There will never be a point in your life when you are not under emotional duress. Things get to you. People, their words, the things they do, get to you. So you snap- An elastic band stretched too far and for too long eventually breaks somewhere in between. And you try very very hard to tie back these frayed bits together, to make some sense out of things, find the missing piece of the jigsaw.
How do you know if you are wrong? How do you know if you are right?
26 September, 2008
22 June, 2008
I don't get the phrase "dead serious".
What exactly is it supposed to mean? That you're so dead, it's serious? Or that you're so serious, you're dead?
This has been GNAWING at my head the whole day and I can't get sleep and I can't think straight and somebodyneedstotellmebeforeIlosemymindcompletely. I'm dead serious.
What exactly is it supposed to mean? That you're so dead, it's serious? Or that you're so serious, you're dead?
This has been GNAWING at my head the whole day and I can't get sleep and I can't think straight and somebodyneedstotellmebeforeIlosemymindcompletely. I'm dead serious.
20 June, 2008
11 May, 2008
Putting together three digit combinations of numbers in no particular order with the TV remote, I've flipped past Kairali where Blessy molle is decked in a shiny blue shirt and fatally tight jeans, singing an ancient tamil song with a very bad accent ("Reja boo, jinneh reja boo"). Then, Vh1 where some sucker's ride is being- pardon the language- "Pimped" and Xzibit (Honestly, one thinks that with the money he must be making pimping various suckers' cars, he could put himself through kindergarten and learn to spell! But one is not blessed with such money and therefore one does not know that a "pimped out ride" is of higher value than primary grade education) is claiming that the said "ride" is "whacked out sh*t, dawwwg!!!". Proceed to Sun TV where sad woman with five inch- thick foundation in startling yellow saree has repeated the same dialogue thrice, turned her head thrice and blinked in slow motion thrice, thus putting the few uninterested members of the audience like yours truly under the impression that she is suffering from a mental ailment and NDTV where a news reporter with shiny hair is informing the rest of Singaara Chennai and I that we will be having the sort of day that Rexona very clearly profits from. Spoilt for choice, I continue channel surfing, through millions of dramedies and soap operas that only the very jobless of the jobless have the time, patience and nothing better to do, watch and finally reach Destination Disney- which, ironically enough, runs 24 * 7 courtesy my sister- only to see thin blonde boy and thin brunette girl dancing and singing on some weird-assed stage, apparently very happy with the state of things. Ooh look, blondie has a crush on dumbetta! And she is totally and completely unaware of it! Of course, this is the chick who posed nude for the camera of her own volition and then regretted having done so, claiming she had no idea some genius had put them up online for the Whole Wide World to see. So obviously, dumbetta isn't very tuned in on most things so she will be pardoned for not having noticed Blondie's lovestruck smile.
"It's hard to believe that I couldn't see that you were always right beside me", is the lyric to the song. Yes, Dumbetta darling, that means never prance around as if inebriated in your nuddy pants when nobody's around because some perv might just be lurking in a corner clicking photogwaphs!!
Ohmygoddygod, I might actually be watching the critically-acclaimed, highly controversial, Academy Award nominee for WTF film of the year, the High School Musical! And eew, my friends think Blondie is cute? I stay put for another ten minutes, trying very hard to see what exactly sent the world into a mad rage about this weird-assed musical with half-assed story.
So I see Ashley Tisdale, who is really very adorable, trying to be the bitchy prima donna of the drama club and not doing a very good job of it. I see a boy attached to a kickass afro bobbing up and down on cafeteria tables with what is supposed to be the rest of the high school populace following suit. I see Blondie and Dumbetta on the roof of their school, trying to get cosy and nearly fall asleep till Ashley Twitsdale shrieks in a pitch high enough to wake the dead.
WHAT, pray tell, is so ultramegatotally fabulous about this movie/musical/thing? There isn't even a cute male lead who makes it worth watching!! Gah, such a waste of a precious half hour that would have otherwise been spent watching ETV Marathi for kicks or The Bold and The Beautiful, again, for kicks. I remember Blessy and immediately revert to Kairali where more and more people are singing more and more tamil songs in out-of-place falsettos are making the world a better place to live in, one badly prenounzed werd at a taayum.
So, in the ultimate battle between Blondie and Blessy, Blessy wins, bejewelled hands down! In your face, anorexic Amrikaan peoples!!
P.S.- Job wanted for far from qualified, bored student with absolutely no experience whatsoever and no field of expertise.
"It's hard to believe that I couldn't see that you were always right beside me", is the lyric to the song. Yes, Dumbetta darling, that means never prance around as if inebriated in your nuddy pants when nobody's around because some perv might just be lurking in a corner clicking photogwaphs!!
Ohmygoddygod, I might actually be watching the critically-acclaimed, highly controversial, Academy Award nominee for WTF film of the year, the High School Musical! And eew, my friends think Blondie is cute? I stay put for another ten minutes, trying very hard to see what exactly sent the world into a mad rage about this weird-assed musical with half-assed story.
