1) I finally got my new graphics card on Thursday. And like an excited schoolboy, I ran home plugged it in and gamed my heart out. Comes to show, at the core of it all, I am a geek. I got my hands on Farcry 2. I’ve been playing that since Thursday evening. I’ve clocked a total of 30 hours over the last 4 days. My eyes have gone dry from the sheer awesomeness of the new 17” flat widescreen monitor and the graphics card…and the fact that I had not blinked in about 6 hours. Meal time has been a quick. Short quick breaks to the loo ensure that I keep functioning. Amount of liquid intake has gone down as that may result in more trips to the loo. This is highly disturbing when you are in the middle of Africa, caught between warring factions trying to get the king’s gold and the secret documents to the best buyer. This game reminds me of Blood Diamond…TIA (This is Africa)
2) I resume my quest for entrance into a B-school of fair repute. The nightmares have begun again. Back to the whole exercise of speculation of the darkest things that could happen should I fail this year and then beating my self down for mistakes I make on mock papers. It is almost like Ed Norton v/s Ed Norton in Fight Club (without the bloody results… but that may start soon too). I cant believe someone like me (who hates sitting down and studying) has actually invested a fair amount of precious time and life on this. All this had better be worth it in the end.
3) My watchman is as bad as the cops in Mumbai. The man always seems to react after everything has happened. While the folks were out, I was busy killing potential dictators in central Africa; my killing spree was rudely interrupted by the doorbell. I hit ‘pause’, run to the door ( I do mean run… almost like a graceful gazzelle.... nah!! T'was more like a Rhino stampede) and open it to find a salesman selling me… I honestly cant remember what he was selling me…. It wasn’t a seat in any b-school….but I am sure it was something I didn’t need. Right then…. I needed a ‘Scope-upgrade’ for my Sniper Rifle. I called the watchman, (obviously…this rude disturbance would not be taken lying down)…who ran up the stairs and acted all innocent. “Saaar…how this rascal came..I don’t know…full mistake saar….aiii….salesman….why you disturbing saar????” I was annoyed; yelled at the watchman, “What if he’s a suicide bomber out to get me?” after which I slammed the door shut and resumed the carnage. My friend was right. I am insensitive.
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