Lets face it; man is a socially inept creature.
Some even more than others.
Only under the influence of a social lubricant like beer can a man get the courage to speak his mind and even then he has only a 30% chance of success, depending on whether the listener is also a bit tipsy.
Unfortunately for us poor folk who don’t drink, social etiquette is more baffling than Einstein and Newton’s theories put together.
For example, what are the rules to flirting with a girl? At what point do you stop from being a friendly stranger to the perverted creep. Is there a way to handle a woman’s rejection? And if there is, is it successful for both you and the offended party?
Damn, the last time I was dining with my friends, a friends mother spotted me and came across to our table to say hello. My response was a little less than a hello, hell to be exact.
What do I do now? Do I introduce my friends to her or just ignore them for the time being. Should I ask her to sit and dine with us when I very well knew she already had her meal?
It’s the lack of etiquette that makes me want to get a girlfriend. At least then I can shove her in front like a shield and have her tactfully answer the social questions.
Come to think of it, that’s why men get wives. A wife is like the perfect PRO for a socially irresponsible brat movie star, and every man can get one.
You don’t show up at a party and she makes the excuses on your behalf. You don’t want to go to office and she can call in sick for you.
I definitely need one of those. Unfortunately, the other things are not so much important.
Would a PRO do some freelance for me. I think this a field that lies unexplored and needs a looking into.
What say?
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Bummed Out
Remember the last time you wanted something urgently and that thing refused to work.
Life, I suppose is a big joke played on us by the big guy and he’s probably laughing right now as YouTube refuses to download the one song I really want to hear right now.
When I get late, my car refuses to start; when I want to watch program on TV, my transponder signals fade but only on that channel.
And when I am absolutely bored, all the channels work perfectly but there is nothing interesting to watch. The car runs smoothly but nobody is free to go anywhere.
Maybe the Wachawski brothers were right. Maybe the world is a Matrix, run by Microsoft, which would explain the frequent F**K ups.
Can I switch to a Mac OS?
This matrix really sucks.
I’m Logging out
Life, I suppose is a big joke played on us by the big guy and he’s probably laughing right now as YouTube refuses to download the one song I really want to hear right now.
When I get late, my car refuses to start; when I want to watch program on TV, my transponder signals fade but only on that channel.
And when I am absolutely bored, all the channels work perfectly but there is nothing interesting to watch. The car runs smoothly but nobody is free to go anywhere.
Maybe the Wachawski brothers were right. Maybe the world is a Matrix, run by Microsoft, which would explain the frequent F**K ups.
Can I switch to a Mac OS?
This matrix really sucks.
I’m Logging out
Monday, March 3, 2008
Breeding like bunnies
In any country, all over the world, every life, no matter how small, is considered sacred and holy. This leads me to the conclusion that condoms and other methods of prevention and tools of the devil.
How else can you explain the population explosion?!
If you really think its not such a major issue, I would advise you to take the 523 anytime of the day and you too would end up agreeing with me.
Normally, I am a peace loving man but such state of affairs lead me to reasonably agree with the theory of genocide.
After, every second baby, any additional birth will mean removal of one family member, over the age of consensual sex (16) to be forced to take residence up in the ocean. Whether they can live there or not is their problem.
After driving for an hour to get to a place where you could have walked to in fifteen minutes, I’m sure you would concur with me. And as for siblings, we may all agree that ONE is more than enough.
The way people go at it, I would like them to know that not now or ever is sex going to be included as a sport in the Olympics.
Since I have this opportunity, I beg of all my friends and relatives to refrain from making me a monkey’s uncle.
As parting advice to all careless procreators it would be wise for you to remember what happened to the cute precious lovable rabbits when their population got out of control.
I do love rabbit stew.
How else can you explain the population explosion?!
If you really think its not such a major issue, I would advise you to take the 523 anytime of the day and you too would end up agreeing with me.
Normally, I am a peace loving man but such state of affairs lead me to reasonably agree with the theory of genocide.
After, every second baby, any additional birth will mean removal of one family member, over the age of consensual sex (16) to be forced to take residence up in the ocean. Whether they can live there or not is their problem.
After driving for an hour to get to a place where you could have walked to in fifteen minutes, I’m sure you would concur with me. And as for siblings, we may all agree that ONE is more than enough.
The way people go at it, I would like them to know that not now or ever is sex going to be included as a sport in the Olympics.
Since I have this opportunity, I beg of all my friends and relatives to refrain from making me a monkey’s uncle.
As parting advice to all careless procreators it would be wise for you to remember what happened to the cute precious lovable rabbits when their population got out of control.
I do love rabbit stew.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Chairman of the board
We’ve all been forced to go to school some time or the other, until we figured how to sleep with your eyes wide open in math class.
However painful the academia was, the worst part was being called to the board.
Now, taking such things like your mind going blank or not knowing the answer as standard but ignorable constants we shall proceed to see how awful the board can really be.
The hardest thing about the board is the writing with your hand parallel to the board, not to mention the varying density of each piece of chalk that was guaranteed to break the moment you picked up the pace or realized how to solve the problem.
But that is just the beginning, you see the board is not just a rectangular piece of writing space; it is a large rectangle representing a battleground for alphabets, mathematical and geometrical operators to have an anarchic battle royal.
As you probably have noticed, the board is totally undefined and can be redefined easily with a deft twist of the hand with the duster. It is here that the battle is given grounds to begin. There are no lines, order for size or direction of line for the above mentioned operators causing each operator to assume its own identity and way to stand out as an individual in a thoroughly incorrect grand design.
This can be quite the problem if you are creative and like myself cannot draw a straight line with a ruler to save your life. You see at the blackboard you have already lost your consciousness and intellect and it is taking maximum effort on your part to just keep standing. Your hand realizes this and takes this chance to display its talent in the field of chaotic calligraphy.
