Usually, I am not the one to complain against any kind of socializing. Online or otherwise. I see nothing wrong with keeping in touch with old friends, flames and seeing how they are doing occasionally. Its when we become celebrities due to this networking that it becomes a slight issue. For the ones who are slow or having a particularly taxing work day, I am talking about Facebook.
This voyeuristic networking website has caught everyone’s fancy. And aunt, uncle, Tommy and Pinky are logging on to socialize (even if aunt and uncle last stepped out of the house in the 40’s, Tommy cant get his underwear on right and Pinky is still wetting her bed with alarming regularity)Now, like I said lets not get judgmental. Basically, everyone enjoys the scenery while they take their ego trip.
Funny thing is, Facebook can also quickly send the ego hurtling down to the ankles. And have other socio-economic consequences. Let me explain with a list. Don’t shake your head, if you are reading this you know how fond I am of lists.
So, here goes:
Social ladder climbing front
So, everyone goes to everyone elses profile and furtively checks out how many friends they have. If they are friends and have more friends, jealousy pops its head and an immediate resolve is made to go out and socialize in the real world. If they are ex flames, you hope they dont have as many friends. A lot of gloating happens in the case you have some friends on your list who kept in touch with you and ignored your bitter half. If you don’t like them, and they have more friends, you murmur some expletives and wonder why people just add other people to their list when they have met for all of 3 mins in the urinal. Atleast that’s how you justify their popularity.
The war of the profile pics
They can be sexy, cute, naughty and disgusting. Some very cool people think putting up pics of the back of their head, their fingers or their nostrils or something as inane will improve their dismal social status. They are also mislead, by the schizophrenic voice in their head, that this will add some mystery to them and make them a chick magnet (or cock magnet, as the case may be). Personally, I think these guys attract more friend requests from barbers, cannibals and nose haircutting equipment salespeople. But, I could be wrong. Some people think the world needs to know their marital status and will put up pics of them, their family and grandparents and sometimes their neighbours (coz they could be the reason they have a family). Profile snaps with more than one person should be banned.
The status message scheming
So, everyone needs to know what you are doing at any time of the day. At work, eating, reading, pissing other people off with constant updates or whatever. Others, as is the case with blogs, will use big words, stupefying their friends and making a sentence that is completely incomprehensible. Others will put dots. Which I think is suppose to mean something. Others will say “is”. You would think you know that they exist, their updated facebook status evidence of that, but no, they will say it. Thanks, I guess, we were starting to think you “were”.
Celebrity pains
If you are on facebook, you might as well put up pics of yourself. Doing stuff. So, all your friends around the world know what you are upto, who you are hanging out with and how high your hemline was. Some unedited pics also reveal a lot more. But, that aside, I have realized pics on the website raise you to the status of semi-celebs. And while those guys have designers falling all over themselves to dress them, we have no one. Now, the pics are online, so everyone has seen us in some clothes. And no girl worth her fashion sense would wear the same clothes. Recession means we are all down to tattered panties, so buying new clothes isn’t an option. Whats a girl to do?
As anyone would do is such a fragile situation, I have found a solution to the issue. That would be to not put up pics.
I have obviously given this issue a lot of thought. And in the light of the options, I say we all go offline, into the real world and get a life.
Now, where was that sheep again?
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Pricks
There are mild irritants, like flies and mosquitoes (has anyone figured out why we need these pesky blood suckers?) and then there are major irritants like other humans. It’s not them per se, it’s their ideas. And sometimes, it’s them. Actually, it’s mostly them. It irritates me that these people exist.
Point being, I am very bugged with somethings. And as always, it is imperative that I list these buggers out, for two reasons. First, because I love listing, as has been previously established and two, because my voice needs to be heard or seen. More because I like listing, just so we are clear on this.
