** Fiction as always**
There are only some 1,440 tigers left in India, presumably including the CWG mascot, Shera. Clearly the Indian tiger is an endangered species, and we must do all we can to save it. But while we are trying to save the tiger, let's spare a thought for a species that is not just endangered but extinct: the postman.
Remember the postman? He was the guy - though it may well have been a gal, the erstwhile postal department having been an equal-opportunity institution - who left mail for you in your letter box. Postmen - postpeople, if you prefer - were like Santa Claus, or the Tooth Fairy: you never saw them but you found evidence that they'd been there by what they left behind - letters, bills, junk mail, what have you. No, it's not quite true that you never saw postpeople. You did see your postperson, once a year. On the dot of Diwali your postperson would turn up on your doorstep for the annual Diwali mubarak baksheesh that all postpeople were entitled to by tradition, if not by their official terms of employment.
Over the years, i'd got to know my postperson quite well, thanks to our once-a-year meetings on Diwali. Then this Diwali, my postperson didn't turn up. Had my postperson forgotten? Unlikely. Postpeople had to have powerful memories, capable of remembering all those addresses and where exactly each one was on their beats. A good memory was a professional requirement if you were a postperson. So why had my postperson not kept our Diwali rendezvous?
Then I begun to come across people, friends and neighbours, whose postpeople had also not turned up for their Diwali baksheesh. Why this sudden paucity of postpeople? That's when the ominous thought struck me: were postpeople becoming - or had already become - an extinct species, along with the dodo, the typewriter and telephones which had dials instead of pushbuttons?
And the chilling answer seemed to be 'yes'. Along with the dodo, the typewriter and phones with dials, evolution had bypassed the postperson. With the advent of internet and e-mail people not only stopped using 'snail mail' to correspond with each other, but they also stopped writing letters at all to each other. Instead, they tweeted each other, or sent each other SMSs: Hw r u?
OK, so people stopped writing letters. But what about bills, junk mail, pizza delivery offers (If It's Not Hot/Our Bandha Can Be Shot), and all that other stuff? If there were no more postpeople - because people had stopped writing letters - who was going to deliver all the other mail? The answer, of course, was couriers, a vast army of which appeared overnight.
Unlike postpeople whom you never saw, save on Diwali, you see couriers every day, several of them every day. When the doorbell rings you always know it's the courier come calling. How do you know this? Because experience has taught you that couriers, all couriers, have an uncanny psychic ability by which they know exactly when to ring the doorbell while you are in the middle of performing an intimate function which requires your total concentration, like using the loo, or trimming your toenails, or dealing with the blackhead that's suddenly appeared on the tip of your nose. You're just about to squeeze the damn thing out when ... Ring! It's the courier. With an invitation to an ikebana exhibition organised by the Indo-Japanese Friendship League, or the exciting book launch of the Telephone Directory.
Yesterday the doorbell rang. I wasn't in the loo, or the shower. So it couldn't be the courier. Could it be my postperson, come back to life? It wasn't. It was the courier. Demanding Diwali baksheesh. I gave it too.
As a bribe. Not to make sure the courier kept coming to deliver my mail. But to make sure the courier stopped coming to deliver my mail.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Mountain L.I.O.N
We were driving through the beautiful national park of Yosemite at night when the entire sierra Nevada range (white granite) was bathing in beautiful moonlight .White moonflowers which bloom only at night smiled in the meadows as we passed through them .My gaze was locked in the sky where I could see stars twinkling through the moon roof in the car. People around me were tired and were trying to either check the camera batteries or missing their loved ones.
Suddenly the car jerked to a sudden stop when the car beam fell on the sign board which had text in neon ink :
WARNING: Beware of mountain lion.
Hearing lion stories in the comfort of your warm bed from your grandparents is a totally different experience than to confront a sign board that warns you of its existence.
The brake lights at the back of our car glowed, we all sat silently for a moment deciding our next steps when we heard rumbling in the nearby area, it seemed so awfully close, one of us assured that it was just a wild deer for that matter and we were all making much ado about nothing. Though I must mention the voice of the speaker was hesitant to its very pitch, some assurance is better than none.
A look alike of Bambi jumped and off it went. Phew!!
We all giggled but suddenly there was a strange low shriekey sound ,it sounded as if someone or something was in pain , we all shushed up to hear better but the clarity in pain didn't help much as we just felt worse.
The big question was did we want to risk stepping out.
A ranger vehicle stopped as we had our emergency light's on .
He approached our car and saw 4 pair of doe eyes peering at him .We shared our concern , he looked unperturbed and said maybe it was a Bear. After all there must be reasons for calling California the bear country. He checked with us if we had any food in our car ?
The strong smell of garlic from my co-occupant‘s breath reminded of the pizza boxes in the boot of the car. He reminded of us the 1000$ littering fine and the fact that animals get attracted to food.
Even though words were not exchanged we knew we had to get rid of the food .We couldn’t find a bin so stopped at a campsite hoping to find a bin.
We all got out of the car looking for a bin. Unity in times of adversity helps .Trust me. But little did we realize that were walking with the bait .Probably smelled “ bait” for a carnivorous out there.
before we knew we had a :
A petit cat jumped in front of us and snarl.
A pal of mine who apparently had a source of light in her hand (a pencil cell powered laser) -our only source of light in the pitch dark forest…the camp lights had been extinguished and the clouds over the moon didn’t help either ,thumped loudly on the ground .
The cat was unperturbed .It looked at us. I threw the food in my hand in its direction .
“Please don’t feed animals “ was a sign we had read perhaps at every second turn in the national park and the monetary penalty stated with it but alas.
And then a volunteer wearing a hat with light fitted on it like the miners used to wear emerged from the corner and said :
“That’s the mountain lion folks, walk away it will do nothing.”
We didn’t know what stumped us more the volunteer appearing from nowhere, or the fact the “meow” creature in front was the much hyped mountain lion “Junglii billi “ my friends is called the Mountain lion in California.We all burst out laughing .
And I had to blog about it.
:)
Suddenly the car jerked to a sudden stop when the car beam fell on the sign board which had text in neon ink :
WARNING: Beware of mountain lion.
Hearing lion stories in the comfort of your warm bed from your grandparents is a totally different experience than to confront a sign board that warns you of its existence.
The brake lights at the back of our car glowed, we all sat silently for a moment deciding our next steps when we heard rumbling in the nearby area, it seemed so awfully close, one of us assured that it was just a wild deer for that matter and we were all making much ado about nothing. Though I must mention the voice of the speaker was hesitant to its very pitch, some assurance is better than none.
A look alike of Bambi jumped and off it went. Phew!!
We all giggled but suddenly there was a strange low shriekey sound ,it sounded as if someone or something was in pain , we all shushed up to hear better but the clarity in pain didn't help much as we just felt worse.
The big question was did we want to risk stepping out.
A ranger vehicle stopped as we had our emergency light's on .
He approached our car and saw 4 pair of doe eyes peering at him .We shared our concern , he looked unperturbed and said maybe it was a Bear. After all there must be reasons for calling California the bear country. He checked with us if we had any food in our car ?
The strong smell of garlic from my co-occupant‘s breath reminded of the pizza boxes in the boot of the car. He reminded of us the 1000$ littering fine and the fact that animals get attracted to food.
Even though words were not exchanged we knew we had to get rid of the food .We couldn’t find a bin so stopped at a campsite hoping to find a bin.
We all got out of the car looking for a bin. Unity in times of adversity helps .Trust me. But little did we realize that were walking with the bait .Probably smelled “ bait” for a carnivorous out there.
before we knew we had a :
A petit cat jumped in front of us and snarl.
A pal of mine who apparently had a source of light in her hand (a pencil cell powered laser) -our only source of light in the pitch dark forest…the camp lights had been extinguished and the clouds over the moon didn’t help either ,thumped loudly on the ground .
The cat was unperturbed .It looked at us. I threw the food in my hand in its direction .
“Please don’t feed animals “ was a sign we had read perhaps at every second turn in the national park and the monetary penalty stated with it but alas.
And then a volunteer wearing a hat with light fitted on it like the miners used to wear emerged from the corner and said :
“That’s the mountain lion folks, walk away it will do nothing.”
We didn’t know what stumped us more the volunteer appearing from nowhere, or the fact the “meow” creature in front was the much hyped mountain lion “Junglii billi “ my friends is called the Mountain lion in California.We all burst out laughing .
And I had to blog about it.
:)
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Zzap
Everybody around me had a vocation yesterday from coding to ironing clothes . I was too restless to warm the couch so I took a cab to the nearest Farmers market (that’s the American version of Indian haat ). It's a place where farmers come and sell their products .The smell of churros (hot cinnamon sticks ) filled my nostrils and pansies’ in the corner looked all bright n pretty.The place had everything from fresh live stock to creamiest dairy.There were several kiosks as well with games promising 5 ft stuff toys as prizes (hard to resist. Right ??)
