A Wedding Card from the heart.

And she thought her in-laws didn't love her.

Bom Sabado!

WTF is Bom Sabado?

This may help.

Car Pool

Oh, I just crack myself up.

 

Earthquake!

Okay, it's like 1 am, 18th Sep 2010, Delhi India. Lying in my bed pleasantly buzzed, watching Harold and Kumar when I feel this rocking. So either I'm more buzzed than I thought or there was just an earthquake. Nothing on the news as yet... lets see.

Mind you, I'm not discounting that the few whiskey sours I had we more potent than expected!

Update - Seems there WAS an EQ... the blogosphere and twitter bear me out. Newschannels still to pick it up. Apparently the glenfidditch wasn't as strong as I thought!

The Path

This is based on a true story.

Sweat poured down my brow, and into my eyes blinding me. I was in a trench, my breath inside my faceplate loud in my ears. It was a bright and sunny day, but the light struggled through the thick foliage, and all that reached us was a dim ambient glow with only a few rays breaking through and dappling the ground.

The undergrowth was wet and a light mist snaked around my ankles. Twisted roots churned in the mud, like pythons frozen in the act of copulating. The stillness of the forest was disorienting; it was hard to believe there were others like me silently creeping through it.

"Clear the path!” they told me. Even if it cost me my life, I had to clear the path!

Drawing a deep breath, I risked a quick peek out of the trench, but quickly ducked back down as a volley of shots sprayed mud a few inches from my face. This was ridiculous; I had to move forward - they were depending on me.

But we were pinned down by enemy fire. They were swarming everywhere and four snipers had entrenched themselves in front of us. I looked at my mates on my right in the underbrush. A nod, and we were in agreement; we started inching our self forward, wriggling through the mud and the foliage.

It was nerve-wracking business. And the guy on the right couldn't take it. He broke. With a sudden yell, he bolted from his shelter, and within a few steps, was gunned down, his body jerking as several bullets tore into him. But his sacrifice was not in vain. We had placed the enemy positions, and in a sudden surge we cleared all five of them out.

Elated, I bounded forward; when like a deadly jack in the box an enemy trooper shot out from around a curve in the trench, and fired a spray of bullets at me. I flattened myself against the wall of the trench and watched as shots whizzed past. I fired a few shots around the corner to distract the trooper up ahead, and then scrambled a few feet back to safety.

My visor was misted up and I could smell my own fear. So this was what war was like. I felt utterly drained, as though I had been running for miles. Only adrenaline was keeping me going now. I looked at my mate sniping from the bushes to my right. He shrugged helplessly; the enemy was too well hidden in the trench and he couldn't draw a bead on him.

I crawled forward a few paces only to fall flat as a volley of shots whizzed around my head. I had to clear the path; we were running out of time. I knew what I had to do.

My breath was echoing in my ears and the cold stone of fear was heavy in my stomach. I crouched silent for a second and then I was off; running down the trench firing a hail of bullets. He waited till I was almost on top of him. I rounded the corner and almost thought the trench was empty, when he stood up and shot me down point blank. But, as I fell backward into the mud, I saw the cruel smile on his face change to shock as red bloomed on the front of his jacket. He had given away his position to the sniper on the right.

I had done it; the path was clear.

Epilogue - We lay for a minute in the mud, till we heard the whistle. I grabbed the enemy trooper by the hand and hoisted him up. The paintball game was over. My team had captured the flag.

Baby got Back

I know, right? WTH was he doing for a year? Sleeping? A coma? Perhaps he decided to unplug himself from the interwebs.

Well, conjecture no more. It's time to share a deep darke secret about myself; a secret which will explaim the tragic story of my year long hiatus; a sordid secret which will shake the foundations of your reality. No, it's not that I dress as a obsessive compulsive superhero every full moon and solve crimes involving geriatric penguins. It's just this - I'm Lazy. Note the capital L.

This is not simple lethargy folks. I have elevated ennui to an art form. Much like the Mona Lisa, my lazyness looks out at the world with an enigmatic smile.

And now that's cleard up, lets move on. I have resolved to start posting again, though, of course, my words are not worth the the htm that renders them. I got a few queries about when I'm going to start posting again. . . got a few ideas percolating. Lets see how long I can keep it up.

I've been getting quite a few views on some posts; unfortunately these are on those post which are most derivative (containing plaigarised content, in other words). Depression Dog's V day and Baww seem to be up there. Also, MDTL seems to have been discovered by spammers. If I were to take them up on their offers, I'd be sitting in a casino, wearing jewellery, sporting a massive errection with my herpes all cleared up.

