Consistency in typos

What is it about some words which refuse to be written the right way the first time around? My fingers seem to have learnt how to type them wrong everytime I try. I am not talking just typos, I am talking consistency in typos.

How many people can boast of typing related as realted every time they try to do it? Or consistently using 's' when I want 'd' making wouls've and couls've and sanselion. (Well, I don't type dandelion all that much, but used it to illustrate my point.) Then there is because. I invariably type it as beacuse, I have no idea why. So I've learnt to do bcos most of the time. Then there's the normal 'adn, teh' - which I think half the population suffers from. 'waht' for 'what'; 'wehn' for 'when'; 'taht' for 'that' - that's the H syndrome.

I can't let this be without mentioning the 'ck' mix. For example, most of the time 'smack' is 'smakc' or even 'smcak'. There's just something wrong about the placement of c and k on the keyboard. The same with b and v, x and c, k and l, a and s, q and w, g and h...

Youre Sleeeeppppiiinnnngggg

I have a problem. Well, I think I do. It's not a very big problem. But it's somehow a pretty persistent problem. The person about whom this problem is doesn't think it is a problem. But that's what he thinks. To me, it's a problem. I think. (Therefore I am. Yeah!)

Everytime this person calls me, (let's call him D, only because his name starts with the letter), I somehow manage to lull him to sleep. Now, is that something worth being known for? Is that even good? Putting someone to sleep on the phone? Is that desirable? Would any of you want that ability?

It starts off pretty okay. We talk about normal stuff, how has your day been, how has your life been, how are my boyfriends, how are his girlfriends, etc. etc. Then somewhere around the half an hour mark, there's one tiny stiffled yawn. And then a minute later there's another... and slowly it gets to the point where there are these silences to my jokes, to my questions, to my existence on the other end of the phone! I tell him, matter-of-fact, that he's falling asleep. He denies it (as if it's the first time it's happening.) I persist. He acknowledges that he might be a tiny bit sleepy. Tiny bit my @... Then he says, wait - hear this, takes the cake - he says that it's actually very nice that I put him to sleep. That he feels so comfortable in my presence that he can relax and fall asleep.

Sheesh! What am I? A massage? Comfortable indeed. Who wants to be comfortable? Comfortable is totally the opposite of interesting, funny, shocking, vibrant! Do I even want to be comfortable? No! NO! I don't. Anyone out there who's willing to work with D and me to make me not so comfortable to him? (Hehehe... I somehow like how that last sentence came out.)

But then... maybe... perhaps this is not so bad after all. Putting people to sleep has to have some advantages, right? I think I should try a career in hypnosis... those suggestion-induced slumbers where you can almost play God. And then I'd hypnotise D and... mwahahahaha.

When he is only the man

There are days when I am infused with the urge to take shots at people, to do something semi-worthwhile with the time that I have been wasting on fullhyd, to take control of other's lives, to sit in my 'puter chair and count the only man and four women on the top charts. I take a deep breath and parody the lovely blog entry of Script Writer.

I have just now found the undeniable need to prove my worth. I have lots n lots. And, in addition to it, I am almost an FCP, a thriving art I must say. I am sexist and a proud one at that. But mediocre? Huh? Word doesn't even exist in my dictionary.

I am not the average indian female who believes that women should be confined to four walls. Why the f*** should the males be allowed to rule the world? I firmly believe in the doctrine of equality - they slogged their balls off and got all the glory and devotion (maybe also those cheerleaders on the side) and why did we sit at home and provide emotional, physical and all other words ending with -al comfort to them and their children? And what did we get in return? Just that you gave us 'something' when we discharge our conjugal duties and pat us on the heads to keep us quiet?

For a long time we did not complain. We kept our mouth shut because we knew it was a better deal but couldn't it get better than that? And then we committed a brilliant act that changed everything - we burnt our bras. Why? Because it was too good seeing those jaws drop. ;)

But look at what that one moment of intelligence got us. We no longer just sit at home. We have our money, we can cook a decent meal anytime AND we still have you wrapped around our little finger. Somewhere along the line, we allowed you to think that you are our equals, and how we tittered. We let you believe this and you didn't even get a hint despite the obvious 'headaches' when you came back home from a day spent fervently praying that tonight would not be the night for them. But seriously, I hate to give the secret out, but what were you thinking? You, equal to women? How could you aspire to be that?