I played dart, hand wrestled plastic arms, mis-spelled Mississippi ,squirted waterguns and before i realized i was standing among lots of people.They were all looking at a raised section of floor which worked as a make do stage. A man in a tux (completely different then the usual rugged torn jeans worn by one and all ) had a microphone in one hand and a stick in other .He was inviting volunteers .I looked around and found a small board in the corner of the stage,which read
“James kellog jr Hypnotist show “
Hmm interesting. I have always been curious about the subject and what better way to experience it then volunteering for it .So before I knew I was sitting with a group of 9 other excited homo sapiens who wanted to experience or prove Mr Kellog all wrong.Which sect I belonged to is a difficult statement to make. I did smile and waved to the crowd on being told to do so.I distinctly remember that the host started the segment with welcome notes and disclaimers.We did what we were told.
Relaxed our bodies.Shook hands.Stood up.Sat down.
Zzap.Blank.(maybe not blank) .
Barked like dogs. Got scared with so called rain.Jumped make belief whoops.
Zzap.Blank.(maybe not blank) .
and waived back thanked our host and walked down.
So lemme wait and watch
and maybe…maybe..just maybe I might share
:)
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Guid(e)-(d)ance
Meheeko!! We are in meheeko cooed Sanjana. Last month me and a pal of mine drove to Mexico .Bright sunshine kissed our car roof and we were tempted to take the hood of out Mustang but taking pix with entangled hair which trust me takes an hour to detangle is no fun. So we just rolled down the panes and enjoyed the wind on our faces.
We were going on a small hiking trip and were pretty excited about.
At the end of the 7 hour drive our faces lit up when we saw the signboard 'Sierra de la Laguna forests - 4 miles'.
We booked a room ,had cactus for dinner (which mind you tastes like capsicum ) and retired early .
We took a guide. Octivio read the wooden badge on his jute jacket .
He led the way into the woods .We started before the sunsrise around 6 am .
Our guide was an enthusiastic fellow who wanted to share his knowledge about the Navajo culture, right from thie symbolic Kokopelli to the prehispanic influence in the country.
He described it as the melting pot of all races. We were thoroughly enjoying ourselves, walking in natures lap and sipping in fresh air .
Then started our crash course on the ways of the wild.
He pointed at pugmarks of a wild cat.To me it just looked some mud grubbed together, next I see as if a large individual in stiletto heels had done a quick one-two bhangra step. But no. Wild boar, rooting with its snout for grubs and maggots, explained our guide.
What the heck,city slicker though i am, i too could try my hand at my own kind of guiding, involving the stuff of urban legends. There! See that. Yes, that piece of tinfoil. That is no ordinary tinfoil. It is the sign of that abundant species which ought to be the subject of a National Geographic programme: the Great homo sapiens litter. And look here! That wet round patch there? That is the mark left behind by the Common Male Urinator.
We moved further with a 'not so happy 'Octivio as he thought that we were mocking him with our ideas so back I went to my fly on the wall mode and gave him my full attention. He showed us how to figure out the age of the tree by the rings in its trunk. That was interesting.
Finally he led us to the end of the trail and pointed at the famous whispering gallery in the building. You stay here, he told Sanjana. You go there, he told me. Now put your mouths close to the wall and whisper softly. What magic, no? You can hear each other clearly, though so far apart. You know how it's done? All those ages ago when the gallery was built, they had a secret powder which they put into the walls. This is the same powder which they are now putting into tape recorders and other sound equipment. What a most wonderful wonder, isn't it?
Yeah, yeah. I know about acoustics and all that. But i'll still buy the secret powder which can power/enchant our help shanta's snuff box to turn into a radio.
We reached back home the next day and wondered looking at the Bose Lifestyle V20 if it had the powder!!
I am planning to write a mail to octivio and see if he would like to take us on an expedition(i had somehitng Man vs Wild in my mind ) looking for that secret stuff .
Any takers ??
We were going on a small hiking trip and were pretty excited about.
At the end of the 7 hour drive our faces lit up when we saw the signboard 'Sierra de la Laguna forests - 4 miles'.
We booked a room ,had cactus for dinner (which mind you tastes like capsicum ) and retired early .
We took a guide. Octivio read the wooden badge on his jute jacket .
He led the way into the woods .We started before the sunsrise around 6 am .
Our guide was an enthusiastic fellow who wanted to share his knowledge about the Navajo culture, right from thie symbolic Kokopelli to the prehispanic influence in the country.
He described it as the melting pot of all races. We were thoroughly enjoying ourselves, walking in natures lap and sipping in fresh air .
Then started our crash course on the ways of the wild.
He pointed at pugmarks of a wild cat.To me it just looked some mud grubbed together, next I see as if a large individual in stiletto heels had done a quick one-two bhangra step. But no. Wild boar, rooting with its snout for grubs and maggots, explained our guide.
What the heck,city slicker though i am, i too could try my hand at my own kind of guiding, involving the stuff of urban legends. There! See that. Yes, that piece of tinfoil. That is no ordinary tinfoil. It is the sign of that abundant species which ought to be the subject of a National Geographic programme: the Great homo sapiens litter. And look here! That wet round patch there? That is the mark left behind by the Common Male Urinator.
We moved further with a 'not so happy 'Octivio as he thought that we were mocking him with our ideas so back I went to my fly on the wall mode and gave him my full attention. He showed us how to figure out the age of the tree by the rings in its trunk. That was interesting.
Finally he led us to the end of the trail and pointed at the famous whispering gallery in the building. You stay here, he told Sanjana. You go there, he told me. Now put your mouths close to the wall and whisper softly. What magic, no? You can hear each other clearly, though so far apart. You know how it's done? All those ages ago when the gallery was built, they had a secret powder which they put into the walls. This is the same powder which they are now putting into tape recorders and other sound equipment. What a most wonderful wonder, isn't it?
Yeah, yeah. I know about acoustics and all that. But i'll still buy the secret powder which can power/enchant our help shanta's snuff box to turn into a radio.
We reached back home the next day and wondered looking at the Bose Lifestyle V20 if it had the powder!!
I am planning to write a mail to octivio and see if he would like to take us on an expedition(i had somehitng Man vs Wild in my mind ) looking for that secret stuff .
Any takers ??
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Oh shit!
This one spl as this one’s about my sister who has been patient enough and has bared with me all these years.I can’t pose as a morning person but waking up early for a justified cause is not a Herculean task either for me.
But for my sis where waking at 7 am is a “necessary evil” as she has to commute to her destination which takes a while and she detests the very thought of setting the morning alarm.
I am pretty sure if she reads this blog my rating on her popularity charts is going to hit rock bottom not that it was ever at the pinnacle but somehow managed to be a single digit.
This one was way back in 2006 at Nepal where people wake up at 4 to enjoy the sunrises .
Our hotel had a stunning view of the snow covered peaks and my sister was convinced that looking at them at 9 am made up for not waking up at the unearthly hour of 3:30 to catch the sunrise at 4.
She even proposed to use Photoshop to get my pic with sunrise in the background but alas
what are family vacation for if you can’t bully your siblings into doing something … finally my sister consented to sit in the car at 3:30 (waking up was not part of the deal ).
My parents were somehow delayed with something at the reception.
So it was just me and my sis in the car.
I am wide awake, excited and ready to move.(She still hates me for this)
And since my sister refused to open her eyelid I had to step out of the car to enjoy the view.
In the horizon i saw a nepali coming with a mule carrying a backpack and a Australian walking beside him.
It sounded like the nepali was acting like a tourist guide for the Australian(His distinct nasal accent gave him away).
He pointed at peaks and shrubbery and gave extra sound effects with his description which were intermittently paused by mule hee’s and han’s.
My sister oblivious to the orchestra was in the car.
They were walking in our direction .The Australian was praising the beauty and was describing his own country to the nepali. The patriot in me couldn't resist and jumped right in the conversation about how beautiful India is and how diverse and beautiful is our natural flora and fauna.
The Australian was intrigued and turned his attention to me .The guide was patient and took the time to feed his mule.
My sister woke up due to the din. Looked bewildered. Paused .Looked at the Australian
“You might want to move or else you might be covered in poop”.
We turn back and notice that the mule’s tail was strategically in air and the Australian ‘s foot would break the poop’s fall to the ground.
He immediately moved away and was full of gratitude .
My sister smiled at him. Glared at me and politely slept off.
And as my sister says the Indian students would have been harassed 3 years back had she not foiled my plan to cover Australians in “Deep Shit “.
And she is pretty convinced this time too I have something to do with it.
Love you sis :)
But for my sis where waking at 7 am is a “necessary evil” as she has to commute to her destination which takes a while and she detests the very thought of setting the morning alarm.
I am pretty sure if she reads this blog my rating on her popularity charts is going to hit rock bottom not that it was ever at the pinnacle but somehow managed to be a single digit.
This one was way back in 2006 at Nepal where people wake up at 4 to enjoy the sunrises .
Our hotel had a stunning view of the snow covered peaks and my sister was convinced that looking at them at 9 am made up for not waking up at the unearthly hour of 3:30 to catch the sunrise at 4.
She even proposed to use Photoshop to get my pic with sunrise in the background but alas
what are family vacation for if you can’t bully your siblings into doing something … finally my sister consented to sit in the car at 3:30 (waking up was not part of the deal ).
My parents were somehow delayed with something at the reception.
So it was just me and my sis in the car.
I am wide awake, excited and ready to move.(She still hates me for this)
And since my sister refused to open her eyelid I had to step out of the car to enjoy the view.
In the horizon i saw a nepali coming with a mule carrying a backpack and a Australian walking beside him.
It sounded like the nepali was acting like a tourist guide for the Australian(His distinct nasal accent gave him away).
