Sunday, March 30, 2008

Links shinks et cetera

If you've bet on me to retaliate in full fury , go clicketty click and land up on Nik's blog to see my guest post.

If you have extra balance/want to advertise your blog/need to look for lost daughters/are searching for missing English text books/are in love with me/are plain bored, there's a little something at the end of this you might not want to miss. :)

If none of the above. Ah well. Gerrlost. You're supposed to love me. Hmph.

Monday, March 24, 2008


[Nik and I swapped. We presumed the world was sick of our self obsessed, narcissistic selves gloating about who else, but us, on our respective blogs, so we thought a diss war on each other would be a welcome change. Breathe, world for you have been salvaged!]

Vasudha's been nagging me for the past week now to write a post for her as a guest blogger. And since it seems she has managed to teach her pigs to fly and then retrieve the Pandora's Box from an eagle's nest somewhere in North America, I caved.

Vasudha is the kind of person who, on first encounter, will most probably cause you to assume that she is naturally brilliant. But the bright blinding light of intelligence will slowly and quite steadily wane to reveal the inherent idiocy and conspicuous lack all things sensible. You will also soon realize that the kid is completely and utterly insane.
Justifications for this statement would number in the hundreds of millions, one of them being BIRDIE. Birdie is Vasudha's creation and, I quote her, a creation of pure and unadulterated genius. It is a robotic bird whose primary and only purpose is to "stare off" predators (such as: butterflies, fairies form Neverland and furry woodland creatures.) (...) Now you judge and say whether anything with a brain larger than the size of half a pea could have come up with Birdie?
If you remain unconvinced of of my proclamation that She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is psychotic, simply strike up a conversation with Her. All your doubts and misgivings will be decimated.

Despite the fact that Vasudha plays host to traits that would instill treacherous fear in the heart of Hector, I respect her. The reason for this respect is a solitary one: she managed to bring US down to tears.
It was in the tenth grade that US requested her class to give her a unabashed, candid and frank teacher's review. Unfortunate as it may seem, Vasudha was a student of the very class and of course the sadist in her would not let such an opportunity to torment pass. So, as the circumstance presented, she got up and told US that she is the most unforgivably wretched, abysmal and inept teacher that ever disgraced the face of the Earth. Having managed to denigrate and belittle the teacher in a civil and courteous tone and demeanor she wasn't hauled down to the Principle's office for insubordination (no reaming.. lamentable, I agree.) On the contrary a magnificent image that stirs and inspires faith in righteousness was permanently seared into the minds of the students of the class, an image of US welling with tears. Each student in that class is indebted to Vasudha.

Now I'm pretty sure I'm the one in for a reaming, but I hope I managed to unveil the real Vasudha, the unhinged senseless sadist.

-Nik (aka: Nangia, Absentmindednik, Sadist, Cynic, Demented Dumbass, Plain Queer, All that is Wrong with the World, Abominable Being)

In my defence, I reply :
1. Birdie was a robot Nik's brother was planning to make when were in the 9th standard. He was the head of the Robotics dept in his school, and this was his official entry to some Japanese robot making competition. She gave me the cue for it, I only developed on the hints. And it was funnier than this. Hmph.

2. I didn't slaughter the poor teacher, aww her. I just *cough* pointed out some flaws in her teaching method and educational outlook. And said that she um, needed to restart the course [This was in July] since we had basically registered naught, which she did. She hated me with a vengeance after that, still does in fact. She would have been my class teacher had I taken Science, and in the week that I did have Science, she made me realise why my decision to shift was the most extraordinary stroke of brilliance ever, gloriously beating naked Eureka moments.

Links very generously provided by Her Absentmindedness, Nik.
Oh, and its a mutual guest blogging project. Leaves scope for revenge. Check her blog next week. :D

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Help, the Orkut desperadoes are invading reality!

Shh. They're creeping up towards you, silently. Swiftly. Those shadows, they just wavered. There are pin pricks on your neck. They're gaining fast, on tip toes, stealthily. And in one fluid motion they're gonna land right below you ear and whisper softly,"Hiiiiii! Can I do fraandsips with you?"