The victory cannot be undone. You have brought this upon you. We wanted work, we got that. We wanted to be independent. We got that. Now we want the men to work too and they will. We don't demand, we persuade. It's not unjust either. What else will you do if you don't work?

Oh I'm a girl and I didn't lose anything. You men are bigtime suckers. You'd do anything for a woman when she so much as smiles at you. And we would want to do everything more 'cos now we've got you on the defensive and it's a much firmer, sweeter hold over you. It IS a woman's world. Always has been. Always will be. There's been no change. It's still working as smoothly as it has been. Check out the top five blogs. It's nice that we let you be up here with us, no? And to counter Bertrand Russel's words:

After the women's liberation, all of the world is happy. Hey men, you better be! It's a woman's world after all. ;)

(to be taken with a grain of salt)

Top 10 Junk

For some reason my spam has been increasing lately. When I checked today morning, there were 56 messages in that junk folder. And that after I cleaned it yesterday evening. Because I cannot get myself to delete anything without at least reading through the subject lines, I am now going to inflict... err... share the choicest and the best among those with you, the exalted reader of my blog. Accompanied by my comments, of course.

1. :_ RND08:{zero-cost_bussiness_ops_information}Hartsell_-_Latoyia -- poor thing who sent this has a broken keyboard and is also acutely dyslexic and may also be a closet schizophrenic. Rightful place is in an asylum with 24/7 care and a padded cell.

2. Keeping We1ght Off -- Listen sicko, I've known people who tried to keep weight off. I've seen them do acupunture, that fleecing called HerbaLife, some weird weight reduction pills from an upmarket clinic in Bjr Hills and also the whole massage, sauna, diet routine in those 'beauty parlours' which guarantee weight loss of 5 kilos in 10 days. It never happens. Unless you're talking about surgery to take all the fat off, just tell me WHY the F would I want to open your mail and see what else you have to offer?

3. Do you know beans about coffee -- now this one was nice. Unique. A pure gem. Don't think I got this ever before. Made me stop and look at it in amazement. It might even be the work of a genius. I mean, to think that somebody sat there and thought and thought about what would be so unusual and out of the blue that it would snag my attention when I'm going through my spam! It's such a nice thought. I paused in my rant and smiled.

4. CIAL1S & LEVITRA starts W0RK1NG up to twice as fast as VIAG~RA & last up to 24... -- Notice the way it trails off after 24. 24 what? Minutes? Hours? Days? Omigod?! Heeeelllppppppp...

5. WANT^ A_ VE-RY BIG C,O-C'K ^' plskbaefjnpvd -- Apologies to the people out there who have trouble seeing the word c**k, even when punctuated with commas and hyphens and apostrophes to completely distort it and make it slip though the filters I have set up, but I needed to comment on this. I was just wondering that if I took these messages to heart and if they were true, by now I'd have a 50 feet long pe... You get the point.

6. FW : do you feel like cutting your pen1s off? -- Oh My GOD!!! I swear I didn't make this up. It was there among the other almost innocent junk. I'll even forward it to anyone who wants proof. I'm still not over this...

7. Get an SANY0 C0L0R Cell PH0NE with N0 CREDlT Check, FREE! -- sigh. I bet this fellow is related to the hundreds of Nigerian dictators who lose their kingdoms and manage to slip away with billions of dollars all wanting to deposit them in my account and then I get half just because I helped him get the money out of there.

8. Aran, Looking for love, not age reply -- How nice. He even wrote to me personally. Too bad he ended up in my junk mail folder anyway. Stupid person! If I was looking for love, do you think I'd be spending this time in front of the 'puter? And excuse me, looking for love, not age? Why not age? Why exactly do you think I am not looking for age? Do you think I want some 90 year old doddering walking stick dependent? Do you think I'm not good enough or nice enough or slim enough or tall enough or fair enough for all of those YOUNG morons who write to the personals for someone who fitted the description of Ms. Rai?

9. bazooka pen1s pi11 -- yes, I know this is getting a definite A-rated slant but well, I couldn't pass this up. It's such a perfect example of two words which should not be used in the same sentence. (The first two, if anyone is wondering).