Bugger 1- The permanent hard-oned moral police
Seriously, these sick fuckers have their heads so up their asses, all they can see is shit. And slowly, every city in India seems to have these beasts roaming freely on the streets. And it pisses me off that they think they are the watchdogs of “Indian culture.” Culture, is about values and respecting traditions. It’s not about what you wear or where you go. Or about what you eat. We don’t have to go around touching every leery uncle’s feet and wear saris to prove we are Indian. So, fuck you guys. I am sending you guys an extra-pink chaddi.
Bugger 2 ¬ The Luser
Which is the very long word user. Some blogs I visit (not regularly, very taxing) or happen to stumble upon leave me missing my dictionary with acute longing. The blogger is clearly catering to a niche audience (by niche i mean the ones who were forced by parents to eat a dictionary and other abused people.) They use words like tantamount. They use my entire vocab in one sentence. Who reads these blogs? And why?
Bugger 3 – The half-empty glassers
Yes, its recession. The freshly unemployed are looking deranged, the employed are staring furtively at the unemployed and effectively, everyone is worried shitless. At this point, I think a good plan is parking your ass at work, spending less time staring at your colleague’s tits and pushing yourself to the point where you are getting some work done, like getting a whole word document typed. But, then come sauntering along the smug employed. Mostly found in a hysterical state, these guys will tell anyone who is listening (or not) about how they heard about several thousand people getting the kick, about how some people cant get their two-year old obese child medication and junk food and how his wife is now poor and cant afford that Prada bag. The SE is will also drown out any voice of sanity that may as much as imply that things aren’t as bad as they look. They look at you with pity when you say rumours are making the whole situation more grim. They stare at you, clucking at your stupidity and wonder loudly if you are functioning in an alternate reality. Seriously, talking about this isn’t going to make it go away or make it better. It’s ok. You live through this, just like you live through everything else.
Phew! It feels good to vent. So, its that bad, huh?
Point being, I am very bugged with somethings. And as always, it is imperative that I list these buggers out, for two reasons. First, because I love listing, as has been previously established and two, because my voice needs to be heard or seen. More because I like listing, just so we are clear on this.
Bugger 1- The permanent hard-oned moral police
Seriously, these sick fuckers have their heads so up their asses, all they can see is shit. And slowly, every city in India seems to have these beasts roaming freely on the streets. And it pisses me off that they think they are the watchdogs of “Indian culture.” Culture, is about values and respecting traditions. It’s not about what you wear or where you go. Or about what you eat. We don’t have to go around touching every leery uncle’s feet and wear saris to prove we are Indian. So, fuck you guys. I am sending you guys an extra-pink chaddi.
Bugger 2 ¬ The Luser
Which is the very long word user. Some blogs I visit (not regularly, very taxing) or happen to stumble upon leave me missing my dictionary with acute longing. The blogger is clearly catering to a niche audience (by niche i mean the ones who were forced by parents to eat a dictionary and other abused people.) They use words like tantamount. They use my entire vocab in one sentence. Who reads these blogs? And why?
Bugger 3 – The half-empty glassers
Yes, its recession. The freshly unemployed are looking deranged, the employed are staring furtively at the unemployed and effectively, everyone is worried shitless. At this point, I think a good plan is parking your ass at work, spending less time staring at your colleague’s tits and pushing yourself to the point where you are getting some work done, like getting a whole word document typed. But, then come sauntering along the smug employed. Mostly found in a hysterical state, these guys will tell anyone who is listening (or not) about how they heard about several thousand people getting the kick, about how some people cant get their two-year old obese child medication and junk food and how his wife is now poor and cant afford that Prada bag. The SE is will also drown out any voice of sanity that may as much as imply that things aren’t as bad as they look. They look at you with pity when you say rumours are making the whole situation more grim. They stare at you, clucking at your stupidity and wonder loudly if you are functioning in an alternate reality. Seriously, talking about this isn’t going to make it go away or make it better. It’s ok. You live through this, just like you live through everything else.
Phew! It feels good to vent. So, its that bad, huh?
