The Inner Workings Of The Female Brain

Hey there.

Its been a while since I’ve posted anything new. This atrocity on by part is partly due to my hectic schedule of lazing around and partly due to my utter disregard for other people’s schedules. Today, I’ve decided to take a walk down memory lane and remove the cobwebs from my stiff joints.

This one’s called ‘The Inner Workings of the Female Brain’, a piece I’d written a few years ago, before attaining maturity. Hope you enjoy it.

Eve-olutionPromiscuous as the mind is – constantly searching for newer avenues and doors to sow its seeds of maliciousness – the female brain was, and remains to this day, the holy grail of understanding. Many a honest man has lost his sanity, sometimes his identity and his life, questing for the unattainable. What makes these creatures, which share such similarity with men, so different? The answer, if known, would make me a rich man. Alas, I do not. But, I did take the time to painfully assess these creatures, sometimes probing perilously close to losing my life, and have finally managed to make my observations known to the world. I warn you, dear reader, this is not for the faint of heart.

Lets begin with the most obvious thing that anyone notices with these creatures – their gait. These sapiens have a peculiar kind of a rambling walk, bordering on a strut, that makes them easier to identify in a crowded room. (Of course, the other thing that identifies them in a crowded room is their habit of dousing themselves with strange smelling fluids! But, we’ll get to that later.) The walk is their one sure way to get attention – they gyrate their body in an unearthly fashion while walking! – and they do get it, no doubt. We men being as we are, can’t keep ourselves from looking at them. The female has realized this. So, the female’s brain – which is one hundred time more advanced than ours’ – immediately latched on to this weakness of ours and the story of Pied Piper repeats itself….
Let me remind you of an interesting remark that was made by the Shah of Persia, a few hundred years ago. He said that the single, surest way of attaining salvation – both physically and mentally – is never to trust a female. Well, over time, this aphorism has lost its charm as more and more trustworthy females graced the world and drove the Shah to exile. But then, the present day situation demands more caution on the part of the male. The female brain has quickly analyzed the greatest weakness that the Y-chromosome accords to us. It is that, while the man has to spend his time, money and efforts to woo the girl, she on the other hand just has to smile, and the guy’s hers! No one has been able to satisfactorily explain this phenomenon, but it doesn’t matter, because now there is a new wave of deception tiding the planet. The female has acquired from somewhere the tools to successfully make the man abide by her whims and fancies – so much, so that if Sigmund Freud were alive today, he would have called the male populace of the planet as a “sad bunch of toilet-tissue-emulators”! Though we must be ashamed of ourselves, not to mention cautious, we’re neither, and end up being the receiving end of nitrogenous treatments meted out to us by the female.

More than everything, the female brain has evolved so quickly, that when we were still trying to make faces at ourselves by looking at our reflection in the river, the female was busy creating masks! This disturbing fact has revealed atrocious allegations against what really went on in the Garden of Eden.  She has learned to mask her true emotions so well, that we really feel baffled when she can smile so sweetly at us, hold our hand so warmly, look into our eyes with her lovely eyes and say, “Get lost, you jerk!”

Ever seen women slap a man? Well, I have, and trust me; it’s not a pretty sight. (I have been on the receiving end of many a slap, though that’s not important to the story right now!) Every time she walks away after slapping the jerk, he holds his bruised cheek in his hands and dreamily stares after the departing female and sighs. He says, “I think she likes me…” We men will never improve.

Coming to the gewgaw that these creatures allow themselves to be part of, the smelling fluids I talked about earlier. Neither countless like-minded fools nor me have ever understood the reasons behind this strange phenotypic character. The female bathes in what are known to be “perfumes” – the very word should have made her shy away from it, because in Greek, “per-“ means toxic and “fume-“ means stench. Well, please try to explain this phenomenon. Something really smells fishy, doesn’t it?

The day the mystery of the female brain is solved, it’ll be Genesis: Chapter 1 all over again! But, lets be honest to ourselves. The day is never going to come. We men will remain the scum of the planet for at least another millennium. Feminism is indeed significant, but it should never border on chauvinism.

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Matrix Relocated!

There were two pills – a blue one and a red pill. “Take one,” he said, and adjusted his black sunglasses. I couldn’t fathom why he was wearing dark sunglasses inside the already dimly-lit room. He couldn’t see a thing.

“Er, I’m over here pal,” I said, hiding an amused smile.

He turned towards me and used his free hand to raise his glasses. He stuck them over his forehead, looked at me through his blue contact lenses and said, “Don’t keep moving about, dude.”

“But I – “

“Don’t interrupt me!” he said, interrupting me. “Take a pill.”

“Why? What are these pills?” I asked, slightly angered with his tone.

“You are the Round One. We’ve been waiting for you for well over a decade. You will save us from the evil machine creatures that haunt us. One of these pills will enable you to see the truth and help us, and the other will enable you to go back to your boring PR life and your boring blogs and your boring PR life. You decide.”

“You said that already, man,” I said.

“What?”

“My boring PR life…”

“Yeah. I know. Now decide!” he said and held out his hand, on which nestled two innocent pills – one red and blue.

“Tell me something first,” I said. “Why am I the Round One? Is it because I’m fat? Why can’t I be the Chosen One or something cooler?”

“Stop wasting time, Round One! Take a pill and save our lives!” he pleaded.

I took the red pill and swallowed it with a glass of water. I waited. Nothing happened. I looked at him. “Now what?” I asked him.

“You bastard,” he said softly. “You’ve decided to go back to your PR life, Round One. You have damned us all.”

As I woke up, back in my boring life the next day, I decided to reduce some weight. Round One? WTF!