10. C0MPLlMENTARY Restaurant GlFT Card enclosed for *****, NO COST -- Confession time. I once clicked on this and it led me through five pages of filling up forms before I realised its just something stupid and closed those windows. Warning you about this is my good deed for the day.

So ladies and gentlemen, there they were, the ten noteworthy junk emails I got today. Hope you had fun with 'em; this was Aran, reporting for the junk email section of Weird and Whacky and I'll return you to our main desk in the studio now. Have a good day and don't forget to smile. :o)

Five to Ten

I was supposed to meet my friend at a predetermined place yesterday. We decided on the phone that we'll meet at a particular time.

"So I'll see you there at 1:30?" I asked her.

"No, I'm terribly sorry, you don't know how long it takes me to get my hair in order and them I really need to choose my accessories carefully and then if I can't find the handbag, it'll take me twenty more minutes and then the traffic... let's just say I'm pathetic at keeping up to my appointments and I'm crap and I'm just not very concerned about time."

That is what the nice sounding voice on the other end of the phone should have said.

But does she? NO!

She told me she'll be there and when I called up an hour after the meeting time to ask her whether she's in some life or death situation so that she can't even call me to tell me she is late, I hear that sick, immortal phrase...

"I'll be there in five to ten minutes."

Instantly I know it's a lie. "Five to ten"?

Okay, I swallow my irritation and instead of pointing out that she has a problem with time keeping and has already not been true to her word, I hang up.

Five minutes happen, ten minutes pass, fifteen past I wonder why I am doing this and between visions of my doing things to her which would get a PG or an A rating (for violence, silly. What did YOU think? God! You're all alike.) she arrives.

Can't say what happened after that 'cos I want my blog to be read by kids too. But the next time you hear someone saying "I'll be there in five to ten minutes" do not believe them. Take it as seriously as a man saying "No, of course you don't look fat in that." It's pretty much up there with great untruths like "I'll pay the rent by tomorrow, honest" or "Prakash! What have you done to your hair?! No, no... of course it looks fabulous that way" or "Aloque is smarter than Aran."

Moral of the story: Don't believe the "five to ten" people.

Poor Colourless Beings

What is it about guys that makes them unable to distinguish the subtle differences in colour? What makes fuchsia merely pink for them? I'd be obliged if some guy actually attempted to answer this question, you know.

Today I was talking to a friend of mine in messenger and I changed my text colour from red to teal. Immediately the next message was -- "Why the yucky green text colour?" I merely informed him that it's teal. In a nice way, mind you. Didn't lose my patience. Very matter-of-fact. Not even sarcastic. After all, he was a guy. Next message says, "Well, whatever. Looks green." Now excuse me! I try to enlighten my poor colour challenged friend and he refuses to be enlightened? How can teal be green? How can teal be anything but teal?

The same case with another person (male, of course) who refuses to understand the nuances between fuchsia and pink. Fuchsia, my dear people, is a strong purplish red. There is a reason why the english dictionary has a word called fuchsia. It's not merely to be dropped in conversations to show your mental superiority, but you'll know why it exists the next time your girlfriend wears that and asks you how she looks. You can come back with - "Gorgeous, fuchsia is definitely your colour." You can never go wrong with that.

Then there's this fellow who asked me what my favourite colour was. I said yellow and he goes "Whaaaaaattt?" Geez! I have to explain to him that yellow has many different shades, mine is a nice pale lemon yellow, not the MSN smiley yellow or the Govinda pant yellow and then he attempts to nod and desperately tries to understand. I almost feel sorry for doing that to him.

And there is a big difference between mauve and purple. I went shopping once and I picked up a light mauve shirt which I thought would look really nice with black trousers. It was a lovely colour and I show it to him and he says, "Purple?!" with a horrified look on his face. I wouldn't recommend purple to people I liked even if my life depended on it. Purple is worn by gay singers or Vivek Oberoi in a ridiculous coke advert. Not by people I know. And mauve is definitely NOT purple! It's not even light purple.

Come on guys! Life is just not a colour wheel of red, blue and green, okay? What are you going to do when your girlfriend asks you if she should use the Sandalwood Beige or Buiscuit Brown lipstick? Are you going to go "HUHH?!" No, of course not! Empower yourselves! Go out there and learn to distinguish the bronze from burnt sienna, the khaki from ochre, the olive green from chartreuse. You have it in you! You can do it!