He pointed at peaks and shrubbery and gave extra sound effects with his description which were intermittently paused by mule hee’s and han’s.
My sister oblivious to the orchestra was in the car.
They were walking in our direction .The Australian was praising the beauty and was describing his own country to the nepali. The patriot in me couldn't resist and jumped right in the conversation about how beautiful India is and how diverse and beautiful is our natural flora and fauna.
The Australian was intrigued and turned his attention to me .The guide was patient and took the time to feed his mule.
My sister woke up due to the din. Looked bewildered. Paused .Looked at the Australian
“You might want to move or else you might be covered in poop”.
We turn back and notice that the mule’s tail was strategically in air and the Australian ‘s foot would break the poop’s fall to the ground.
He immediately moved away and was full of gratitude .
My sister smiled at him. Glared at me and politely slept off.
And as my sister says the Indian students would have been harassed 3 years back had she not foiled my plan to cover Australians in “Deep Shit “.
And she is pretty convinced this time too I have something to do with it.
Love you sis :)
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Clickty Click
Click click
Went the digicam as I had its sound on.I had already changed 4 sets of batterys last weekend when I was visiting the Big Apple.
I had gone with my gang and we reached Holiady Inn at 11 in night.I was too tired to change and staying awake late at night is definitely not on my resume.
So here I was all hungry,sleepy and too lazy to change so I announce that fine I would dine in my night suit .I mean whats the big deal as I had already planned to crash on my hotel bed the moment I returned …damn the bed was too inviting to let go.But as history repeats itself and in the war of gastronomic pleasures and dreams about gastronomic pleasures the former as always wins.
We had a good Turkish meal and I was all ready to hit the sack when one of my pal announces that we have to go to Times square which was apparently just 1 block away.
(I prefer reading menu cards to maps so i had to take his word for the direction and distance).
But wait,of all the things in the world last thing I wanted to do was to have to visit times square in my pyjamas.
But whats life without any twists.
Self assured that it would make some good memories ,we started for our destination.
The place was abuzz with people.
It was 1 o'clock at night.I was standing in the middle of Times square ,i took a 360 degree turn and i saw 36 different nationalities.Phew.What a cosmopolitan sight!!
Now back to preserving moments to memories business..
We saw a man 6.5ft all well built (6 or more packs am not sure was too busy ogling at mask).
He was dressed as Batman.
And we all thought that posing with Batman at Times Square made a good photo op.
We took our digicams out.Placed them in position.Decided the order in which we would go and take pix with him.Took the money out for tips.All preps done.Smiles on our faces .We are just about to step forward to ask him when another maiden 5.9 hot bombshell steps in and asks her hubby to click while she posed with him.
We wait.
Thats ok.
We were in no rush.
Next this is what we see :
Step 1:Mr Batman holds the girl in a tight hug.
Step 2:Mr Batman had lifts the girl in her arms.
Step 3:Mr Batman places the girl on his shoulder.
Step 4:Mr Batman holdes her above his head as if she was a pair of dumbells.
Step 5,6,7,8,9,10:
We look at each other.Close the cams.Keep the tips inside.Take a 180 degree turn .Walk really fast out of there.
Thank our lucky stars that the girl came before us.
:)
Did you have a bad day ??
Picked it up from a blog which picked it up from a forum!
May you NEVER have a jellyfish bad day!!!!!
Hi Sue,
Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had a bad day at the office.I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all.
Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job. As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It's a wetsuit. This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel-powered industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea, heats it to a delightful temperature, then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose which is taped to the air hose.
Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wetsuit. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi. Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my bum started to itch.So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse. Within a few seconds my bum started to burn!I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony I realized what had happened. The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it. However, the crack of my bum was not as fortunate. When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my bum.
I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically. Needless to say I aborted the dive. I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totalling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression. When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet. As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my bum as soon as I got in the chamber. The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't poo for two days because my bum was swollen shut.
So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your arse. Now repeat to yourself, I love my job, I love my job, I love my job. Remember whenever you have a bad day, ask yourself, is this a jellyfish bad day?
May you NEVER have a jellyfish bad day!!!!!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Arabian (K)Nights
Little has been said about my cooking for reason known and unknown.But am a big foodie is no national secret.
Me and three of my friends were eagerly looking forward to a nice evening this friday the 4th of july ...thats america's independance day .We decided to experiment with persian cuisine and before we knew we were sitting in a eatery that resembled a harem. Nice flowy curtains ..girls belly dancing...and small lamps that effused flames on each of our tables.
All was good when suddenly a guest's pet a Bearded Collie took fancy to the dancers dress and decided that it looked more sumptous then his dinner platter.Before anyone could notice the pet was rightly placed back in the owners lap.
Sheesh.The fun ended before it could start.
I looked around the place sipping in the ambience (Looking for trouble... now that i think about it).
I noticed another Cocker Spaniel looking at me (damn their pet friendly policy).
I was bitten by a dog when i was 5 and from that day me and dogs have really not gelled well.. getting injections in your tush in return for a friendly paw ful hanshake was too much of a price to pay and definately not a ice breaker.
But over the years i have agreed to live with it.I look at the dog and smile .
The pet takes his tongue out ( I take this as a positive sign..atleast he did not growl..phew) .
The owner of the Spaniel was an old lady who seemed to have woken on the wrong side of bed noticed the exchange and scowled.
Aghh.
I mean what was that?? Was i about to dog nap th Spaniel??
Dream on..
I already have a hard time managing my pet taruntula.We finish our dinner and were waiting for the cheque when the lady walks up to me and tapped on my shoulder . And this is what i bielieve i heard.
'You acted before '
wohhhh that was the last thing i expected.
My expression seem to perfectly spell my bafflement.
She said "I am into advertising " pause ."We are looking for models for a pet commercial." ahan ..ahan..so...
"Tutu is a star.. and we are looking . hmmm..here's my card.We are audtioning tommorow at 9."
So the Cocker Spaniel sitting on the floor was my knight who would lead me to stardom?? BOWWWWWWWWW...WOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
And she left.
And so did my knight trodding on the rich red carpet of the isle.
Sniff.
Thats it. This was the nearest i got around to smelling hollywood .
(God knows why it seemed like dog poop)
I never ended at the audtion but imagine that a canine could have been my ticket for standing next to Brad pitt for all you know.
:)
Me and three of my friends were eagerly looking forward to a nice evening this friday the 4th of july ...thats america's independance day .We decided to experiment with persian cuisine and before we knew we were sitting in a eatery that resembled a harem. Nice flowy curtains ..girls belly dancing...and small lamps that effused flames on each of our tables.
All was good when suddenly a guest's pet a Bearded Collie took fancy to the dancers dress and decided that it looked more sumptous then his dinner platter.Before anyone could notice the pet was rightly placed back in the owners lap.
Sheesh.The fun ended before it could start.
I looked around the place sipping in the ambience (Looking for trouble... now that i think about it).
I noticed another Cocker Spaniel looking at me (damn their pet friendly policy).
I was bitten by a dog when i was 5 and from that day me and dogs have really not gelled well.. getting injections in your tush in return for a friendly paw ful hanshake was too much of a price to pay and definately not a ice breaker.
But over the years i have agreed to live with it.I look at the dog and smile .
The pet takes his tongue out ( I take this as a positive sign..atleast he did not growl..phew) .
The owner of the Spaniel was an old lady who seemed to have woken on the wrong side of bed noticed the exchange and scowled.
Aghh.
I mean what was that?? Was i about to dog nap th Spaniel??
Dream on..
I already have a hard time managing my pet taruntula.We finish our dinner and were waiting for the cheque when the lady walks up to me and tapped on my shoulder . And this is what i bielieve i heard.
'You acted before '
wohhhh that was the last thing i expected.
My expression seem to perfectly spell my bafflement.
She said "I am into advertising " pause ."We are looking for models for a pet commercial." ahan ..ahan..so...
"Tutu is a star.. and we are looking . hmmm..here's my card.We are audtioning tommorow at 9."
So the Cocker Spaniel sitting on the floor was my knight who would lead me to stardom?? BOWWWWWWWWW...WOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
And she left.
And so did my knight trodding on the rich red carpet of the isle.
Sniff.
Thats it. This was the nearest i got around to smelling hollywood .
(God knows why it seemed like dog poop)
I never ended at the audtion but imagine that a canine could have been my ticket for standing next to Brad pitt for all you know.
:)
Monday, June 1, 2009
Rapunzel or Persis Khambatta
A four minute ride's enough to cook the egg and it saves me time too. Any takers ??
Last Saturday we went hiking, we scaled camelback and I was mostly inspired by an
Arnold Schwarzenegger clone who carried his Chihuahua Chihuahua
We were famished from our hike and raided Denny’s (that’s an eatery where ppl go more for the hospitality than the food).We ate a mouthful and realized that we had ordered much more than we could eat, so I offered to get boxes to pack .The moment the boxes arrived ,nobody wanted to take anything so we decided that we were better off taking the ketchup, salt and pepper shaker and the plastic forks. Somebody wanted to pack the waitress as well but realized the box was too small.
Lesson learnt : Go to a place which has bigger ‘to go’ boxes, and good service as well.
So with all this heat and sweat I decided to take a plunge into the pool in the evening .