SOAP SUDS

Got this below visual in my email a few days ago.  It’s just too hilarious – something to lighten up your Sunday. Cheers! 🙂

It was Friday morning, and that  meant it was time for an activity that the teacher called “add to the  picture”.   The teacher would call students to the chalkboard one at a  time. The first student would draw an object on the chalkboard, and each  following student would add something to the picture to make it a new picture.

The teacher called on James to start things off.

11

James returned to his seat.

The teacher called on  Ernie next.

2

Ernie returned to his seat.

Now it was Suzy’s turn.

3

Suzy returned to her seat.

Next, the teacher called  Jerry to the board.

4

Jerry returned to his seat.

Kim was called to the board.

5

Kim returned to her seat.

About this time, little Johnny began waving his arm hysterically. Little  Johnny was well known for being off center, so the teacher was reluctant to call  on him for anything. But as the teacher looked at the picture on the chalkboard,  she thought that there was no way that little Johnny could possibly do anything  to make this picture dirty. So she called on little Johnny, and he ran to the  chalkboard.

6

The Hazards Of A Public Relations Occupation

funny_choking_hazardAnd I thought working in a coal mine in Siberia was dangerous. Public Relations is a field which only the brave pursue and only those with a casual disregard for personal safety excel in.

When I signed on for a career in Public Relations, I knew it would involve daily death threats from irate clients and journalists (For example, there’s this homosexual client called Mr. B, who’s sleeping with the bisexual editor of a popular national newspaper and I’m not supposed to tell this out to anyone), but I didn’t expect bodily harm.

Yesterday was a gloomy Tuesday, with dark clouds threatening to douse the city and a cold wind that seemed never-ending. I arrived a bit late than usual, courtesy dirty traffic and a full bladder, and went about my work with the right mix of boredom and enthusiasm. It was somewhere around two in the afternoon when I realized just how dangerous my line of work is.

I was sitting at my desk, reading an online news release, when I dropped my pen on the floor. As I bent to pick it up, the chair I was sitting on creaked a bit. I didn’t give it much thought as it always creaked. Just as my fingertips touched the floor, I heard a deafening crack and the damn chair snapped in three! I fell down on the floor quite awkwardly, with a heavy thud. The entire office was silent and I lay there, dazed, wondering what in the hell happened.

Slowly, people realized something was wrong and crowded around my cubicle and helped me to my feet and made me stretch just to make sure that nothing was broken. More than embarrassment, I was angry at a friend of mine was suggesting a diet which clearly wasn’t working! 😀

I realized a bit later that I had cut my thumb quite deeply during the fall, I don’t know how that happened, and that my butt ached painfully all through the day. That I am accident prone is an understatement.

The Remnants Of The Disaster
The Remnants
The Cut
The Cut

I wanted to name this post “Return Of The Yo-Yo,” because my bike ran out of fuel on my way back and I had to push it for half an hour bearing the paining butt, and then stopped for another half an hour waiting for my friend to come and rescue me with some petrol, and during that wait, I almost ate a dirty omlette on the street and refrained after seeing the ‘cook’ scratch his butt and his armpits and wipe his hands on a dirty lungi, but I thought the current title would be ample proof for people who want a career in Public Relations to think twice and thrice before embarking on the most dangerous job in the world.

PS: That was the longest sentence I’ve ever written! 😀

PPS: The ‘B’ in Mr. B, obviously, stands for ‘Bastard’. 😀

By Brahma!

A modern form of word association game involves watching a movie and listing down all that comes to your head. My french-fried brain tried it with the above video clip, and all it could come up with were these:

Hungry. Suffering Samurai. Ketchup. Mobile. Samsung. Weird. Nikhil. Dork.

The Mexican Staring Frog of Southern Sri Lanka.

Post Operative Trauma. Toilet Paper.

In this Vishesh-like post of mine, I’m curious to see what you come up with. Shouldn’t be hard – just watch the video clip above and list down all the words that come to mind. 😀

PS: If the above video decides that you’re not worthy enough to view this video, you might see a message that says, “I’m sorry, this video is no longer available.” If that happens, don’t worry. The scientists at the MirrorCracked Labs do not discriminate people that way. They have created a special link just for you here.

Cover me up, Scotty!

OutlookIndia has always been a very conservatively-confused country. No, that didn’t sound right. Let me try that again. India has always been a country with conservatively-confused people in power. Yeah, that sounds about right. Don’t get me wrong – I’m a politically-neutral, wardrobe-indifferent, optically-challenged, mentally-blessed, verbally-strong guy – but some things that these politicians do just baffles me and makes me want to stand them in the middle of a crowd, strip them naked and laugh at them all day long, like Nelson in the Simpsons, “Haw! Haw!”

Every sport needs cheerleaders – not only to please the weary sportsmens’ eyes, but also to appease the gawkers and the single men (and certain women!) in the crowd. Indian politics is very insecure when it comes to scantily dressed cheerleaders waving away those frillies in the air and showing off their generously endowed ..er.. wardrobe! (Does that sound right!?)

They allow these lovely cheerleaders to flaunt themselves one day and the next, they are banned and are ordered to “Cover up or Pack up!” The next day, they’re back, doing what they do best! Isn’t this a bit insane? Sticking to a decision is the hardest thing any Indian politician can do, and especially when it comes to near-naked dancing beauties, I’m not surprised by the vacillation! 😀

After all, who wants to watch a game of football or cricket without the goddesses of ..er.. (F)rock dancing and cheering the home side on? No wonder they charge entertainment taxes on game tickets nowadays! 😀

I know a lot of people wouldn’t have an opinion on this issue, but I just had to get it out – can’t hold back political jokes anymore! We’ve crossed the line! 🙂

Haw! Haw!