If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was divine intervention that made me post less over the past few months. But then I know God hates my writing, so that can’t be it. Let’s just say I lucked out and lost only 2 posts when my former webhost decided to pack their bags and take that well deserved vacation. Have fun in Hawaii, Piwebhosting! That $5.95 cocktail is on me. Literally…I paid for it, for services un-rendered this month.
Anyhoo, I assessed the damage and I’m only 2 who-gives-a-damn posts short after the changeover. Thank you, MySQL Backups. I was always skeptical of them INSERT INTOs and (parathanthesized, separated by commas, numbers) being representative of my posts. Now, I believe.
For a month. Might blog once in a while.
Merry Christmas. Happy New Year.
Be good everyone. :)
Sometime on the night of Thanksgiving Eve 2002, a group of trekkers suddenly questioned the sanity of their decision to begin a 10 mile descent well after noon. Not known for my inspirational speeches, I chimed in with the opinion that it was easily the stupidest thing I had ever been involved in. Tired and depleted of wisecracks, the others simply agreed, flung their walking sticks to the side, turned off flashlights and fell in a heap on the gravelly trail. And there, lying on the North Kaibab Trail at approximately 3000 feet from the bottom of the Grand Canyon, I found the hardened cynic in me take a rest, while the sap crawled out and sighed like a schoolgirl at the vision of THE perfect night sky. And in a collective moment of sappiness, we told each other that the suffering was worth it.
I wanted to make a post about this, then thought will use it to expend Prashant’s tag request instead. So, here goes…exactly 55 words based on a true incident that happened less than 2 hours back. (Maybe I’ll make a better attempt later :)
“Selva is not coming for dinner” she cooed sadly. All the tinted hair men, and there were a few, on Jet Airways 3531 clucked their tongues in disapproval. Later, she perched herself on Mrs.Yuvan’s lap on the bus to the main terminal. And all the while I kept thinking, “This chick looks hotter on screen.”
Between guests, extended lunches and Mom’s updates about almost everything, I tried watching the Independence Day specials. Thank God for 60-odd channels, I made easy viewing decisions, like surfing over crap like the mind-numbingly boring pattimandram filled with Solomon Paapiah’s unfunny interruptions/observations.
91 off 90, is a good stat to read on the Indian cricket scoreboard, but when found under “Dowry Deaths — Days”, it’s just plain infuriating.
From the NewIndExpress:
statistics reveal that there is an average of one dowry-related death every day in the state; 91 deaths, including murder and suicide, in the first 90 days of this year alone.
This last week, I was witness to a friend tying the knot, tying the knot, tying the knot at the Hindu Temple in Baltimore. Visa restrictions had forced my friend to get married in the US and the bride’s parents were left in the lurch as massive appointment backlogs at the US Consulate in Madras found them watching a webcast of the event instead (We took turns manning the camera and the computer when the audience, and there were quite a few on them on Yahoo Messenger, would throw tantrums about the broadcast quality). In fact, the only elders present were the groom’s parents and the bride’s brother. The rest of the well-wishers comprised entirely of friends who had either driven hundreds of miles or like me, had made last minute flight reservations (thankfully, Baltimore was a Southwest Airlines hub). What resulted was a gathering of self-appointed photographers & videographers turning a solemn (& usually boring) event into the most fun & informal wedding I’ve ever been to.
Thanks to Screenhead!
I was back at the local hospital today to drop off my CT Scans, those confusing films of my anatomy splattered in gray scale. My task accomplished in under a minute, I was headed back to the elevator just in time to see the door slowly closing on the smiling faces of a doctor & two other people engaged in, what I assume, was a fun coversation. Just then I also happened to notice a nurse standing outside the door, behind a wheelchair carrying an extremely old (& angelic looking) woman yelling, “Patients first, Patients first”. Too late though. The elevator was already on its way down. She then turned to me with a hapless look and repeated, “Patients first…they know that”. I shook my head and said, “Maybe you ought to put up a notice by the elevator which said that”. And she replied, “No, I mean, we all had to take a training course called Patients First, and I know that doctor took it too”.
I’m not sure what is more sad. That doctors had to take a course to know that patients came first, or that the doctor in question decided to ignore what he had learnt only recently. Either way, I hope to God I’m not stuck with that asshole outside an elevator with my life hanging by a thread. That would be a sad way to go.
For someone who regularly watches the endless parade of stand-ups, old and new, on Comedy Central and other channels, the death of Mitch Hedberg comes as a jolt. With his stoned delivery and consistently funny material, Hedberg was one of the few remaining good ones. Screenhead has the report and some links. And Comedy Central pays tribute too.
It was exactly 9:13 pm yesterday, when I uttered the first bitch of the night. Directed at NBC, it was my verbal disapproval of their mysterious decision to air a crappy “Will & Grace” re-run, instead of a spanking new “Scrubs”. It was also about the same time, something inside the right side of my abdomen did a somersault and then kicked me in the balls. But, dismissive as I am about most things in life, I chose to ignore this moment of pain. In fact, I thought I even knew what it was; my whiny intestines protesting my continued decision to not provide them with fiber & buckets of water. They had spasmed before, and were doing it again with perfect timing, trying to build on the pain caused by yet another mindless W&G sexual innuendo.
But somehow, flipping channels didn’t seem to help, and I found myself clutching my right abdomen, wincing in pain, and letting loose a stream of F-bombs like I was auditioning for the Sopranos. My dulled instincts told me something was wrong and I called my friend/neighbour, who immediately rushed over with his wife. A quick session of questioning ensued and my friend’s wife told me that it was most likely a kidney stone. Now, if anyone else had told me that, I’d have clutched the other side of my belly and let out a sarcasm-laden laugh that said, “Oh! really, Doctor?”. Except, in this case, she happened to be one, and a bright one at that. So I just nodded my head and reminded myself to add “Kidney Stones” to the list of “Detrimental Effects of watching Will&Grace”.
The cutest kid in the world also just happens to be my niece. And in a family where the initial crop of the next generation is male & borderline degenerate, she is a much welcomed addition. So, Happy 2nd Birthday Anniemol…your procrastinating uncle will impose a late fee upon himself and double your birthday gifts.