Feeling a tad low.
Yesterday after a very long time of procrastinating I took a position on where I felt the markets were headed. And what's worse I put it down in writing (not on this blog thankfully). For most of the day there was a false sense of satisfaction that my predictions would hold. Then in the last 90 minutes the whole thing came crashing down.
I hate being wrong. I also hate that I will have to now try and re-examine the data and try and figure out where this damn market is headed.
I am not yet ready to buy that whole "down to 8500 before we see a recovery" crap. The smart money is going to get in before that and the Junta is once more going to end up being left behind (waiting for the mythical 8500) and then when it sees the market suddenly shoot up, will jump in at a much higher level and get screwed AGAIN.
I also have this runny nose which makes me crabby and annoying. It also killed any plans that I had of going to the Gym. So lay down and watched TV. BAAAAAADDDDD MOVE!!!!!
Ended up watching a couple of movies called "Lets Enjoy" and "Dude where's the Party". (What! You were not aware of the fact that I have Bad Taste in Movies??).
How do such movies get made?
Once made who in their right mind pays to see them?
Who do these movie makers sleep with to get this crap aired on Television??
Honestly I have seen Family wedding videos that are more interesting and better produced than this shit.
And some of them probably also have a better story line.
Was too depressed after that to eat my salad so called for some high carb crap. Thank God there was only Mango Ice-cream (courtesy the nephew) in the house, so it was possible for me to resist the urge to completely pig out.
Morning has not been too great either. The papers are full of Football Fever (and Rahul Mahajan) and for someone like me who doesn't like either that's a 100 pages of "Full Colour" Toilet Paper.
Taalking of Rahul I keep having this very nasty image of R & B naked in the Jacuzzi. Making out with your Dads Secretary/Assistant whatever. Just how kinky is that?
This evening is the Annual Convention of the "Mock the Fat Doc" Fraternity.
Considering that the whole year round these guys pretty much do nothing more than make nasty and rude comments about me one would hope that for one day of the year they would say nice things about me (at least to my face). But that I guess is too much to expect.
The one thing I am thankful for is that none of these guys have eve met my "intimate" friends. It's bad enough that they mock the waiter, the spot boy, the telephone operator and the bank clerk. Introducing these (innocent and terribly cute) guys to the barracudas that call themselves my friends would start them off on a mad feeding frenzy.
Trying something different this year. Central Suburbs. It's funny how the moment you mention the fact that the party is in Chembur, guys assume that I got screwed in the recent market meltdown and am trying to skimp on the cost.
Anyway let's see...
Sunday am planning to go for the Scrabble Tournament after a very long time. Considering my present streak of luck I think I am going to be stuck with Q, J, X & V with no vowels right after the other guys scores a bingo on a triple world score tile.
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2 comments:
I read in the Business Standard, 1-2 weeks ago, that retail investors/junta were buying in early, not late as you suggested.
I'd like to know more about real-time charting (not just quotes), indicators and screening tools available. I download the latest bhavcopy (BSE)regularly, but have not looked at the data yet. I know very little about the Indian markets, so I cannot even offer an opinion on short-term direction.
{{Feeling a tad low}}
That's because you're short.
{{runny nose which makes me crabby and annoying}}
Yeh lo. It's the runny nose now. What next? The doyenne from the neighbouring building has a better-embroidered gara?
Let's Enjoy had quite a gay angle. I'm sure they must've excised it on TV.
{{This evening is the Annual Convention of the "Mock the Fat Doc" Fraternity. Considering that the whole year round these guys pretty much do nothing more than make nasty and rude comments about me one would hope that for one day of the year they would say nice things about me (at least to my face). But that I guess is too much to expect.}}
F-Cubed plays well with other boys.
F-Cubed plays even better with himself.
Satisfied?
{{The one thing I am thankful for is that none of these guys have eve met my "intimate" friends. It's bad enough that they mock the waiter, the spot boy, the telephone operator and the bank clerk. Introducing these (innocent and terribly cute) guys to the barracudas that call themselves my friends would start them off on a mad feeding frenzy.}}
Yeah missy, go on, go on, let me give the real scoop on what happened at the "Annual Convention of Mock The Fat Doc" i.e. F-Cubed birthday party. When I strode in I saw Madam reclining with a red ribbon covering her head and halfway down her face. It looked like one of those ketchup bloodstains from a Ramsey Brothers movie. The gifts she got this time included a thong & a nice snug XXXL Tantra tee-shirt - and these are the mentionables. Missy then stood up and did a slow, tantalising striptease, with other diners (including a five year old boy whom I am sure was trauatised for life) RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE of the restaurant. The poor waiters bringing the drinks and food (super choice of restaurant bawi - the food, music and ambience ROCKED) had to dodge her hurricane hips to get to the table. After ALL the others guests had been forced to flee out of shock at the debauchery (F-Cubed lifted her shirt, pulled up her thong and jiggled her booty) that too on the day of the Germany-Costa Rica game, Missy very cleverly fired the DJ (apparently she carries *even more* weight here than she normally does) and we sashayed on the floor for a bit. A thoroughly enjoyable evening. Have you been fired from the club yet?
A unanimous ordinance was passed at the table to have F-Cubed change the definition of this blog from "Fat Forty and a Fag" to "Fat Fifty and a Fag". Erm, better late (by 2000 years) than never.
Happy Birthday hon. You ROCK.
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