If you can mollify the unforgiving girlfriend,
With colours other than green, red and blue -
Then yours is the Earth if colours you comprehend,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, won't you!

With deep apologies to Mr. Kipling. ;o)

Family Err

There are some things which family members should not know. I consider myself really broadminded and all but I realised that the statement above is really a true fact of life without which life is really pathetic. Or it could be if you don't realise this NOW.

I recently got this forwarded email which classed people into certain sexual types based on the part they washed first while showering. (Leave your addy and I'll forward it to you. :D) I have no idea whether this has been experimented upon and found true or is just a smart outlet of an idle brain. I'm putting my money on the latter. (How can people say anyway? I mean, if you didn't like what you were based on this test, would you stop washing your umm.. hair first and start washing the err... shoulders or something? These things are so stupid. I have no idea why I forwarded it to other people. And did you read that one about the way you sleep and then it linked it to your personality? Was it true?)

Me, in my infinite broadmindedness sent it to my brother. And he sent me an answer saying he washed his chest first.

Now, people, I ask you. Is that something you would do? Is that something ANY self-respecting brother would do? Isn't that cruelty towards all sisters and also humankind in general? Don't get me wrong, I'm happy he washes anything at all considering the way he is in and out of there like a hurricane-with-a-female-name, but that stuff is information I DO NOT NEED! Why do I need to know what he prefers sexually? Geez! It's just something I send him and he sees it when I'm not there and he forwards it to his friends. Does he really need to tell me?!?!?! *rolling my eyes* I almost went into denial when I got that email. Sibling rivalry is fine and we may have tried to kill each other when we were younger but doesn't he even care about me that much to save me from this trauma?

Are family ties sacred no more?

The Roadside Romeo Effect

Really influenced by aloque's entry about road rage, I couldn't help but shout out at a guy who was crossing the road in front of me yesterday. I was driving along, minding my own business, when this roadside romeo - red shirt with obscenely yellow stripes and trousers of indeterminate fungus-green colour (A perfect goonda type with those flashy clothes. I have an allergy to those types. They think they're God's gift to women and give a sick smile, with paan-stained teeth whenever I look in their general direction. YUKKK!) - he simply sauntered in front of me.

I probably wouldn't have minded if he was just crossing quickly, I let them do that sometimes; but what got me was the casual indifference of the man. He was fairly dragging his feet and taking ages. I slammed on the brakes, leaned out of the window and... shouted. It wasn't something dirty though. Just something to the tune of "Abey Andheeyyyy. Dikhta nahi kya..."

The effect was really unexpected. The guy stopped right in front of my car and stared at me through the windshield. Amazed expression. Looked like he lost the ability to speak or think or move.. totally braindead, moronic, stupid, crazy, half-dead upright vegetable. (Damn! I feel good after that).

Not only the guy, but the traffic around me slowed and stopped. The traffic cop standing nearby stared. The cycle fellows stopped and stared. One auto fellow stopped and smirked. For about a minute, it seemed like I'd done something totally unthinkable while everybody slowed, or stopped and stared.

Is it still a novelty to see a girl shouting at a guy who tries to die in front of her vehicle? I mean, why can't we? Only the males have the ability or right to shout out obcenities, or what? Geez! It wasn't even something bad. I wonder what would have happened if I'd done the shocking words list.

Hey people! Wake up and smell the exhaust fumes. The girls are getting down and dirty. Live with it! (If you can't, then blame aloque. :o))

Singleton

There was yet another marriage I attended recently. A close relative. An aunt. Now that she's married, that's the end of all the single people in that generation (R.I.P) Being the eldest in my generation, that makes me the bakra... sigh... or rather, the bakri.

So that's why my father's chacha's daughter's husband's second cousin started asking me about my love life. For a second I was really shocked. I mean, here I'm sitting in a function where there are 'only' about 1000 'close' relatives (I was sure there were more - especially counting the insanely shouting running brats who seemed to run about playing without a care for life or limb. One even bloodied his nose somehow. In a marriage finction?! God! How can kids do that to their parents? How can kids do that to anyone...)

Well, anyway, I find myself sitting next to this hulk of a woman who is overflowing out of the rented white plastic chair, and she sweetly turns to me and the first thing she asks me is "So do you have your eye on someone?" with a leer which sickened me to my stomach and threatened to make the half-cooked shaadi chicken (you know that red thing which you find only in marriages) come out the way it had gone in.