The lights were dim and the ambience, relaxing. Tempting probably, is the word.
All was quiet when a big troop of teenagers decided that they needed to spend the evening near the pool too .A quiet group of nice folks who were not too raucous.
My muscles ached and Russell Peters' series was on my mind so i stepped out.
I removed my swim cap. And I heard,
"I thought she was bald"
"Yeh." Hmm...voices in agreement.
Oops! The last thing I thought I would I ever hear. Guess the dim lights did the trick.
I am busy tying my sarong. I loosen my hair off the sarong and I hear
‘wooooooooo’.
So within an instant, I went from bald to a "wooo" object.
(And all you mean souls out there the ‘woo’ was for my hair and not for anybody else..so don’t you write nasty comments and take the fun out)
If this post had hints of narcissism in it I can’t help it. :D
Friday, May 15, 2009
Itchy Mitchy
Obama visited phoenix yesterday,I missed the rendevous with ‘the man’ as I was busy getting shots to control my allergies that time.I have been a victim of the famous
Right now my hand could be mistaken for a gods sudoku grid where he has filled all of it with red numbers and now you wonder that since there are just 3 spots where there is no rash which one would he fill next.Red maybe the color of passion but all this red on my skin is making the bull in a spinard matador side of me more out in the open then the passionate one.
But the week has not been all that bad I have been itchy mitchy but a friend of mine drew my caricature. Another got me a bowl of delicious chicken soup..and an old pal wrote a mail about her moving with her husband finally ..Two others called saying that their sixth sense told them that things were not right (this is not good news for the telecom sector) and called a few mintues back.
God you could make me allergic to a million(just a phrase…don't go by the word )things But keep me close to my pals..:)
PS::If the curious mind of yours is asking what am I allergic to..well it still remains a mystery to me too.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
No sign of the tooth nor the wisdom
This weekend I missed a sumptuous lunch coz my tooth promised to appear and show signs of maturity (I like this word better then growing old).I spent the evening with a ice bag near my jaw ( I am getting my wisdom tooth and its giving me a hard time ) and reading the current edition of New York times which described the gory attacks in Iran. With all these bomb blast going around it’s really sad.
I was expected at the office for a meeting so had to run along. I walk in my room and when nature pokes and says get up. I reach the ladies room, I was all alone at that odd hour (Not that we normally have picnics there) and there I heard the dreadful
TickTick tickick tickTcht
I froze.
Did they manage the security breach and plant a bomb in here,Which could be detonated if some one flushed? (oh my GOD…we have to flush can’t imagine…GROSSSSS)My brain was playing Tag with weird conclusions. Did they plan to attack American Express now eeks. And they preferred not to announce his intentions by the usual “kutte kamine mein tera khoon peejaunga” rather used discreet ways to “tumhe mar ke champaigne pe jaunga”Woo this has to be a nightmare.I gathered courage(It did take some effort), opened my eyes and looked around.I could see nothing unusual (anyways what did I expect arrows marked to where the bomb is placed).I take a step forward and look at the mirror which showed a scared but wanting to be brave me .I peep into the garbage bin. (That’s the easiest way to smuggle something from outside..sheesh what am I doing here I got to join the feds)
Nothing in there. The tick tick continued.
I decided there and then that I needed to walk(more like scramble) to the security office .I extended my hand for the door knob when I see a small littleroom deodorizer with inbuilt clock that went“tick tick”.I grinned. Felt stupid. and relived that I did not call the guards. Boy that could have been some story for the guards to share to their grandkids among the more heroic ones .
I don’t think I am not going to get the tooth this time as wellAnother false alarm coz the wisdom seems far far far on the horizon.(For all those curious minds I did finish the task I had set out for…so Flush in peace amen)
I was expected at the office for a meeting so had to run along. I walk in my room and when nature pokes and says get up. I reach the ladies room, I was all alone at that odd hour (Not that we normally have picnics there) and there I heard the dreadful
TickTick tickick tickTcht
I froze.
Did they manage the security breach and plant a bomb in here,Which could be detonated if some one flushed? (oh my GOD…we have to flush can’t imagine…GROSSSSS)My brain was playing Tag with weird conclusions. Did they plan to attack American Express now eeks. And they preferred not to announce his intentions by the usual “kutte kamine mein tera khoon peejaunga” rather used discreet ways to “tumhe mar ke champaigne pe jaunga”Woo this has to be a nightmare.I gathered courage(It did take some effort), opened my eyes and looked around.I could see nothing unusual (anyways what did I expect arrows marked to where the bomb is placed).I take a step forward and look at the mirror which showed a scared but wanting to be brave me .I peep into the garbage bin. (That’s the easiest way to smuggle something from outside..sheesh what am I doing here I got to join the feds)
Nothing in there. The tick tick continued.
I decided there and then that I needed to walk(more like scramble) to the security office .I extended my hand for the door knob when I see a small littleroom deodorizer with inbuilt clock that went“tick tick”.I grinned. Felt stupid. and relived that I did not call the guards. Boy that could have been some story for the guards to share to their grandkids among the more heroic ones .
I don’t think I am not going to get the tooth this time as wellAnother false alarm coz the wisdom seems far far far on the horizon.(For all those curious minds I did finish the task I had set out for…so Flush in peace amen)
Monday, March 9, 2009
Victoria’s secret no longer a secret
For all of those i have not been in touch..let me begin by saying i completed my first 45 days in phoenix today !! So here goes my first entry for 2009 from Phoenix,Arizona.
I have been strongly advised not to venture alone...but alas the nomad in me wins as always..
I stepped out last week ..just ambling around when for all i know i bumped into Rashi my bachpan ka chudi buddi pal who i did not loose in the all time favorite kumbh ka mela but something more monotonous her family moved out of Mumbai..
so we went shopping n took many plunges in the memory pool..some good!!
some better forgotten !!(That’s another story..will elaborate some other day)
She told me she was shopping for a friend who was getting married,so i joined in
We moved around the shopping complex and landed in Victoria secrets..
we got the stuf..et all..now this friend (whom we were shopping for) comes along
named "Hari"..and rashi says heres something for Ishita(his to be wife) the guy blushes pink!!!!(mera wala pink..courtesy..asian paints) eyes pop in and out and he blurts
"nahi"
suppresing a grin we look at him and he says
"chee"
we both smile( I bet he preferred the Alcatraz than his current position )
and we go
"arrey have a look"
he was mortified by the thought that we were going to divulge out
the contents of the packet in public and he will be on the receiving end
the blush turning deep scarlet, out comes a vehement .."no" and turns his face...
boy the pink packet with the label in silver was bad enough for him to see
next we threatened to open it we both smiled(though we wanted to burst out)
Rashi cajoled him,"dekh na"
Rashi takes out the tissue wrapped contents ,slowly unwraps it and out comes a
" a bottle of body lotion"
YEHHHH..
Victoria does sell cosmetics as well and that’s all that was there in that packet...
the guy having his face turned the other side….just not wanting to look but looking
saw it and out came a subtle (heavy on coffee breathe)
"OH"
Followed by a sheepish smile..
Now this was our stage, both me and Rashi were rolling off our chairs..laughing and
the starbucks crew..seemed bewildered but they smiled as if sharing the joke..boy hope they read this blog and can demystify those giggles…
Last night...The guy has tied the knot in india and we hope his better half liked
what we gave her!!!!!!!
:)
I have been strongly advised not to venture alone...but alas the nomad in me wins as always..
I stepped out last week ..just ambling around when for all i know i bumped into Rashi my bachpan ka chudi buddi pal who i did not loose in the all time favorite kumbh ka mela but something more monotonous her family moved out of Mumbai..
so we went shopping n took many plunges in the memory pool..some good!!
some better forgotten !!(That’s another story..will elaborate some other day)
She told me she was shopping for a friend who was getting married,so i joined in
We moved around the shopping complex and landed in Victoria secrets..
we got the stuf..et all..now this friend (whom we were shopping for) comes along
named "Hari"..and rashi says heres something for Ishita(his to be wife) the guy blushes pink!!!!(mera wala pink..courtesy..asian paints) eyes pop in and out and he blurts
"nahi"
suppresing a grin we look at him and he says
"chee"
we both smile( I bet he preferred the Alcatraz than his current position )
and we go
"arrey have a look"
he was mortified by the thought that we were going to divulge out
the contents of the packet in public and he will be on the receiving end
the blush turning deep scarlet, out comes a vehement .."no" and turns his face...
boy the pink packet with the label in silver was bad enough for him to see
next we threatened to open it we both smiled(though we wanted to burst out)
Rashi cajoled him,"dekh na"
Rashi takes out the tissue wrapped contents ,slowly unwraps it and out comes a
" a bottle of body lotion"
YEHHHH..
Victoria does sell cosmetics as well and that’s all that was there in that packet...
the guy having his face turned the other side….just not wanting to look but looking
saw it and out came a subtle (heavy on coffee breathe)
"OH"
Followed by a sheepish smile..
Now this was our stage, both me and Rashi were rolling off our chairs..laughing and
the starbucks crew..seemed bewildered but they smiled as if sharing the joke..boy hope they read this blog and can demystify those giggles…
Last night...The guy has tied the knot in india and we hope his better half liked
what we gave her!!!!!!!
:)
Friday, July 11, 2008
Wit -n(l)ess.