At this point a psychological fermentation happens in your brain and causes you to imagine that there is something on the seat of your pants and the problem on the board seems comparatively insignificant compared to the endless laughter of your classmates on the imaginary ink on your backside.
You mumble something unintelligible and the teacher shoos you off to your seat and before sitting down you take a millisecond to see if anyone is laughing or smiling before sitting your non-ink smeared backside down on the chair.
You promise to give yourself grievous injury before going to the board ever again. In time you begin to realize that the board is haunted and causing an endless line of D’s and C’s in your grades. In the end you somehow manage to, after many fervent prayers to God, pass out of school and get away from the dreaded board.
Eventually, you start working as a Jr. prostitute in some ad agency and after getting used to being ravaged now and again life turns hunky dory…until one fateful day a big shot comes up, discusses ideas and then calls for a volunteer to write them all on the BOARD.
However painful the academia was, the worst part was being called to the board.
Now, taking such things like your mind going blank or not knowing the answer as standard but ignorable constants we shall proceed to see how awful the board can really be.
The hardest thing about the board is the writing with your hand parallel to the board, not to mention the varying density of each piece of chalk that was guaranteed to break the moment you picked up the pace or realized how to solve the problem.
But that is just the beginning, you see the board is not just a rectangular piece of writing space; it is a large rectangle representing a battleground for alphabets, mathematical and geometrical operators to have an anarchic battle royal.
As you probably have noticed, the board is totally undefined and can be redefined easily with a deft twist of the hand with the duster. It is here that the battle is given grounds to begin. There are no lines, order for size or direction of line for the above mentioned operators causing each operator to assume its own identity and way to stand out as an individual in a thoroughly incorrect grand design.
This can be quite the problem if you are creative and like myself cannot draw a straight line with a ruler to save your life. You see at the blackboard you have already lost your consciousness and intellect and it is taking maximum effort on your part to just keep standing. Your hand realizes this and takes this chance to display its talent in the field of chaotic calligraphy.
At this point a psychological fermentation happens in your brain and causes you to imagine that there is something on the seat of your pants and the problem on the board seems comparatively insignificant compared to the endless laughter of your classmates on the imaginary ink on your backside.
You mumble something unintelligible and the teacher shoos you off to your seat and before sitting down you take a millisecond to see if anyone is laughing or smiling before sitting your non-ink smeared backside down on the chair.
You promise to give yourself grievous injury before going to the board ever again. In time you begin to realize that the board is haunted and causing an endless line of D’s and C’s in your grades. In the end you somehow manage to, after many fervent prayers to God, pass out of school and get away from the dreaded board.
Eventually, you start working as a Jr. prostitute in some ad agency and after getting used to being ravaged now and again life turns hunky dory…until one fateful day a big shot comes up, discusses ideas and then calls for a volunteer to write them all on the BOARD.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Love is in the air....so is pollution
It’s Valentines Day again. The one-day of the year that makes you behave silly even though there is no pollen in the air.
The people who are in relationships begin to get all mushy, pretending that this really matters and the ones who are all alone are forced into believing that their life sucks because they aren’t with someone. Not to mention the crappy commercial value of the entire day. Its a bloody festival with overdosed sensations of roses and candy.
Ideally, instead of giving flowers that will eventually go to the dumps and the candy that will eventually go to her hips, what you should think of is buying a bouquet of condoms. Now that’s something that you can really use and it expresses what’s truly on your mind. And to top it off you just might get away with it and get lucky.
Of course, for those who don’t like to take the risk of announcing their intentions so implicitly there are always stock options and LIC policies. Nothing says, “I love you” more that shares and bonds. They represent commitment because you obviously are not going to leave until the bonds mature or the market goes through the roof. And the LIC is equivalent to getting engaged but on the other side it also says “I want you to die and make me rich”. But all in all it shows commitment.
Another interesting fact is that on this day, your stalker/heavy breather on the phone/ the creepy guy whose friends call you ‘bhabhi’, can declare their love for you without getting kicked in the gonads or a restraining order.
As parting advice let me tell you not to be honest on this day for it can get you in trouble. Many years ago, when I was young and with my love I told her “How I love thee, let me count the ways – missionary, reverse-missionary and of course my favourite – the upside-down chandelier.”
Don’t do it!
But do remember to get your oxygen masks on because Love is IN the air.
The people who are in relationships begin to get all mushy, pretending that this really matters and the ones who are all alone are forced into believing that their life sucks because they aren’t with someone. Not to mention the crappy commercial value of the entire day. Its a bloody festival with overdosed sensations of roses and candy.
Ideally, instead of giving flowers that will eventually go to the dumps and the candy that will eventually go to her hips, what you should think of is buying a bouquet of condoms. Now that’s something that you can really use and it expresses what’s truly on your mind. And to top it off you just might get away with it and get lucky.
Of course, for those who don’t like to take the risk of announcing their intentions so implicitly there are always stock options and LIC policies. Nothing says, “I love you” more that shares and bonds. They represent commitment because you obviously are not going to leave until the bonds mature or the market goes through the roof. And the LIC is equivalent to getting engaged but on the other side it also says “I want you to die and make me rich”. But all in all it shows commitment.
Another interesting fact is that on this day, your stalker/heavy breather on the phone/ the creepy guy whose friends call you ‘bhabhi’, can declare their love for you without getting kicked in the gonads or a restraining order.
As parting advice let me tell you not to be honest on this day for it can get you in trouble. Many years ago, when I was young and with my love I told her “How I love thee, let me count the ways – missionary, reverse-missionary and of course my favourite – the upside-down chandelier.”
Don’t do it!
But do remember to get your oxygen masks on because Love is IN the air.
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