I stared at her and debated on whether to answer her with "Listen lady, I never met you before in my life, I don't even know you and even if I did know who you are and how we are related, I wouldn't tell you if I had anybody hidden around in my love life simply for the reason that you have a sick expression on your face which suggests that you want the information just because you want to spread it around the whispering gossippy ladies." But, I controlled myself. I smiled. Sweetly. And muttered something to the tune of "No, no auntie."

Did I think the topic was closed? She came back with a "You can tell me you know" accompanied with what I believe was an attempt at a confidential smile. I smiled and remained silent. I underestimated her powers of eliciting answers though. She kept looking at me with this enthusiastically expectant expression until I could scream. "No, there is no one auntie," I said finally.

"Ahh ok."

Just as I was sending up a heartfelt thanks about the message being sent the way I wanted it to, I was met with "What do you think about X?" X being the measly, nerdy son of a family friend who, apart from being the last thing I would marry, also happened to be two years younger to me.

TWO HOURS of non-stop matchmaking later - to totally unsuitable candidates, I so wished I had a lovelife. Sigh.

Bloggity Blog

I just read Fallen Angel's blog. Yes, it's nice. It's funny. It's great. It's fantabulous. But for 5 minutes after I read it, I see these black and white stripes on everything I stare at. Am I going blind? Or is there a problem with that template? It's the template. I'm too young here.

Ohhkay, so I don't have a topic to write about. So what is so wrong about writing about FA's blog anyway? I like it enough. And then JLU doesn't like me commenting on my teachers. (I'll have him know that there were two who influenced me too - to balance out the two... er... maybe more whom I can make fun of. So there!)

I come here to write in this blog instead of watching a balding guy romancing the world's most beautiful woman in '94 -that's Taal (What the F was Anil Kapoor thinking when he did that role anyway?), and well, there is a choice of Govinda (groan) and the same gal on another channel, or a sci-fi movie, or Star Parivar Awards (OMG, did they really do that?!) and now what do I end up doing? Writing crap. Pathetic. Ahhh! Such is life.

Here, I'd like to point out that YOU are reading this. Hehehee...

Watch this space. :p

Joo Park Manazement

The title is misleading. This post is not about the management of The Nehru Zoological Park. It's about people who talk Tinglish. Tinglish is talking English in a Telugu accent (and also sometimes anglicizing Telugu words. God help me!)

Pet irritant alert - I'm going to rant about the biggest thing which irritates me about Tinglish (by the way - Tinglish sounds like such a nice word too. Like something related to ticklish or tingles - a cross between the two. :D But it's not. Just another example of nice words not being fit for their meanings.)

I think I became aware of Tinglish when I was in 9th standard. My class teacher, who taught us Maths (yuck), spoke fine Tinglish. I don't mean speaking Tinglish is fine, I meant that he did a fine job of speaking Tinglish. There's a difference between the two. The only sentence I remember verbatim, coming from his mouth, is - (ta da!) "We will go to the Joo Park. We will manaze." Let me explain. The poor guy was not nuts. I'm quoting him out of context. Well, the context was our annual excursion. He was planning to go to the Zoo and he was planning to manage 120 kids there, without losing some in the process. Though why would someone want to get lost in the zoo is really something I cannot comprehend. And someone who doesn't want to be lost, sees to it that he isn't. Problem solved.

I digress. (No, not tigress. Digress. Yes, this is a post which mentions "zoo" but still it's not tigress.) So what really amazed me when I heard that sentence is that the guy can pronounce both the sounds of "z" and "j" - BUT HE USES THEM IN THE WRONG PLACES! How wow is that!

Now Tinglishers, due to my inherent kind nature and because I do not want to hear 'z' and 'j' interchangably, I am writing a little exercise exclusively for you out there! (People who do not speak Tinglish: please help me spread the message) Tinglishers - repeat after me -

1. ZzzZzzzzZZZZzzzzz - Zoo. (Do that five times. If you cannot, try saying manaze and try to understand what you do with your tongue when you come to the 'z' part of manaze, then do that with Zoo.)

2. Jojo - Jiji - Jaja - Joy - Japan - MiraJGZSHe (mwahahahaha. No, forget mirage, that's beyond you. That was my idea of a cruel joke on you poor speakers of Tinglish.)