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Caution: Proceed at your own risk
Dangerous, life threatening stunts in the rest of the world: skydiving, scuba diving, surfing, rock climbing, snow skiing, water skiing, snowboarding, mountain biking, mountaineering, storm chasing, hang gliding, and bungee jumping.
Dangerous, life threatening stunts in India: Traveling in a train, writing railway exams, eating dinner at a posh hotel, being of a certain religion, losing a cricket match, wearing appropriate sporting gear, not belonging to a certain state, expressing affection on stage, working for a major IT firm, being of a certain gender, getting a nomination at a prestigious award function abroad, smoking at a public event even if that’s what you do regularly and now visiting a pub.
For those who love the adrenaline rush, there is always living and breathing.
We Indians are real adventurous.
Dangerous, life threatening stunts in India: Traveling in a train, writing railway exams, eating dinner at a posh hotel, being of a certain religion, losing a cricket match, wearing appropriate sporting gear, not belonging to a certain state, expressing affection on stage, working for a major IT firm, being of a certain gender, getting a nomination at a prestigious award function abroad, smoking at a public event even if that’s what you do regularly and now visiting a pub.
For those who love the adrenaline rush, there is always living and breathing.
We Indians are real adventurous.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Super. Awesome. Brilliant. Winner. Really?
I live in that part of the world where English movies come to the cinemas after the whole world and its wife have watched, dissected, hated/loved them. Some like Dark Knight come after the lead actor is dead. Yeah, it takes that long.
But, because the movies come here ambling along at their own pace, the hype built around them is enough to cause stampedes at the cinemas, even if they are as exciting as watching popcorn pop.
With Slumdog Millionaire, we knew the stars, the musicians, the crew and the chaiwallah before the movie made it here. We speculated and waited. And then it came.
And then suddenly, I wasn’t sure what all the hype was about. A lot of us came out bewildered; looking very lost, grappling with the fact that we didn’t think it was choke-on-your-breath-in-admiration fare. While the rest of the world was falling over itself, swooning at the storyline, I was a little stumped with the rave reviews people were giving it. Also, as it happens with situations like these, I thought I was one of the few who was cursed with severely cramped intellectual ability. Turns out not.
I will admit it’s an entertaining movie. You love the boy, his disarmingly charming innocence and in his older years, his inability to be cunning. It’s fast paced, flows smoothly and keeps you riveted. Those were the raves. The rants. If you have lived in Mumbai or anywhere around it, you stare at Jamal hoping somewhere he would be more in touch with reality. Jamal seems strangely optimistic. Like he’s living in another planet. There is no sense of disillusionment, which is almost characteristic to such people. Yes, they do live happily and strive constantly, but the discontent exists. And in SM, there is a constant attempt to dust that under the carpet. Dev Patel , our hero, hits puberty and then stays there. Frieda Pinto on the other hand grows up (some assets weren’t pushed up to be staring in our faces but her face does age). By the end, our teenage boy looks like he’s probably going to fumble under her shirt while she looks like she’s been around. And of course, they then break into a song and dance routine. Smooth, very smooth.
The movie, as is tradition, does no justice to the book. But, I wont slam it for that. But, to someone like me, it skims over the tough parts making Jamal’s life look like a series of unfortunate incidences rather than something that is a way of life. Which is why I won’t shower it with superlatives. I think if this movie were made in India, it would have sunk without a trace. What do you think?
But, because the movies come here ambling along at their own pace, the hype built around them is enough to cause stampedes at the cinemas, even if they are as exciting as watching popcorn pop.
With Slumdog Millionaire, we knew the stars, the musicians, the crew and the chaiwallah before the movie made it here. We speculated and waited. And then it came.
And then suddenly, I wasn’t sure what all the hype was about. A lot of us came out bewildered; looking very lost, grappling with the fact that we didn’t think it was choke-on-your-breath-in-admiration fare. While the rest of the world was falling over itself, swooning at the storyline, I was a little stumped with the rave reviews people were giving it. Also, as it happens with situations like these, I thought I was one of the few who was cursed with severely cramped intellectual ability. Turns out not.
