Thursday, February 23, 2006

Chicken attack

Yaar these days my favourite food has turned into a celebrity-monster along the lines of Salman Khan. yesterday they occupied 80% of page 1 and ALL of page 2. not to mention assorted guest appearances elsewhere... I'm waiting for the day when it hits page 3 as well. Chicken rocks the night with Kishen Mulchandani and friends.
It's paranoia. My neighbour would be horrified at the fact I am stuffing my face with poultry products daily but she continues to feed homicidal pigeons that then break and enter into my room. Life is not good when the first thing you see when you wake up is a beady-eyed ferociously gurgling creature shedding feathers and crap.
Long live tandoori chicken.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

working...

Found an article from the new york times that described how an office worker had been sitting dead in his office for 5 days.
Apparently he had a coronary on monday, and sat in his chair till saturday when the cleaning staff asked him why he was working on the weekend. His boss said - "George was always the first guy in and the last one out, so no one found it unusual that he was in the same position all that time and didn't say anything. He was always absorbed in his work and kept much to himself."
Moral of the story: don't work too hard. Nobody notices anyway.

This is now printed and occupies pride of place on my pinup board.

with this happy thought, let me carry on home...

Thursday, February 09, 2006

I'm sick.

My nose is runny, my head hurts, I'm dripping thick yellow gunk out of my nose, anything I eat or drink tastes like ground glass, and I'm heading off to one of the state prettier resorts where I'm expected to be bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, sparkling and sharp for 3 days while listening to presentations and drinking ice-cold beverages like an entire school of fish. Let me crawl away somewhere and die quietly... please?

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

analysing my soul

You Are a Peacemaker Soul

You strive to please others and compromise anyway you can.War or conflict bothers you, and you would do anything to keep the peace. You are a good mediator and a true negotiator. Sometimes you do too much, trying so hard to make people happy.
While you keep the peace, you tend to be secretly judgmental. You lose respect for people who don't like to both give and take. On the flip side, you've got a great sense of humor and wit. You're always diplomatic and able to give good advice.
Souls you are most compatible with: Warrior Soul, Hunter Soul and Visionary Soul

Here's another one... the net can analyze my soul. Why do I want to have my soul analyzed? Dunno. It's not like I've been hearing funny noises from it's engine, or seeing fungus grow from it, or getting a funny smell (ok, the smell maybe, but that might just be the Park Avenue I was gifted last month)...

Have you ever had your soul analyzed? Here's your chance. And tell me why you did it.

redecorating my desktop hurts

...was looking at a couple of pics I'd taken on one of my around-mumbai treks last monsoon, and dislocated my paradigm.
A span of several thousand square kilometers of greenery, mist, cloud and mountain cannot coexist with a taskbar and desktop icons superimposed on it. It's... like drawing a moustache on a masterpiece. The screen laughs at you every time.
"That was where you were, and this is where you are."
I'm not too sure where I'm going with this, but I can't use anything except abstract art as a wallpaper anymore.

Sunday, February 05, 2006

Every time it's an adventure

The more I have my hair cut, the world becomes a slightly darker place, and it's not just because of the gigatons of dift and dandruff released into the atmosphere each time; I'm talking about the way each experience becomes something between an Urban Legend and Twilight Zone.

Back in Goa, I had a leisurely sunday morning haircut where I got so chilled between recovering from the hangover, the winter sun, and the music, that it was halfway over before I realised the guy's wearing a pair of post-cataract protective sunglasses.
In Kandivli, it was a teenager who had a tearful argument with the manager all the while pleading with him not to fire him. Not very inspiring, especially when there's a razor at my ear and the wielder's voice is shaking like the Elphinstone bridge flyover. I like my ears. They stick out like the handles of a World Cup Trophy, and I want to keep them both.
Yesterday, I walk in and find everybody sitting facing random directions and watching a Vinod Khanna movie in the mirrors. And as soon as the sheet is tucked into the collar and the scissors are out, an attempted rape scene comes up. I can't turn my head, any attempted movement meets an enthusiastic twist back into the dead straight position while this guy is riveted on screen. Over the slightly irregular snip-snip I can hear bloodcurdling screams, smashing windows, chargedup shouting, a fight involving, going by sound alone, windows, lots of furniture, screaming women, and a chicken. Followed up by weeping elderly women and sirens.

And the results are awe-inspiring. Some bits stick out. Some bits are gone altogether. Vinod Khanna, Amrish Puri and the chicken have been duking it out on my scalp.

Wonder what the next one will be like...