We landed at a social do where we could have skirted our way out in 15 minutes if we wanted to but the urge to try something new on a Saturday afternoon (In the dual between "Need for something new" vs "Grey cells" the winner was "Need for something new" ).
We were at a Book launch and the cocktails and snacks were inevitable.For the record Alcohol to me in any form is not acceptable (not even in the form of cough syrup).No body in my family touches it .
We have no bad history and I guess I just want to continue the good tradition so cocktails were not for me but a glass of mock tail is what I held in my hand.
So there I was standing trying to figure why the salmon was deep fried and not stir fried (Thoughts about the book were not possible. I did not know the name), I happened to bump into a bald guy who apparently returned from the U S of A ,last fortnight (at the end of next fifteen minutes I was 80% convinced he works in a BPO and that was all the reason for his “Angrezi accent”.)
He wanted to share his experience as how he had presided(that’s the word he used) over many book launches and how his knowledge of books was superior to others present in his vicinity. How the taste of the common man was distasteful. That he shared warm relationships with Page 3 writers and how he shunned limelight as he was a reserved person by nature(Somebody please notify the the editors of Oxford dictionary the word reserved now refers to Don Juan) I stood there trying to think of line no 5 of page no 1 of the book”101 ways to get away from annoying acquaintances” well he was not really an acquaintance but that’s the last book I read.
So now this ”dude”(dadoo more like it) turns to me to start another round of conversation.I saw my life savior Sandhya walking towards me I waved frantically to her as though my life depended on it(ahh.. I overreacted , anybody subjected to such treatment disguised as harmless conversations definately needs to reach out for help)
Now this gentleman beside me greets sandhya as
“ wazzap”
She smiles, pauses and bringing her bag an inch closer to her size "zero" bebo inspired waist turns toward him and says I don’t know .
A pregnant pause.( oh this did REAL damage to his size 15 ego).
Sandhya continued "I have been asked this several times and I really don’t understand the meaning of the word you just spoke. How should one ideally respond to this ?".
Aha “ABCD” squirmed.
NO guys I did not giggle (I was busy counting calories I had devoured in last half an hour).
He replied (His face changing colors from crimson to mud ).
“Well ah you see ideally I am fine would do.Excuse me .I see my friend is standing there alone .Nice meeting you.”
Yipeee.
Sandhya you have no idea what you have done.
Thank you!!!!!!!!
But the ignorant (Ignorance is bliss) and baffled Sandhya looked at me and asked:
“Did I do anything wrong ??”
No girl, you couldn’t have been better.
I smiled.
So there I stood with my version of Hancock (he is the “in” superhero) standing beside me. My appetite all satiated.
And finally the author in question my uncle emerged at last smiled, graced, spoke, read a para, people applauded, we smiled ,He signed a few books .
Time to go.
The world is safe again.
Ps: About the Book
Tittle:”Hidden Monsters”
Author:******
Chapter 1: Strangers at parties.(Damn!!!!)
Publisher:*******
Date: July 2008.
And anybody pointing mistakes in this blog would find place in my uncles sequel coming out next month.
Oh I gotta go now. Osama called up. He can’t seem to take any decision without me. Chow.
We were at a Book launch and the cocktails and snacks were inevitable.For the record Alcohol to me in any form is not acceptable (not even in the form of cough syrup).No body in my family touches it .
We have no bad history and I guess I just want to continue the good tradition so cocktails were not for me but a glass of mock tail is what I held in my hand.
So there I was standing trying to figure why the salmon was deep fried and not stir fried (Thoughts about the book were not possible. I did not know the name), I happened to bump into a bald guy who apparently returned from the U S of A ,last fortnight (at the end of next fifteen minutes I was 80% convinced he works in a BPO and that was all the reason for his “Angrezi accent”.)
He wanted to share his experience as how he had presided(that’s the word he used) over many book launches and how his knowledge of books was superior to others present in his vicinity. How the taste of the common man was distasteful. That he shared warm relationships with Page 3 writers and how he shunned limelight as he was a reserved person by nature(Somebody please notify the the editors of Oxford dictionary the word reserved now refers to Don Juan) I stood there trying to think of line no 5 of page no 1 of the book”101 ways to get away from annoying acquaintances” well he was not really an acquaintance but that’s the last book I read.
So now this ”dude”(dadoo more like it) turns to me to start another round of conversation.I saw my life savior Sandhya walking towards me I waved frantically to her as though my life depended on it(ahh.. I overreacted , anybody subjected to such treatment disguised as harmless conversations definately needs to reach out for help)
Now this gentleman beside me greets sandhya as
“ wazzap”
She smiles, pauses and bringing her bag an inch closer to her size "zero" bebo inspired waist turns toward him and says I don’t know .
A pregnant pause.( oh this did REAL damage to his size 15 ego).
Sandhya continued "I have been asked this several times and I really don’t understand the meaning of the word you just spoke. How should one ideally respond to this ?".
Aha “ABCD” squirmed.
NO guys I did not giggle (I was busy counting calories I had devoured in last half an hour).
He replied (His face changing colors from crimson to mud ).
“Well ah you see ideally I am fine would do.Excuse me .I see my friend is standing there alone .Nice meeting you.”
Yipeee.
Sandhya you have no idea what you have done.
Thank you!!!!!!!!
But the ignorant (Ignorance is bliss) and baffled Sandhya looked at me and asked:
“Did I do anything wrong ??”
No girl, you couldn’t have been better.
I smiled.
So there I stood with my version of Hancock (he is the “in” superhero) standing beside me. My appetite all satiated.
And finally the author in question my uncle emerged at last smiled, graced, spoke, read a para, people applauded, we smiled ,He signed a few books .
Time to go.
The world is safe again.
Ps: About the Book
Tittle:”Hidden Monsters”
Author:******
Chapter 1: Strangers at parties.(Damn!!!!)
Publisher:*******
Date: July 2008.
And anybody pointing mistakes in this blog would find place in my uncles sequel coming out next month.
Oh I gotta go now. Osama called up. He can’t seem to take any decision without me. Chow.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Me, My Dad, Newspaper and Budding artists.
My Dad’s love for reading the newspaper is something that we have come to live with over the years, we fought all we could in the beginning but gave up.
The world comes to a standstill the moment the doorbell rings at 6:30am and the paper enters the Handa’s household.
We for the record get 3 newspapers which luckily does not include the local daily.
He is basically a quiz junkie(and his quest for knowledge is fuelled by the newspaper).
It has its advantages. :-)
Trophies adorn the mantle ,And he recently even won a titan collection as the first prize at some corporate quiz(Yo !! Am his nalayak beti who doesn’t even remember the last quiz he won and FYI:I have got the ladies watch from the pair on my wrist now.)
but we don’t have his attention for those 2 hours when the black and white sheets now even colored 2 feet long sheets are in his hands.
I think it flows in the blood as my Dadaji still reads the paper religiously every morning and thinks that the Mr Vermas 10 yr kid would understand his comments on how things are going not so right in the nation (Dadajiiiiiiii he is just 10 years old.)
Now that I have clearly stated a few(it is impossible to state all) instances of what good the newspaper has done to/for my family ,Lets come to the part where it proved as a boon for a barber(he is not worth calling a hair stylist) and spelled trauma for me.
My school batch then read my age as 9 years.
We were all excited as my cousin was getting married, we were aping Madhuri to get the steps right and then the dreadful moment came (these are the times when you wish you had a portable time machine in your pocket) when my mother felt I needed a haircut.
I sported a short pony, but my mom felt a trim would make me look better.
My mom was busy packing so my dad was told to take me for a haircut. He really didn’t feel the need. He seldom does when it can have implications like leaving his newspaper and going for errands but then he finally agreed as it occurred to him that he could still read the paper there.
So off we went and he decided to take me to a men’s saloon.
For him “A haircut is a haircut. What’s so complicated??”Anyone with scissors in his hand qualifies (I thank my stars till date, he could have even settled for the Gardner)
So with Kumar Sanu crooning in the background I entered the battlefield. (This is not exaggeration but is a preamble of what follows!)
It seemed funny initially when the man was trying to impress my dad and start a conversation and all my dad wanted to do was to get back to his paper quickly responded to his namaste with a quick nod and came with not so elaborate instructions of
”baal kat do bache ke”.
Period.
No explanations of length, style what so ever .Just one line.
So there I was left at mercy of a man who made the kitchen Gardner look smarter. And whatever seemed funny a few minutes back suddenly started taking shape as a nightmare.
He started with his job.
I was sitting stiff in the chair with a white sheet tied around my neck.
Hair all wet and making faces or to reword it …trying to find angles at which I should pose at the wedding.
The snip snap of the scissors started and I started getting not so good feelings about how things were turning ,I told papa ”kuch theek nahi hai”…and my dad all busy in agreeing with the editor responded as “hmm”…now my sixth sense again warned me and I again cried .. ”PAPA”…..and I got a reply from behind the paper “hmm good girl”…
So after multiple repeated cries and my dad’s hmm..and umms the haircut got over.
The barber(read barbarian) highly pleased with himself showcased his piece of creation to my dad.
And my dad was satisfied too(He had finished reading the paper).
Looked pleased and said “chalo”.
I was near tears and said “yeh ache nahi kate”.
My dad told the fellow..”Han, yeh ache nahi kate”.