I will admit it’s an entertaining movie. You love the boy, his disarmingly charming innocence and in his older years, his inability to be cunning. It’s fast paced, flows smoothly and keeps you riveted. Those were the raves. The rants. If you have lived in Mumbai or anywhere around it, you stare at Jamal hoping somewhere he would be more in touch with reality. Jamal seems strangely optimistic. Like he’s living in another planet. There is no sense of disillusionment, which is almost characteristic to such people. Yes, they do live happily and strive constantly, but the discontent exists. And in SM, there is a constant attempt to dust that under the carpet. Dev Patel , our hero, hits puberty and then stays there. Frieda Pinto on the other hand grows up (some assets weren’t pushed up to be staring in our faces but her face does age). By the end, our teenage boy looks like he’s probably going to fumble under her shirt while she looks like she’s been around. And of course, they then break into a song and dance routine. Smooth, very smooth.
The movie, as is tradition, does no justice to the book. But, I wont slam it for that. But, to someone like me, it skims over the tough parts making Jamal’s life look like a series of unfortunate incidences rather than something that is a way of life. Which is why I won’t shower it with superlatives. I think if this movie were made in India, it would have sunk without a trace. What do you think?
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Wow, I have been away for long
There isnt much to explain my absence from the blogging world. Except laziness, perhaps. Or terrorism. Nah, not really.
For starters, let me say Happy New Year. And I am hoping with all my being that this year is nothing like the last. That I am a better person this year. I have my resolutions (which i shall not put here for reasons of secrecy and my inability to keep them) but I have wishes, for the whole world.
In 2009,
1) We will learn the value of a life. Human or not. Irrespective of religion, colour and race. Because no life deserved to be snuffed out to please your fucking ego.
2) We will bury the past. A past tainted by bad decisions, splattered with the blood of innocents and scarred by horrifying memories. A past that angers us today because we never got rid of the pain we created then.
3) We will not teach hate. Not to our children. We wont feed them propaganda fed to us by corrupt politicians and self-serving bastards.
4) We will be fair. Even if it means our ego takes a thrashing.
5) That we will not walk away when we know someone needs our help. We wont turn our back and justify it to ourselves. We will help with the money. But more importantly, we will give them the love.
Lets make 2009 the year we wake up.
For starters, let me say Happy New Year. And I am hoping with all my being that this year is nothing like the last. That I am a better person this year. I have my resolutions (which i shall not put here for reasons of secrecy and my inability to keep them) but I have wishes, for the whole world.
In 2009,
1) We will learn the value of a life. Human or not. Irrespective of religion, colour and race. Because no life deserved to be snuffed out to please your fucking ego.
2) We will bury the past. A past tainted by bad decisions, splattered with the blood of innocents and scarred by horrifying memories. A past that angers us today because we never got rid of the pain we created then.
3) We will not teach hate. Not to our children. We wont feed them propaganda fed to us by corrupt politicians and self-serving bastards.
4) We will be fair. Even if it means our ego takes a thrashing.
5) That we will not walk away when we know someone needs our help. We wont turn our back and justify it to ourselves. We will help with the money. But more importantly, we will give them the love.
Lets make 2009 the year we wake up.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
All cool boys, cmon make some noise
On a normal day, I will burp, scratch and fart. I could also have unshaved armpits and eyebrows that last got worked on by a cavewoman. But, then there are these days when I transform into a lady. Clean, plucked and smooth. Like a featherless chicken. And that does not sound very appealing by a very far stretch of imagination. Ok, let stick to I look rather nice.
And then on those days, I will meet men who do the cutest things. Things that make me go aww and I want to jump off my chair and hand him the ‘Get into her pants’ card.