Yes, m'fraands er, friends, the Orkut desperadoes taketh over. Previously thought to be confined to the shady interiors of your friendly neighborhood cyber cafes, they're coming fast. And how.

13th February, 2008
School reception

The teachers are having a Lohri party of sorts in the staff room, and I'm filling in for the receptionist. The things you have to do just because you're the only bakra on offer, since the Science section has practicals and the rest have prep leave. I sit, resigned. There's a sheaf of blank paper sheets in front of me and I'm waiting for inspiration to strike. But honestly, inspiration can do naught but yawn, looking at me grappling with a distraught mother on the phone who's daughter left her report card in school. So I well, yawn too.

Then, this wiry looking guy walks in, looks around, and rubs his tongue over his wiry looking lips. Let's call him RODT.

RODT : Oh hi. I'm from Oxford Univ Press. Can I meet your Princi?
Me: Princi? Um, right. She's um, occupied at the mo' [rather helpful thumping noise from the staff room], so why don't you have a seat?
RODT : Thank you SO much. Are you in this school?
Me: Uh huh.
RODT : Do you study in this school?
Me: Not really. I mean, yes. Yeah. [starts nodding head real fast]
RODT : I'm doing my MBA.
Me: Oh, um, alright. Glad to know that.
RODT : What class are you in?
Me: 11th.
RODT : I'm Rahul.
Me: Oh. Okay.
RODT : What is your name?
Me: [thinking this is going to be a long day] Vasudha.
RODT : Vaasdha?
Me: No. [pointed stare] Vuh-su-dha.
RODT : Okay! Hi, Vasudha!
Me: Um.
RODT : I like your uniform. Its not skirt-shirt, no? Is it some order or something?
Me: I don't think I would know.
RODT : You are in Science stream?
Me: Nah, Commerce. [Yay, stereotype one. Reason number one to bust this guy]
RODT : Commerce? Oh, even I was from Commerce!
Me: Yeah? Great. [Thanks a God, if any, that the guy didn't say same pinch]
RODT : So so. How much did you get in the tenth?
Me: Um. 93%.
RODT : What? 93% in Commerce?
Me: [Must not hit...must not hit...must not hit...] Yes. 92.8% Whatever.
RODT : Oye hoye! [?!] I got 76% in twelfth. And in my final year graduation, I got 66%. My dad says,"Log toh upar jaate hai, you toh only down jaate ho." I don't know, he is always so dissatisfied with me. Kya yaar.
Me: [O.o Starts beaming out frantic SOS signals] Hey, that's okay. Still a first division. *big cheery grin* [fake]
RODT : Yeah. So what are you planning to do after this?
Me: Huh!? After this?
RODT : After 12th yaar!
Me: Oh. That. Um, I don't know. Something in advertising, I guess.
RODT : Oh ho, so you are a creative person then!
Me: Um, maybe?
RODT : Even I am a creative person yaar. I am going to do advertising after my MBA too.
Me: Good Lord, no..
RODT : What, what?
Me: Me? Nothing, really. *big cheery grin again* [fake]
RODT : Very nice. You know, I like creative peoples very much. So, take one more card of mine, okay? This is a special card for creative peoples like me. So keep in touch, okay? *big cheery grin* [not fake]
Me: [Yeah, I'll keep in touch if it involves kicking wiry asses] Um, right.

I take the special card from his outstretched hand. At the back of it, unlike on the card he gave to be given to my Principal, in big bold letters, is a ten digit phone number.


Half an hour later, I rub my hands after a job well done. Every kid from the Science section who had their Chemistry practical that day is in possession of a number they can now call in case they need to creatively tackle their boredom with tales of missing socks, or fires in the bathroom. After all, if the Random Orkut Desperado Types start taking over the world, can the evil She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Sorts be far behind? :D


Update : 30/03/08

Go play. *grins*

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Bad day

There was this nice, happy time once.
A time when I liked Holi.

I fucking hate Holi now.
I mean, really. Do people have to go around on scooters banging eggs into other people's heads? Or into my head?
Or grease covered balloons on my tuition books when I'm right outside my tuition center?