The guy replied…”sir..yeh sanjay dutt style hai”(Remember “saajan” movie..with thick hair on top and thin streaks at the end )
My dad tells me “…”Beta..yeh sanjay dutt style hai”
I sniff and say “mujhe sanjay Dutt nahi banana”
My dad goes “Han yeh theek nahi hai…par ab kya kar sakta hain .Chalo”
All the way back I was a quite kid. No crying .No howling. Not even a small sniff.
But the moment I saw Ma at the door nothing in the world could stop me from telling everyone how My dad preferred the newspaper to my cries which my dad till date states where not explicit enough(yeh right!!!!)
No the trauma does not end here.
I had to face my cousins at the marriage.
So it turned out I was dressed like “Madhuri Dixit” and my hair resembled “Sanjay Dutt”.
Not a pretty picture I assure you.
My cousin bro commented “Tere baal to murgi ki puch hai”
And I proudly replied back nahi “Yeh to Sanjay Dutt style hai…tumhe nahi pata”
What else could I do. But all my attempts to convince my cousins that I adore my hairstyle went down the drain and till date the album has pictures of me sulking at all times.
Most of the time I resemble (or was) a harassed, irritated kid.
I have had short hair till 2 yr engg and now I can boast of strands crossing my waist.
The longest one being three feet.
Don’t ask for secrets…there is just one explanation for them.
I have never asked my dad to accompany me to the salon with his newspaper after that day ever again.
:)
Love you papa.
The world comes to a standstill the moment the doorbell rings at 6:30am and the paper enters the Handa’s household.
We for the record get 3 newspapers which luckily does not include the local daily.
He is basically a quiz junkie(and his quest for knowledge is fuelled by the newspaper).
It has its advantages. :-)
Trophies adorn the mantle ,And he recently even won a titan collection as the first prize at some corporate quiz(Yo !! Am his nalayak beti who doesn’t even remember the last quiz he won and FYI:I have got the ladies watch from the pair on my wrist now.)
but we don’t have his attention for those 2 hours when the black and white sheets now even colored 2 feet long sheets are in his hands.
I think it flows in the blood as my Dadaji still reads the paper religiously every morning and thinks that the Mr Vermas 10 yr kid would understand his comments on how things are going not so right in the nation (Dadajiiiiiiii he is just 10 years old.)
Now that I have clearly stated a few(it is impossible to state all) instances of what good the newspaper has done to/for my family ,Lets come to the part where it proved as a boon for a barber(he is not worth calling a hair stylist) and spelled trauma for me.
My school batch then read my age as 9 years.
We were all excited as my cousin was getting married, we were aping Madhuri to get the steps right and then the dreadful moment came (these are the times when you wish you had a portable time machine in your pocket) when my mother felt I needed a haircut.
I sported a short pony, but my mom felt a trim would make me look better.
My mom was busy packing so my dad was told to take me for a haircut. He really didn’t feel the need. He seldom does when it can have implications like leaving his newspaper and going for errands but then he finally agreed as it occurred to him that he could still read the paper there.
So off we went and he decided to take me to a men’s saloon.
For him “A haircut is a haircut. What’s so complicated??”Anyone with scissors in his hand qualifies (I thank my stars till date, he could have even settled for the Gardner)
So with Kumar Sanu crooning in the background I entered the battlefield. (This is not exaggeration but is a preamble of what follows!)
It seemed funny initially when the man was trying to impress my dad and start a conversation and all my dad wanted to do was to get back to his paper quickly responded to his namaste with a quick nod and came with not so elaborate instructions of
”baal kat do bache ke”.
Period.
No explanations of length, style what so ever .Just one line.
So there I was left at mercy of a man who made the kitchen Gardner look smarter. And whatever seemed funny a few minutes back suddenly started taking shape as a nightmare.
He started with his job.
I was sitting stiff in the chair with a white sheet tied around my neck.
Hair all wet and making faces or to reword it …trying to find angles at which I should pose at the wedding.
The snip snap of the scissors started and I started getting not so good feelings about how things were turning ,I told papa ”kuch theek nahi hai”…and my dad all busy in agreeing with the editor responded as “hmm”…now my sixth sense again warned me and I again cried .. ”PAPA”…..and I got a reply from behind the paper “hmm good girl”…
So after multiple repeated cries and my dad’s hmm..and umms the haircut got over.
The barber(read barbarian) highly pleased with himself showcased his piece of creation to my dad.
And my dad was satisfied too(He had finished reading the paper).
Looked pleased and said “chalo”.
I was near tears and said “yeh ache nahi kate”.
My dad told the fellow..”Han, yeh ache nahi kate”.
The guy replied…”sir..yeh sanjay dutt style hai”(Remember “saajan” movie..with thick hair on top and thin streaks at the end )
My dad tells me “…”Beta..yeh sanjay dutt style hai”
I sniff and say “mujhe sanjay Dutt nahi banana”
My dad goes “Han yeh theek nahi hai…par ab kya kar sakta hain .Chalo”
All the way back I was a quite kid. No crying .No howling. Not even a small sniff.
But the moment I saw Ma at the door nothing in the world could stop me from telling everyone how My dad preferred the newspaper to my cries which my dad till date states where not explicit enough(yeh right!!!!)
No the trauma does not end here.
I had to face my cousins at the marriage.
So it turned out I was dressed like “Madhuri Dixit” and my hair resembled “Sanjay Dutt”.
Not a pretty picture I assure you.
My cousin bro commented “Tere baal to murgi ki puch hai”
And I proudly replied back nahi “Yeh to Sanjay Dutt style hai…tumhe nahi pata”
What else could I do. But all my attempts to convince my cousins that I adore my hairstyle went down the drain and till date the album has pictures of me sulking at all times.
Most of the time I resemble (or was) a harassed, irritated kid.
I have had short hair till 2 yr engg and now I can boast of strands crossing my waist.
The longest one being three feet.
Don’t ask for secrets…there is just one explanation for them.
I have never asked my dad to accompany me to the salon with his newspaper after that day ever again.
:)
Love you papa.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Nothing "hat ke" abt it
Before I start ,I think I am going to use this place to register my complains…This is not fair… I started writing blogs a fortnight ago…and the same time aamir ,srk n amitabh decide to highlight their blogs …what’s going on huh…can’t you guys think of something else…
mera idea copy karma jaruri tha…damn…
Anyways..moving on and displaying proofs of my magnanimous heart am going to continue writing….
This weekend was spent admiring the innovative and not so creative minds of many…
Before I start Emran Hasmi is not my favourite hero..and if he continues not to shave,he will always remain in my “Heros I don’t like” list.
Us gareeb ko koi ek razor gift kardo…the entire movie he seemed to belong to the “Hagar the Horrible clan”..I mean Sunday ko hum bhi is clan mein shamil ho jate hai..aur Fa deo ko hi ganga jal mante hai…but this fellow looked so filthy all the time(ab sari movie sunday ko to nahi ho shoot ki hogi na… )
We had nothing to do,So all we did was harp about our plans to watch the movie and we started inviting people we thought would go as a suraj barjatiya production house with all friends singing “Yeh Dosti”(I know this song does not belong to that production house) Reminder calls from all four of us started pouring in to the guy who was supposed to get the tickets. As the guy has haunting bad history of forgetting things (amnesia seems to be part of his lifestyle…) and when he did prove all our theories wrong ..and did some thing to be included in the “Ripleys bielieve ir or not” then the calls start coming in of people not able to make it ..arghhh..ab 10 tickets ka kya kare…Now mithun inspired indigenous ideas of ticket black karte hai started popping..(psst..This one of the suggestions from the book …WHO wants to be a millionaire)..and for some reason we were quite successful in selling 6..(nahi black nahi ki utne mein hi di)…ab baki chaar ka kya karein so we thought maybe if we guys asked our friend to tie a hankie around his neck.btw .he was already wearing a shirt that gave govinda a complex…that could do the trick…hmmm so our friend started and started ek ka char ,…ek ka char….(Now what are you expecting …Indian police ka entry…nahi nahi..)
The movie started and we said dump it..
We started and I soon realized that the best part of the movie were the initial 15 min where all we could think of was kurkare..popcorn(mujhe bahut kam mile..sob..)..mazaa....lays(am doing some free advt…do we have a system of making money by my stating their names here??)……han han hum wahan khane gaye the..movie to bas ase hi.
And after we had convinced people around us that we have just returned from Ethopia.
There was this strange sound……… “GRRRRRRrrrrr”…..we were all puzzled,as it is the movie was remotely engrossing and we were all energetic with all the carbohydrates and fat breaking down inside us .
Then it came again… “GrrGrrrGrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”…aha the karamchand (minus secretary kitty) in me took over and I started the investigation and I soon realized “yeh hai India meri Jaan”
The AC vent above our seats was just the exterior grill and you could take the grill off and there was apna Hindustani desert cooler moving in full swing…
Now the side wali auntys who am sure were the source of all those air contamination (she had gobi ke parateh ) were getting all sentimental …heroine ro rahi thi na…aunty bas bas ab hamare ghar mein pani aati hai ..
