On This Fine Monday Morning…

monday_blues… I’m sure most of us don’t want to be here. We’d much rather be lounging in our warm and cozy beds, curled up with a good novel with a cup of hot steaming tea/coffee on the small table next to the bed. Better than that would be to be asleep, dreaming of Coyote Ugly. Ah well, the little pleasures of life aren’t meant for a Monday.

I woke up this morning feeling impotent. No, don’t get me wrong. I meant it in the non-obvious way – my whole weekend was a blur. I had high hopes of experiencing heaven on Saturday, and no matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t get there.

Damn, reading that last sentence, I feel so pervert. Ok, I’ll clear the air – I think I’ve lost my ability to get drunk!

There, I’ve said it. It feels better now that it’s in the open. I feel so impotent, so insecure, so incomplete. Despite my promise to Shefaly Auntie that I wouldn’t drink this weekend and instead would do some soul-searching, the best way to handle temptations is to give in to them. So, I drank.

I started at 11:00 am on Saturday and drank all the way up to 6:00 pm, and even though everyone around me was smashed, I was sober. I was as sober as I’ve always been – not even tipsy! I was scared. I felt less of a man. I felt, and still feel impotent. Have I lost it? Am I on a constant high that I don’t climb any more? I need professional help, I think. Not AA, as I’m not an alcoholic – I drink only on weekends; I think I need to do something about this. Maybe take a week off and drink until I can’t stand and can’t remember my name. Maybe it’ll work.

On a more pleasant note, I opened my mail today and saw that I had won the Blog Of The Day award. Three cheers to whoever nominated me, and a round of beer for all the rockstars at the BOTDA! πŸ™‚

Happy Monday to all.

Advice to drunkards: Preserve your manhood. Get high. πŸ˜€

The Great Banana Run! :)

ba~nan~a

[buh-nan-uh]

–noun

1. a tropical plant of the genus Musa, certain species of which are cultivated for their nutritious fruit.
2. the fruit, esp. that of M. paradisiaca, with yellow or reddish rind.

the Great Banana RunOne of the more fascinating aspects of being cooped up in a room that stinks worse than a ten-year-old freshly dug-up coffin is the ease with which we can find blackened banana skins in the most unexpected places. I found seventeen last night.

My brother doesn’t clean his room. Ever. I think the last time the room faced the business end of a broom and a mop was when it was built, more than a thousand years ago. We exchanged rooms for the night as he said he had to prepare for an exam and needed the computer all night. My guess is as good as yours – I found three porn sites in the internet history later. But anyway, I don’t want to digress into a 19-year-old’s late night exploits.

Entering his room is akin to stepping out of civilization and entering a neanderthal realm of sabre-tooth tigers, mammoths, man-eating men and rotting food. I stepped into a half-eaten box of ice cream lying on the floor, as soon as I entered the room. This should’ve warned me what to expect, but I blissfully ignored it and crept in to the bed. It was unusually warm and cozy.

Unfortunately, the warmth was due to the fact that the bed was partly drenched with fresh coffee, and I hadn’t noticed it in the darkness. I changed the sheets and crept in again, and realized that the pillow seemed to emanate a strange smell, that distinctly reminded me of the frog dissections I used to do in school. And there it was, under the pillow, nestled snugly, the first of the blackened banana skins.

I realized that I can’t sleep unless I was satisfied that nothing else was hidden in the bed. I stripped the bed of all sheets and turned over the mattress, and immediately, cursed myself for doing so. In the midst of a couple of cockroach corpses and old newspapers and new porn magazines, I found sixteen more banana skins.

I spent the night in the living room, on the couch – safer and a lot wiser.

PS: I got a pounding from the creep this morning for destroying the chaotic sanctity of his room. A great start to the day.

Encyclopedia Of The Eternally Lazy

People like me who are eternally lazy need a ready-to-use encyclopedia, something that is easy to use, easily indexed, heavily archived and doesn’t involve moving more muscles than required. Google Search beautifully fits into this category, so much that a whole meme is based on Google Images. Apar tagged me to do this a long time ago, and very subtly, she reminded me that it’s still pending.

The objective is to type the answers to all these questions in a Google Image Search field and pick an image from the first page of hits. Quite an interesting assignment – it’s very misleading in it’s simplicity. πŸ™‚

Here goes:

1. The age you will be on your next birthday…

25!
25!

2. A place you would like to travel to…

the dark side of the moon!
The dark side of the moon!

3. Your favorite place…

toilet humor
The Loo...

4. Your favorite food…

anything edible
Anything Edible!

5. Your favorite pet…

hot dogs
Dogs!

6. Your favorite color combination…

any color that blends in
Any thing that blends in!

7. Your favorite piece of clothing…

hiking boots
Shoes!

8. Your favorite TV show…

small wonder
Small Wonder!

9. First name of your significant other…

crazy
Crazy...

