental block when it comes to movie dates). I am also extremely suspicious of girls who go to movies with me and buy popcorns. I get this feeling that in the dark of the theater, while reaching for the popcorn precariously balanced on my knees with my hand still inside the popcorn bag, her hands and fingers will forget about the popcorn and instead make a dash for my hand with the intention of holding onto it in a gesture of stupid PDA (public display of affection) and thus take the first step to spoiling my movie.

(5) There is probably nothing and no-one in the world I really care about (including myself). And this has been true for many years now, except for an anamolous break once. But then again exceptions and anamolies prove the rule.

(6) I'm a trained classical guitarist, meaning I have had 8 years of "formal" training in playing the damn classical guitar and my marksheets (four of them actually) read "Passed in music theory with 1st class" (theory pertains to the part where they ask you all kinds of weird questions about raags and tri-taals and things like that) , "Passed in practical with distinction" (practical pertians to the actual playing part). Surprisingly I have also played solo on the radio, and played in an orchestra at the Nazrul Manch (probably the largest open air audi in Calcutta).

(7) I hate formal wear. I absolutely detest them. And thus, much to my manager's chagrin, I end up going to the office in party shirts. I also hate shoes and snickers. Now flip-flops and sandals, thats what the man should put on, right!!

(8) I find most people boring and stupid and slow. And I'm usually blunt about it. (I would usually go out of my way to let you know that your a first class daft and boring the hell out of me with your non-sensical jabber). Consequently I find it extremely hard to make friends. Infact all my friends, casual and otherwise, (with the exception of exactly 5 people) are people I know for almost a decade now.

Now for the people to tag. The unfortunate bunch are:
M, Wishfulthinker, Sue, Aditi,
Dreamcatcher.