I am not going to write about the couple (privacy ka to koi zamana hai hi nahi)
The lessons we learnt were that the reason our company pays us less is because it doesn’t want us to turn blind with wealth (yaar koi mere CEO ko yeh link paas karo…promotion due hai) ..wah wah…
The moment the credits appeared in the end it was as if the whole hall was waiting for the moment, every body sprung up. I mean no body even paused back on their seats to
say” Nice na”…”so cute”…or the ugly ones like “is producer @#$$%” sochte kya hai”$$%%^”..and I woke up too…(ab AC hall mein sona is much better than getting bored)
So out we came after the flick and saw IPL on the screens (this is similar to the scenes in the flick) and me Hashmi inspired uttered, “I think Punjab will win(this has nothing to do with my Punjabi roots..ESP is the word)…and asked my roommate “RATE kya hai BET ka.”.she replied “u washing 4 utensils to one”(We suspect our maid is holidaying in Bahamas considering the floral prints she has been sporting and has convinced us that she is attending to an old relative..na na I think its Bahamas only..)
So the moment we entered our flat. I was (no points for guessing) doing all the washing..
And thinking har koi hasmi nahi ban sakta (and thank god for that).
mera idea copy karma jaruri tha…damn…
Anyways..moving on and displaying proofs of my magnanimous heart am going to continue writing….
This weekend was spent admiring the innovative and not so creative minds of many…
Before I start Emran Hasmi is not my favourite hero..and if he continues not to shave,he will always remain in my “Heros I don’t like” list.
Us gareeb ko koi ek razor gift kardo…the entire movie he seemed to belong to the “Hagar the Horrible clan”..I mean Sunday ko hum bhi is clan mein shamil ho jate hai..aur Fa deo ko hi ganga jal mante hai…but this fellow looked so filthy all the time(ab sari movie sunday ko to nahi ho shoot ki hogi na… )
We had nothing to do,So all we did was harp about our plans to watch the movie and we started inviting people we thought would go as a suraj barjatiya production house with all friends singing “Yeh Dosti”(I know this song does not belong to that production house) Reminder calls from all four of us started pouring in to the guy who was supposed to get the tickets. As the guy has haunting bad history of forgetting things (amnesia seems to be part of his lifestyle…) and when he did prove all our theories wrong ..and did some thing to be included in the “Ripleys bielieve ir or not” then the calls start coming in of people not able to make it ..arghhh..ab 10 tickets ka kya kare…Now mithun inspired indigenous ideas of ticket black karte hai started popping..(psst..This one of the suggestions from the book …WHO wants to be a millionaire)..and for some reason we were quite successful in selling 6..(nahi black nahi ki utne mein hi di)…ab baki chaar ka kya karein so we thought maybe if we guys asked our friend to tie a hankie around his neck.btw .he was already wearing a shirt that gave govinda a complex…that could do the trick…hmmm so our friend started and started ek ka char ,…ek ka char….(Now what are you expecting …Indian police ka entry…nahi nahi..)
The movie started and we said dump it..
We started and I soon realized that the best part of the movie were the initial 15 min where all we could think of was kurkare..popcorn(mujhe bahut kam mile..sob..)..mazaa....lays(am doing some free advt…do we have a system of making money by my stating their names here??)……han han hum wahan khane gaye the..movie to bas ase hi.
And after we had convinced people around us that we have just returned from Ethopia.
There was this strange sound……… “GRRRRRRrrrrr”…..we were all puzzled,as it is the movie was remotely engrossing and we were all energetic with all the carbohydrates and fat breaking down inside us .
Then it came again… “GrrGrrrGrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”…aha the karamchand (minus secretary kitty) in me took over and I started the investigation and I soon realized “yeh hai India meri Jaan”
The AC vent above our seats was just the exterior grill and you could take the grill off and there was apna Hindustani desert cooler moving in full swing…
Now the side wali auntys who am sure were the source of all those air contamination (she had gobi ke parateh ) were getting all sentimental …heroine ro rahi thi na…aunty bas bas ab hamare ghar mein pani aati hai ..
I am not going to write about the couple (privacy ka to koi zamana hai hi nahi)
The lessons we learnt were that the reason our company pays us less is because it doesn’t want us to turn blind with wealth (yaar koi mere CEO ko yeh link paas karo…promotion due hai) ..wah wah…
The moment the credits appeared in the end it was as if the whole hall was waiting for the moment, every body sprung up. I mean no body even paused back on their seats to
say” Nice na”…”so cute”…or the ugly ones like “is producer @#$$%” sochte kya hai”$$%%^”..and I woke up too…(ab AC hall mein sona is much better than getting bored)
So out we came after the flick and saw IPL on the screens (this is similar to the scenes in the flick) and me Hashmi inspired uttered, “I think Punjab will win(this has nothing to do with my Punjabi roots..ESP is the word)…and asked my roommate “RATE kya hai BET ka.”.she replied “u washing 4 utensils to one”(We suspect our maid is holidaying in Bahamas considering the floral prints she has been sporting and has convinced us that she is attending to an old relative..na na I think its Bahamas only..)
So the moment we entered our flat. I was (no points for guessing) doing all the washing..
And thinking har koi hasmi nahi ban sakta (and thank god for that).
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Jago mohan pyare
No I don’t have any Mohan or for that matter any Sohan or Rohan et all in my life so the blog is not about waking him up. Phew !!!
Nor is this about some self awaking or nirvana that I achieved (achievements…batana shuru karungi to likhungi kya…huh..?)
This is about one special journey that I had on Saturday when reaching home was all that occupied my grey cells.(sachi…baki ek jawan(I could have used young but then jawan is more Indian and young is more E& Y) ladki aur soch bhi kya sakti hai)…
I don’t know how I mange it but at the end of every two weeks , I am home sick…and that is one thing that makes me go through all the snoring I hear or the looks I get which most of the time makes me wonder “so which creature of the zoo are they trying to strike a resemblance with…) then there are also the inevitable unpleasant visits to the loo where you get the foul smell plus sounds of people clearing their throats or what ever (which resemble more like the drainage pipe grunting with smelly stuff) absolutely free…
So there I was sitting waiting for the train to start….looking around and then I realize am surrounded by ….
Group 1:Youth ICONS (na na MTV has nothing to do with )
6 boys trying to pull that I don’t have a care in the world attitude but all they could pull of was I am scared that the TT might ask for our tickets look. And complaining that damn again no pretty girls around them.Chill dude I can understand it is difficult to imagine why is Aishwarya not traveling with you…guess abhishek ko bura lagega …sigh…
Group 2:Beauty (giggly) queens
Giggle…giggle…oh pass me the lotion…giggle….is my hair all ok…giggle…your skin is so gooooooooood ..giggle…you are so chweeeeeeet….giggle..what do you do to keep your hands soft..giggle..
Girls…nobody is interested in you. Get a life specially at 1 in the night, and the guys are sitting at the other end of the compartment so no big deal the man in front of you is already snoring so sleep. We will play “:Miss Beautiful”tomorrow morning…OK…
Group 3:The couple(Fevicol ka jud hai)
Guys we know that you got married and you are all excited and all you want is the lights to be switched off but at least let the train start…waise Fevicol could get some good publicity…just make thses guys wear T shirts..arre jaise Nokia seems to have bought the “Knight riders”..sheesh..what am I doing here…such brain waves …all wasted…(in case you want to hire me for good money, contact me!) anyway..
The girl (all blush blush )is sitting really close. These guys could have actually saved one berth.And the guy is hmm I can save you from the world look…But alas no monster appears and the knight is not able to prove his undaunted love ….
Group 4: The great Indian Parivar
You have everyone traveling ….all aunts and uncles and a youngest of the lot too
and all with an appetite that could leave adnan’s diet to shame(am referring to the last years version)
Their sole purpose of traveling is eating and only eating. People we are not traveling to Somalia but alas….
The train starts at 10pm so its pretty much post dinner time but well the party just started for them. First a round of appetizers..Soup…with separate glasses for them…then cutlery for dinner…9 course meal..(Am not exaggerating)…sweet dish..obviously separate bowls for them and end it with something resembling a pan.
So its post 12 now and it’s now that their digestive system starts ……..
And then god save me or better still the lonely kid who happens to be the youngest.
Its doting time. Everybody in the family has an opinion as how he should be aptly dressed and the kid gives looks like…ok I can’t speak but that doesn’t mean you strip me in public look.
But no ,all of them have to decide on his change of clothes, his sleeping positions ,his hairstyle ..what not…and am sure by the time all the fuss dies down ,the kid is wide awake so now what follows is the lullaby. We perfectly understand that the kid needs to be put to sleep but did some one lie to you that your voice holds the potential for the next Indian idol…they are lying I tell you….BIG time …..don’t listen to them. SLEEP. And let Sleep.
Group 4: The next NRN
He has that “The company is up there all because of me look”. He has his laptop switched on. Mobile ringing.Files spread and sheets bulging out the bag…well what’s beneath those sheet is another story…(more sheets what were you thinking .. huh..)
We all know he is going to play solitaire once the light is off.
But now he has to open excel sheets to impress side wali aunty(mind you aunty still thinks excel sheets is high tech) who thinks he is the next Bill gate’s and he could be a suitable candidate for her bholi bhali beti(btw beti is lustfully eyeing the guys group).
Group 5 :On time nuclear(uncle ji gets the credit for being the “little boy”aka Hiroshima bomb) family.