Now, if you know me, you know im not the very aww kind of person. Like drooly babies don’t make me go aww. Nor do furry pups. You get the idea. Mush isn’t exactly my thing. So, just imagine how haplessly cute these things that men do are. See how I smartly juxtapose other cute things to further the cuteness of men? Also, notice my ability to make strange and complex sentences that leaves my readers clueless about the point im trying to make. Now without rambling, these are the things men do that I think are adorable.
1) When they like/love you, they will put their arm around your waist and gently pull you closer. (We are operating under the assumption that you have a waist that doesn’t need Kanoons haath to go around it) It feels like you are the only one in the world for them.
Except the lady in skirt behind you with those yummy legs and that cleavaged bitch on the right, he seems to have eyes only for you.
2) Try going for a trek or a climb with a rocky terrain. Watch him watch out for you. And use every opportunity to hold your hand. I know. Cute. Except when you are trying to tackle a rather massive rock and hes heaving under your butt trying to get you to push your leg over the ledge. I am purely guessing here but hairy butt cracks and yellow teddy bear chaddis might just put him off a little bit.
3) All his friends are gathered around him, ready to blow. The candles on his birthday cake. Really, you pervert brains. He looks up and waits. Spots you smiles and calls you next to him. Holds you and then cuts this cake. You glow radiantly. And then he smashes some cake into your face. Yeah, they never know when to stop.
4) You are wobbling in your heels and your feet are threatening to collapse in protest. Your thong sits uncomfortably between your cheeks, itching your rectum. Not helping things. That’s when he bends down, pulls off your sandals and squeezes your foot gently. Aah. Bliss. (Writer shudders in orgasm and waits for spasm to pass)
5) You wake up, groggy and your breath smelling like fish, your hair matted around your face like overcooked noodles and he still thinks you look like a million bucks. He stares, smiles at you and kisses you forehead. Adorable. Aww.
That’s why I don’t mind one. Or two.
And then on those days, I will meet men who do the cutest things. Things that make me go aww and I want to jump off my chair and hand him the ‘Get into her pants’ card.
Now, if you know me, you know im not the very aww kind of person. Like drooly babies don’t make me go aww. Nor do furry pups. You get the idea. Mush isn’t exactly my thing. So, just imagine how haplessly cute these things that men do are. See how I smartly juxtapose other cute things to further the cuteness of men? Also, notice my ability to make strange and complex sentences that leaves my readers clueless about the point im trying to make. Now without rambling, these are the things men do that I think are adorable.
1) When they like/love you, they will put their arm around your waist and gently pull you closer. (We are operating under the assumption that you have a waist that doesn’t need Kanoons haath to go around it) It feels like you are the only one in the world for them.
Except the lady in skirt behind you with those yummy legs and that cleavaged bitch on the right, he seems to have eyes only for you.
2) Try going for a trek or a climb with a rocky terrain. Watch him watch out for you. And use every opportunity to hold your hand. I know. Cute. Except when you are trying to tackle a rather massive rock and hes heaving under your butt trying to get you to push your leg over the ledge. I am purely guessing here but hairy butt cracks and yellow teddy bear chaddis might just put him off a little bit.
3) All his friends are gathered around him, ready to blow. The candles on his birthday cake. Really, you pervert brains. He looks up and waits. Spots you smiles and calls you next to him. Holds you and then cuts this cake. You glow radiantly. And then he smashes some cake into your face. Yeah, they never know when to stop.
4) You are wobbling in your heels and your feet are threatening to collapse in protest. Your thong sits uncomfortably between your cheeks, itching your rectum. Not helping things. That’s when he bends down, pulls off your sandals and squeezes your foot gently. Aah. Bliss. (Writer shudders in orgasm and waits for spasm to pass)
5) You wake up, groggy and your breath smelling like fish, your hair matted around your face like overcooked noodles and he still thinks you look like a million bucks. He stares, smiles at you and kisses you forehead. Adorable. Aww.