10. The town in which you live…

bangalore
Bangalore

11. Your first job…

Anal-yst!
Programmer 'Anal'yst!

12. Your dream job…

relaxation therapist
Sleep Therapist!

13. A bad habit you have…

rationalizing alcohol consumption
Rationalizing Alcohol Consumption!

14. Your worst fear…

i will never have her back
... is that I will never have her back!

15. What would you like to do before you die?

Grow Old...
Grow Old...

I hereby kill this tag right here…

A Very Little Italian In Me

Venue: Little Italy, Bangalore

Time: 12.30 pm – 2.30 pm

Date: Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Occasion: Colleague’s last day at work

Menu: Unpronounceable watery soup with bits of mushroom floating around, unpronounceable pasta thingy, unpronounceable watery mashed potatoes, unpronounceable Italian version of cheese pakodas, Long Island Iced Tea

Post Lunch: I burped pasta breath and felt somewhat woozy the whole day. My eating habits are primitive and my taste in food is instinctive – I eat anything edible and all that jazz about table manners and primness are concepts that I don’t comprehend.

The Little Italian In Me is called Nikko and he says, “Mangio, dunque sono!

Umbrella Fella :)

)
Almost Similar To Mine! πŸ™‚

It’s been raining cats and dogs in Bangalore for the past few weeks. Every day, like clockwork, the rain starts at around 5 in the evening and goes on till almost 10 in the night. This has forced me to avoid stepping out of the house/office, wherever I am, during this time period. Yesterday was an exception. πŸ˜€

A close friend had come down from Delhi and he was staying over at my place. Around four in the evening, we decided to get out of the house (Oh, I had taken a day off from work) and go window shopping on MG Road and Brigade Road. And as soon as we got ready to leave the house, God decided to water His plants. πŸ˜€

The rain did not stop for an hour, and around 5, when it subsided a bit, we realized that it would be utter stupidity to go on my ridiculously unreliable bike and settled on an auto. I grabbed the only umbrella in the house – an ancient monstrosity that can shield an entire football team when opened – and stepped out to hail the auto. We stepped out to bright sunshine and birds chirping. We looked at each other and contemplated the bike again, but decided against it as I had the feeling that God wanted to play with His favorite yo-yo. πŸ˜€

We got the auto and managed to squeeze in along with the huge umbrella and reached MG Road at around 6 in the evening. We walked around looking at expensive things and dreaming of being able to afford them. All the while, I looked like a clown straight out of a traveling circus, carrying the umbrella around. I felt so embarrassed when a couple of young kids started walking behind me making whooping noises. πŸ˜€

)
Masala Dosa! πŸ™‚

Answering the call of hunger, we both entered a small wayside restaurant for some hot masala dosa and ate to our hearts’ content. It was a standing restaurant, and a very cramped one at that, and apparently quite famous, because the crowd was suffocatingly large. The steams from the tiny kitchen and the overpowering aroma of the food played contrasting tricks on my brain.

Finally, we emerged out of the restaurant and walked the entire length of Brigade Road, admiring the sights and sounds of the city’s most happening road. We watched as cops pulled people off their bikes for not riding with a helmet and we watched a ten-year-old kid buying cigarettes on the street. We saw the colorful advert hoardings screaming out silently for attention. We saw…

Oh shit, I had forgotten my umbrella in the tiny hotel! πŸ˜€

We ran back all the way and finally reached the hotel and I pushed my way through the hungry mob and those eating food, knocking over a freshly-made plate of dosas and reached the corner where I had stood. And there it was, nestled safely in the corner, just where I had kept it, standing as if there was nothing that could affect it. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and picked it up and caressed it and apologized to the umbrella for forgetting it. It forgave me! πŸ˜€

Images Courtesy: Neatorama.com and Woodland USA

The 6 signs of insanity!

Over the years, insane people have ruled the world and through their insanity, proven to the rest of us that we were extremely lucky to be born and raised the way we were. But before we start rejoicing and gulping down tequila shots and raising toasts to our sanity, we should stop and consider the six signs of insanity that are not always apparent. πŸ˜€

You know you are insane if you display –

1. An excessive desire to smile broadly to yourself in public. But beware, this could also mean that you are in love, as I discovered after a rather surreal weekend.

2. A tendency to stare at people for a long time, with no visible change in your expression other than winking at the person from time to time and wrinkling your nose at an imaginary stench until the person who’s being stared at either slaps you or walks away disgusted.

3. A burning desire to hum the tunes from the movie Speed whenever you are in the elevator, irrespective of whether there are other people around you.

4. A habit of picking both nostrils at once when in a dinner and holding your fingers in there while sucking the strands of noodles.

5. A lack of common sense when talking to someone from whom you need a favor and repeatedly threaten him/her that you will steal their underwear the next time he/she is sleeping.

