Wanted: Full-Time Muse

Job Code: Muse2012

Job Description: A highly reputed writer and blogger based in India is seeking a muse. He is stuck without inspiration to write anything and even ten words take a lot of pain and effort. He is currently willing to pay top dollar for the muse.

Job Requirements: Muse can be either male or female, but the writer prefers a female muse. Males can apply too, and unless you make a very strong case, your application stands a good chance of being rejected. Candidates can be of any age, nationality, race, creed, sexual orientation or religion. The writer is an equal opportunity employer. All women will be considered fairly. Candidates need to have at least a year’s experience in being someone’s muse. References will be needed and a very strict background check will be performed. A very strong command over the English language is a must. Writing skills is a bonus. Ability to resist incessant flirting will be an advantage. Strong knowledge of computers, internet technology and instant messaging.

Duties & Responsibilities: The primary responsibility of the muse will be to adequately inspire the writer to churn out good material for the books and blogs that he is struggling to write. Most of the writer’s material is based on a fictitious super-awesome woman that he’s constantly in love with and the muse should have the ability to take up the role of that character in order to encourage the writer to write. Don’t fear, the writer rarely says or does anything inappropriate. He’s a gentleman and he will treat everyone with equal respect and condescension. This role-playing ability is vital for the job.

Compensation: Competitive.

Position: Full time.

Interested candidates can apply by sending in their resumes and their photographs to writer at mirrorcrackedmuse@gmail.com

If your profile gets selected, you will receive an email from the writer personally, asking you out for dinner. All the best.

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If I Were A Politician…

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been drawn to showing off my accomplishments to others. I have been inclined to step over others for my successes and I’m very fascinated by money. Not money in the bank, but cold, hard cash. I have very few morals and principles in life and I am easily bored with uninteresting people. I love fame and glory and I revel in other people’s accolades. I have a very huge ego and I think I’m God. I love and hate people fiercely and I hate to lose someone I love. I love to lose someone I hate, and not just lose, but to see them dig their own grave and nail themselves in the coffin.

I am a fantastic orator and I can sway people with my words. I have a knack for convincing people to see things from my point of view and I hate it when it fails. I love doing shady deals for lots of money, though I am yet to do one so far. I love being on television and I love seeing myself being written in the papers.

I think I’d make a fantastic politician. Just what the country needs at this point. Someone with a sense of humor and the ability to make the citizens feel good about being fleeced for their money.

I think I am ready for it. Money Fame Politics, here I come! Or, maybe not. I don’t know if I’m ready to be assassinated yet.

Blah?

blah

What would it be like to write a blah post where every word is ‘Blah’…? I ask this because I just came across a blah plugin called PenisPress, which promises to replace every blah word in a post with the word ‘Penis’.

Er, I don’t know why anyone would be blah jobless enough to even write a plugin as crazy as this. But hey, the world is filled with jerks, and the least we can do is acknowledge them. Right? πŸ˜€

Anyway, I’ve been quite held up with a lot of blah work and I’m hoping some time clears up soon enough for me to be a bit more active online. There’s a trip to blah Manipal in the offing, for their blah communications fest, where I’m probably presenting a paper, and there’s a lot of interesting things cropping up in the blah job-hunt scenario.

Did I say blah job-hunt? I meant something else. Er… What? Shit, I should not write when I’m blah drunk!

Image blah Courtesy: Pressx2select.com

Let’s Have A Conference Call, Folks!

conferenceSingapore. Canada. California. New York. And, to ice the cake, Bangalore. The conference call was scheduled to start at 9:30 in the morning, and at 9:29, I realized that the phone in the corner did not have an international calling facility. I was sitting there, all prepared, my papers spread out in front of me, my pen handy, my head going over the different methods of opening the conversation, saying “Hi” or “Hello” or “Good morning”, and then, I sat there listening to the sweet yet hideous female voice telling me that this service isn’t available on this phone.

I wondered what to do. The clock ticked away the seconds of the one minute left for me to sign into the call. I gulped and took a decision that I knew I’d regret. I flipped open my mobile and punched in the numbers. I prayed hard, hoping the call would end in a few minutes. It didn’t. It lasted for an hour and fifty minutes. I sighed and resigned myself for a fat bill this month.

Conference calls, according to me, are a supreme waste of time. I think more work can be accomplished through an email. The first twenty minutes are obviously spent in introducing all the people in the call. The next thirty-odd minutes go away in outlining the agenda for the conference call. The remaining hour or so is spent in asking people to speak up; apologizing for loud cell phones; apologizing for the rackets behind their respective backs; and finally, asking everyone present if they understood the last point. More often than not, there will be at least three jerks who would not have paid attention, and they would ask you to repeat the last point.

The frustrating thing about these conference calls is that you cannot abuse anyone verbally. If the same meeting is held over emails, then before sending each and every email, you can let out the wonderful stream of expletives, and feel good about yourself and the other person’s lack of knowledge. You can question his/her ability to think straight, his/her man-/womanhood, his/her ridiculous name, and lot of other things.Β  But on a conference call, you have to hold your tongue and treat even the most outrageous of jerks with an amount of respect. It takes so much out of you. You can’t even make fun of funny names!

Anyway, I have had too many conference calls till now. I think I’ve devised a formula to survive each one of them. I call it “Apparent Indifference” – if you give the impression to the other jerks on the call that you’re indifferent about the outcome, then they’ll fall over themselves to spell out each and ever point of concern and make sure that each and every doubt has been answered. This, of course, helps me in making the meeting a success.