By far the most hilarious of these are, and I quote,

HELP! I’m currently being held prisoner by the Russian mafia xyzrxyz [url=http://www.buypenisenlargement.com]penis enlargement[/url] xyzrxyz and being forced to post spam comments on blogs and forum! If you don’t approve this they will kill me. xyzrxyz [url=http://www.male-sexual-styles.com]penis enlargement[/url] xyzrxyz They’re coming back now. xyzrxyz [url=http://pills.buypenisenlargement.com]vimax[/url] xyzrxyz Please send help! nitip [url=http://www.male-sexual.com/vimax-pills.html]vimax[/url]

I can just imagine the poor bloke, battered, bruised and chained to the table, forced to spam a neverending procession of no-account blogs. That just moves me to tears that does.

I've also been making a few tweaks to the layout and colours of the page; hope you like them. Colours tend to look much more vivid on my glossy RGBLED than others, so I apologise in advance if everything looks washed out on your screens.

Wow! So that's like two posts in as many days. Maybe I AM turning over a new leaf. Eh. . . or maybe not. See you in a year folks!

Rage against the Page

So, they've finally decided facebook users are narcissistic and attention hos (link). Big surprise. Lately facebook seems like it's like one of those reality shows that is so horrid and rage inducing that it's actually addictive. So nowadays I scroll through my feed cringing a bit waiting for the next rage inducing post.

I now know how I'm gonna go - face down in front of the laptop with a massive brain haemorrhage; a facebook feed exploring the hitherto unplumbed depths of human idiocy opened up.

Let us explore this theme. One genius says "lts g n c hw muc ppl luaaaaaaaved her.... ws at th 2320 sho..... she s sooooo fukkhhin ht...she lft t the car l8er". It's as though, via some weird alchemy, vowels have been transplanted by a Dr. Frankenstein with some sort of motor neuron disease. How busy can you be to type ’t’ instead of 'to', dude?

And then of course we have the mandatory farmville updates - Thorne has planted a ear of corn; Karthik has lent a ladder out; Julia has screwed the neighbour's pig...

And lady, it's nice to see a few pictures of your kid, but I don't need to see every stage of their development. I don't care if they're cute, all babies look like Walter Matthau anyway. Besides, do you think you may be invading their privacy a little bit? The net, and especially Facebook ain't exactly safe, y'know. There ARE sites like flickr or picasa where you can direct those pictures to relevant people.

And then of course there are the lurkers. People who stalk their old friends to they can compare lives - 'Oh his job probably sucks', 'She’s looking good but she's probably just a slut. Look at how short that skirt is.'.  Do you have to judge the standards of your life in comparision with others?

And of course, there are the bitter old men who spew anger, about facebook, but still check it every day. What? No! I don't mean ME!

Of course, these are just the bumblers and Clouseau's of the online world. There are more insidious fiends - the attention hos who update their status every few hours, copied from somewhere likely as not. They are usually followed by a gaggle of acolytes with such pithy and deep affirmations - OMG tht's sooo trueee. . . you rock babe. . . I agree with everything you write, on the off chance you'll let me in your pants. (Okay, so the last person does have a genuine reason. . . I mean getting into someone's pants is definitely worth acting the retard).

And you, my long lost classmate from school who's just gushing about how nice it is to catch up; Newsflash! You weren't my friend in school; you were a wanker then and, in all probablity, are a prime wanker now. Let’s just agree to not know each other... ever.

But this is just the beginning. The truly apocalyptic thing about Facebook is that it has provided a convenient place for all these retards to communicate. What will happen when they actually meet and, god forbid, mate? What then, Mr. Zuckerberg? Answer me that.

We'll have a generation of kids going 'Lol, jstin Beeberz is so freeking the coolrz. omg w b2hatt'. And that’s when a vengeful god will finally lose it and sweep us off the face of the planet.

But hey, at least I'll get to say I told you so.

So people, let take the time to fill in those vowels; no matter how much the temptation, let us resist the urge to type 'z' in place of 's'. No, it's not 'zexy'. And finally all you cotton-brained freaks out there, let’s not seek affirmation by your vacuous updates every few hours. No, you will NOT feel better even if a bunch of your bubble head friends think that your status is the height of wit. If you really want to feel good about yourself I'd strongly advise you to have a romp in the hay with some, or even all of them.

And now my vitriolic diatribe is done, if you'll excuse me I'll pop off and try to get into someone's pants - this should work ' OMG, your post is the funnest EVAR'.

 Disclaimer: Okay, the intent of this post is humor rather than vitriol. No one really conforms to these stereotypes (I hope).