6. Your private parts in public.

Judge yourself. Are you sane? πŸ˜€

The Funny Guy! :)

I have recently been awarded the dubious distinction of being Mr. Funny Guy by my friends. I should be honored, and to an extent, I am. How this title came about and why I am not really satisfied with it will be apparent after you read this whole post. πŸ™‚

It was a dark and gloomy Wednesday evening, around six, when I decided to wrap things up in the office and go all the way to Yelahanka, where my brother was waiting in the police station after his bike had been towed away. I had to go there and pay the fine of 600 bucks to bail the bike out. When I left, the rain had just about abated and I made quick time in traveling the 30-odd miles to Yelahanka. We both got drenched on the way back, but that seems to be a minor point of little or no interest to the readers, who’re probably well accustomed to my bouts of bad luck. I met a few friends for dinner that night and decided to liven up the night with a joke.

“Okay, people! I am going to tell you a joke!” I announced. Everyone fell silent and listened intently, being aware of my reputation for spinning a lovely yarn. I was actually trying to impress my friend’s cute cousin who’d joined us. She was sitting next to me and seemed to be hanging on my every word. I desperately wanted to impress her and make her smile. So, I dug into my vast database of corny jokes and pulled out the best one!:D

“There was this scientist,” I began, “and he had just invented a biologically-engineered refrigerator. The fridge was so cool (no puns intended!) that it could order groceries online and make instant breakfast. It ran on some pretty cool DNA-computing circuits and was state-of-the-art! It was more intelligent than the most intelligent computers of the day. So, this scientist was selected for the Nobel Prize that year.”

I looked at the cute girl, paused for effect, and smiled. Everyone on the table was gripped. “The Nobel Committee waned him to fly over to Stockholm and demonstrate his bio-engineered refrigerator. So, this scientist rented a single engine Cessna plane and started his journey. Halfway through the flight, the single engine died and the plane began to crash. The pilot screamed, “Hey scientist! We are too heavy and the plane can’t handle it! You have to throw your fridge out!”

“No way!” screamed the scientist. “I have given my whole life for this invention!”

“Look, fella! If we don’t throw it overboard, we’re all going to die. It’s too heavy. You have your research data with you anyway. It’s just a question of assembling it again. Please understand!”

“So, this scientist, after careful deliberation, opened the door with a heavy heart and threw the fridge out.”

I stopped talking and took a sip of water and leaned back with a smile. Everyone on the table were leaning forward, intently waiting. “Then what happened?” asked the cute girl next to me.

“Nothing,” I said. “That’s the end of the story. ”

When they all realized that I had conned them, it was too late. The expression on their faces was a million dollar one. I started laughing out so loud that I drowned their angry retorts and groans and the hotel manager came up, glared at me and said, “Sir, please don’t laugh so loud. You’re disturbing the other guests!”

I continued laughing in a whisper and the other people around the table were ready to drown me in my tomato soup. “Okay guys, I am sorry,” I said. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll tell you a better joke this time and I swear on the graves of all the men, women and children who died building this hotel that you will not be disappointed.”

My reputation as a funny guy preceded me and they all agreed to give me one more chance. “Last chance,” said the cute girl next to me. “I’ll slap you if you do this again.”

I wanted to tell her that I would do anything to get her to slap me because that would mean she would have to touch me. Oh, she was so cute!! πŸ˜€

“Okay, get ready,” I announced and cleared my throat. “There’s this beautiful lake in the middle of nowhere and in the center of the lake is a small islet on which the most beautiful flower is growing. The lake is infested with crocodiles and sharks and piranhas and just about any man-eating critter nature has created. On the banks of the lake, a man and a woman are sitting, cuddled up. They are very much in love with each other. The woman asks the man to swim across and get that flower for her. He protests and says that he’s going to killed trying to cross the lake. “Is this how much you love me?” asks the girl, very depressed. So, the man takes offense and says, “If you want me to prove my love to you, then I will cheat death and get you the flower.” He strips down and starts swimming. He battles all the critters that come in his way and finally reaches the middle of the lake, plucks the flower and swims back, again battling nature’s fury. He reaches the shore and climbs out holding the flower. And then, right in front of the woman’s eyes, he dies!”

I paused for effect. “Why did he die?” I asked, looking around at everyone.

They were all listening to my story so intently that one of them immediately said, “The flower was poisonous”

“No,” I said.

“Something attacked him!”

“No”

“He had a heart attack?”

“No”

The cute girl then said, “Tell me, tell me! Please!”

I couldn’t ignore her cries. Oh, and her voice was so sweet. So, I told them the answer – “The fridge fell on him!”

For two minutes there was complete silence and I inched closer to the cute girl and turned my head at an angle so that she could get a good whack at my cheek. But to my surprise, she burst out laughing and so did the others. They liked the stupid joke! I was so annoyed!

So, that’s how I got the title and that’s why I am not too excited about it! She didn’t slap me! Now, I don’t know when I am going to see her next. Damn! 😦