So I see Ashley Tisdale, who is really very adorable, trying to be the bitchy prima donna of the drama club and not doing a very good job of it. I see a boy attached to a kickass afro bobbing up and down on cafeteria tables with what is supposed to be the rest of the high school populace following suit. I see Blondie and Dumbetta on the roof of their school, trying to get cosy and nearly fall asleep till Ashley Twitsdale shrieks in a pitch high enough to wake the dead.
WHAT, pray tell, is so ultramegatotally fabulous about this movie/musical/thing? There isn't even a cute male lead who makes it worth watching!! Gah, such a waste of a precious half hour that would have otherwise been spent watching ETV Marathi for kicks or The Bold and The Beautiful, again, for kicks. I remember Blessy and immediately revert to Kairali where more and more people are singing more and more tamil songs in out-of-place falsettos are making the world a better place to live in, one badly prenounzed werd at a taayum.
So, in the ultimate battle between Blondie and Blessy, Blessy wins, bejewelled hands down! In your face, anorexic Amrikaan peoples!!
P.S.- Job wanted for far from qualified, bored student with absolutely no experience whatsoever and no field of expertise.
27 April, 2008
18 February, 2008
Diaper dilemma
Off late, I haven't been able to take so much as two steps out the front door without ramming right into a wailing toddler, in a pram/in harassed mommy's arms/under daddy's armpit, crying bloody murder. Everywhere, EVERY-BLOODY-WHERE there is a child. Whether crying or not, the sudden baby boom scares me. Don't get me wrong, I like babies. But I cannot possibly fathom how and why there are so damned many of them at every corner you turn.
One Saturday night, the whole family with hyperative mad cousin sister in tow, decided to dine in at a new little restaurant two blocks away. So while waiting for our entrees, an adorable little baby girl waddles her way around the restaurant, wreaking havoc with her chubby arms a-flutter, sending crockery and paneer masala all over the floor. Waiters scurry after her- Mommy to the rescue- Haggard father looks orey troubled- My mood officially murdered. In order to cheer ourselves up afterward, we walk to the tiny little dessert shop down the road and sit down to attack our apple pie and tiramisu when in walks a man with a babe in arms screaming, "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE ennaku chaaaaaaakalate ice cream veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennum!!!!"
And dawdee cannot help but to succumb so he says, "Seri chellam, I will get it."
"Dawdeeeeeeeeeeeeee, don't leave meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
"I am going to the counter da!"
"But don't goooooooo!"
With which, he bursts out into crocodile tears and fake sniffles. Cunning little runt. In utter desperation, I run out to sit down in the nice little portico with my best friend on the phone bleating along to some stupid pop song. But aah, we know the Lord Almighty has no mercy. So while said best friend is halfway through the chorus and I am yelling about how people have no control and should learn when to stop and avoid having babies, he (God, damnit :P) sends another one my way, a twerp (albeit a very adorable twerp) decked in an outfit that would have done Govinda proud. His obviously mentally harassed parents try wrestling him into the restaurant. "Arjun, vaa da... There's so much cake inside, paaru da kanna!" But Arjun is firm in his stance. He will stand where he is, in all his two foot-two inch glory and NOT go in. There are too many people in there, too much noise and too much damage to the senses. I like this big eyed, curly-haired kid. I have half a mind to hold him up like an exhibit and plead with the rest of the world to make babies like this one. Smart and antisocial.
Next stop, local supermarket to stock up on bread and eggs and everything that provides for a good, lazy Sunday morning. I stroll down the confectionery aisle, comparing fat content of various cookies and biscuits. Five mintues into my phenomenally pathbreaking research, I hear a thud, followed by what sounds like the rustle of a hundred leaves of aluminium foil and a wail. I try not to cringe. For that is the typical baby wail. I walk three steps and find a pile of pink frills and Lays potato crisps packets with two tiny pigtails sticking out from in between "Zero Trans Fat!! No cholestrol!!" labels. I try hard to not collapse laughing. I help her up and put back three of the ten hundred thousand things she has somehow managed to displace. By this time, her mommy has managed to find her and instead of spanking her on the bottom like a good mommy should, she gives her a hug and ruffles her hair like a good mommy really would. Then it all dawns on me. God has turned on the lightbulbs in my head. THIS is why people procreate. Accidentally or intentionally, it is for this. This being able to love someone despite their dirty nappies and 3 am coughing fits. Despite the one million mistakes and the snot on clothes, the stains on the carpets and scribbles on theses.
Just to watch someone grow from being irrational and selfish to smart and ambitious. To watch them grow, one baby step at a time.
Now, I know why there are babies everywhere. And now all the pieces of the puzzle seem to fall into place.