3. Now try this sentence - We will go to the ZZZZoo Park. (yes, stress the Z. You can do it!)

4. Now try - We will manaGe. (stress G/J part. Yes, like that. Good!).

5. Repeat 3 and 4 till perfected.

6. Go out and get those chicks and dazzle them with your new z-j skills. Enzoy! ;)

Disclaimer - The above is meant to be a public service exercise for the Tinglish speaking people. No, no. No thanks necessary. Really. I don't expect monetary benefits either but I realise you might feel inclined to offer me something because I've helped you change your accent and your life. I understand gratitude. But I don't take cheques. For cash gifts, leave a comment (clearly mentioning the amount you intend to err... donate,) and I'll mail you for the details on how the transaction can be completed. Have a nice Tinglish free life.

This entry is dedicated to my 9th standard Maths teach - Mr. R. Thank you, Sir, for making me aware of the existence of Tinglish. As they say - knowledge is power. See where it got me!

GRE and Talcum Powder

I'm just back from my early morning class of GRE coaching. To all of you who are intelligent, you know what GRE coaching is all about. To those who are semi-intelligent, you have a vague idea, try http://www.gre.org/. To those who are dumb, you don't need to know, so don't even think about clicking.

My class starts at 7 a.m. It's a rotten time but that can't be helped. I was swindled into it. That's a long story for some other time. What I was trying to tell you here is that I need to wake up at 6:30 and drag myself there after a half-asleep brushing of teeth and if I'm lucky, a cup of coffee.

Now the guy who teaches us the verbal part of the coaching, (well, perhaps guy is not the right word, we'll go for man) is probably retired from a position of principal of some school. On the first day of the coaching, he had talked about how he was wanted to teach English to some high profile chain of colleges in Telangana region but he turned it down because he was more interested in working for the betterment of students who really needed him, etc. etc. (rolling eyes). Basically, he's just too full of himself and he's also full of sandal scented talcum powder. Yes, you read it right. Talcum Powder.

Today as he entered the class, there was a cloud of sandal scented air which entered with him. The class is air-conditioned (yeah!) so we had to tolerate the suffocating, gagging, puky smell for almost two hours. I think I'm in awe of this man. I mean, I drag myself out of bed a mere half hour early and into the class, almost half asleep, and this man manages to look like he woke up at 4 a.m and had a shower and then emptied half a bottle of Ponds' sandal scented powder on himself. (How do I know it's Ponds'? B'cos my grandmother uses it. She uses the pink one though... not sandal, but once the shopkeeper had given her a sandal scented one sometime back and I had to breathe the fumes for about a month. Thank God she's back to pink Ponds'.) Plus, the really funny thing is that he looks all white. I was concentrating less on the analogies and more on this white-washed, sandal-scented almost-apparition who had hair coming out of his ears.

I wish I could tell him this. And Mr. P, if you're reading this, errr.... I could crawl under a rock.

Sigh. What all I have to endure in the name of education!

First post -- Eat Feat

I'm going to start this thing with a post about eating 'cos that's SO what I am. Sigh. That sentence just had me imagining myself as a big hulk of matter... fat drooping from every angle and almost like a giant dollop on the ground. Umm... well, if it gave you that idea too, you are so WRONG! How dare you?! I mean, you just sit there reading blogs and imagine all the nice people who have our nice, interesting, entertaining blogs to be fat blobs or what? Uh, you do? Humpphhh! Let me tell you that I'm ravishing and witty and I could probably intimidate you into scared, trembling silence. So there! Coming back to the topic, (did we go off?) I went to that Famous Ice-cream place in Mozamjahi market and had the chikoo hand-made ice-cream. It's heaven. So I had it four more times. Well, yes, I know it's probably fattening (I don't want to talk about fat, ok?) but see, once in a while never hurt anyone, right? So five times in a night doesn't either. I meant eating ice-cream, sick weirdo! (Great God! Is that ALL you can think of? I bet you're a guy.) Anyway, five times - that is - ten scoops in a night is, well, a little too much, I agree. But what is life if it's not to be enjoyed? We have anyway been thrown into this place to fight it out so what's wrong if we have some fun along the way? See? It's all about perspective. See the big picture.

And I'm not fat.