The best ones I tell you at least while sleeping. Its 10:10 and the kids are in bed and 10:15 lights are switched off and if a kid is caught day dreaming then papaji warns with his fat finger frantically waving in air”so jao puttar subah jaldi uthna hai na”.
The kid shuts his eye…(no obviously he is not sleeping at 10:15)
And bingo when the entire train is fast asleep at 4 am(the train arrives at 5).uncle ji announces “beta utha jao station aane wala hai
And guess what !!!!!!! Except uncleji’s kids everybody is wide awake at 4 (smart kids. they know there papaji).
Group 6: Awesome people
The adjectives used for the group pretty much clarifies that people like me belong to this cadre.The lonely guy/gal who listen to music…read a book (mein read kar rahi thi)..stare at people.(wo to aaj ase hi I don stare..Na na ).try to catch some sleep…and they moment they pick at interesting article uncleji switches off light with that you should rest to look.
So nobody had to wake me up coz I was wide awake..and uncle ji..thank you…I have material for my blog if not a nights sleep. yawn…
Good night(ab to so lene do).
Nor is this about some self awaking or nirvana that I achieved (achievements…batana shuru karungi to likhungi kya…huh..?)
This is about one special journey that I had on Saturday when reaching home was all that occupied my grey cells.(sachi…baki ek jawan(I could have used young but then jawan is more Indian and young is more E& Y) ladki aur soch bhi kya sakti hai)…
I don’t know how I mange it but at the end of every two weeks , I am home sick…and that is one thing that makes me go through all the snoring I hear or the looks I get which most of the time makes me wonder “so which creature of the zoo are they trying to strike a resemblance with…) then there are also the inevitable unpleasant visits to the loo where you get the foul smell plus sounds of people clearing their throats or what ever (which resemble more like the drainage pipe grunting with smelly stuff) absolutely free…
So there I was sitting waiting for the train to start….looking around and then I realize am surrounded by ….
Group 1:Youth ICONS (na na MTV has nothing to do with )
6 boys trying to pull that I don’t have a care in the world attitude but all they could pull of was I am scared that the TT might ask for our tickets look. And complaining that damn again no pretty girls around them.Chill dude I can understand it is difficult to imagine why is Aishwarya not traveling with you…guess abhishek ko bura lagega …sigh…
Group 2:Beauty (giggly) queens
Giggle…giggle…oh pass me the lotion…giggle….is my hair all ok…giggle…your skin is so gooooooooood ..giggle…you are so chweeeeeeet….giggle..what do you do to keep your hands soft..giggle..
Girls…nobody is interested in you. Get a life specially at 1 in the night, and the guys are sitting at the other end of the compartment so no big deal the man in front of you is already snoring so sleep. We will play “:Miss Beautiful”tomorrow morning…OK…
Group 3:The couple(Fevicol ka jud hai)
Guys we know that you got married and you are all excited and all you want is the lights to be switched off but at least let the train start…waise Fevicol could get some good publicity…just make thses guys wear T shirts..arre jaise Nokia seems to have bought the “Knight riders”..sheesh..what am I doing here…such brain waves …all wasted…(in case you want to hire me for good money, contact me!) anyway..
The girl (all blush blush )is sitting really close. These guys could have actually saved one berth.And the guy is hmm I can save you from the world look…But alas no monster appears and the knight is not able to prove his undaunted love ….
Group 4: The great Indian Parivar
You have everyone traveling ….all aunts and uncles and a youngest of the lot too
and all with an appetite that could leave adnan’s diet to shame(am referring to the last years version)
Their sole purpose of traveling is eating and only eating. People we are not traveling to Somalia but alas….
The train starts at 10pm so its pretty much post dinner time but well the party just started for them. First a round of appetizers..Soup…with separate glasses for them…then cutlery for dinner…9 course meal..(Am not exaggerating)…sweet dish..obviously separate bowls for them and end it with something resembling a pan.
So its post 12 now and it’s now that their digestive system starts ……..
And then god save me or better still the lonely kid who happens to be the youngest.
Its doting time. Everybody in the family has an opinion as how he should be aptly dressed and the kid gives looks like…ok I can’t speak but that doesn’t mean you strip me in public look.
But no ,all of them have to decide on his change of clothes, his sleeping positions ,his hairstyle ..what not…and am sure by the time all the fuss dies down ,the kid is wide awake so now what follows is the lullaby. We perfectly understand that the kid needs to be put to sleep but did some one lie to you that your voice holds the potential for the next Indian idol…they are lying I tell you….BIG time …..don’t listen to them. SLEEP. And let Sleep.
Group 4: The next NRN
He has that “The company is up there all because of me look”. He has his laptop switched on. Mobile ringing.Files spread and sheets bulging out the bag…well what’s beneath those sheet is another story…(more sheets what were you thinking .. huh..)
We all know he is going to play solitaire once the light is off.
But now he has to open excel sheets to impress side wali aunty(mind you aunty still thinks excel sheets is high tech) who thinks he is the next Bill gate’s and he could be a suitable candidate for her bholi bhali beti(btw beti is lustfully eyeing the guys group).
Group 5 :On time nuclear(uncle ji gets the credit for being the “little boy”aka Hiroshima bomb) family.
The best ones I tell you at least while sleeping. Its 10:10 and the kids are in bed and 10:15 lights are switched off and if a kid is caught day dreaming then papaji warns with his fat finger frantically waving in air”so jao puttar subah jaldi uthna hai na”.
The kid shuts his eye…(no obviously he is not sleeping at 10:15)
And bingo when the entire train is fast asleep at 4 am(the train arrives at 5).uncle ji announces “beta utha jao station aane wala hai
And guess what !!!!!!! Except uncleji’s kids everybody is wide awake at 4 (smart kids. they know there papaji).
Group 6: Awesome people
The adjectives used for the group pretty much clarifies that people like me belong to this cadre.The lonely guy/gal who listen to music…read a book (mein read kar rahi thi)..stare at people.(wo to aaj ase hi I don stare..Na na ).try to catch some sleep…and they moment they pick at interesting article uncleji switches off light with that you should rest to look.
So nobody had to wake me up coz I was wide awake..and uncle ji..thank you…I have material for my blog if not a nights sleep. yawn…
Good night(ab to so lene do).
Monday, May 12, 2008
32 all out
Aha now this is my first blog(the unpublished ones don’t count)
..i might as well write about the title itself 32 out(no it is not sponsored
my Colgate or for that matter even close-up…shesh).people complain
disguised as a compliment that I have my 32 out most of the time .first to
put the record straight I can’t even boast of a set of 32..the dentist
informed me giving a no of “29”..with promises of molar which people
around me fervently hope will bring more sense in me..huh…hjgh hopes.
So where were we…right 32 all out …my ma thinks that this is gonna
get me in big trouble some day…coz she things I have mastered
all kinds of giggles, squeals, smirks, grins, smiles, the not so visible but visible to my ma smile,gaufaws…you name it and you got it!!!!!!!!!!
But then you can’t put all the blame on me right..some how…
there has to be someone up there scheming who lands me in situations where my canines surface.
OK you don’t believe me…then read this…my entire team flew to client
office to give a presentation and for some reason which is not worth
occupying word space here the client had to move out some where
so we ended up having a tele call(that ‘s the one where you can even snooze..and pretend to be all ears at the same time)
now the client was called at his 9 PM so this fellow was all
gastromically satiated (we have evidence hold on)..and sounded in
a good mood phew…half the job done …my team mate should thank me for choosing that time for calling him…hungry clients are metaphors of “I don like what you are saying “ monsters…
so we started. The mood was all set he seemed to be hearing and agreeing on everything and I was counting my good stars…man this can’t be happening,
I thought of pinching my self but the thought of breaking a pleasant dream this good was not worth so I took my chances and just touched wood and hoped it to be reality…
so the scene goes as one happy team discussing and suddenly
of all the things in the world we hear
“BURP……..duh..”(bola tha na evidence hai)
And the moment I realize what it is I am ready with my mouth all set but....i did not burst out laughing (ma you got to give me a pat for this one).
And then comes the best part my team mate who up till now was so deeply engrossed in explaining that statistics goes” excuse me I did not get it…what did you say”
The poor fellow who was all eager to hear appreciation anticipating good words queried again …and all he got was silence…silence from an individual …who has an opinion on everything on this planet right from why the world is round (he prefers the scientific version to nandannilekani’s inspired Thomas Friedman’s view of world being flat) to usage of salt as preservative then vinegar…
and to add to his bafflement I had turned a shade of crimson….trying to
control my hands from putting up a banner saying this part of the presentation was sponsored by “ENO” and control my mouth from asking questions like which flavor of eno do you like most or do you prefer ayurvedic versions like pudin hara.
But alas I controlled and the rest of the meeting went burp-less (at least not audible).
And the client did seem happy in the end, though I still wonder was it the acknowledgements that he received from his digestive system that pleased him or our presentation...hmm food for thought or should I say..burp for thought….
See you got my point it’s not me but things around me that make the world go round and
Make the white ones(yeh yeh I brush them..they haven’t turned green because of the fungus that I dread could just appear) surface.
That reminds me my visit to the dentist is due. Damn.
PS: Did you notice I wrote the entire thing minus all smiley’s…nominate me for the Oscar equivalent of blogging…go on…I won’t mind…I swear.
BLOG Ends.
:) (I said the blog ends so the smiley doesn’t matter right.)
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