Oh, I hate conference calls. Of course, the only advantage the conference call has over board-room meetings is that you can fart loudly and get away with it. πŸ˜€

Jingles, Jangles And Balls :)

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I've been good this year, I promise! πŸ™‚

Dear Santa,

How’ve you been? I hope you’re keeping yourself warm? Guess what, Santa: It’s that time of the year again, where we all become spies and secret agents. The Secret Santa game started in office today, and each one of us picked chits and we became the Secret Santa of the person whose name we picked. It’s all hush-hush in office today, with everyone guessing and double-guessing who their Secret Santa is.

I’ve been trying to reach you for the past two days, and you’re not answering your phone!

I’ve been a good boy this year, Santa. I really have. You gotta believe me. I did my chores, I’ve remained single, I’ve forgiven them all, I’ve forgotten them all, I’ve been honest (to an extent), I’ve been regular on the blogs, I’ve given up trying to quit smoking, I’ve not used more than 150 swear words a day, I’ve not broken many hearts, I’ve not given the finger to many losers, I’ve prayed hard for beer, I’ve worked hard, I’ve partied harder, I’ve hardly touched anything that I’m not supposed to touch, I’ve written no more than 2 hate mails, I’ve haven’t killed anyone or anything, I’ve done all that I could to ensure my level of atrociousness, I’ve washed myself before and after, I’ve been clean (in a non-drug-related way; you know what I mean, Santa; wink wink), I’ve not been wasting my food, I’ve fed a few hungry people, I’ve been nicer to dogs this year, I’ve done my bit for the environment, I’ve stayed out of jail, I’ve donated blood and other body fluids to people in need, I’ve thought really hard about running a marathon, I’ve not made prank calls, I’ve not asked for much from you before, and we both know that you’ve not given anything I’ve asked for, you jackass.

But this time, please, there’s something I really want and I really really hope that there’s an internet connection wherever you are, so that you’re reading this, please grant me the following:

1. My Paycheck

That’s it. That’s all I ask. Please?

Love,
Nikhil

It’s A Punny World! :)

Punny WorldMy first job was working in an orange juice factory, but I got canned because I couldn’t concentrate. Then I worked in the woods as a lumberjack, but I just couldn’t hack it, so they gave me the axe. After that I tried to be a tailor, but I just wasn’t suited for it. The job was only so-so anyhow. Next I tried working in a muffler factory, but that was exhausting. I wanted to be a barber, but I just couldn’t cut it. I attempted to be a deli worker, but any way I sliced it, I couldn’t cut the mustard.

My best job was being a musician, but eventually I found I wasn’t note worthy. I studied a long time to become a doctor, but I didn’t have any patience. When I finally got a patient, he woke up in the hospital and screamed, “Doctor, I can’t feel my leg! Help!” to which, I replied, “I know! I’ve cut off your arms!”

Next was a job in a shoe factory; I tried, but I just didn’t fit in. I became a professional fisherman, but discovered that I couldn’t live on my net income. I thought about becoming a witch, so I tried that for a spell. I managed to get a good job working for a pool maintenance company, but the work was just too draining. My last job was working at Starbucks, but I had to quit, because it was always the same old grind. After many years of trying to find steady work, I finally got a job as a historian, until I realized there was no future in it.

And after reading this post, you’re probably going to experience Deja Moo – the feeling that you’ve heard this bull before. πŸ˜€

A good pun is its own reword.

The Day I Almost Died…

Well, not exactly. But I came dangerously close to losing my life. πŸ˜€

I live a dangerous life. My job takes me all the remote corners of the city and more often that not, I end up rubbing the wrong people the wrong way. No, I don’t give back rubs for a living, but something close. Whenever I fail to make my clients look like God’s gifts to mankind, and end up looking bad in public, they scream bloody murder and run behind me with guns, knifes and swords, baying for my blood. A few days ago, I almost regretted being in this business. πŸ˜€

Everyone would probably agree that the word “jobs” does not mean “people”, literally speaking. This schism between the two words is enhanced if they are used in a sentence like this: “We’re offering jobs…” and “We’re offering people…” πŸ˜€

Journalism is losing its charm in this country and when this happens, the quality of people entering the field drastically comes down. Exceptions aside, all the new kids in journalism are very green, with loads to learn, starting with the difference in meaning between the two sentences above! When a multinational company’s CEO is quoted as saying, “We’re offering people…” I tend to get a bit nervous and fear for my life. The moment I read this quote in the paper that morning, I gulped and crouched under the table, and sure enough, ten minutes later, the hits started pouring in. πŸ˜€

“Whom do we offer PEOPLE to??”
“We offer PEOPLE??”
“What sort of a joke is this??”
“Where do you stay??”

and so on…

The CEO wanted me killed. The mafia had a gleam in their eye, wondering about who it was that encroached on their human trafficking business. The MD of the company wanted me killed. My friend, whom I was doing a favor by promising him a quote by the CEO of the company (it was technically his client) wanted me killed, fired and then shot. The bloody journalist was “not reachable” on his phone. πŸ˜€

This is the last time, I thought to myself, that I help out people outside my clientΓ¨le. I’ll stick to my own circle and face the music on my own, with the number of people baying for my blood reduced by half, well under the panic limit. πŸ˜€