Kiran and Shaan's World

In the covert intelligence community, this is euphemistically called an “extraction”. – Kiran

Who am I today? Urban Tarzan. – Kiran

A little birdie who would know, tells me, that a little birdie told him, that the best hummus can be found at Drama’s Deli. Just walk up to the counter and ask Big Guy for ‘something special’. But remember, if you start asking Big Guy a million questions and come in looking all NYPD Blue you’ll meet Even Bigger Guy for sure. And then you’ll just get ‘the stare-down’ and a scoop of day-old tabbouleh. – Kiran

Mmmmm….no, really, I can’t. I have an op-ed piece due tomorrow morning for The New Yorker, followed by a photo shoot with Heinz – “the Lexus of Ketchups” and I’m hosting an American Idol-themed luncheon the following day. Oh, and I’m growing out my bangs and that requires extra sleep. – Kiran

I know! And can you believe the doorman wouldn’t let me in the door– even AFTER I took off my sparkly red feather wig! – Kiran

MR. FERRARI 

The modern man drives a Ferrari careening across a crowded intersection at 130 MPH, chest hair extruding from his vintage tee and smelling of Aqua Di Gio. On the other side of the intersection is a harem of Brazillian models and a huge bottle of Veuve Clicquot. — If I make it across, everything is fine. If I don’t, I’ve got a problem. What are my odds? About 30%. – Kiran

The Associated Press reports that the sky is blue, grass is green and something about my abs. I believe “sculpted steel” were their exact words. – Kiran

HY! Wh stl my vwls? – Krn

Since the Low-Carb Movement, bread has been marginalized as “The Other Monosaccharide” and only allowed to fraternize with other wheat products. Soon after, coffee was labeled a “carb lover” and went home to find his house teepeed. — Why can’t we all just get along? – Kiran

SPY VS SPY (EPISODE 2)

[CONTINUED]

….the operative in question was a double-agent. And just to prove his sincerity, he gave a little fist-pump as we parted ways. And fist-pumps don’t lie.

I stealthily pressed on, sans couch-disguise, and made my way to the next obstacle: Omega Sector Security. I easily talked the guards into giving me a “guest pass” by ingeniously having them call someone I knew “on the inside”. And as I expertly pretended to fetch parsnip puree from the salad bar with one hand, the other swiftly swiped the encoded Omega microchip with a Play-Doh fashioned replica. Mission accomplished!

Upon returning to headquarters in Washington D.C., Lincoln’s statue gave me a high-five. – Kiran