That’s why I don’t mind one. Or two.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Adding to Murphy
Laziness has no excuse. And that’s my excuse for not blogging. Also that my fertile mind was donating its eggs to other more important (I am hoping) things might be a reason.
Now we all know Uncle Murphy, who gave us slackers, procastinators, shirkers and other dodgy people a convenient set of excuses. Then of course, we have garnishing of things to blame like fate, alarm clock, siblings and for the more creative ones, aliens.
I am now adding my bits to Murphys list.
In the lift: If a building has 30 floors, the person wanting to get off on the first floor will be nestled comfortably at the back of the lift. As the lift approaches the first floor, a voice at reverberates of the various backs and chests and a faint “Excuse me” is heard. Much frenzied activity of shuffling feet, heaving body weight out of the elevator and settling back into original butt space will follow. This entire activity serves no purpose except leaving the person getting out sufficiently jostled and pushing the limits of bladder control of the people trying to get to the top floor.
Secrets: The one that you protect the most will be the one your neighbor is discussing. The neighbor will also point fingers angrily at you and gesticulate wildly. Occasionally, they may throw looks of sympathy your way. Stare back in suspicion in such cases.
Google: By the time you figure out what search words will get you the right links, the words have lost all meaning and you have lost purpose. Kill yourself. An aimless life isn’t worth living.
Food and crushes: When you are out on a first date with a guy you have been trying to flash only to get his attention, you will
a) Drop ketchup on your white shirt. You will try to hurriedly try to wipe it away, effectively spreading the redness evenly across the shirt. A dot on the nipple should make you a picture of perfection.
b) Have a soft drink that makes you burp or fart.
c) Get something green or brown stuck in your teeth. A minute of silence for the death of the first kiss please.
Women and driving: When you are trying to prove to someone that women aren’t bad drivers, you will narrowly miss the mammoth truck on the right and hit a lamppost. The lady honking at your from the opposite side on the one-way street will add to the amusement of the proceedings.
Blog: Invariably when you pose a question to your readers (assuming you have some), no one will reply. I dare you to retort.
Now we all know Uncle Murphy, who gave us slackers, procastinators, shirkers and other dodgy people a convenient set of excuses. Then of course, we have garnishing of things to blame like fate, alarm clock, siblings and for the more creative ones, aliens.
I am now adding my bits to Murphys list.
In the lift: If a building has 30 floors, the person wanting to get off on the first floor will be nestled comfortably at the back of the lift. As the lift approaches the first floor, a voice at reverberates of the various backs and chests and a faint “Excuse me” is heard. Much frenzied activity of shuffling feet, heaving body weight out of the elevator and settling back into original butt space will follow. This entire activity serves no purpose except leaving the person getting out sufficiently jostled and pushing the limits of bladder control of the people trying to get to the top floor.
Secrets: The one that you protect the most will be the one your neighbor is discussing. The neighbor will also point fingers angrily at you and gesticulate wildly. Occasionally, they may throw looks of sympathy your way. Stare back in suspicion in such cases.
Google: By the time you figure out what search words will get you the right links, the words have lost all meaning and you have lost purpose. Kill yourself. An aimless life isn’t worth living.
Food and crushes: When you are out on a first date with a guy you have been trying to flash only to get his attention, you will
a) Drop ketchup on your white shirt. You will try to hurriedly try to wipe it away, effectively spreading the redness evenly across the shirt. A dot on the nipple should make you a picture of perfection.
b) Have a soft drink that makes you burp or fart.
c) Get something green or brown stuck in your teeth. A minute of silence for the death of the first kiss please.
Women and driving: When you are trying to prove to someone that women aren’t bad drivers, you will narrowly miss the mammoth truck on the right and hit a lamppost. The lady honking at your from the opposite side on the one-way street will add to the amusement of the proceedings.
Blog: Invariably when you pose a question to your readers (assuming you have some), no one will reply. I dare you to retort.
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