One Saturday night, the whole family with hyperative mad cousin sister in tow, decided to dine in at a new little restaurant two blocks away. So while waiting for our entrees, an adorable little baby girl waddles her way around the restaurant, wreaking havoc with her chubby arms a-flutter, sending crockery and paneer masala all over the floor. Waiters scurry after her- Mommy to the rescue- Haggard father looks orey troubled- My mood officially murdered. In order to cheer ourselves up afterward, we walk to the tiny little dessert shop down the road and sit down to attack our apple pie and tiramisu when in walks a man with a babe in arms screaming, "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE ennaku chaaaaaaakalate ice cream veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennum!!!!"
And dawdee cannot help but to succumb so he says, "Seri chellam, I will get it."
"Dawdeeeeeeeeeeeeee, don't leave meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
"I am going to the counter da!"
"But don't goooooooo!"
With which, he bursts out into crocodile tears and fake sniffles. Cunning little runt. In utter desperation, I run out to sit down in the nice little portico with my best friend on the phone bleating along to some stupid pop song. But aah, we know the Lord Almighty has no mercy. So while said best friend is halfway through the chorus and I am yelling about how people have no control and should learn when to stop and avoid having babies, he (God, damnit :P) sends another one my way, a twerp (albeit a very adorable twerp) decked in an outfit that would have done Govinda proud. His obviously mentally harassed parents try wrestling him into the restaurant. "Arjun, vaa da... There's so much cake inside, paaru da kanna!" But Arjun is firm in his stance. He will stand where he is, in all his two foot-two inch glory and NOT go in. There are too many people in there, too much noise and too much damage to the senses. I like this big eyed, curly-haired kid. I have half a mind to hold him up like an exhibit and plead with the rest of the world to make babies like this one. Smart and antisocial.
Next stop, local supermarket to stock up on bread and eggs and everything that provides for a good, lazy Sunday morning. I stroll down the confectionery aisle, comparing fat content of various cookies and biscuits. Five mintues into my phenomenally pathbreaking research, I hear a thud, followed by what sounds like the rustle of a hundred leaves of aluminium foil and a wail. I try not to cringe. For that is the typical baby wail. I walk three steps and find a pile of pink frills and Lays potato crisps packets with two tiny pigtails sticking out from in between "Zero Trans Fat!! No cholestrol!!" labels. I try hard to not collapse laughing. I help her up and put back three of the ten hundred thousand things she has somehow managed to displace. By this time, her mommy has managed to find her and instead of spanking her on the bottom like a good mommy should, she gives her a hug and ruffles her hair like a good mommy really would. Then it all dawns on me. God has turned on the lightbulbs in my head. THIS is why people procreate. Accidentally or intentionally, it is for this. This being able to love someone despite their dirty nappies and 3 am coughing fits. Despite the one million mistakes and the snot on clothes, the stains on the carpets and scribbles on theses.
Just to watch someone grow from being irrational and selfish to smart and ambitious. To watch them grow, one baby step at a time.
Now, I know why there are babies everywhere. And now all the pieces of the puzzle seem to fall into place.
22 January, 2008
BFFs
Me:- So, what do you think?
BFF:- I don't know, your ankles are your best feature.
Me:- What does this have to do with that?
BFF:- I think somehow they might be connected.
Me:- Phwoar. That's total bullcrap.
BFF:- But seriously, black looks best on you.
Me:- Even bloody Vadivelu looks good in black!
BFF:- Uh huh.
Me:- So, razor cut my hair or not?
BFF:- I think I might still like him.
Me:- Yeah? OMG, I haven't finished biology!
BFF:- There's this question in a sample paper... The sum of seventy two terms of an AP is.... ACK that hot guy that hot guy that hot guy.
Me:- Is he all clean shaven again?
BFF:- Damn, I screwed my diet today.
Me:- Okay, my new favourite colour is teal.
BFF:- Bye.
Me:- And oh yeah I spoke to xyz and he said that the question paper won't be very difficult cos it's a new syllabus.
BFF:- Yeah?
Me:- Hmm... Bye.
BFF:- I don't know, your ankles are your best feature.
Me:- What does this have to do with that?
BFF:- I think somehow they might be connected.
Me:- Phwoar. That's total bullcrap.
BFF:- But seriously, black looks best on you.
Me:- Even bloody Vadivelu looks good in black!
BFF:- Uh huh.
Me:- So, razor cut my hair or not?
BFF:- I think I might still like him.
Me:- Yeah? OMG, I haven't finished biology!
BFF:- There's this question in a sample paper... The sum of seventy two terms of an AP is.... ACK that hot guy that hot guy that hot guy.
Me:- Is he all clean shaven again?
BFF:- Damn, I screwed my diet today.
Me:- Okay, my new favourite colour is teal.
BFF:- Bye.
Me:- And oh yeah I spoke to xyz and he said that the question paper won't be very difficult cos it's a new syllabus.
BFF:- Yeah?
Me:- Hmm... Bye.
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