Ah, tuition. That reminds me. I have a new batch. No, no 60 kids sitting in two neat gender based sections this time. It gets better. 6 guys one side, and thy mighty me in the corner on one edge. Woe betide me if I dare tread their side *mock horror*, they will swiftly push their chairs away as far as they can. Woe betide me if I dare initiate a conversation, I am the other species. Woe betide you if you ask me a doubt, the others will stare. And woe betide me if I dare suggest you take my notebook instead of trying to copy the answer discreetly whenever you think I'm not looking.
But I digress.
This is a Holi rant, isn't it?
My neck hurts. The guy was too late with the egg, it burst in his hand, and it was the hand that hit me. I'm strong right? I went ahead till I reached home, shaken but stoic. I walked in, where no one noticed anything since they were too busy with the telly. I'm still strong, so I went upstairs, where my mum told me to take a rickshaw back next time onwards, and get the stink out of my head. I'm really, really strong, so I went to the bathroom to get everything washed out, and as I locked the door, it was only then that I started crying.
Bad day.

PS : If you dare comment saying,"Bura na maano, Holi hai;" I will personally roast you alive.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

The Idiot's Guide to Hacking Into Your Younger Sister's Windows Account

1. Switch on computer.

2. Click on naive-younger-sister's Windows account icon.

3. Ah, you need to enter the password. Click on password hint.

4. Password hint says "Pass word."

5. Pause.
Think of your sister's favorite telly shows.
Recess, Hannah Montana, Lizzie McGuire, Drake and Josh.

6. Type in p-a-s-s-w-o-r-d and press Enter.

7. Bingo.


Power to thin brained simpleton siblings! :D

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Yes, a post!

[Alright, so that makes it sound like I think that you think that I think I am overly excited at a new post, right? Well, if you got that, and you think so, then yep, I am!]

So Shruti tagged me, and here goes nothing!
The Rules:

Link to the person that tagged you.

Post the rules on your blog.

Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.

Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.

Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

I like classifying my songs. I have long-car-drives songs [Strings], 12 AM songs [Coldplay], songs for a particularly Ima-do-what-I-want day [Old Bon Jovi stuff, think Dead or Alive, or Blaze of Glory] et al. I actually got up today at 6 [in the morning for a change], got my iPod, arranged my hair in a suitably wild manner, and put on my best rocker on a mission sneer. Then I plugged in the earphones, played You Give Love a Bad Name, and did the whole on-stage routine in front of my bathroom mirror, singing shouting along, until my Mum started banging on the door. It was to beat, so I thought she was probably being appreciative of my performance. Until she barged in and said she'd thwack me hard if I didn't quit it. Sigh. I shall remain an undiscovered musical genius.

[And yes, digression shall live as long as I am alive.]

I hate typing out things. I can never think of things to say when I'm typing. Most of my posts are first written out at night, proof read, typed out, and posted. Give me a black pen [Black is important] and a notebook, and I'll fill it up and return it within the hour. Talk to me online, and you'll be waiting for fifteen minutes to get a reply from me. My lack of conversational skills online are second only to my complete uselessness on the phone.

I can happily spend an entire hour doing nothing but listening to music and reading.
In the bathroom.

I hate stepping on the edges of tiles. I like to walk one foot bang in the middle of one tile, next foot on the opposite adjacent tile on top when I'm walking on tiled floors. Stepping on the lines is a cardinal sin.

I don't know if this is weird, but no one else I know admits to it. I really like going to school. Okay, so it is weird. But I don't know, I like the place. I've never taken leave unless I could help it, or if I have, it was only so I didn't get the nerdy looking 100% certificate. Maybe its something to do with the fact that the school magazine has articles titled "The Ultimate Guide To Handle Post Break-up Blues." Go, freedom of creative expression! :D

I think this tag is an oxymoronish tag. How can I write six non important things about myself? If its about me, its important! :D
More important stuff then, because I think the blog is looking quite dreary, and well, I feel like putting up some snaps. There, no more justification required.
[In case you're wondering, I also suffer from having an incredibly bloated up self image, though I sometimes swing to self deprecating too]

I like photography, or whatever little I can do of it with my ancient 3.2 megapixel camera.

Enough fodder for a day, I guess. And I tag :


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